Found - Chapter 90

   "This is Vee one. Vee, two where are… you…"

   "Funny. Vee two."

   "That you, Senior?"

   "Yeah. What's kicking…"

   "I need J. Is he available?"

   "He's at the creek. Sitting in a lawn chair. Playing with his laptop. He's not on rotation right now."

   "Great. Can you send someone down, so he can rotate his ass up here? To Vee one."

   "Yeah. Is there a problem?"

   "No. I want him to prevent one."

   "What's the problem."

   "The problem is? I'm going to strangle Panic, for talking martian to me. I wanna translator, that speaks martian. Hence, I want J up here."

   "I'll bring him up. We'll be there short---"

   "No. I asked for J. Not J and Senior. Just send J up with the chase car. Tell him to take the long way around, I don't wanna go past the property any more than I have to."

   "Will do. Does he need to bring anything with him?"

   Mike looked at Panic.

   "Laptop?"

   "Yeah. Tell him to bring his laptop. And hold on…"

   "Hey… either of you two want anything? Burgers?"

   "Merry? You want burgers?"

   "I don't care. How about a bucket of chicken…"

   "Okay. Send the chase car, the long way around. With J driving it. He brings his laptop. And? Tell him to stop and get whatever is the biggest bucket of chicken."

   "At the chicken place?"

   Mike just shook his head at Panic and Merry.

   "Oh no. I want him to steal live chickens? And go somewhere and bread it himself. Of course you get a bucket of chicken at the chicken place. Where the hell else do you want him to go… the fucking hot dog stand? Christ almighty…"

   "You sure you don't want me there?"

   Mike looked like he was just about to say something snarky, and stopped and smiled. Paused.

   "No. You stay put. You? Are an absolute inspiration to the troops. They can't stay focused and alert without your presence."

   "Will do."

   "Amen."

   Merry and Panic were almost giggling. Merry still had 90 percent or better of her beer, and started for outside. With her beer, a large towel, and her purse.

   "Where you going?"

   "We're down south, honey. Do you like my legs tan?"

   "Yes. I do."

   "Well… it's in the 80s down here, and we're sitting around in a tin can in the sun."

   She spread her towel out in the grass, where she could get some of the stronger southern sun that was still available down here, as compared to where they had been. A little baby oil on all the exposed skin, and she was set.

   After a while, she heard the car and she didn't have to look up to know it was JG.

   "Hey Merry. They in the van I guess?"

   "Yep."

   "What are you doing. Just getting some sun?"

   "Yeah. And… trying to not get killed."

   "How that been going."

   "So far? So good. This is the third state I've been in, so far this summer. They tried to kill me down in DC. Then? Someone tried to kill me in rural Pennsylvania. Two different times. So far, no one's tried to kill me in this state yet. I might have found a winner."

   "I got chicken. I got caffeine in sugar water. I got iced tea. I also, got some energy drinks. What's your thing."

   "Chicken and tea."

   JG let her pick chicken out of the bucket and onto the paper plate he gave her. A couple paper towels, and the jug of iced tea he already knew she liked.

   "Thanks…"

   "No problem."

   He went in to join the other two guys.

   "What's up? I thought we were waiting on backup."

   "We are. Panic's asking me questions in martian. You? Speak martian. Figured you two could have fun."

   Panic started the same line of questioning with JG, and he started back.

   "So, that's it then. We either walk up, and that's out of the question. Or? We use a telescope. See if we can make out the camera brand."

   Mike seemed moderately happy.

   "We have a telescope. Good."

   JG and Panic looked at each other, and Panic took this one.

   "We don't have a telescope. We have a spotting scope."

   Mike rolled his eyes.

   "I don't care if you call it a sees-farther… we have one."

   "Mike? A spotting scope, is usually something like 20 to 40, or 20 to 60 power. At best. We need to see small print at a distance. A cheap telescope is what we need."

   "Can I order one? How long's that gonna take…"

   "Department stores have them. You know, something for the flash card soccer moms to buy their little geniuses to play with."

   "Pawn shops, second hand stores… they always have a couple."

   "How strong?"

   "I want the 600 at least. 1200 if we can get one."

   "Just get a brand that has a bunch of cheap eyepieces with it. We don't need image quality, we just need big magnification."

   "So? You two. Go take the credit card, and buy something. Sounds work related to me. Just no boobie magazines. Question though."

   "What?"

   "Is anyone going to see you playing in their back yard with a telescope? I'm assuming you have to do this in broad daylight. I highly doubt we plan on holding a spotlight on the house in the middle of the night."

   "Actually? Late in the day is best. Cheap scopes wash out in the strong light. Especially at the higher magnification."

   "Yeah, Panic's right… right before dark? That's best."

   "No one is going to notice?"

   "Well. That's why we want high power. No one's going to see us in the trees."

   Panic explained that if they put anything over the lens, and poked a small hole in the middle of the cover… the lens wouldn't make a glare, and the bonus was that the field of view would go through the roof.

   JG got excited.

   "Oh… yeah. During the day? Cheap telescopes are light buckets. Good one."

   "All right. That's enough, you two. Eat. Drink. Then go shopping. It's early yet. My doctor recommends small doses of martian at a time. Better for my blood pressure."

   JG squinted at Mike.

   "What?"

   "Nothing. You just seem like you're in an okay mood."

   "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be. Bad news I don't know about yet?"

   "No. Senior said to be careful, that you sounded… testy."

   Mike laughed.

   "Oh. That. My doctor recommends small doses of Senior, too. Don't say anything. Inside joke."

   "Sure."

   Panic and JG gabbed while eating, and Mike gave JG one of the dead snail beers with his food.

   "Uh. I might be driving. Plus? I'm on the clock."

   "We're on stand by. It's fine. And if you can manage to get a DUI off of one beer? I'd be impressed."

   JG looked at the beer Mike held out, that he had retrieved from the cooler. Without taking it.

   "Now what. I'm not trying to poison you."

   "Eh. Is this a trick…"

   "Junior. You see me drinking mine? You can see Panic has one. Merry even has one outside. It's fine. It's one beer, it's not like we're doing shots of tequila."

   JG shrugged.

   "All right…"

   "Junior?"

   "Yes."

   "For future reference. In case we ever work together again. Or, just for the duration of this thing. Whichever. I don't know what you know or heard about me. How I do things."

   "I've never heard a bad rumor about you, if that's what you're asking."

   "Right. I don't know how other guys operate, I only know how I operate. I don't try to trick my agents into doing something, then saying aha… and writing it down. Not that I want everyone to act like we're on vacation, cause we're not, but… you can ask Panic here, if you trust him. He saw me running a big scene up in Pennsylvania. I had a local state homicide team, they had their scene crew, I had reporters up my goddamned ass. I even had an outlaw biker gang watching every move I made, along with naturally half the town rubber necking. We had to bring state police reinforcements in, because the press was trying to sneak into the scene like goddamned private eyes."

