I think smart is sexy. I like smart people. People who are comfortable with themselves are very sexy. My cat is really sexy.
-Gina Gershon
I stepped back into the supply room that joined my office at the front of the building to my residence at the back. If I had 11 days to live, I could afford to pack lightly. If I survived this job, I would treat myself to a new suit. I wasn't being morbid, I was being realistic.
I looked over the selection of Go bags that I had prepared for just such an occasion. I was often sent on some merry chases and had decided some time ago to prepack about a dozen different bags so I could simply come back here, grab and go.
Darwin, fully knowing what I was doing back here, was pawing at the one-week, all purpose bag. I looked at him quizzically.
"One week, huh? Is that what you think our chances of survival are?"
On the other hand, the one week bag had several advantages. It was very light on clothes, heavy on food and supplies. Especially cat food. There was a length of diamond wire hidden in the handle, and a gun and darts of various purposes packed into the bottom. There was also some script for buying information in cases where paying by chip was not an option. Some people did not want their associations traced, especially when they have associated with me.
He was probably right, as I had also sensed that we would be dealing with some underworld contacts before we were done. The bag also contained a crucial tool to my craft, my Finder's kit. I had personally built these in my sub-basement workshop, and they were of my own design. I had, again at great cost, assembled one for each of the bags. No one yet knew how I managed to locate and identify missing people and things, and I wasn't about to make it public.
I quickly changed my shirt and shoes for more muted, travel worthy options and headed back to the office. On my way out of the supply room, I keyed the code for 'Extended Absence'. This would effectively lock down my little home. The supply room would drop into the sub-basement, to be replaced by an innocuous looking closet with a selection of coats, some shoes and a few umbrellas. The cooler in my living quarters would dump the food it was storing into the incinerator, and water and power would be reduced to subsistence levels. No point in coming home to spoiled food and expensive bills, if I came home at all.
I joined Mr. Jones in the office again. She had not moved from the chair, and was on her mobile, presumably making arrangements for our visit, if I were to judge by her voice. She spoke with precision, authority, and most importantly, without trying to mask her voice as a man. They were expecting a woman to be giving orders, and they were expecting this woman.
"No Mendez, you may not. Is that clear? It isn't your job, so don't waste my time with this." Without hanging up, she dialed into another number.
"McTavish, I will be returning earlier than expected. Move my appointments up by 45 minutes, and add in the..." and here she paused, sensing my presence., "the progress reports of the key project... Well, get what is available then."
She finished her call and looked me over appraisingly.
I have been told that I am a handsome man. I supposed that would depend on your taste, but if you find lightly tanned, dark haired, blue eyed men attractive, then I guess I would fit the bill. It was my nose that gave away my Mediterranean ancestry. At that is what Joanie... let's cover that later. It is still difficult.
"Roman is waiting at the curb," she informed me.
"Did you warn him about Darwin?"
She looked at me questioningly. She then looked down at him.
"Darwin. It is a pleasure to meet you. I hope that we will be friends."
Darwin, for his part, gave no indication that he had any such intentions.
"Does he accompany you on all of your excursions?" she asked.
"He is my partner. It would be rude, and probably suicidal, to leave him behind."
"Interesting," was her only reply.
As we walked out the front door into what was turning into a gloriously beautiful day, I keyed in one final code. This effectively sealed the building from all but the most powerful explosives. The windows and doors darkened to complete opacity and presented a muted mirrored surface to the world outside. I was closed for business.
We walked down the path toward the waiting noticeably non-descript car and I looked beyond it to the park. Several people had gathered there for their midday meal, singly and in groups. I had planned a lunch under a particularly large oak for Darwin and me, but the tree would have to do without our company for the next few weeks. Perhaps another visitor would eventually take my place there, should I fail to return. It was a very good tree.
Mr. Jones directed me to enter the rear passenger side of the vehicle, as she went around to enter behind the driver. Inside were two benches, facing each other , with a thin console that could be lifted between each of the seats. This car would fit four people comfortably in deeply cushioned leather. A series of ceiling controls served to lower com panels, open individual wet-bars tucked into the door panels, and darken the windows.
I sat facing the back of the vehicle, knowing full well that Mr. Jones would be facing the front. It was another subconscious way in which she displayed her control. She might not be driving the vehicle, but her choice of seat reflected her unspoken affirmation that she was in charge of where it was going. Darwin had seated himself across from me. As Mr. Jones seated herself, she spoke to the driver who had to this point not said a word. I turned to look over my shoulder to see him, wide eyed, staring through his mirror at Darwin.
