Technofox

Chapter Seven

Written by Nathan Cowen

Copyright © 2008 by Nathan Cowen, all rights reserved. Reproduction and distribution of this work by any means without the expressed written permission of the author, or hotlinking from another website without the expressed written permission of the author and BondoFox, is expressly forbidden. Similarity to any person, living or dead, is coincidental.

Technofox checked her cell phone one last time and nervously adjusted her hat. It had an AT&T logo above the visor, matching the one on her left breast. Silverfox wore a matching uniform. She glanced over at Technofox and smiled just a little, bemused, maybe to calm down the little fox. Technofox gritted her teeth and tried not to show how she felt. Smoothly, she took out a small RF transmitter and plugged it into her cell phone. She held it under the sensor on the door. It started cycling through the different combinations of signals this specific lock looked for.

"What I don't get," Silverfox said, "is why she hung around on the roof."

"Huh?" Technofox asked, looking up.

"Firefox. Yesterday," Silverfox explained. "Now, if it was me, I'd've looked at that tear gas, and gotten us out of there. I'd've split you and me up and gone down the staircases. But Firefox? She stands on the roof with a tear gas grenade sputtering away, cool as ice, and calmly takes the time to look over the side. How the hell did she guess he was still in sight? Now, me, I'd've missed him." She chuckled. "Fire's got three mutant powers. Being right is the third."

"Security was monitoring the stairs," Technofox said.

"Aren't you going to ask me what the other two are?" Silverfox asked.

"No. It's sort of obvious."

"Oh," Silverfox said, disappointed.

"If the shooter had taken the stairs, he'd be on camera," Technofox said.

"Did she know that?" Silverfox asked.

Technofox hesitated, and shrugged. "Probably. Maybe she noticed the cameras?" The light on the door flashed green.

Technofox was afraid she had an answer for Silverfox, but it upset her to think about it. There was another reason Firefox might have kept them together: she didn't trust Technofox on her own. And should she?

Technofox had run after a sniper armed with a five-round snub revolver. An amateur might consider that a sign of fighting spirit; Technofox knew better. It was actually a screw-up: Technofox had failed to maximize her chances by bringing her speed loaders and a box of ammunition. She had lucked out. But the real world didn't forgive mistakes like that often. Now she had her speed loaders with her, but she couldn't forget the fact she had failed when it counted.

Technofox turned her headset on. "We're just in the front door," she said.

"Right," Firefox said through her earpiece. "Talk to you later." Without thinking, Technofox blew a kiss.

Firefox was sitting across the street, in a chain coffeehouse. She had her notebook computer up, and was watching police signals. It was important their conversation sound casual, like they were meeting for lunch or something. That meant they couldn't keep a continuous connection with Firefox, because they'd need to talk between themselves.

So, instead they had the control on their earpieces set to speed-dial Firefox. That eight second delay for a connection would hopefully not be significant.

Technofox opened the door and shouldered her satchel, hoping she looked inconspicuous. The stairwell wasn't as nicely maintained as the one in Best Condo; the paint was peeling and there was a dank, unpleasant smell in the air. Mold. She hated moldy stairwells. It made her suspect there were other problems with the place. They walked up two flights, then into the corridor, and down to Apartment 356.

7.62, if alive, had almost certainly left the city after the hit. If he were dead he was obviously in the morgue. So there was almost no chance of his still being in his room. Despite that, they were going to carry this out as carefully as they had done Shadowfox's break in. As far as they knew the police were not aware of Per Odenberg's connection with this apartment, and since the police were stonewalling on the forensic evidence, Firefox had decided Foxforce should loosen things up.

They encountered a tenant coming the other way; Silverfox nodded politely at him. Technofox ignored him.

"Try to mellow out," Silverfox said under her voice. "Remember, we've got every right to be here. So nod to the nice people. You look like you're breaking and entering."

"We are."

"That's when you can't afford to look like it," Silverfox said. Technofox had to admit she had logic on her side.

Technofox took out a resin key. Shadowfox had scanned the lock: that image and a small 3D printer had allowed Technofox to make a physical, mechanical key to fit. Silverfox slipped in ahead of her and rapped sharply on the door. After waiting a few moments, she looked at Technofox. "Don't think he's home. You have the passkey he sent, right?"

"...Right," Technofox agreed, inserting the key she had made into the lock. Silverfox glanced casually to her left and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes.

Technofox gritted her teeth and turned the key. Many alarms could be detected from the outside and circumvented. A motion sensor aimed at the door could not. But no alarms started shrieking so she felt a moment of relief.

Silverfox stepped past her, tense, braced to drop. It was a studio apartment, tidy. Cheap, but not bad. It made her think of Best Condo in a strange way: a second home for a travelling businessman, less luxurious than Best Condo, but adequate. All it needed was a chimera "housekeeper."

The smell hit her immediately. Pesticide. Nothing obnoxious, but it was noticeable. The occupant had set off a bug bomb before leaving to kill Walton. In the middle of the apartment was a TV tray; an aerosol can sitting on newspapers to prevent a stain, just like the instructions said.

A bug bomb was used to fumigate a room. If you had problems with insects or arachnids in your house, you triggered one and slept somewhere else that night, while it filled your apartment with volatile chemicals that would dissapate over the next day.

Technofox doubted he had bugs. Silverfox swore softly. "Son of a bitch," she said. "He knew we were coming."

Technofox nodded. It was hard to deny that. "We'll have trouble finding scent trail," Technofox agreed.

"We'll find something. On his bed."

"We won't. If he's savvy enough to fumigate, he'll cover the obvious."

"So we look for the un-obvious," Silverfox said, cross.

Technofox nodded. Silverfox was right, of course. She had hoped they could find something that smelled of him, that they could store and use as a reference, but Technofox now doubted they would. Still, she had to admit that bringing it up was pointless.

There was no outside window, but across the room there was a poster from something called _Swords From The Dark._ On it was a beautiful woman, dark skinned and evil, pointed ears, long white hair, holding two swords that glittered like chrome rather than steel.

Technofox gasped.

Silverfox glanced up at her. She had gone down low to sniff the carpet. "Huh?" she asked.

"Uhm, sorry," Technofox laughed nervously, and ran her hand on her face. "I had a Lilith dream last night." The woman on the poster wasn't Lilith; in fact, it wasn't even a photograph or 3D model -- just a realistic painting of a woman who might be Lilith's clone sister, assuming there was a live model.

Silverfox looked at the poster and chuckled. "Yeah, I'd jump too," she said. She lifted her cell phone and sent a picture to Firefox. Firefox would probably get a chuckle over that. "We need to make sure we're alone before we get to work. Don't want to startle anyone."

Technofox nodded, annoyed with herself. Silverfox had stayed in character; Technofox had not. Opening the closets and the door to the bathroom soon proved they were alone: Silverfox checked the blind area of the bed and gave a thumbs up. "Secure," she said.

That done, Technofox took time to absorb the layout of the room. There was a bookcase, small but with a few dozen books. Odenberg was a reader. Even in a backup hidaway, he liked his books. Next to it was a desk with an inexpensive Navi and a 24-inch screen; a reasonable rig for casual personal use or even to run a small business. On the dining table, a tool set for hand-loading ammunition: empty 7.62 cases lined up like little brass soldiers. A dresser, and in an alcove, a bed. It was neatly made.

"There's a gun vault," Technofox said, pointing to the corner. It was about the size of a big locker, made from heavy steel instead of sheet. She walked over to it and studied the mechanism. It was a combination lock, a big dial with numbers around the outside, like something out of an old movie.

"Not too surprising," Silverfox agreed. "Think you can get it open?"

Technofox tapped around the lock, put her ear to the door, and twirled the combination dial once. The safe, she guessed, dated to the 1950s. Some people thought that the heavier workmanship of that era compensated for the less precise mechanics and nonexistant electronics. They were wrong. It was a primitive lock -- she could hear the tumblers shift quite clearly; even a human with a stethoscope could have opened it. Soon, it popped open.

Inside, carefully hung, was a scoped rifle and various tools and accessories. "That an M14?" Technofox asked. She sent a picture to Firefox.

Silverfox glanced over. "M21. Close, though. It's an accurized M14. Semi-automatic sniper rifle. Do I need to mention the caliber?"

"Don't bother." Technofox blinked. The M21 looked pretty impressive. "I don't get it."