   "Okay. Point being…"

   "Anyhow. That had no stand by mode. Anything could have happened any time of the day or night. Late at night, before I grabbed a short nap? Yeah, I had one or two beers. Every night. We shared a case of beer with the state police, and even the crime scene techs set up there. It's fine. I'm not one of those do as I say, not as I do kinda assholes. I don't care if you take a picture of me with a beer in my hand, and email it to the director himself. Honestly, if anyone wants my job? They can have it. The wife wants to move to Florida anyways. This just moves it up a notch. So, just use your best judgment. You don't have to watch out for me, or my motives. You know how you hear the we're a team speech every week?"

   "Sure."

   "Well, I actually mean it. This stagecoach driver? Has a beer in the evenings. And if the troops want one too? It's fine by me. We're just not going out to the local strip bar, and doing jello shots out of some coke hooker's ass. I'm not being the agent that gets caught on camera doing that shit. Now… does all this give you some idea where I'm coming from."

   "Yeah. You're not a suit… you're a normal guy."

   "There we go. You can relay this to the other guys. Until we go live? We don't have to stand on our tiptoes around me. I don't micromanage shit, like some guys do. Not my thing."

   "Okay."

   "Great. So, go eat. Then? You and Panic, get outta here, and go buy whatever you think you can use. We're trying to square up, how we're gonna send a sneak team into the barn to handle the tagging operation. We get tagging completed… we can all back off, and wait. This camera thing? Figures into that. You? Are the camera guy. I need your best guesses. Go on… have fun shopping."

   "What's our budget?"

   "On the record? Reasonable. Because we're duty bound to the taxpayers, to not waste their precious tax money. Now… off the record? Enough cash has been dumped into the case already, in the form of manpower and meetings and lab time… that I don't care. So, and again off the record. Get whatever the fuck you think you need or even want. I don't care. No hookers? Unless you can prove she's a security camera expert. Go on, get outta here."

   "Should we rush?"

   "Don't rush. If you wanna try this tomorrow afternoon? Fine by me. I got a couple day wait on the sneak team coming in anyways. If you're in a good mood? Call in when you start back, with suggestions for din din the troops might want you to score."

   In the couple hours they spent telescope shopping, Junior and Panic had time for idle chit chat.

   "You don't wanna just buy the one we liked back at the consignment store?"

   "We might. We still have options. Let's cover them all."

   "What was wrong with that one? We just need magnification."

   "Plastic main objective. It'll be like looking through dirty cling wrap. We're trying to figure out model numbers at a distance. You in a rush to get back and hang out with Senior?"

   "Not in a rush, no. But I told you… for a boomer, he's not half bad."

   Panic launched gently into a discussion of JG's career, after swearing him to keep it confidential. Glossing over the basics of what was going on.

   "I pretty much know this already. I'm not the only fresh face at this point in my career. Everyone dealt with this when they were new."

   Panic brought the football model into the conversation, and how it played in.

   "Why are you so interested in my career? You're outta here, when this is over. Hell, for that matter… why are you so driven about this case? Maybe you have some loose connection to one of the victims or something, I always figured."

   "When I was your age? I thought I was doing the right thing. Hell, I know I was. But… the suits in charge? They didn't really wanna put a stop to what was going on. They couldn't stand back and do nothing, and they didn't wanna win. Innocent people were dying, in droves. I was losing friends I worked with."

   "You were tight with your coworkers."

   "We were brothers. We were family. All the casualties? Honestly, to the suits… they were just numbers on a spreadsheet somewhere. You know the drill… the bigger picture bullshit story."

   "You're seeing innocent victims again. So you're haunted by the ghost of bullshit past."

   "Yeah."

   "Will it make it better for you, if this thing wraps up with a win?"

   "Eh. It won't make it worse, I know that."

   "That's the case. And me?"

   "You're smart. You're persistent. I watch you always go the whole nine yards. You keep pedaling, when you could be coasting. Plus? When someone goes out of their way to help me, I try to do it back, the best I can. Most people step on other people, to try to get higher up. I don't. I try to boost a couple people up, then they can pull me up. Why make enemies, when you can just as easily make friends."

   "Well. Thanks for trying to use your juice with Mike, to help me out. You two sure do seem to hit it off."

   "Way back when? We didn't know each other, but… we worked in the same field. He was management, I was labor."

   "Yeah. You service guys all stick together. Like the football players do."

   "It's more than just that. I don't like to hang out with every guy that was ever in a uniform. Mike's like me and you… he's not a football player, and he's trying to do the right thing. It's not about his career, it's not about money or recognition. It's about living your life by a code. Letting that guide you? Isn't always easy. It can cost you, more times than it lines up with helping you out."

   "You think I'm a boy scout, too?"

   "You might be. I needed help, to work quick on Merry's little problem she had. Mike? Sent me help, and he sent it quick. That lab guy? Really kicked ass. Still wasn't getting there, though. You? Came into camp, took one look around… and nailed it down. You're going to get a gold star for that, I'm pretty sure. Enjoy it. You earned it."

   "What's the magical thing."

   "What magic?"

   "Mike listens to you. And Mike matters around the building."

   "Before I dealt with Mike? I dealt with IA. Your IA, and City IA. Other than what we had to talk about… they were really hep on hearing what I thought about things, in general. Because I was an outsider. They wanted my take on everything. Mike was interested in that too. I bet you ask why…"

   "Not why, but… why you?"

   "When you work every day inside of something? You go blind to stuff you're used to seeing. You know how if you have a big dog, you don't smell it, but… company coming over notices. If someone from the outside didn't tell you? You'd never know. You ever hear the story about cooking the ham?"

   "Don't think so."

   "Wanna hear it? It's funny."

   "We got time."

   "Big family. One older sister, is teaching the younger sister that just got married, how to cook. Younger one asks why you have to cut the ends of the ham off, and do something else with them. Why not just leave them on."

   "All right."

   "Older sister? Says because… that's how it's done. Mom always did it. Younger sister? Still doesn't get it, and the older sister doesn't have a better answer. They decide to go to mom. Guess what mom says…"

   "Cause that's how it's done."

   "Yeah. They ask her why, though. Mom says because that's how grammy always did it. Now, all three of them go and ask grammy next time they're over. Grammy? Says pretty much the same thing, except that it was great grammy that taught her to do it. Great grammy is in an old folks home. Grammy promises to ask her, next time she goes and visits her, and she's having a clear day and can talk well."

   "Let me guess… because great great grammy did it that way."

   "Nope. Great grammy? Said they were poor back then, and they only had one roaster to make the big ham in. So, she cut the ends off so it fit in. I know, kinda silly. Wanna hear a better one?"

   "Sure."

   "You ever hear the one about the monkeys, the ladder and the banana?"

   "Don't think so…"

   "So. You take a bunch of monkeys, and put em in a big room. You put a banana on a string, and they'll go up the ladder to get the bunch of bananas. Go figure."

   "Okay."

   "What you can do is, you take a fire hose, with ice cold water. Any time a monkey goes up the ladder to get the bananas? All the monkeys get blasted with ice water. Doesn't take long for them to learn it."

