Chief Samuel surveyed the three girls in front of him suspiciously. They'd just been assigned to a blackmail case.
"I'll have to put you with a mentor." He stood up, and motioning to the girls, walked out of his office. Rapping sharply on the frosted glass of Inspector Beuregarde's office, Chief Samuel glowered at the girls as Inspector Beuregarde, green-eyed and sandy-haired and rumpled, opened the door and said sleepily,
"Yes?"
"Amateurs assigned to a case," grumbled Chief Samuel, jerking his head at the three girls. He stomped away, muttering about no free inspectors and too many cases. The three girls cowered together as Inspector Beuregarde studied them with half-closed eyes. Finally he said,
"Come in." the girls tiptoed in and sat on the stiff, shiny plastic-upholstered couch, clutching the precious manila file which held their case.
"So!" Inspector Beuregarde clapped his hands. The three girls jumped.
"First: your names."
"Mavis." A small black-haired girl squeaked.
"Mikara." A taller black-haired girl said softly.
"Tyra." A young blonde smiled.
"Right. Give me the file." Inspector Beuregarde held out his hand, and Mikara stood up and handed him the file, squashing herself back down on the couch. Inspector Beuregarde flipped slowly through the file and skimmed through the few notes. He shook his head several times and sighed.
"This might get dangerous." he finally concluded, spreading out the few pages on his desk. All three girls traded edgy glances but remained silent, watching as their mentor examined the evidence closer.
"Well, don't just sit there. Do you expect to solve the case by just sitting there? No! Come here and examine the evidence. I need to see how you work."
Timidly, the three girls stood up and inched closer to the desk, carefully reading the papers.
"No, no. You don't read it like it's a novel or a nursery rhyme. Read it like a piece of art."
The girls traded confused glances, but they tried to read it closer. After a few minutes, Inspector Beuregarde whisked away the papers and barked,
"Tell me what you read."
"Blackmail." all three girls said together.
"And?" Inspector Beuregarde prodded.
"General March has reported blackmail to the police."
"Son of a…" Inspector Beuregarde ran his hands through his blonde hair and groaned.
"He wasn't kidding when he said you guys were amateurs."
For the next hour or so, the girls memorised the evidence, practiced unscrambling codes, worked on basic self defense and medical tending, practiced lifting fingerprints from pieces of evidence and dismantled mock bombs. Finally, Inspector Beuregarde let them go.
"Be back here at six a.m. sharp tomorrow. We'll start the real investigation then."
Early the next morning, all three girls were assembled in his office, clutching coffee and blinking sleepily. The Inspector himself was bright and awake and peppy, having taken twelve shots of espresso. He led them, bounce-walking, down the street and to General March's house, the man who reported the blackmail. He pulled himself together before ringing the doorbell, but he couldn't contain the random spasms through his body.
"M-maybe I s-should have t-taken less e-espresso!" he said in eccentric spasms. The door was opened by a man in a pair of blue pinstripe pajamas, his hair in messy spikes, his eyes hooded with sleep. As soon as he saw the four people standing outside (one of them riddled with odd jerks) his eyes brightened and he ran his hands through his silvery hair.
"Good morning. Come in!" he beckoned them into the house. They trooped in. On the kitchen table sat three notes on inky black paper, written with white ink. Everyone crowded around the table and began to feverishly read the notes.
General Thomas March,
I know what you've done. Want me to expose you to the whole world? No? Then give me ten thousand- in cash. Leave it at Page Park, by the statue of you. If you don't- that secret is going to slip out of my fingers and onto social media. Shh!
BlackJack
General Thomas March,
I've received the five thousand you gave me. Be a good man and fork over five thousand more, will you? Or you can kiss your reputation goodbye. You have seventy-two hours, or your secret is out the door and I'll set my men on you.
BlackJack
General Thomas March,
You have twenty-four hours left. You know what happens if you don't give me the rest of the five thousand.
BlackJack
Inspector Beuregarde read the notes slowly- twice, in fact, while the girls started to analyze it quietly. At last, Inspector Beuregarde said slowly,
"I have a plan… but it might be extremely risky. It's basic, but it might work."
"What is it?"
"Put some money there, wait it out and follow them, just to find their location."
"Well, I suppose that is risky, but we could try it," Tyra said, slowly.
"True." Mavis agreed. "So, let's get the money together. At eight let's go to the park and bring along some fake money… then we'll follow whoever it is and see where they camp out at."
Everyone else nodded, and they began their plan. Little did they know, the small blackmail case would turn out to be something much, much bigger.
Chapter 2
The park was slowly darkening. The girls, swaddled in dark clothing, skulked in the shadows of a tree, by the lake, and the Inspector was hidden in the shadows a few paces away. They were silently watching the statue of General March, where a fat packet of fake money was sitting. A pale beam of moonlight fell on the envelope. After some time, a hulking, dark figure stole into the park, followed by a tall, elegant body. The huge figure picked up the envelope with huge hands and opened it, thumbing through the notes inside. Evidently approving, he nodded to the slimmer figure and they began to hurry out of the park. The girls rushed after them, making sure to stay well concealed in the shadows. The Inspector zipped after the girls. They padded behind the shadows along the dark streets, shying away from street lamp lights, until the figures stopped and slipped into an alley. A door creaked open, orange light spilling out, then it was snuffed out as quickly as it had come. Mavis, Mikara and Tyra rushed to the door, pressing their ears to it, and they heard a thin voice ask,
"Password?"