"Her tits," Silverfox said with a proud grin.

"...What?" Technofox asked, failing to follow.

"Oh, sorry," Silverfox apologized. "I thought you were asking about my Firefox joke."

"No, I figured that out," Technofox assured her. "Like I said, it was pretty obvious."

"Oh," Silverfox said, disappointed. Technofox immediately felt guilty. She wished she had faked a laugh. "Then what don't you get?"

Technofox pointed at the M21. "If you had a rig like that, would you use a Steyr scout rifle to make a kill?"

Silverfox considered and shrugged. "Maybe. The Steyr's good enough for a 40 meter shot. And it's a lot lighter, which makes a difference when you're playing Spider-Man. You don't carry your laptop everywhere, right?"

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Technofox admitted. "You're right."

"What was that song we did? Spider-Fox, Spider-Fox --"

"Zips up walls, and zips down rocks," Technofox finished. "I think you should have left it hanging."

Silverfox looked at the M21. "I didn't touch the rifle."

"I meant the joke," Technofox explained. "It would have been funnier if you had just said being right was her third power. Then I'd have to figure out what the other two were."

"But you did."

"Oh, yeah." She hesitated. "It was funny," she lied, "I just felt distracted."

"Thanks."

There was a plastic box on a shelf; Technofox opened it. Inside, filling it half way, were about fifty 7.62 x 51 rounds. Technofox took a small Ziploc baggie and, careful not to touch the bullet with her finger, slipped one inside and sealed the bag. There might be prints, although she doubted it. Nobody had found prints on 7.62's brass. He probably only used gloves after tumbling them.

"Smell anything?" Technofox asked.

"Nobody yet," Silverfox replied. "Bathroom." She pushed the door all the way open with her foot. Technofox pulled on a pair of latex gloves. She was less afraid of leaving prints than contaminating the scene.

A bathroom was probably the most intimate place in any home. People change their politics, lovers, reading material, but their favorite headache nostrum and shaving cream? Unlikely. Even if someone were careful about mixing brands between hideouts, the type of grooming equipment they favored could set off a chain of associations. Nothing that would stand up in court, but an alert investigator could be guided by it. Big Wheel had been nailed in part because he had a habit of lining up his soap, toothbrush, razor, and toothpaste from left to right. People had hundreds of little habits like that, and it was almost impossible to be aware of all of them, much less circumvent them.

Technofox looked into the sink for shaving traces, but the basin had been wiped clean. That was disappointing. There was a unopened toothbrush in its box in a glass; a bar of soap, about halfway used, the logo worn off. Technofox wondered if there was anything significant in that -- brand new toothbrush; used soap? Probably meant he didn't like to leave a toothbrush out for months before using it. Technofox sniffed the bar: it was a mixture of lemon and eucalyptus. She didn't recognize the brand. She held it out to Silverfox, who sniffed it and frowned.

"That's ... Nature's Beauty," Silverfox said finally. "Lemon Eucalyptus. Popular among the She-Knights of Lesbos."

"She-Knights of Lesbos," Technofox said. "Did the Womynfyre gang actually call themselves that?"

"No, but it amuses me to claim they do."

"Not that you're bitter," Technofox said.

"The soap's supposed to be good for your chakram or something," Silverfox said, changing the subject.

"Chakras," Technofox corrected. "A chakram is a weapon."

"Xena's weapon," Silverfox said "So as far as the She-Knights are concerned, it's all good."

"Who's 'Zena'?"

"It's an old TV show," Silverfox said, looking away with a smile. "I've got some episodes on my notebook. Remind me to give them to you."

Technofox looked at the shelves. A bottle of aspirin, Pepto-Bismol, still sealed; band-aids, open but almost full -- the sort of thing you'd see in anyone's medicine chest. A hairbrush. Technofox took the hairbrush and inspected it; she was disappointed to see it was clean. That tidiness was starting to feel like a pattern for Odenberg. It was frustrating. She had hoped to find something that would give her his scent -- but he had covered himself well.

He knew chimerae.

"This is a very nice hairbrush," Technofox said, suddenly. "It's got some heft to it." She sniffed. "Sandalwood?" she said, perplexed.

"It looks sort of..." Silverfox trailed off.

"Feminine, yeah," Technofox finished for her. "Like the soap."

"I don't see any shaving crap," Silverfox said, looking behind the mirror. Technofox was about to stop her, but she noticed Silver had also donned gloves.

"Any tampons, any pads?" Technofox asked.

"Nope."

"Huh," Technofox mused. "That's funny. I'd expect either or both."

"Yeah," Silverfox agreed. "Odenberg was clean-shaven; he'd leave a spare razor around just in case."

"And a human woman would have some spare feminine products," Technofox agreed.

Silverfox opened a drawer. In there was a olive-drab satchel with a red cross on a white circle. Underneath was stitched "USMC."

"Surplus," Silverfox said briefly. She opened it up. "It's stocked, though -- everything you need to treat trauma under fire. Heh -- he's even got some general anesthetics in there. Just in case he needed to knock himself out." Her smile faded.

Technofox looked at her. "Starting to look like he's working with someone?"

"Well, maybe," Silverfox said reluctantly. "I mean, the general anesthetics are part of the standard set. So he'd have it even if he didn't need it."

"Right..." Technofox said.

Silverfox looked at the hairbrush. "But that's a really girly hairbrush for a Foreign Legionnaire."

"Yeah," Technofox agreed.

"What did the bristles smell like?" Silverfox asked.

Technofox wrinkled her nose. "Disinfectant."

"Ugh. Who disinfects their brush?"

"Hair stylist," Technofox replied immediately.

"Hmm," Silverfox said. "I'll sniff his bed. You look at his computer."

Technofox opened up his Navi. It was a simple model, inexpensive, and it used flash instead of a hard drive. She pulled the flash drive out of the Navi and hooked it up to her notepad to make an image -- it was only a few dozen gigs, and she had more than enough storage space to hold it. "Smell anything?" she asked.

"Tide," Silverfox said, disgusted. "Looks like the son of a bitch cleaned up."

"Makes sense," Technofox said. "Whether or not he's dead, he didn't expect to swing by here on the way out of town." She put her notebook down, and walked over to the table with the hand-loading setup. There were no finished rounds on the table: he probably put them all in the vault.

Technofox went to the closet and pushed it open. There was one thing hanging there: a one-piece, oversized garment, made to fit over armor. Technofox blinked, surprised. "That's arctic gear," she said. "With a built in heater."

"And he keeps it in Atlanta?" Silverfox asked, puzzled.

"Apparently," Technofox said slowly. She tried to make sense of it. She could imagine his owning something like this, to lay in wait through a Russian winter night in comfort. But why store it in Georgia? "I'd like to know when that battery was last discharged," Technofox said, looking at the battery compartment on the suit.

"Can you work that out?" Silverfox asked, surprised.

"Some batteries, yeah -- they have a chip that records how they're used, to manage the --"

She popped the battery case open. It was empty.

"Maybe he stored the battery somewhere else?" Silverfox suggested.

"Maybe," Technofox said. She looked around the apartment. There was a battery charger plugged into the wall, but there was nothing in it. Nobody would go away from an apartment and leave a battery plugged into its charger, especially not after setting off a bug bomb -- it was a fire hazard. She looked at the shelf in the closet and on the floor. Ideally, a battery would be stored in a plastic box. "Let's look for more clothes." Technofox said, starting to feel troubled. "So he left the warm weather gear behind, but kept the battery with him?" Technofox asked.

"A lot of military equipment uses interchangeable batteries," Silverfox said. She glanced at the cold weather gear. "That's mil-spec AGH78. He was probably using the battery for something else."

"Sure, but ... a battery's just the kind of thing where you'd want to have spares."

"He might have spares. We just haven't found them yet."

The other closet had a brown Australian coat, smelling strongly of motor oil used in the waterproofing. It was fairly cheap, but heavy, probably too heavy for a place as warm as Atlanta, where you really needed something lighter.

"It's funny he'd leave this in frickin' Georgia," Silverfox said. "Powered arctic gear and a heavy coat?"

"He'd want to store it somewhere," Technofox said.