   "All right."

   "Now? You can put new monkeys in. All the new monkeys know? Is that all the other monkeys will beat the ever loving shit out of them, for going up the ladder to get the bananas. Makes sense, right?"

   "Sure."

   "In fact, you can now rotate new monkeys in, and take old and original monkeys out. Monkeys that know why this is the way things are. What you can end up with over time? Is a bunch of monkeys that have no fucking idea, why they beat the shit out of any monkey that wants the bananas up the ladder. You quit with the ice water a long time ago. Nothing will happen, but, they don't know that. None of the monkeys are bad, or even stupid. They all think they're doing the right thing."

   "I like the monkey story, better than the ham story."

   "Monkey see, monkey do. Man? Is just a chimpanzee with less hair, and can talk and read and write. Some days going around? You could just shave a chimp and get the same results."

   They laughed at the image. JG made monkey noises and Panic made them back. They hit pay dirt on a used telescope that made both of them happy. It had a big, glass main objective… a sun shade… and a large collection of eyepieces that went with it.

   "It looks like it's better built…"

   The man running the shop, explained.

   "People always want new, and this is the older stuff, that was made better. Look. Japan made lenses. Back then? Everyone complained about the cheap Japanese stuff on the market, but, compare it to today. Look at the construction. Come on, let's go out back, and you can look through it…"

   "See guys? Glass doesn't go bad, and you can't afford to make something nice like this today. Not at any kind of a price point. Those eyepieces? Decent glass. Four element Plossl's. All you get today, for twice the price of an old one like this? Two element plastic plossls. Shit. You can see the difference. Try going up to 600 power with plastic. See anything else you might like?"

   Panic nodded.

   "You got one of those… smart phone adapters? Be nice to take high resolution pictures."

   "Sure. Here, couple extra bucks… and this is a shim kit. So you can put it on anything you want. You sure you guys don't wanna go Newtonian Cassegrain? Smaller and lighter. Better image quality."

   "No. We need magnification. We need to change the eyepieces to change magnification. We don't know exactly what power we need."

   "Well? Let's get you boys rang up. And remember, if you ever need camera lenses? Look here first. Web-page is on the business cards. I'll ship anywhere."

   "We're good. Should we call Mike and see what everyone wants for dinner?"

   "Yeah. We're far enough out, we passed a lot of stuff on the way here. They can argue about it, and call us back when they're done deciding."

   On the drive back, retracing their steps instead of taking the most direct route allowed them to text dinner ideas until something excited everyone enough to call it for them.

   "So Panic. How do you think this will go."

   "How what goes. The case itself? Or… getting this tagging operation wrapped up."

   "Both, I guess."

   "JG… you? Are the agent. I'm the outsider. I should be asking you that."

   "You want me to act like I do this all the time? We have office agents, we have guys with tons of field experience. Guess which one I am."

   "You're nervous? It's okay to be nervous. If you're scared, it's okay to be scared, too."

   "We're not planning on taking down an armed robbery crew. I just worry things might get flubbed."

   "It happens. If it happens, we deal with it. And like you said, we're not taking down an armed robbery crew. I figure we get the vehicles tagged. That starts working, we get the rest of the tagging done once they're out and moving… we're probably home free."

   "Maybe you can guess, that the football players tend to hog field work."

   "Ah. Don't sweat it. Everyone that has any experience at anything? They had to have a first time. You guys have a good track record at field work, right?"

   "Things either go one of two ways. Textbook, like a training exercise at the academy. Or? Shit goes sideways. Taking one guy, or one car, or one location? Tends to go pretty much by the book. We have multiple locations. We have multiple scenes. We have an unknown number of suspects. The maps of the areas? It's spread out."

   "You're interstate homicide. If people slip through? Manhunts are what you guys are good at, right?"

   "Senior? Is interstate homicide. I'm just attached to interstate homicide. Big difference. But yeah, manhunts are one of the things the bureau is good at. Honestly, if I.H. can't scoop the perps up? Then… another team takes over. We could call it the manhunt department."

   "So don't worry about it. We get these assholes tagged, the rest should fall into place. Besides, don't worry so much about the stage-fright. You just handle the tech crew, take care of what you're good at. I doubt the football players expect you to throw blocks running downfield when that part happens. Let the football players, make themselves useful. The ball players hate the tech side of things, and that's where you shine. Honestly? I think your job is more keeping the field agents out of the tech crew's hair, even though the field agents think you're doing the opposite."

   "Do me a favor?"

   "Anything."

   "Maybe you could see your way clear to not mention my stage-fright?"

   "Not a problem. You wanna hear a funny story?"

   "Sure."

   "Some guy's first live combat exercise is coming up. Course the guy's nervous. He's human."

   "Okay."

   "Game day comes. He did okay. He stayed with the guys that had experience. They ran, he ran. They took cover, he took cover. They turned around and returned fire? So did he. Only thing was, when it was all over? He realized somewhere along the line he pissed himself."

   "Ouch."

   "He admits it to one of the guys with experience. Know what the guy told him about it?"

   "Afraid to ask."

   "Guy says that's all? No big deal… I shit myself my first time…"

   "That's cute. You mind if I compliment you back?"

   "I don't know about that, JG… my ego is too big already."

   "Oh, that's funny. Coming from the guy that usually doesn't care what anyone says and does to him, as long as it gets the results he needs."

   "JG. You noticed. I'm so touched."

   "You and Speedy drew up the battle plans, before you ever hit the Hoover building and got the bureau interested. Which probably means you came up with that idea. Blanketing the hunting zone with cameras."

   "Me and Speedy are a team. We came up with things together."

   "I know, you and your boyfriend share credit on everything. Remember who I am, though. I'm the guy that was making sure audio and video in those interview rooms is working good. I'm also the AV tech that edits the interviews down to create the summaries. If I take notes while I'm running it? It's a lot faster process. I can tell which one of you is responsible for what."

   "How?"

   "Easy. Which one of you does all the talking when a question came up. You invented this whole thing. It's obvious, when you watch all the interview tapes."

   "Then it should be equally obvious? That Speedy handled pretty much the entire investigation."

   "He handles interviews. He keeps notes. Those notes? He handed them in. He keeps a timeline, and everything he does, is on that timeline. You? You appear as little circled bubbles hovering over his timeline. Then? He goes back and puts a little star by important parts, and keeps these little lists of things he thinks fits the facts he's discovered. Every couple pages, he works that list over again. Refining it. You started this. You got Speedy interested in it… you follow him around… then you just pop up in a bubble, and he finds another star, that makes his list. We have a name for that in the bureau, you know."

   "What…"

   "Stagecoach driving. You get the horse moving, and you tug on the reins to keep it pointed in the right direction."

   Panic sighed.

   "It's that obvious? Damn. I was kinda hoping I blended into the wallpaper more."

   "It's only obvious, when you sit back and watch those interview tapes, and read Speedy's notes. It gets lost after that, because after you hit the bureau? Senior takes over. He has to make his own notes on his own case. Makes his own summaries to boil things down for everyone else brought in to come up to speed on it. Which means he basically just copies Speedy's notes and puts his name on it."