"To the office."
"Yes, sir," he said. As I said, command.
Mr. Jones touched a control and a panel was raised between the driver's section and the rear of the car. Another control and the seat in front of her folded down. She pulled out a toiletry bag and some clothing, laying them beside Darwin for a moment. He watched her hand carefully, making sure it went no further.
"He isn't terribly friendly, is he?" she observed.
"On the contrary. He is the most affectionate cat I have known. And a good friend. He just isn't fond of uninvited advances."
I was watching him carefully to make sure he didn't overreact. He is usually very even tempered, but I could tell that he was very unhappy about this entire situation and was not above making his displeasure known.
"I suppose invitations are important," she said.
She had removed her hat and shook out her hair. It was shoulder length brown, and a little mussed from having been restrained for the last few hours. She had retrieved a cloth from the toiletry bag and was washing the false beard off.
"How long have you been doing this? Finding, I mean?" She spoke as she wiped away the short hairs she had applied to her face, forming her words through clenched teeth.
"I was trained as a Finder over a decade ago, though I have possessed the talent for as long as I can remember."
"Talent?" she asked. "So Finding isn't simply a job? Would I be more accurate in saying it was a calling?"
Her face clean, her hands went to her shirt as she began to unbutton it.
"A calling would be close. A vocation would be better. Many people possess the talent to Find, probably everyone does to one degree or another. A Finder is not compelled to take on the role. It is often motivated by... other factors."
She had reached the last button and began to remove her shirt. Beneath, I could see the wrapping she had used to bind her breasts in an attempt to mask her gender. If she was conscious that I was still looking at her, she gave no indication. I turned to the window to watch the city pass by as we drove on. I could hear the rustle of cloth as she proceed to unwrap herself.
We passed this way in silence for another moment, when she let out a sigh of relief.
"You have no idea how good that feels." she said.
Of course I didn't. Her statement required no reply.
"We have to discuss the Finding," I said finally, still looking out the window.
"What's to discuss? Find Leena and bring her back to me. Then you will get your fee."
"No."
"No?"
"You misunderstand our partnership. I am a Finder. I will locate Leena, and I will advise you of her location. I will also provide tracking information so that, once found, you can follow her if she should move. That is Finding. I do not, however, retrieve. I will not bring someone somewhere against their will. If that is what you are looking for, then I suggest you rely on one of the other Finders you have contacted."
Gregson came immediately to mind again. He was fond of retrieving his Finds and would use any and all means to do so.
More sounds of movement and the rustle of soft clothing.
"And just how do you propose to notify me of the location of your 'Find'? Tracking bugs can be masked and destroyed."
"Not this one," I replied. "I will use her chip as a homing signal."
There was a pause.
"Leena doesn't have a chip."
Again, I could hear the thunder of huge waves in the echoes of my mind. That massive, dark and looming cloud continued to hover just beyond my peripheral vision.
The fact that Leena did not have a chip meant that not only was she unable to purchase and sell, or even work, but that her identification was not in the system. Children didn't have chips, nor did the insane. Luddite communities refused the chip, preferring subsistence bartering instead. I knew that Leena was none of these. She was something else entirely.
"I am prepared for that," I replied calmly. And I was. My Finding kit also contained an alternative that I could implant myself. It was more dangerous, but still doable.
"So what is your next move?" Mr. Jones asked.
I looked back over to her. She had brushed her hair and applied a little makeup. Other than that, she was completely naked. She was, by general standards, a beautiful woman, casually voluptuous, the soft curves of her body a contrast to her razor sharp intellect and unbending will.
The invitation in her eyes was obvious. She was used to reaching for what she wanted, and she was clearly expecting me to accept her invitation, to give into the desire that her nudity and sensuousness would arouse in me.
But here she had miscalculated. I felt no desire for her. I felt no desire at all. She did not know it, and I had perfected the mask to the point where she could not know, but I have not felt anything for anyone for ten years. Except for Darwin of course. He was my friend.
I looked back to Darwin, smiled a little, then back out the window.
"Next, I need to see where she worked."
I reached into my bag and pulled out a meal bar and a container of food for Darwin.
As I started eating, I could hear a small sigh of acceptance from Mr. Jones, and the rustle of clothing as she pulled herself into her dress.