"Sure," Silverfox agreed. "But why in Atlanta? If I were him, I'd keep it in Fargo or some place I might actually need it." She considered. "Or in a midway point. Suppose Atlanta's between two cold places? One far north, one far south? No, that doesn't make sense -- cold North and cold South are so far apart it doesn't make sense." She put on a voice. "'Well, I'm off to Tierra del Fuego to kill a man. Better swing by Atlanta to pick up my long winter undies."

"I was thinking about that too," Technofox admitted. She lifted her hand and almost touched her face thoughtfully before she remembered she was wearing gloves that should be kept clean. "As far as we know, he's got two places -- this, and a house in California. I think it's more likely he doesn't have a place in a colder climate to store cold weather stuff."

"Well," Silverfox said, "it's obvious he doesn't consider this a clean place. Anyone who looks here can see it's used by 7.62. But he's very careful about covering evidence that connects this apartment to Per Odenberg." She pointed at the hand loading equipment. "See what I mean?"

"Yes, I think you're right." Technofox looked around. "Almost right."

"Almost?"

"Yes. This apartment isn't anonymous, not entirely." Technofox nodded to the poster. "Odenberg is -- was -- a fantasy geek. He uses a MMORPG as a messaging system. He writes tabletop RPG supplements as a hobby and a cover. He gets good reviews, by the way. So it's not just a pose for him." She took a leather drawstring bag out of the gun safe and opened it. She nodded, satisfied. "Dice that look like wireframes from a geometry class. Locked safely away from casual burglars. I'm not saying Per Odenberg was allergic to soap, but I will say that he's swung a Hackmaster +12 in his day. And he's comfortable enough with it that he puts up a poster."

"If only the tabletop RPG industry could pay writers what they deserve," Silverfox sighed, "he might never have turned to a life as a contract hitman."

"It's food for thought," Technofox agreed. She looked over at the Navi. "And being a geek, he had more data than would fit on that thing."

"Downloads from www.nakedelfgirls.com alone would probably hit a few terabytes," Silverfox agreed.

"So he practiced data security," Technofox said. "He probably has a laptop he keeps with him. Probably an external drive, because they screw you on hard drive space with laptops. Is there a www.nakedelfgirls.com?"

"Probably. And along with that he keeps critical data," Silverfox mused. "Contact numbers. Schedules."

"And that hot stuff he probably keeps on his wristwatch or his cell phone," Technofox said. "Physically with him and accessible at all times."

"Do you?" Silverfox asked.

"No, but I'm not an outlaw," Technofox said. "Let's see his other clothes."

The dresser was cheap; the bottom drawers were empty, the top drawer had underwear and socks. Technofox sniffed one set of boxers. It was clean but slightly worn -- not ragged or anything, but not brand new either. The socks were also slightly worn at the heels. Technofox counted: five jockey shorts, five boxers, ten pairs of socks. If he did laundry every week, more than enough.

That was a little odd, now that she thought of it. Men usually preferred either jockey or boxers. She took out a pair of jockey shorts. They were brand new. Unwrapped, and left here, never worn... she looked back, counted again. Five?

"Aren't jockey shorts usually sold in even-numbered sets?" Technofox asked.

Silverfox looked at her. "I've never bought any."

"And if they're new, why unwrap them? They store better in the package."

"Beats me. Maybe he was wearing a pair?"

"This doesn't smell right," Technofox said. "The soap and hairbrush, and the underwear..."

"Yeah," Silverfox agreed. She reflected. "He had a woman here, even though he was a role-player."

"I'm told it's permitted," Technofox said.

"Really?" Silverfox blinked. She smiled. "Seriously, though. This woman wasn't just a prostitute visiting in a while -- not if she left that soap and hairbrush behind. She expected to come back."

"Yes, you're right," Technofox agreed. "She slept here. Lived here." She looked over at the bed. It was a twin, but with two pillows. "Have you ever slept with someone on a twin bed?"

"Sure," Silverfox said. "It's very cuddly, but it's practical. They'd almost have to be lovers, though."

"Not enough space?"

"More along the lines of being used to sleeping with your partner," Silverfox said. "Like you and Fire sleep hugging each other, but when I sleep with her we end up scooting to opposite sides of the bed."

Technofox lifted an eyebrow. "You've seen us?"

"One in a while," Silverfox said. She hesitated. "I like looking at you two."

Despite the context, Technofox had to ask. "Really?"

"Really," Silverfox affirmed. "It's a pretty thing to see, you two together. Not just in a 'two hot fox chicks' way, either, even though you both are. Not just a 'I wanna join in way' either. Seeing you hold one another asleep just makes me feel warm and happy. I think you're good for her."

"I'm good for her?" Technofox asked, a little perplexed. "How?"

"You offer a lot," Silverfox said. "You're a special girl. The people you love are very lucky." She hesitated. "Someone would cry with you. Not with me."

Technofox was silent, absorbing that. It was hard to believe Silverfox would fib just to make someone feel better. She wouldn't do that, would she?

Technofox couldn't believe she would.

Silverfox looked at her silently for a moment. "I think she lost someone after Blue Diamond," Silverfox said quietly. "There's something sad in her that isn't just trauma."

"Who?" Technofox asked, bewildered.

"I've been trying to figure that out," Silverfox said, shrugging. "But I've got no idea. Nobody died in Blue Diamond except that shit of a guard and Tigre. So it had to be someone outside of Blue Diamond. But it's not like anyone in our circle of friends died recently."

"Maybe someone freaked out over the Blue Diamond thing?" Technofox suggested. "Started treating her differently? Or maybe Victoria? Maybe Firefox got close to her, and then found out she was really a nineteen year-old human."

Silverfox shrugged. "I dunno. She's always happy to see Victoria. Nothing bittersweet there at all. I don't get it."

Technofox considered -- Silverfox was Firefox's lover even before Blue Diamond; she knew her moods backwards and forwards. Maybe Technofox had been so self-absorbed she didn't see it...

She'd have to change that, she knew. Firefox was more important than moping endlessly over Blue Diamond.

"Did you notice? No panties," Technofox said. "And it's not like there isn't room."

"Try the other drawers," Silverfox said. "She probably kept her stuff separate."

The second drawer held men's T-shirts, ten of them. Technofox took one and unfolded it: it was a souvenir of London. That was curious; as far as she knew, Odenberg had never been there. She checked each in turn, photographing them so they could be matched to Odenberg's known movements. She took out one and lifted her eyebrows. This one featured a revolver and the legend "NEW YORK: It Ain't Kansas." But what struck her was the cut. The shirt was fitted, tucked in at the waist, generous in the bust.

"Well, that's definitive," Silverfox said. Technofox nodded.

She sniffed at the shirt. It had been washed. But still, something...

There was something tickling at the edge of her mind. On impulse, she scrunched the shirt, inhaled deeply. Detergent. Tide. And Bounce in the drier to prevent static cling. But somewhere, somewhere under that was a woman. A woman's smell, so faint, Technofox didn't know if she recognized her or not. Or was she imagining it? She sniffed at the armpits, where her sweat would flow in Georgia's heat. Yes, she was almost sure she caught a faint trace, a ghost of the woman who had worn this shirt.

"Got something?" Silverfox asked.

"I think so," Technofox said. She handed Silverfox the shirt.

Silverfox sniffed at it, lightly at first, and then more deeply. She looked at Technofox and shook her head.

"Maybe I imagined it?" Technofox asked.

Silverfox shook her head again. "Maybe I'm coming down with a cold," she said. She folded the shirt, and put it carefully into a plastic bag, sealing it. "We'll go over it. Did you recognize her?"

Technofox shook her head. "Not well enough," she said, regretfully. "It's more like... I don't know. Like there's a hint there."

"Sort of like seeing Jesus' face in a tortilla?" Silverfox asked.

Technofox grinned. "Yeah, maybe. Hey, you ever hear of a chimera smelling Jesus on a sponge or something?"

"I know some religious chimerae," Silverfox said thoughtfully. "I haven't heard of any sacred artifacts like that, but that's just because nobody spent the Renaissance painting His smell." Silverfox grinned. "Wouldn't that be a great way for the Almighty to let us know we are His children too? A sign we can identify, but the humans can't?"

"Hey," Technofox said, with surprise. "That's actually an interesting idea."

"Thanks," Silverfox said modestly. "Once in a while it happens."