   "So it really is Senior's ballgame, once me and Speedy hit the bureau?"

   "Yeah. There's one thing agents at the bureau are good at? It's getting their name on things. It's obvious, though."

   "What's obvious?"

   "Senior won't let Speedy go. Speedy? Won't let you go. Anyone even jokes about cutting Speedy loose on consulting? Senior looks like he's ready to have a heart attack. Speedy gets the same way when Senior one time wondered about letting you go back home."

   "Who knows this?"

   JG grinned.

   "Don't worry. Not too many people. Other than Senior? Mainly me, and now Mike. It's funny, really."

   "What's funny?"

   "You. You don't seem to be scared to be in a firefight at four in the morning… but, you're obviously scared of publicity. You really got that much of a phobia?"

   "Yeah. I like my privacy that much, JG. I'm fucked though."

   "How?"

   "The witness? Her trials? I can't get out of that, and that means publicity. Reporters. Cameras. Before that DC shooting, before the bar scene… the whole game plan? Was to develop the case, then hand it over to the proper authorities. Speedy was going to retire and go on his safari. Me? I was going to go home and pet my cat. Now I got sucked up in, like a tornado, and I can't get out of it."

   JG chuckled, and either couldn't or wouldn't stop.

   "Someone? Has a phobia. Someone… has some stage-fright."

   Panic sighed.

   "Something like that."

   "Don't worry about it. It's not that big a deal. We have people at the bureau that can help you with that, you know. Not the first time a cop suddenly got a camera shoved in his face."

   "What do you mean?"

   "The PR crew. They'll dress you in a suit and get you a haircut, so you blend in better. They'll let you study your lines. The most important of which? I can give you right now, so you can start practicing it… no comment. Another one? I can't comment on an ongoing investigation. That'll tide you over, at least until the trials start."

   "Yeah… then I'm fucked."

   "No. Then there's the legal department at the bureau. You'll be coached on how to provide testimony. Remember Panic, you're a witness for the prosecution. The prosecuting attorneys will work with you up front, practicing. When you're on the stand, when defense comes at you, they won't let you get skewered. So if it helps your phobia out? You won't be alone… we all walk into the courtrooms together? And we all walk out together. I already knew about your stage-fright, though."

   "How?"

   "Mike mentioned it. Remember, you were keeping Merry under wraps, while we were all stuck in the Hoover building. Mike knows you're camera shy. He mentioned it. He said he couldn't get you to come out for the press conference and so much as stand there in front of the reporters, let alone name you. He said you literally ran and hid. Behind the bar, in the tent."

   "Great. Why do you think that is, JG?"

   "Two possibilities. One, you're wanted for armed robbery or murder somewhere. I highly doubt that one. You passed a background check before they hung that consultant's badge on you, and your federal carry permit. Only other option? A phobia about reporters and publicity."

   "Well. Now you know my little secret. You think it'll be any kind of a problem?"

   JG snorted.

   "Not hardly. The Bureau's main problem? Is usually keeping people away from the reporters. And the way you deflect all the attention, then hand it over to everyone else around you? Hell, agents like candy bars, and you just hand your candy bar over to the nearest person. No one at the bureau is gonna fight you over it. To an agent like Senior? You're a dream come true."

   "Funny. I don't feel like I'm exactly living the dream right now."

   "I noticed. When I met you down in DC? You looked like death warmed over. You looked better, once you got out of the Hoover building and started sleeping. But honestly, it wasn't until we started coming to your camp. There? You looked happy. You come from a small town, don't you."

   "I do."

   "You really don't like the city, do you."

   "I don't."

   "Hmm. You don't like big crowds, do you. All those strangers."

   Panic grinned.

   "Actually? I like big crowds. Crowds of strangers. Concerts. Big games. I feel at peace there. Just another guy, just another face, walking around. The whole crowd, we're all the same. Equal. We all like the same thing, we have something in common. We all came there to see and experience the same thing. You stand or sit next to someone? You smile at them, they smile back. You wait in a line together, you and some stranger you never met, that you'll never meet again? You talk easy, and you share freely. I actually like it."

   "Oh. Thought you had some kinda social thing with big crowds. Some people get antsy in big crowds."

   "No. Not me. Like I said, I prefer it."

   "Then… how do you hate the city? You should like it. All those strangers. The crowds everywhere you go."

   "It's not the same. At a concert, at a big game? We all have a bond. We're all part of a group, and we sense it. None of us are there to get anything off of each other. We're all there to share in something. But… in the city? Everyone thinks they're really getting somewhere. They wanna jump in front of you in line. Goddamn fifty people in line, what's one person ahead in line gonna really do for you, you know? They push and shove anyways. Everyone wants to steal your cab pulling up. Everyone wants to get seated first."

   "I guess it is different."

   "Very much so, JG. Very much so. Go to a big concert, and go and sit down early. Ask the next guy, where he's from. He smiles, he tells you the name of his town, and then he tells you something about it. Then? He asks you the same thing, and you share back. You go to the bathroom, you see the guy in line waiting to get something? He'll stop you. Hey, Pittsburgh… there you are. I saved you a spot in the line. Guy doesn't even know you? He's friendly, he's seeing if he can do anything for you."

   "You don't get that in the city? Hell, every agent plays the where you from game."

   "Not the same. Go out, and try to get a cab. Go out to eat, and watch people trying to cut in front of you, anything you do, anywhere you go. I gotta watch my goddamned newspaper at the hot dog stand if it's busy… some stranger tries to accidentally walk off with my newspaper. The fuck is a guy in a suit got to gain, if he steals my newspaper? Diddly shit. He's trying it though. They all think they're competing, in some dog eat dog world. And they're not even winning anything."

   JG didn't say anything. He just took it all in.

   "What's that businessman in the suit, that stole my newspaper because I blinked getting change out of my pocket, what's even his story about that. Does he actually go home. Hi honey, how was your day? Oh honey, it was wonderful. Some moron didn't guard his newspaper at the hot dog stand, I got it, and walked right off with it. How great a day you think I had… oh honey, I'm so proud of you, that's why I married you… I mean, everyone is so programmed to fuck each other? They fuck each other over when there's no reason to. When there's nothing to gain. They either like it? Or they're practicing."

   "Practicing? For what…"

   "I don't know. I guess, practicing so they don't miss their big chance, when it comes up. You can see it in their actions, you can hear it in their words. At the concert? You ask the guy next to you where he's from, he smiles and tells you, then asks you back. Try that in the city. Where you from? He'll laugh, and tell you he's from the town of go fuck yourself, in the state of mind your own business. Again. Does this guy go home, and the kids and wife ask how lunch went at work… does he say oh, it was wonderful. Some guy tried to be nice to me, and ask where I was from… the wife asks, did you have a nice conversation? Yeah right, I ain't no rube… I told him to go fuck himself. I ain't falling for that shit. And you know something? The kids are watching, the kids are learning."