"Ten Man." a knife-edge, icy voice answered.
"Enter." said the thin voice again, and they heard the unlocking of a door. Footsteps faded away, then all was silent. The girls slipped away, and back to the police station, where General March was waiting.
"Well?" he asked, eagerly springing to his feet.
"The password to the enemy base is 'Ten Man'," the Inspector said, "And it's located on Elvis Lane, in one of the alleys."
"By the way, General," Mikara said curiously, "What secret was BlackJack using to blackmail you?" General March looked uncomfortable, then angry.
"It's none of your business, little girl," he hissed. "I suggest you keep to yourself." Mikara jumped, a little scared, and looked away. General March turned back to the Inspector and the others, a wide smile stretched across his face.
"So, any leads?" he asked, a rather unnerving change to his tone of voice.
"None, but we found the location to their hideout- at least one of them, anyway." the Inspector grinned. "Elvis Lane."
"Fantastic!" General March jumped up triumphantly. "Now all we have to do is storm the hideout and-" he was interrupted by a soft sound. It was no more than a thump, but it brought quiet to the kitchen pretty fast. There was a pause, then everyone rushed for the front door. Colliding with each other, they fell to the floor, making a pile of limbs, papers and pens. By the time they'd figured out whose left foot was whose, the person who had dropped the letter was long gone.
"Blast!" muttered General March. "If only you foolish…" Mikara tuned him out, staring at the letter resting in her gloved hands. She read the words again and again, turning them over in her head. The letter was short yet ominous.
General Thomas March,
I've received your money. The fake money. I've been amazingly patient with you so far, and I will extend that patience. Forty-eight more hours to give me the last five thousand dollars or you're done for.
BlackJack
General March fell into a chair, tearing at his silvery hair. His face was pasty, a vein throbbing in his neck. He looked quite demented.
"What'll I do?" he snapped. "I don't want to fork out five thousand to some idiot…"
"Even if he's going to reveal your biggest secret?" Mikara stung.
"Now see here!" General March was on his feet in an instant and halfway across the room before anyone could blink. He put his face up close to Mikara, who glared back. "You better watch your uncouth little mouth, or I'll… I'll…" evidently he couldn't think of something horrid enough to do to Mikara, so he flung himself into his chair and stared angrily at Mikara, who turned away. She held up the note.
"Not much we can draw from this," she said to the others.
"Didn't you try to dust it for fingerprints?" General March roared, his face turning red.
"If you were smart, which you aren't, you'd know that they delivered it in gloved hands so they could avoid being traced," Mavis drawled, trying to keep her temper. "Obviously." General March made a fierce move, but the Inspector quelled him with a look. General march passed it off as getting up to brew coffee. After a gulp, the light in the Inspector's eyes flared.
"We've got forty-eight hours. We know the location of their HQ. I think we can solve this." he said, his jaw set.
"What?" Tyra stammered, tossing a glance at Mavis, who stared into her coffee cup, suddenly seized by an urge to run.
"Girls, we will start devising a plan now." the Inspector said authoritatively. "Mia-" he pointed to Mavis, "You are in charge of gathering together all the evidence we have on this case. Maggie-" he pointed to Mikara next. "You are in charge of chartering a course we can use to storm their hideout. And Tiffany-" he looked at Tyra. "You'll be in charge of making us a snack, then go and help Mia. Got it? I'm going to sit down and have another cup of coffee. Get to work!" he plopped down into his chair and slowly sipped his coffee. Mavis began to file notes into a cream manila file. Mikara groped through her briefcase until she found her tablet, then she set it up on the table with her keyboard. Tyra sighed, then began to throw together a snack while silently fuming. She slammed a sandwich down on the table and went to help Mavis. Mavis was putting together the notes. Tyra helped clip them together, but she spotted something on the corner of one. It was a shred of a red tulip. She picked it up with tweezers.
"Guys, I think I found something." She spoke quietly, but with confidence.
"This sandwich needs more mayonnaise," the Inspector said, his mouth full.
"You guys, I found something!" Tyra didn't feel the need to raise her voice but she couldn't get their attention any other way. The Inspector looked up, his mouth full of sandwich. So did General March, raising his bristly eyebrows.
"A shred of red tulip." Tyra said, holding it up with her tweezers. Snorting, General March reached over and inspected it. His eyes flashed for a moment, and he looked angry and scared at the same time, but it was gone in an instant and he scoffed.
"What can you get from a tiny bit of flower? Probably nothing." he made to toss the shred away, but Tyra grappled with him and managed to wrest it out of his grip.
"We can use this for a clue!" she yelled, glaring. General March looked furious but he managed to sit down and reign in his anger, taking it out on a grape. She turned to the others.
"Where do red tulips grow in town?"
"Somewhere around… Elvis Lane." Mikara answered, her eyes widening.
"That means one of their hideouts is on Elvis lane, confirmed." Mavis said, looking excited.
"Go now!" General March ordered. "You could bust in and get them right there, right now!"
"When's the best time to go?" Tyra addressed The Inspector.
"Let me finish my sandwich," The Inspector replied, cramming the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and standing up, brushing crumbs off his overcoat. He swallowed and went after the girls, leaving General March stranded in the kitchen. As soon as he heard the front door swing shut, he smiled. Thomas March wasn't a helpless mishap. His plan was working perfectly. Soon the three girls and the gormless inspector would be gone, in the clutches of his gang.