Technofox looked through the other drawers: they were empty. "It's like... they were trying to conceal the fact a woman was here," she said finally. "Except they forgot the hairbrush, and maybe didn't think of the soap --"

"And thought this was his shirt," Silverfox agreed. "Yep, Odenberg worked with someone."

"A woman," Technofox mused. "Hey, the Steyr Scout's pretty light -- good rifle for a woman, maybe?"

"Maybe," Silverfox nodded. "Strength aside, an M21 might be too big for a small woman to use easily."

Technofox looked through a small writing desk. Pens, paper, stamps, anonymous. Silverfox wandered over to the bookcase. Stamps? Technofox felt a moment of excitement before noticing they were the sort that peeled off wax paper -- no DNA evidence that way.

"Tech?" Silverfox said, her voice anxious.

Technofox shot a look over at her. Silverfox was by the bookshelf. She held a coffee table book in her hands. The cover of the book showed a room in some dark castle from a Hammer horror film. In the gloaming, lit so her pale skin seemed to glow, was a woman, wearing only gold chains and tattered black fabric, back to the camera, the cover relatively safe for display even in the more conservative jurisdictions, even though it was pretty obvious that more of her would be on display inside. It had the soft focus, pretentious quality of porn trying to look like serious art. Her face was in profile, turning towards the camera, white teeth, fangs.

The title was _Blue Diamond: Fantasy Women._

Silverfox forced a laugh.

Technofox recognized Victoria on the cover.

"When did that come out?" Technofox asked, her voice dry and cracking.

"Before we were there," Silverfox assured her, understanding. "Two years ago."

Technofox felt relief flow through her. At least there was no chance they were in it. Blue Diamond had used her picture on their website, she knew; Andrew had taken those pictures. She knew Firefox was on a playing card, and she had seen that card for sale on a collector's site. She wondered if she'd ever stumble across a piece of Blue Diamond with her own picture on it.

Silverfox opened the book. "Let's see if we can figure out which page he held up with one hand--" she began.

"Oh, put it away," Technofox snapped.

Silverfox whistled and grinned and ignored her. "Our girlfriend Vickie's lookin' real good on page 26." She held the spine and let it flop open. She laughed. "Hey, it's Lilith tied up and Master sticking it to her." She held it so Technofox could see. Technofox's hackles rose. She never liked hearing the name Master, and she really wished Silverfox didn't use it.

Lilith was bound to an oak frame covered with animal skins. She had been wearing a garment made of leather straps, but it had been opened and unraveled, leaving her body naked and exposed; her breasts dark with darker nipples, large and firm enough to jut out even when she was on her back. She was with Master, his muscles oiled and flexed, shining in the torchlight as he reached under his loincloth, which was draped to cover his erection. Tits were art; dicks were porn, after all. It was strange to see him in costume, and Technofox was startled to see how well it suited him. Lilith was pushing herself up and away from him, but he was between her legs, she was open to him, and he would be thrusting into her. She was lifting herself up off the skins, arching as though her back was sore and resting her weight on it was painful. There was text, and Technofox was sure it would mitigate the rape somehow. Maybe Lilith was possessed by a demon and this was an exorcism ritual or something equally stupid.

Lilith's expression was odd, a sort of mix of blank horror and disbelief that this was happening to her, the realization that he was going to enter her against her will just dawning on her.

The page was autographed. "To Per, with dark passion, Lilith."

Technofox swallowed and looked away. Everyone was six people away from everyone else, she had heard. How weird that Per Odenberg might have met a Blue Diamond tamer. A woman Technofox could recognize by taste, and not because she wanted to.

Maybe Lilith was acting, basing her performance on the dozens of women she had helped men to violate... or maybe not. Maybe this was Lilith's introduction to Blue Diamond.

What had gone through Lilith's head while she was signing that picture?

"That picture might be real," Technofox said, finally.

Silverfox blinked, and looked at the picture again, thoughtfully. Slowly, she smiled. "I'd like to think that," she said. "The jimbo bitch has it coming to her. That and more."

Technofox didn't say anything.

Technofox swallowed. She didn't want to hear about it. She wanted to be horrified at what Silverfox was saying. She didn't want to think how Silverfox was just saying what she wanted to say. She thought of Lilith under Tigre's whip and tied for Master's pleasure, and she wanted to watch Lilith shriek with every blow and thrust.

Technofox wanted Lilith tied for her.

She knew she should be sympathetic. Lilith may have been broken down by Blue Diamond, just as she herself had been breaking.

She had been looking forward to visits from Todd's Friend by the end.

If it was a picture of a real rape, then it had been taken during the first days of a long and relentless process of brutalization which had ended with Lilith holding the whip herself, and standing by a platform and criticizing Technofox's performance as men used her.

If the picture was real, then regardless of what she had become later, the woman in that picture was as innocent and frightened and deserving of sympathy as Technofox had been.

Tigre had enjoyed hurting women; and she could lose herself in that pleasure. What had Cheshire called it? "Show Biz." She had taken her own experiences, and drew from them to survive Blue Diamond. Might a woman like Lilith escape by convincing herself it didn't matter, because she wasn't a person?

Who was Lilith?

Technofox hoped the picture was real, because the thought of Lilith suffering pleased her. But the sight of Silverfox looking at the picture, smiling softly, and thinking the same thing was horrifying. Why was that? She didn't know.

"Victoria was sixteen or seventeen when that those pictures were taken," Technofox said sternly. "Treat the book as evidence."

Silverfox blinked. "Right," Silverfox said, her demeanor changing completely. With the breast implants, Victoria didn't look remotely underage. It was still technically child pornography, even though a reasonable person looking at the pictures would think Victoria was an adult. As child porn, taken in California and showing up in Georgia, it fell under Federal jurisdiction. A find like this in a target's place was always good news -- it wasn't unusual at all for a minor technicality like that to stick when more serious charges failed to.

"What's that by the refrigerator?" Silverfox asked.

Technofox reassembled the Navi and closed her notebook. She looked over at the kitchen. The room was tiny, made smaller by a wheeled cart next to the refrigerator, out in the middle of the floor. "That's a battery cart," Technofox said. "Emergency power in case there's a blackout."

"But he didn't live here. So he didn't keep anything that might spoil. Why would he put a power supply on his..." Silverfox trailed off.

They stared at one another for a moment. Technofox reached the refrigerator first, opened it. The chilled air created wisps of fog. Despite the cool, it wasn't a refrigerator. There were no shelves. There were banks of UV lights, an air circulator, and a chemical smell -- disinfectant in a mist. Technofox looked at the brand name: it was a "Westinghouse Aging Cabinet" model MA-910.

"You could fit a man in that," Technofox said.

"Think we should tell that asshole Bishop?" Silverfox asked.

"I'm sure the asshole would appreciate that, girl," Bishop said amiably from the door. There were cops behind him.

Silverfox and Technofox looked at him, and at one another.

"You're running loose on private property. You're impounded. Please don't resist." Bishop turned halfway around. "Warden?" he asked.

"As I'm sure you know, Captain, chimerae are considered to be under the control of their owners until the owner reports them as missing," David said. "So they are not in violation of any leash law, and I'm a bit confused as to why you interfered with them." David looked considerably more tidy than he had just off the plane; a comb had made quite a difference.

Technofox lifted an eyebrow and looked at Bishop. It was like a simple lob at the start of a tennis match. Bishop looked bland and unconcerned, as though he was neither surprised nor dismayed by David's statement. It was also obvious he didn't believe a word David was saying, that this was all merely part of a ritual they had to go through.

"That's true enough, sir," Bishop said cordially. "However, they were found on private property. And they were armed. As they are considered to be under your control, technically I could bring charges against you for trespassing. I admit, however, that it is extremely rare for charges like that to stick unless the court is convinced that you ordered them to trespass. So would you mind telling me what, exactly, you had them doing?"

"They were supposed to meet me after they were finished in the apartment, Captain. As they are my bodyguards they had reason to carry. But trespassing?" David blinked, and then smiled. "I think I understand now. You will find there is no question of trespassing."

"I'm glad you came prepared to clear this up, sir," Bishop said, his voice just slightly dry. He might as well have called David a "goddamned liar."