   "Jesus. You spent a little time in the city, and that's all you got out of it?"

   "JG. I'm forty years old. It's not my first taste of the big city."

   "You're not from DC. What city soured you on big cities?"

   "I grew up in a small town, maybe an hour south of Pittsburgh. I remember it was exciting to take the bus and spend the day in the city, to get a ride up and see the big game, see the big concert. All those places to shop, all those places to eat. Sure, it's fun. Now, you might have noticed. I never talk about my ex."

   "Yeah. You just change the subject."

   "She came from my area, in general. She ended up working in Harrisburg. That's not a big city, by city standards, but… it is the capitol of my state. So, everyone's all ooh, we're all a big deal here. Now, mind you… I'm from a place called Washington County, in Pennsylvania. We have a county seat, and it's naturally called Washington, Pennsylvania. It's actually bigger than Harrisburg. Which for me, made it so much sillier. The way all the city people in Harrisburg? Act like there's some kind of tough Chicago New York kind of deal going on or something."

   "Your ex worked there."

   "Yeah. Got a house in the city. Moved up slowly in her career. She tried like hell to get me to move there? I wouldn't do it. I come in, I stay, I actually enjoy it. But, to live there? No, it's not for me. And I'll tell you something. Every year she spent there? She got a little worse. Until one day? I realized I no longer understood her, or what she was saying, and what she was all about. The city? Turned her into someone I didn't even recognize anymore. So yeah, it wasn't hard to pinch that turd off when the time came."

   "What's so different about Merry?"

   "My ex? More than ten years in the city, and after the first five, I could see the changes coming. Every year, it was more and more. Happening quicker. Merry? Spent ten years in a much bigger city. With a much shittier life and job. The city? It couldn't get to her, somehow. I thought she'd hate staying at the camp, once the novelty wore off. In a small cabin. Dirt floor. We bath in the creek. She loved it. She doesn't wanna go back to the city, she can't wait to get back to the cabin. The difference? Is like night and day."

   "That's all you really want?"

   "What more is there, JG. I guess maybe you mean… the whole doing something with my life speech?"

   "Maybe…"

   "I don't mean it bad, but, I'm older then you. I already did what I think of as my life's work already. This? What we're doing now? It just came along, and I couldn't pass up the chance to do something good again. Then, when it's all over? I just wanna go back to a little town again. When I was little. My parents died, and I got raised by my aunt and uncle. They were wonderful parents. They were 20 years older than all the other kids parents, though. Older values. So, my grandpa… he was 20 years older too. Back then? You could retire at 55. That's what he did. He came back from the war, he worked in the steel mill, and he retired as soon as he could. You know what he did?"

   "No idea."

   "He'd sit on the porch, and listen to the baseball game on the radio. Drank every day, smoked cigars. He didn't give a shit what the rest of the world did. As a kid, I didn't understand that. Now, at my age? I think I understand it. I ain't gonna get drunk and smoke cigars and listen to the baseball game, I got different hobbies. But… the basic idea? I think it's the same. Am I boring you, rambling? Or… you wanna hear about the little store down the road from grandma and grandpa's place…"

   "No. Go on."

   "Little gas station. Little general store. My dad would stop there, on the way into gramma's. Whether we needed gas or not. I was all excited to get penny candy. Man, back then? Your dad flips you a quarter… you can get more candy than you can hold in both hands. They shut down all the little mom and pop gas stations by now, you understand. The old people that ran it? They stayed on, just being a general store, but… it's empty now. My gun shop I want? I want it like that place was. Near where I live. I know the couple of customers that come in. If no one's coming in? I don't give a shit. Some old man I like talking to, stops in every day? Great. Some asshole stops in and gives me grief? Get the fuck out. I don't need your business. I just wanna be the guy with the gun shop in town, the guy that lives on that big gun range, out on the edge of town. That's all."

   "That's your porch. That's your ball game. Because you already fought your own war."

   "More or less. Yeah. So… when I shared my dreams with my ex. You know, told her what my porch and my ball game were gonna be like? She would roll her eyes and sigh. I tell it to Merry? She seems happy about it. JG?"

   "Yeah…"

   "I remember your porch and ball game. You told us about it. You wanna play private investigator. You want a secretary with big boobs. Whether you actually need a secretary or not. You gonna do it one day, actually pull the trigger?"

   "It's my plan. I did college. I did the academy. I made full agent by 25. I need my twenty in, to get a half pension with full benefits. Which will make me, almost 45 when the time comes. As long as I make sure, that I only take on a girl that's okay with that plan? I should make it."

   "So, the girl better have big boobs. So you can have your secretary and not get in trouble."

   JG laughed.

   "You know, you're the only person I met? That doesn't take my PI retirement story, for I'm just making a joke."

   "Hey. It's your porch. It's your ball game. It's not my place to complain if you wanna run a website, tracking UFO sightings around the country."

   "Thanks. Nice to know you're not the dream police, Panic."

   "Hey… no problem. Did our own little troop of monkeys text us back what to bring for dinner?"

   "I'm driving. Can you check on that?"

   "Yeah…"

   Moments later, a beep told them someone might have decided. Panic related the request.

   "They want Mexican. Whatever a super party platter is."

   "Remember last time we did Mexican? There's two giant bags of burritos and tacos, and a smaller bag with all the sauces."

   "My ass remembers it more vividly than I do. I mean, I can eat that shit, but… the next day? It's a waste elimination nightmare."

   "See, I think it's the pink slime that does that."

   "The hell even is pink slime, anyways. I've heard the words before."

   "Seriously?"

   "What…"

   "If you don't know what pink slime is, you're a normie."

   "Fuck you, you take that back. I ain't normal… you're normal."

   "You? Want to sit on your porch and listen to a baseball game. That? Is a normie activity if I ever heard one before."

   "Blow me. You're the one with a full blown career and shit you're all worried about. How normie is that… look at me, I'm a glow-nigger, and I'm worried I'm not glowing the right shade of green…"

   The two of them kept this up for a while, until they got closer to home base. The Mexican take out chain had enough locations, that it made more sense to pick the one closest to home. So everyone had lukewarm pink slime instead of ice cold pink slime, assuming JG's pink slime conspiracy was correct. After they went through the takeout lane and were homeward bound, Panic looked at the receipt.

   "Christ, JG… we were out for hours, and they could have anything we passed on the road. And what do they choose. For this much money? Do you realize how many real tacos and burritos we could make for ourselves? Good god…"

   "Yeah. Be honest. Did you ever once, make burritos and tacos, and it looked even remotely like this shit? We might as well just put laxatives on taco shells and call it a night."

   "No, you're right. I brown ground meat all the time… it never, ever looked like this shit they put in the burritos."

   "I keep telling you, Panic. Pink slime. Look it up. There's articles all over the internet on it."

   "Right. There's articles on UFOs and Bigfoot, too."

   "These articles? Are real. Just look it up. And don't blame me if you don't eat take out Mexican after reading it."

   "No. You're talking to someone who actually knows what's in potted meat. And I still eat it."

   "I don't know how you eat that shit. Looks like little cans of salty cat food."

   "I don't know why. I just like it on crackers. So sue me."

   "Do you really wanna eat this shit? I'm getting myself burgers and fries and a milkshake."

   Panic looked at the bag of Mexican hell, and up at the burger chain sign.

   "If you're going, I'm going. I'm in the car."

   "Good. We get hot burgers and fries. They? Get lukewarm pink slime."

   "Wait a minute. Isn't there pink slime in our burgers, too?"

   "Way less. Just look at any burrito or taco in that bag… then look at a burger from here. Then you tell me, which one looks more like real ground meat."

   "No, you're right."

   After they got back, the chase car brought van two's inhabitants to van one, so they could all eat together. After eating, which included arguing about the pink slime, they were all sitting around gabbing. Panic started talking about magic and produced a set of playing cards. He asked everyone if they believed in magic. Everyone made polite jokes or laughed.

   "Merry… would you be so kind as to select a card?"

   Panic spread the cards out so she could pick one at random. He made little jokes as she decided. No, not that one. Okay, go ahead. Finally she had her card. He asked her to show everyone what the card was, while he turned around. When he turned back around, he had her slide the card back into the deck. She wiggled it in, somewhere about the middle or thereabouts, then pushed down to plant it.

   "Do I know what card you picked?"

   "You shouldn't, but… probably not how the trick goes."

   "I'm going to shuffle the deck…"

   He proceeded to shuffle the deck, and at great length. He cut and shoved them together. He cut them and flipped them half together, then bridged them up into an arch, and smoothly made a whole deck again. He did these things over and over. His final show, was to hold the deck out, and cut the deck in two and put it back together, one handed.

   "Now then… JG? Stand in front of Merry. Merry? Place your fingers on his temples, and think about that card. I want you to imagine, that the card exists in your head. That it's floating out, turning to smoke. That smoke? Is going into JG's ears, and reforming into the same card again. In his head. Let me know when you're done."

   Merry finally nodded.

   "JG? Pick a card… at random. Don't let us see it."

   He did.

   "Now… show everyone the card."

   He got some ooh's and aah's, and a few little polite claps.

   Panic's face went from friendly to serious.

   "I expected better from the FBI's finest, you know. So easily fooled… and by a trick? So easy, my cat could pull it off, if only it could speak and had an opposable thumb…"

   He splayed the cards out now so they could see them fan out in his hands, and they all laughed. The whole deck? Was composed of the exact same card. He gathered the deck back up, and walked around easily, gesticulating and explaining.

   "It's so easy, it's not even funny. I can let people burn the cards, picked at random, one by one… and always? The correct card is the last one. Why… I could even put a card beforehand, into someone's pocket… then have someone select a card… burn the deck. And the correct card? Is in that person's pocket. If you people would be so kind as to check your pockets, I sometimes lose the occasional card."

   Merry had one, her cut off jeans back pocket held it.

   "I just couldn't resist touching her ass. You'll forgive me, I'm sure."

   JG looked at him. Holding his up.

   "I touched your hips, when I positioned you in front of Merry, for the mentalist transfer bullshit."

   He got a few more giggles.

   "You see, the sad truth… the easier and more basic the trick really is? The more tricks I can pull off with it, each better then the last. Maybe I should have done the card burning shtick, but… hey, I'm not a complete ham."

   "Got any more?"

   "What. You already know the trick. I'm tapped out… okay. I got one more trick. He took the deck again, and fanned the cards out, and asked JG to pick one. Junior smiled and him hawed.

   "It's all the same card, Panic. You already showed us the deck."

   "Did I?"

   "Yeah. You did."

   "So I did… but like I said, I expect more from the FBI's finest…"

   An in so saying, he fanned the cards out in his hands, so they could see the values… it was an ordinary deck of playing cards. This brought a few more claps, a few more hoots and laughter, than before.

   "Now then. With an ordinary deck? I'm handicapped now. No more special trick deck. JG… if you would be so kind, as to pick a card at random, let everyone see it, not me, you know the drill."

   He fanned the cards out. Faces down, so JG could pick. He turned around, so JG could show everyone then hold it face away when he turned back.

   "Hold the card out. Face down, don't let me see it…"

   JG poked it out, face down, as bidden.

   "I'll even let you do it, if you promise to be careful. Lift the deck up to cut it, and shove it in, and put it together…"

   JG lifted up some of the deck, rammed it gently home to be with its friends, then recapped the cut portion back on top of the little deck sandwich in his palm that Panic held out for the purpose.

   "That will do. But now? I need someone with a very light touch. Merry?"

   She walked over.

   "Merry has a very light touch. In fact, her touch is so feminine and light? She can make things rise up with her touch."

   This brought a round of predictable giggles at the obvious double entendre of making things rise up at the touch of her fingers.

   "Now. I want you to touch the deck very gently…"

   He held the deck upright in his hand, and slid the tip of his finger up the side, to gently caress the side of the cards. Lovingly, almost erotically. He smiled.

   "Only the tip of your finger. Now, this is important. From bottom to top, from bottom to top. Good… gentle, gentle… watch the nails, dear, watch the nails… good… oh, that feels really good, the cards are really enjoying this, I can feel it… now the other side. Same thing. Fingertip… gently, bottom to top, bottom to top. Now? Do it on each side… take turns…"

   He had his other hand over the deck, wiggling his fingers dangling down towards the deck. He tugged on an invisible string, and as she moved her fingers up the sides, it looked like maybe one card was a hair higher.

   "Excellent. Now, if I can just finish off what you started, dear…"

   He ran his thumb and index finger gently up the sides, and the card rose up.

   "Well… let's see what card Merry picked… JG? I think you know which card to check…"

   It was up enough he could grab it. It was the card he had selected at random.

   "Now then. Another, even better trick, yes?"

   He went on to explain, at some length, about tricks in general. The trick? Was already done, long before you ever saw it. By the time you know something's up, and looking to see how it's done? It's already been completed. The rest? Just some showmanship and jokes.

   "You see, if I just did the trick? Kinda boring. Unless… I make cool pouty faces, and wiggle my fingers mysteriously… and talk about mentalist bullshit. Now, as an audience member? Maybe one of you would like to try to do the trick I just did… anyone? Or, perhaps you'd just like to examine the deck, maybe you could see how I did it that way…"

   He handed the deck over to his little audience. He got more laughter and appreciation than before, by them now seeing… the entire deck was back to all the same card. As the original trick. Panic took his deck back, and went and sat down next to Merry.

   "You know… seeing Merry use her fingers, and making things rise? It… well, to be honest… I could really use a cigarette, what it does to me, and all… JG? Can I have a smoke?"

   JG couldn't find his cigarettes. Panic took one out of a pack to his lips, and tossed JG the pack.

   "Here. Have mine…"

   "Hey…"

   Panic smiled.

   "You at least got a light, JG?"