David opened his briefcase and took out a folder, handing it to Bishop. "I think you'll find their identification in order, Captain," David said. "Technofox and Silverfox are assets of the Inter Corporate Operative Network. We have an association with AT&T, and they requested that we send two qualified telephone technicians to the apartment where you found them. AT&T's service contract specifies they can send technicians to a site if they cannot contact the owner and if they suspect a technical fault impacting service to other subscribers may have its origins in AT&T equipment on the site."

Technofox nodded quietly. This was their doomsday alibi -- the one they'd use as an absolute last resort. ICON would have to cash in a lot of brownie points with AT&T in order to get them to back up ICON. She felt bad knowing it had come to this. If she had just been a bit more alert, they wouldn't have been nailed on the scene. She had failed to anticipate something.

Bishop looked suspicious, reasonably enough. "And why didn't they mention this to me?" Bishop asked. "We could have been spared some trouble."

David looked at Silverfox, and casually touched his temple. Silverfox apparently took this as a cue.

"Although we chimerae are capable of communicating at a deceptively high level," she said, "we were startled and confused, and our intelligence and ability to act under pressure is really quite limited." She smiled pleasantly.

Bishop tossed David a sour look. "And the apartment just happened to be rented to Per Odenberg," he said.

Silverfox did a double-take. "What?" she asked. "We were told the name on the lease was James Curtney."

"So Curtney was really Odenberg?" Technofox marveled. "Wow! What a coincidence!"

"You know," Silverfox said thoughtfully, "I should have suspected something when I saw the hand-loading set. But they're not illegal."

"It's an extraordinary coincidence," David admitted. "So with your permission, Captain, I'll be leaving with ICON's assets, and the ICON equipment that you took from them and might be holding." He smiled pleasantly.

"Such as the remote sensing equipment we found in the ceiling of the apartment one story down?" Bishop asked.

Technofox sighed inwardly. It was in a good cause, she knew, but it was a shame to lose good equipment. Worse, there was an overall budget for this mission, and once the mission was over Foxforce would get 10% of what they didn't spend. It was a powerful incentive to keep costs low, without penalizing them much for spending money they needed to spend. Bringing in David had been a big hit to that, and now Technofox was beginning to think she wouldn't be able to afford a new notebook computer. She wished she believed 7.62 was dead, because they'd make out like bandits.

"Remote sensing equipment?" David asked, puzzled. "I didn't authorize the use of remote sensing equipment. Technofox, did you install any bugs?"

"No, sir," Technofox said with perfect honesty.

David frowned and looked back at Bishop. "Captain, can you prove that was ICON equipment?"

"You know I can't," he said steadily.

"Then with respect, Captain, I would ask you not to accuse my organization of committing felonies," David said, stiff with offended dignity.

Bishop rolled his eyes. Technofox could sympathize. "I can hold your chimerae as evidence in the murder of Doctor Walton, sir," he said.

David considered. "Just Technofox, I think, Captain," David replied. "Silverfox was not there until after the murder took place. Of course, either way I would be forced to have your department served with a wrongful confiscation suit."

Technofox tried not to look uncomfortable, but even the idea of being held as evidence was deeply troubling to her. She hoped it was a bluff.

"That is your right, of course, but I don't think you'd win, sir," Bishop replied, still polite.

"Possibly not in court, Captain."

Bishop lifted an eyebrow. "You don't intend to disrupt this investigation with a serious of spurious lawsuits, do you?"

"No, Captain. ICON relies heavily on the good will of local law enforcement, and I certainly wouldn't want to risk the co-operation of your fine organization. But as an officer of ICON I am obligated to take action to defend our legal rights if they are infringed." He left the logical conclusion unstated: if ICON didn't get co-operation, why give it?

"I see," Bishop said thoughtfully. Technofox considered the matter strategically. It was obvious David was going to get the foxes out of custody, but she doubted this would play out well. Technofox didn't think they could accomplish anything significant if Bishop were working actively against them. She hoped they wouldn't have to pull the plug on operations in Atlanta. If nothing else, that might make it very hard to get Modesty north.

David looked at Bishop thoughtfully. "Can we talk about this over lunch? I'd be happy to treat you."

Bishop paused. "You mean away from any recording devices."

"Oh, I didn't mean to accuse you of recording this conversation," David said, embarrassed. "Heck, that might even be legal, and it's not like I have anything incriminating to say. I just missed breakfast and thought it might be nice to continue talking in more relaxed surroundings."

"Well, why not?" Bishop said cordially. "Thanks."

"There's a steakhouse just down the street," David said. "And the girls? I'd rather not leave them hanging here."

"I can't hold Silverfox," Bishop admitted. "But I want to keep an eye on them."

"Tech can have lunch with us," David said. He smiled at her and Technofox smiled back, by reflex; for a moment, like he wanted to have lunch with her with her and it wasn't just a trick to get her out of impound. David looked serious. "Besides, they're not flight risks."

Bishop was thinking, and Technofox thought she knew what he was thinking. He saw Foxforce as a team of well-trained dogs, proxies for David. And David in turn was exploiting the law, using glitches in chimera law to ensure that ICON was legally covered no matter what happened -- that the chimerae could do things ICON would be held accountable for if done by human employees. It didn't really matter which chimera David had -- they were fungible.

Technofox seethed.

"You'll give me your word there won't be any more, uhm, work for the phone company while we're talking?" Bishop asked.

"As I pointed out before," David replied, "they were in that apartment legally. But yes, I'll give you my word."

Bishop nodded. "Good enough, I suppose. Of course, they'll have to leave their weapons here. They can't carry their weapons in holsters unless they can justify being armed."

David put his briefcase on the table and opened it. "Fortunately, I brought along a pistol case."

"How convenient," Bishop said, rubbing his chin ruefully.

"I believe they can transport their weapons in this, as long as they're unloaded. Yes?"

Bishop sighed. "Yes, that's correct," he admitted.

"Excellent. Silverfox, I'd like you to meet with Firefox in Best Condo. Take the guns and the other impounded materials with you, leave the ammo here, and get a receipt. Technofox, I'd like you with us."

"Yes sir," Silverfox said. Her voice sounded relieved, and Technofox felt like she sounded. Whatever had happened to keep Firefox from sending a warning, Firefox was now safe in the apartment. In fact, Technofox felt so relieved that she actually resented David slightly, for not telling them earlier.

"The stuff in the evidence bags stays," Bishop said firmly. "The book, the shirt, and the bullet."

David glanced at Technofox. She nodded, just slightly. She would rather look at them herself -- the police already had a monopoly of forensic information, but there was probably no way ICON could seriously challenge Bishop on this. In fact, Bishop could keep it as evidence ICON was committing a burglary, and his case would be iron-clad if they had actually left the apartment before he impounded them. However, she had the disk image on her notebook computer, and that was potentially much more interesting.

The restaurant was a lot nicer than Technofox had expected. At least her AT&T uniform looked businesslike, so she didn't feel too terribly underdressed. She put away her cell phone, after saving the address to Westinghouse's product page for the MA-910 Ageing Cabinet. She would have brought it up in her notebook, but that would have been a bit rude -- the phone was less obtrusive.

Although Technofox was an animal by Georgia law, most businesses would give chimerae the same "right to access" normally given to assistance animals. That, along with the leash law interpretation David had mentioned earlier gave chimerae access to most places that didn't have an explicit policy barring chimerae. Surprisingly few of those places were expensive, high-end establishments: places like that were usually used to patrons arriving with their chimerae.

It was, in an odd way, amusing to see how Human societies adopted themselves to chimerae; bending and twisting to force a new order of biological intelligence into pigeonholes that were entirely inappropriate. Here, she was ICON's property, and David was acting as her owner. In Georgia, the law considered Technofox to be a leashed seeing eye dog, except the "leash" was David's "control" over her, and David didn't need an assistance animal. She could carry money and buy things, but anything she owned was considered David's property, the same as the collar of his dog.

If she were attacked, it wasn't "assault", it was "vandalism" with "cruelty to animals" stacked on top of it. Although the police were obligated to treat her with reasonable care, the law did not acknowledge her suffering: it would acknowledge damage to David's property. And yet, she doubted that anyone seriously considered an advanced chimera like herself to be the moral equal of a dog.

It was the silliest, most illogical legalistic farce imaginable, the comical snarl produced when a legal system tried to deal with creatures who could talk, reason, perform complicated tasks unsupervised -- and yet, somehow, for reasons never quite explained, still weren't "human."