   He couldn't find his little disposable lighter any quicker than he could find his smokes.

   "Okay. I got one…"

   He lit the cigarette, and tossed JG what was obviously his own lighter back.

   "You can keep mine. I'm good."

   Mike smiled.

   "Are you gonna tell us how the tricks are done?"

   "Yes and no… the thing you aren't seeing? Is about as advanced as this…"

   He did the old "I'm pulling my thumb off" trick you entertained toddlers with.

   "Okay. Everyone gets an hour at the motel room. For bath and whatnot. Me and Merry each have our own hour up next, so… see you boys in two hours. Enjoy your sausage party here, guys. Anyone need anything on our way back?"

   Mike suggested a 12 pack of whatever beer everyone decided on. Then Panic and Merry each grabbed their own duffel bag and headed out. They took one of the chase cars, and drove to the motel room. Mike had made sure to take a room out back, away from the main building. That smaller building had it's own little parking lot, so no one would really notice that the same car was coming and going, but with different people in it each time. Panic sent Merry to the office, to ask if the package for their room number arrived. By the time she was back, Panic was already in the shower. Before Merry could mention there was a package, Panic just told her to put the package on the bed, and join him.

   With their two hours stacked together, they could enjoy a much longer bath and alone time together. They were the only couple on the trip, so it made sense. They went through their now routine shower activities. They soaped each other up. They rinsed each other off. They had fun standing up in the shower. They dried each other off. They played the toothpaste game, and Merry gave Panic a slightly extended shaking the water off of her hair show that he seemed to enjoy so much. He had already enjoyed his leg shaving show in the shower, in between the soaping and rinsing, and the stand up fun time. Merry saw to Hotler getting a trim for his benefit as well.

   After about a 40 minute shower and five minutes of toothpaste games and drying each other off, they had a brief quickie on the bed, then a quick rinse off in the shower again and another quick drying off of each other.

   "We have another hour, honey."

   "Yes, we do. Time for my next trick."

   "Ooh. Which is?"

   "Open the package. Carefully."

   He helped her, and he pulled out what ended up being something taped thoroughly. Two small slabs of foam, with generous amounts of tape wrapped around it. Beneath the foam surprise, was a small and somewhat odd looking computer board, encased in the obligatory thick plastic bag such things routinely came in.

   "What is it?"

   "Money in the bank. Extra mad money. For us. For a while, over time. Remember… the trick is done? Long before you even know a trick is happening. By the time you start looking? It's far too late. Come on…"

   He took a little tool bag out of his duffel, and they went to the car. The FBI chase car. She watched him work carefully, but efficiently. He knew where to look, and he obviously knew what he was doing. He finally pulled out a long bundle of multiple wires, and it dragged a metal box with it.

   "Know what this is?"

   "Nope. I figure you'll tell me…"

   "This? Is the main computer for this car. Do you know what it is that's so special about police interceptors?"

   "Actually? Yeah. The police model, has higher performance parts than the civilian version. Better brakes. Better engine. Better rear end. Better transmission. Every cop, already knows this."

   "Yeah. So does any civilian, that likes to buy used cop cars at auctions. The guys that do? Know about the differences. They like the better brakes, and heavier duty tranny and rear end and suspension parts. But… there's just the one thing, that those civilians can't have… and? They will pay anything, just to get it."

   "What's that?"

   Panic carefully slipped on plastic gloves, and attached a little wristband to his wrist. It plugged into the little computer board. He plugged a long cord in, that went from his laptop to the new board.

   He had already disconnected the battery in the car, and now opened up the metal box he had dragged out and opened it slowly up. Exposing the inner computer that controlled most of the car.

   "This? Is what the civilians can't get. No way, no how. This computer chip, the little one. Right here. This? Is programmed to make this car, do things. It runs better. It accelerates more like a race car. It shifts the automatic transmission more for performance than for gas mileage. And… it also… allows the police car, to go 140 plus miles per hour on a straightaway… the civilian's model of the same car? Definitely doesn't. Know how it does it?"

   "Not sure…"

   "It will only do 105. After that, it shunts the spark. If you try to go chase highway speeds, it sounds like the engine runs rough for a second as you try to really push it. That? Is the moment the police car, really opens up and shoves you back in the seat."

   "So, that's why the civilians buy the police cars at auctions. So they can have this…"

   "No. They get everything else? But, by law… they do not get this magic computer memory chip. That contains the program that the computer runs on. It gets swapped back out by the fleet mechanics before they take the cop shit off the car to go to the auction."

   "Hmm. You're stealing it, and replacing it with a civilian chip."

   "No. I'm not. I'm going to copy it, and put the original back in. I can make as many copies, of my copy, as I want to."

   "You, are going to sell the magic cop chips, to civilians. Right?"

   "Here and there. Yes."

   "How much per chip?"

   "I'm going to monitor a big car club on the internet site they use. When they have a meet? I'm going to go there, and locate buyers. When I promise, I can demonstrate it for them. Change their chip out, then show it works? They will pay me practically anything I ask for. It's the one thing they want most, that they can't get, no matter where they look and how hard they try."

   "Really? And you can just make copy after copy?"

   "I can. Just about no one else can. There's safeguards in place."

   "Such as…"

   "You can buy the civilian chips, all day long on the internet. They blow once in a while, and you can replace the whole computer and even this chip. The civilian chips? Work in either base models, or in police cars, but… they don't have the performance boosts. Now, this chip? Is coded to work only with this computer. You might have noticed, I took pictures of the VIN numbers, I have a number on this chip… and there's a code on this computer, too… I know where to look in the memory chip, to replace the board code. So it will match and work like magic."

   "And… after you demonstrate it and you and your customer go for a little test drive on a lonely stretch of highway…"

   Panic grinned.

   "That guy is going to show it off, to all his cop car club buddies. He's going to be very hush hush, and only brag to his closest buddies. Because it's very illegal. And… as he shows off for his buddies, one at a time…"

   "You… are going to get all the other sales."

   "Yep. I'm gonna make a mint off of this little magic trick, over a short period of time. Once I get it rolling."

   "How much are you going to get for each car you… upgrade?"

   "They'll pay literally anything to get it. Fifteen hundred. Cash. Best part is, only I can install it. They make a copy of their copy? It'll only work in their own computer. Their buddy's car they try it in? No dice. I'm the doorman. You gotta slip me the cash, to get into the secret club."

   "First one you get. Fifteen hundred bucks. Cash… then…"

   "Then when I come back around? That guy will have them lined up for me. Begging me to upgrade each of them, too. Original guy? Gets a hundred bucks cash, for every sale he brings me. I'm going to meet people, like it's a drug deal. Motel rooms, parking lots… where I can make sure there's no surveillance team waiting to pinch me, just to make sure it's safe. 1500 bucks a night, every one I do, one after the other. And? I'm the sort of guy, that knows how to monitor the right radio frequencies, to be sure. I know how to scan a person, to make sure they're not wired or transmitting. I'm going to make a killing off of this, hun."