Massachusetts considered her to be legally human, and apart from private facilities exercising their right to freedom of association by excluding chimerae, Boston was a haven for free and legal chimerae.

Some of the states that still had slavery laws on the books considered her a slave. They had a slot for her that didn't threaten anyone's self-image. It was, she had to reluctantly admit, more honest than the animal model. Slaves, at least, were human.

"Contra fillet avec frites," David said. "Medium."

"I'll have the sirloin and fries," Bishop said. "Well done." He looked at ease, although he probably hadn't been in this restaurant before as a client. David was dressed in business casual, collared short-sleeved shirt and slacks, but David somehow seemed to fit in better with the mahogany tables and dark woodwork. David looked like an executive dressing down; Bishop looked like a landscaper in his Sunday best.

The waiter gave Technofox a look, and Technofox looked back. Was she reading too much into his expression, or was there's something there that showed he had a problem with taking her order?

"Same for me," Technofox told the waiter. "Medium sounds good." She preferred her steaks rare, but she didn't want the waiter to think about dogs eating raw meat. The waiter nodded.

"Which did you order?" Bishop asked.

"You two ordered the same thing," she told him.

"Oh," Bishop said, looking surprised.

She wondered if it was an act. She shouldn't underestimate Bishop. She no longer wondered why a police captain was running an investigation instead of a precinct. She would now lay money that Bishop was given this assignment because the Atlanta Police simply couldn't afford to let this one go unsolved.

Foxforce had done hundreds of break-ins, in dozens of different jurisdictions. Over that time, every possible thing had gone wrong. Once a jealous husband had shot his wife and her lover in the apartment next door to the one where they were copying hard drives. It had taken two weeks of intense work before they all agreed it was a coincidence. Yet Bishop was the first police officer who had nabbed them on the scene.

So how had Bishop pulled that off? Maybe he used personal cell phones instead of the police communications network? Had they been waiting there in the building? Unmarked cars? She couldn't imagine him sitting there on the off chance they'd pop by. She'd have to go over the logs with Firefox to figure this out, and it would drive her crazy until she worked it out and developed a countermeasure.

Oh, Bishop was good. She couldn't deny it. Foxforce was better. But no matter how much she wanted to prove that, she had to remember that if they went head-to-head with them, 7.62 would win.

"Shrimp cocktail appetizers?" David suggested.

"Good choice, sir," said the waiter. Technofox wondered if his work clothes cost more than Bishop's suit. Well, maybe amortized across their lifespan...

"Garlic bread for me," Bishop said. "Thanks."

"With cheese, sir?"

"No, thanks."

"The shrimp cocktail for me, please," Technofox said. She looked up. "Anyone want to split some fried mozzarella?"

"That would hit the spot," Bishop said.

"Certainly, girl," The waiter said. Technofox wished she was leaving the tip because she wouldn't leave a tip. She was that annoyed. "Anything to drink?"

"Iced tea," David said.

"Coke," Bishop ordered.

"Ice water, with lemon, and a straw," Technofox said. The waiter smiled. He had to know that her mouth's shape made it difficult for her to pour water into it, the way humans drank. She could either lap it up -- difficult with a tall glass -- or use a straw.

"How long have you lived in Atlanta?" David asked.

"Since I was four," Bishop said.

"That must be nice. I'd like a chance to get to know a place," David said. "Unfortunately, I bounce around a lot. I work out of the New York office but I've only been there three years."

"I thought you were a native," Technofox said.

"Oh, I am," David replied. "Grew up in the Bronx, went to college in California, and now I'm back in Manhattan."

"Any family?" Bishop asked.

"Sister and a brother. He has kids, ten and fourteen."

"Figured -- it seems Manhattan's mostly single residents and married commuters."

"Yeah, sometimes you get that feeling," David said with a laugh. "I hear the suburbs are better for kids. You have family?"

"Wife, two daughters. Six and eight."

Technofox was silent. She was factory product.

"I'm hoping for some time off," David said. "What would you suggest I look at?"

"Depends what you're looking for," Bishop said. Technofox had spotted that sort of reticence in slave states before: it was a standing joke that the only reason to visit a slave state was to go to a slave brothel, pretty much the only industry that still used human slavery. Most of the natives resented that.

David grinned. "Stuff I can tell my mom about."

"Oh, the Kennesaw Military Museum," Bishop replied immediately. "The zoo's pretty nice, too."

Technofox liked zoos; most chimerae did, for a reason that was difficult to explain to a human. The biggest attraction was the different smells -- no matter how tidy the enclosures were kept, zoo animals had exotic and unexpected aromas that, for a chimera, carried a fascination which could never be duplicated in any of the mass entertainment media humans created for one another. You could see the Grand Canyon in IMAX; you had to go to the zoo to smell a tiger.

Technofox was about to talk about that, but she stopped herself abruptly. She didn't want to talk about things like that in front of Bishop. Oh, he was a good cop, and probably a good father, but he called her "girl." She didn't feel comfortable talking about what made her different from humans.

"Thanks, that sounds like fun," David said. He mused for a moment. "Technofox, I was wondering."

"Yes?" she asked brightly.

"Do you think Shadowfox would like to go to the zoo?"

"...Yes," she said. "Yes, I'm sure she'd enjoy that."

"Why don't we talk business before the food arrives?" Bishop suggested. "I'd hate to ruin a nice meal."

"Fair enough," David agreed. "I think it's pretty obvious that we can each screw up this investigation for the other."

"Yes," Bishop agreed.

"And I'm not trying to set up ICON as an equal partner to the police, but we've each got a lot to offer one another. You've got the forensic evidence for this specific murder, and you've got formal authority. ICON has the scope to use that information across jurisdictions."

"So does the FBI," Bishop said, opening a hot roll and spreading butter.

"Right," David agreed. "Although the FBI doesn't have jurisdiction in South Africa or Mexico."

Bishop looked up from his roll. "There was a 7.62 hit in Mexico?" Technofox listened intently. She was certain -- almost certain -- this was a new one. 7.62 had been active in South Africa, England, Canada and the US -- this would be his first kill in a country where English wasn't spoken. And Bishop's question meant that he knew that too.

"Yes, it just hit the news," David said. "Our information's not complete, though. The report's still being compiled by an investigator on the scene." He shrugged innocently. "I wish I knew more, but unfortunately I've got to get my assets out of impound."

Technofox nodded to herself. That might explain how 7.62 had logged into his MMORPG from Texas -- he had killed someone in Mexico, and had set up a proxy server in another bolt hole in Houston. She wasn't sure how the Mexican killing would fit into the chronology of the case, however. How long would it take 7.62 to reach Atlanta from Mexico? Overnight, if he flew...

"I'd be happy to co-operate with any private firm that's acting in good faith," Bishop said.

"Implying ICON is not?" David asked.

"What was with that book you planted in Odenberg's apartment?" Bishop asked.

Technofox frowned, insulted. "Planted? We found it there."

"What makes you think we planted it?" David asked.

Bishop looked at him. "Why did you bring it up as evidence?"

Technofox wanted to drop her eyes, but she kept them steady on Bishop, as though to remind him that there were three people at the table. "The model on the cover was an underage human at the time the picture was taken," she said calmly. They had kept in touch with Victoria, and Technofox considered her a friend. She hoped there was a way to use the book without bringing Victoria into it directly. Well, the book was probably on a Federal list. "I thought you knew that."

"How did your ... team know that?" Bishop asked David. "After they told me it was hard for chimerae to identify someone's face visually, now you're telling me that she --" he pointed "-- saw a picture of a Blue Diamond Girl, immediately recognized her, and knew her birthday?"

Technofox opened her mouth and cut herself off. She hated to admit it, but given what he knew that was a wonderful catch.

Bishop snorted. "I'd buy it if the model looked underage and they compared the picture to a database, but she doesn't and the chimerae didn't have a wireless data link up. So that means either your chimerae have memorized the faces and birthdays of every Blue Diamond hooker, or you --"

"Victoria's not a hooker," Technofox interrupted, stung. "She was _kidnapped_ at sixteen and --"

Technofox cut herself off. She suddenly had the awful feeling she had let something slip.

Bishop looked at Technofox, surprised. "Do you know her?"

Technofox wondered if he had worked this out in advance, or if he was putting it together on the fly. Impressive, either way. "Yes," Technofox admitted, wondering if this admission would somehow put them at a disadvantage. She couldn't imagine how. She wondered if it would be possible to deflect things slightly. "As a matter of fact, Morgan works for her father," she told him.

"The big girl, Firefox?" Bishop asked David casually. "She mentioned meeting Doctor Walton in a hotel. What hotel would that be?"

Technofox was quiet. Well, there was a good chance he knew already. Still, she didn't like to say the words out loud. But David was obviously not going to say it -- she didn't blame him for being a bit at sea. Or not willing to betray the fact, as though it were a shameful secret instead of a painful one.

"Blue Diamond," she said softly. "Foxforce participated in the investigation that led to the closure."

Bishop looked at David. "By 'closure,' she means 'burning the place down.'"

"A fire started in the fuel cell bay while our agents were there," David said. "While arson has been alleged, no formal charges were ever brought against ICON."

"I thought we were here to talk openly."

"It's a very difficult problem," David mused. "You see, if ICON infiltrated agents into Blue Diamond with the intention of burning down a hotel filled with tourists who were there legally, then that would be dangerously close to terrorism. If Blue Diamond kidnapped four legally human citizens of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts who then destroyed the place while escaping, then it becomes a question of reckless endangerment of all the ... tourists. So you see the problem -- however justified their actions were, ICON's position is legally... problematic, let's say. And it's not directly connected to this case."

"That's right, and it's too damn bad," Bishop said. "I saw the news reports. If half of them were true and if the rumors about ICON blowing the place up are true, I'd be obliged to buy you a beer. That's off the record."

"Thanks, but the four of them would have earned the beer," David said.

"Thank you, Captain," Technofox said. She didn't doubt he was sincere, not for a moment.

Bishop hesitated, as though slightly taken aback. Finally, he nodded, and looked down at his roll. He looked up, "Speaking theoretically," he said, "why would ICON want to take down Blue Diamond?"

"ICON has suspected for some time that Blue Diamond was being used to ... hold women that various mobs wanted to hide against their will," David said. "Accountants, mistresses, women who knew a little too much and whose loyalty was suspect."

Bishop looked up, sharply. "Women, plural? I thought Simmons was the only one."

"She was the only human woman," David said. "The rest were chimerae."

"Oh," Bishop said, relieved. Technofox gripped her steak knife, forced her hand to relax. "What happened to them?"

"Something similar happened once, a mob-owned brothel in Nevada. ICON arranged to get title to the chimerae, found out why they were there, and worked through the Nation Association for the Advancement of Artificial Persons to find other employment for them."

"I'll be damned. The mob uses a lot of female chimerae?"

"Some. Most of the chimerae owned by Blue Diamond were owned quite legitimately. But we found out something else since it went down -- Blue Diamond was also used to get around cruelty laws. What happened in Blue Diamond was technically legal under California law, but not under, say, Georgia law -- not even before the reforms went through."

"Son of a bitch," Bishop said.

"So if you're an owner and you want your slave to appreciate you more, you rent her to Blue Diamond for a few months, and afterwards --"

"That's enough," Bishop barked.

"Yes," David agreed. "Sometimes -- not always -- you and I both know that it's a pleasure to nail these motherfuckers." David blanched. "My apologies."

"No, that's not necessary," Bishop laughed. He looked over at Technofox. "You were there too?"

She wanted to lie. But he'd find out. And he'd wonder why she had lied. "Yes."

"Uhm," he said. He was embarrassed, and she was grateful for that. "You meet Doctor Walton there?" he asked.

"No," Technofox said immediately. "No me, personally."

"I'm not clear on what this has to do with the case," David interrupted.

Bishop looked thoughtful for a moment, and took a bite out of his roll. "Oh, I don't know," he said, a little too brightly, mumbling around the roll. "I'm just getting to know the people I'm working with." He smiled pleasantly at David.

The appetizers arrived, and Bishop swapped some garlic bread for shrimp. The cocktail sauce was a bit stronger than Technofox was used to; she could feel the horseradish clear her sinuses. Technofox felt shaken, even betrayed. Bishop knew she had been a Blue Diamond Girl. She didn't like that he was wondering what she had done, who she had done it with, what they had paid.

"I don't like talking about it," Technofox said.

Bishop looked at her, a little surprised. "What?"

"Blue Diamond," Technofox said. She fought to keep her voice low. "I don't like talking about it."

"That's okay, girl," Bishop said, with sudden sympathy. "We don't have to. It's all right." He reached over and patted her arm lightly. He smiled and she felt a little odd -- as though he wanted to pursue it more, but didn't because it agitated her.

"Could we see your forensics reports?" David asked. "When you get down to it, we can bang heads, ignore one another, or work together."

"Yes," Bishop said. He opened his jacket and removed a data card from a tiny inside pocket, the sort of card used in cameras. He put it on the table, and held it with his fingertip. "If you want to check public records, that's fine. Start breaking into places or computers without talking it over with me first, not fine."

"I can promise you that," David said firmly. Technofox hoped he had cleared that with Firefox. Bishop nodded, picked up the card, and handed it to him. David took the card and put it into a pocket. Interesting that Bishop just happened to have those files on him like that.

"Along those lines," Technofox said, "I have an image of the computer in Odenberg's apartment. I want to work a bit with it, and maybe follow some leads."

"Follow those leads after I chat about them with your boss," Bishop said.

Technofox nodded.

"There's something that bothered me a bit," David said. "Walton was leaning back a little when he was shot. Do you think he saw the sniper, and Morgan didn't?"

"We were thinking there might have been an airplane or airship in the area," Technofox said. "Morgan might not have noticed because he was looking for threats, not background, but Walton might have been curious. I haven't chased that down yet."

"The SP-12," Bishop said. "Navy blimp. It was in the right place at the time -- Walton might have noticed it above the building. There's not too many bases with lighter-than-air. He might not have seen one before."

David's eyes widened. "SP? Those are surveillance ships, right? Any chance it had its cameras running?"

Bishop looked regretful. "Unfortunately, she didn't. We checked that out."

"Too bad," David said.

"So what's all this with the Korolevs?" Bishop asked. "How do they figure into this?"

David looked at Technofox. "Tech, would you mind explaining?"

Technofox wondered if David was trying to draw her into the conversation, or if he didn't know the details. No matter. "We came to Atlanta because we had mob-related intelligence indicating 7.62 was coming here," she said. "Because of the source, we assumed it was a mob-related hit. Since the Korolevs are suspected of being connected," -- Bishop grinned sardonically -- "it seemed that the Korolevs either hired 7.62 or were the target."

"What do you think now, Tech?" David asked.

Technofox frowned. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "I think it's a dead end, honestly. We thought the Korolevs were involved because we assumed this was a mob hit. But 7.62 killed Doctor Walton instead. That would imply it wasn't a mob hit. But if it wasn't a mob hit, then we need to explain how a mob source was able to give us information that wasn't mob-related."

David scratched his nose. "'We tried to hire 7.62 for a hit, but it turns out he's in Atlanta.' Not too hard to imagine."

"Or it was a mob hit all the time," Bishop said. "Then why would the mobs kill Doctor Walton?"

"And Ashok Mehta," David added.

"If that was connected," Bishop mused. "The mob was connected with Blue Diamond, at least enough to hide women there -- but once that cover was blown, the damage is done. Killing Mehta and Walton doesn't help. In fact, it makes it worse, from the mob's point of view. Victoria was the only woman they put there illegally. I could see them killing people to prevent that story from coming out -- but after?"

Technofox was quiet, but she had to wonder if Blue Diamond was in this even deeper than they thought. Odenberg owned a book of porn pictures signed by Lilith. But maybe that was a coincidence -- Odenberg was a heterosexual male fantasy gamer. The book was designed to appeal to that market. If it had been published by, say, Penthouse she wouldn't have seen anything remarkable in it.

But she couldn't keep herself from picking at that. She found herself wondering about that autograph. Had it been signed for Per Odenberg? It seemed unlikely that Per would happen to stumble across a book that coincidentally happened to be signed to someone with the same first name -- although, Technofox had to admit that if it did happen, he'd probably get such a kick out of seeing his name in North America that he'd buy the book even if he didn't like the subject matter. When Technofox was very young, she thought that "Techno" music had been written just for her -- and to this day, she liked it partly because of that association.

Still, that seemed unlikely. There was nothing "off" about Per Odenberg liking pictures of naked women dressing up as fantasy characters. So, how had he met Lilith? Maybe she had done a signing at an adults-only event at some convention? San Diego Comic Con was a just ferry ride from Blue Diamond. Would Lilith sign a book "with dark passion" for someone she didn't know? Of course she would.

"And besides," David said, jerking Technofox back, "there's no connection between Mehta and Blue Diamond anyone's found prior to the closing of Blue Diamond. The NAAAP published some strong condemnations when it was in the news, but so did half of North America."

"Exactly," Technofox agreed. "Why put a hit on them? That's why we've been working with another theory -- 7.62's hits on chimera rights activists aren't mob related at all. They're something 7.62 believes in personally."

"Present tense?" Bishop asked.

Technofox nodded. "Absolutely. 7.62 is still out there."

She took a cheese stick, dipped it in marinara sauce, and bit it. The cheese was liquid, turning solid the instant the cool air touched it.

"So if 7.62 is alive, he must have a hate on for chimerae," David said.

"That was what puzzled us," Technofox said. "You see, we knew Odenberg was 7.62. It just smelled right. Everything fit. Except to kill rights activists for free, he must feel strongly about chimerae. But there's nothing in Odenberg's profile that indicates that." Technofox finished her cheese stick. "Odenberg used to be 7.62. He had a partner. Sniper teams work in pairs. And the partner's the one with the political side."

"That's a big jump," Bishop said.

Technofox nodded in agreement. And the partner was a woman.

The steaks arrived, with seasoned fries. Technofox smiled. She cut off a bit of hers, pink inside, and brought it to her mouth. She closed her eyes. The flavor filled her mouth and for a moment or two she was able to forget everything in the universe except this delightful taste. It almost, but not quite, melted in her mouth.

"Aged meat," she said. "Beef is best when you age it about eleven days."

"But Odenberg shot Doctor Watson," David said.

Bishop looked away, and Technofox grinned. Bishop knew already.

"Captain," she asked, "how long has Odenberg been dead?"

"Huh?" David asked.

"Ageing cabinet," she said. She took another slice of her steak and pointed it at Bishop. "I just looked it up. A Westinghouse MA-910 will keep meat edible for up to one year, if you don't open it." She put the meat in her mouth, chewed briefly, and swallowed. "That's without freezing it. Freezing meat changes its appearance. The ME would spot it right off."

David picked up on it. He looked at Bishop. "How long has Odenberg been dead?" he asked.

Bishop sighed. "We're not sure," he admitted. "Between three and six months, but that's very speculative. We thought there was something wrong when the coroner arrived. Odenberg's body was still above ambient temperature when it was found, but he was just a bit too cool, though -- the coroner was suspicious, but he wasn't positive."

"No," David agreed. "Body temperature's not the best way to judge how fresh a corpse is. Cooling rates depend on too many variables."

"But when we saw the ageing cabinet in Odenberg's room, well..." Bishop shrugged. "At that point it became obvious. Going back, the coroner's been able to prove that Odenberg's body was preserved, but there's not a lot of good data about the decay rates of intact bodies in ageing cabinets. Westinghouse experimented with butchered cuts of meat, not cadavers. Three to six months is a huge range for this sort of thing."

"Tech, would you see if ICON's done any work along this line?" David asked. "It's not likely, but if we find something, we'll let you know."

Technofox nodded. The conversation drifted off, as the steaks drove more serious thoughts from everyone's mind.

Dessert was coffee and apple pie. David put the meal on plastic, and Bishop seemed to be thinking.

"Would you like to take a look at the stuff you bagged?" he asked.

Technofox's ears perked and her eyes brightened. "Yes, please," she said.

Bishop nodded, and looked faintly regretful -- Technofox wondered if the amiable good feelings which followed a nice meal had pushed him over the brink, so to speak, and from his perspective he was making a good will gesture he would later regret. No matter.

"Since you guys found it I assume you found it more significant," Bishop said. "We'll swing by the station. You can sign for it and I'll authorize it. ICON has its own forensics labs in Ohio, right?"

"Sure, we're even helping the FBI get through their backlogs," David said. "We'll ship it to Dayton --"

"I'll take care of that tomorrow," Technofox interrupted.

"Tomorrow," David agreed.

"Fine," Bishop said with a nod. Well, it was good that Bishop was willing to make their co-operation official. She just hoped this wouldn't be an excuse to put her back into impound.

It wasn't. Forensics had looked through the book; it was sealed in a different bag. The bullet and the shirt's bags had not even been opened: the bullet, after all, was identical to every other bullet in the apartment, all with 7.62's mark, just like the ones in the magazine of the Steyr and the one they had dug out of the lawn. Maybe they thought the same about the shirt -- folded and sealed in a bag, it didn't look like a woman's shirt, so it didn't stand out from the other shirts, and Technofox didn't see a reason to mention why they had picked this one in particular.

When David closed the door to the car and buckled up, she assumed he'd talk about the case. So it came as a surprise when he said, "Is Shadowfox going to keep seeing Korolev?" he asked.

So it took Technofox a moment to process the question. "I don't know for sure," she said. "Why?"

He frowned and Technofox knew he was a little upset. "Because I don't like the idea of her screwing sleazeball mob bosses," he said, frowning. "I mean, isn't that sort of the default setting most people have? Isn't she your friend?"

"Yes," Technofox replied immediately. She was a bit angry with him because of the implication it didn't bother her, but then again...

...Well, he wasn't wrong.

He changed the subject, which was fine with her, and they spent the rest of the drive talking about the case -- specifically, about 7.62 in Mexico.

"Mexican police set the time of death between seven and nine days," Technofox said, reading from her phone's screen. "ICON's review of the forensics put it seven or eight days ago."

"Good overlap," David said. "At least they don't contradict one another."

"Right," Technofox agreed. She paged down. "The body is male, about fifty, Indio, dressed in a suit, wearing a wireless wristwatch, but carried no wallet. Pending positive identification."

"Sounds like a mob hit," David nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. "Drivers license stolen to prove the kill. But they don't usually take the whole wallet..."

"Yeah, maybe 7.62 was in a rush, or the body was moved and the wallet hasn't turned up yet."

"The watch should be identifiable, though."

"Right -- they have IDs for customized content," Technofox agreed. "The watch was owned by Esteban Vega. Doesn't ring a bell, but he's got a police record for smuggling people north... oh, this has Mob Hit all over it, all right." She frowned. "They think the body was moved -- he was found buried on a construction site yesterday." She blinked. "On the ninth. That's ... really funny."

"What?"

"Well, construction site. Someone who knew the work schedule would know when that part of ground was supposed to be dug up."

"So 7.62 killed him last week and buried him where the body wouldn't be found until yesterday?"

"Wouldn't be found later than yesterday," Technofox corrected, scratching her chin. "Someone might have noticed the burial site before this. I'll ask about the building schedule -- if 7.62 knew the body would be found no later than today, barring delays."

"Is that important?"

"Maybe."

Firefox and Silverfox weren't in the apartment; they had left a note on a Post-It that they were having lunch in the lounge. Still full from their early lunches, David went into his room to run his line of traps, and Technofox took the bagged shirt to table in the kitchen.

She'd send the shirt off tomorrow, but she wanted to do a cursory check for hair and before letting the labs in Dayton at it. She put on a mask and gloves, and bolted a hobby lamp onto the edge of the table: a lamp with a magnifying glass and bright, full-spectrum light. She wiped down the table, opened the bag, and carefully lay out the shirt.

She decided to check the inside first. Her eyes widened. Balled up in the shirt, clinging to the inside with static, was a small wad of black silk. She teased it out. Thong panties, black, like the sort Shadowfox liked. She turned it over. No, it had no tail accommodation.

She stared at it.

Yes, she knew, she recognized that scent, even before she closed her eyes and sniffed.

... And she was on a hard table again, bound by her wrists, a pile of used condoms in a wastebasket, an empty cardboard box by her head, and she was hungry and thirsty and sore.

"Watching that got me wet," she heard.

And Lilith was stepping out of her panties.

And she was kneeling over her, open, and she took Technofox's head and she pushed her nose into her crotch. And like a good Blue Diamond Girl, Technofox had put out her tongue.