   "But… why now…"

   "Because. I decided that I want to make as much money as I can, under the table. I want to buy a lot of very nice things for my gun shop. Very expensive pieces of gunsmith and machining things. I want to buy a lot of gun parts, and put them together and sell them. In bulk. Online. Once I have my license? It's perfectly legal. That? Will make me even more money. I'm going to suddenly be very financially successful, and no one will be able to figure out exactly how."

   Merry just furrowed her brow, and looked at him sideways.

   "Plus. Mike instructed me, that your boyfriend? Should be a low level slick criminal. I'm supposed to start buying gold, no questions asked, to make a profit under the table when I sell the remelted down gold in bulk. I'm supposed to buy and sell pot with your buddies, again, to make it look good. This scam? Just cements my position as a smart criminal and makes me look good to them."

   "I thought you already had your own money, put back."

   Panic smiled.

   "I do. I have GS-18 plus, retirement benefits. Deposited into one of my accounts, every month. For life. When I'm working part time, living like I always do? I don't have to touch it. GI bill paid for college. My retirement? Has been feeding my egg for a while now. This? Is all going to feed my egg even more. Ten years later, when you and Mike's little operation is done? Why not have bigger eggs put back. Remember… Mike's yearly bonus is coming in the whole time too. Feeding my egg. Our egg."

   "What the hell… are we trying to do?"

   Panic shrugged.

   "I don't even know. The way I like to live? The hobbies I have? I don't even need the money I already have. Take your pick. Do we buy a thousand acres somewhere? Or do we buy our own little island. Whatever."

   "You want to show off. You want to… win."

   "Would you complain, if you had a marble room to host your own… racquetball club in? With a tanning bed for you and your racquetball girls to use all winter long? I know I just love it when I see your legs tanned. Drives me nuts."

   "Marble?"

   "Yeah… look…"

   He handed her his cell phone, and showed her which set of digital photos to flip through.

   "What's this…"

   "Don't I need a secure building for my gun shop? Why spend tens of thousands of dollars for a big, special top of the line gun safe… when I buy the building and it comes with the best gun safe, that any guy that ever ran a gun shop ever wished he had."

   "What is this…"

   "It's a bank. It's been closed, for a long time now. Years. Remember the last financial crash? This little mom and pop bank, went kaputski. It was once a branch bank, and if you know anything about banks in tiny little shit-hole towns…"

   "They about all closed."

   "Yep. Bank buildings? Are built like Fort Knox. The old ones were anyways. This one? All giant stone and cement. With granite overlay, for the outside. Flip through the pictures… those are marble floors. Marble walls. And… every old bank? Comes with…"

   "What."

   "An old fashioned big bank vault."

   "You already bought it?"

   "No. But, what I did do… is a thing called tying up the deal. I gave away a chunk of change. Here? A thousand dollars. Cash. In return? They aren't allowed to sell the property, until my paper is up. They can't sell it for years already. They jumped when someone sent them a wire transfer to hold it for me to look at and decide."

   "How much is it? It looks big."

   "It's not little. Nowadays? Banks look like shit. Cement block walls. One story. This is an old fashioned bank, from back when every bank was the biggest building in the small town."

   "Can you afford it?"

   "On the history of the property? After foreclosure, it went through hands. No one can sell an old bank, and especially not in a small town anymore. Branch banks? Want a new location, between a series of towns in the area. No bank wants one of these. They couldn't sell it for 100 grand. They failed at 90, then failed at 80. No buyers at 60, then 50, then 40. It's too big to be a small store, it's too small to be a warehouse. I just want the vault to work… and a room to walk in to sell gun shit. The rest of the property? Is a bonus. They failed to sell it even down at 40 grand. I plan on offering them 20, and whining and complaining at all the work it needs. They can't go over 40, the history shows that for years. Somewhere between 20 and 40 they'll be happy to dump it."

   "It looks like shit inside…"

   "I know. Commercial, cement, flat roof. Water damage. But… that's all marble. I know it looks like shit now, because of all the water, dirt, leaves, and dead animals and bird shit everywhere, but… pressure washes right off, and… you can polish marble to make it shine like new. Vault. Main big room. Counters everywhere. Giant basement. Vaulted sub basement. We can even live in one of the marble executive rooms upstairs. Imagine how much fun Bitty Kitty and my cat will have, chasing mice and birds around in there… honestly? I'll probably buy it, even if the gun shop deal falls through for some reason. I'll drive my fucking motorcycles right through the front door. The drive through? Will be covered parking. And, if all else fails? I can lift and polish and sell those marble slabs for the amount of you can't count that high."

   "Then why hasn't someone done it already?"

   "Because hiring people to do it, plus paying for all the hours to polish it? And all the expensive equipment to do it quickly? Makes it slightly risky to make big money off of it. For someone like me, that just wants to polish it one room at a time? Pffft. My time ain't worth anything, and I need something to do anyways. To keep me out of trouble."

   "That's the roof and the inside. The outside looks like hell, too."

   "Rob says, it just needs sandblasted, polished, then sprayed with clear epoxy. It'll look almost new, but, only a little bit at a time. Over time, though…"

   "Hmm. Your… little cop chip scam… is going to pay for this, isn't it."

   Panic shrugged and smirked.

   "Once I find just the right first chip customer? He'll find me the rest of his buddies, and line them up for me. I figure… about a hundred of his buddies. 1500 a pop, cash. He gets a hundred bucks each, for doing nothing but having fun showing off what kind of magic he bought. He? Makes 100 times 100, for doing nothing but having fun. Doing my work for me. He basically gets 10 grand, for no work. Being my… car parts salesman. Me? I make 1400 times 100. Which comes out to… 140,000. Tax free. Bank will cost me between 20 and 40. 40 tops. Rob says about 10 grand for enough cement pumped up to the roof, it'll be fixed until after I'm dead. I'm gonna have almost 100 grand, tax free cash… to put into fixing the rest, and buying gunsmith and machining supplies. Buying gun parts to put together. Rob wants to buy AR-15 parts kits, to put together in bulk. Ammo sales alone should turn a profit."

   "Can this go sour?"

   "How. The chip scam sales, pays for everything plus more. If all I want, is to live in the building? It's free. If I never make a profit, and barely break even selling to members that stop in to our own private long range? I have all the toys I could ever wish for, to work on our own guns, and buy whatever toys the boys want at cost."

   "Why in the hell haven't you ever done anything like this before?"

   He shrugged easily.

   "Never cared. No point to it."

   She just kept looking at him funny.

   "What? So people that never wanted to spend time with me before, suddenly thought I was successful, and like magic all of a sudden wanted to monopolize my precious free time? That would take me away from my hobbies, which is all I ever wanted to do in the first place."

   "Okay. So… why now?"

   He shrugged.

   "I don't know. We already have a great long range. We're already a year away from getting on the actual bench-rest circuit. All we need? Is a top of the line gun store, to go with it. Tinkering with guns and shooting is my hobby. This is for the gun range. If we get benefits out of it? So much the better."

   "You… are already sorta rich."

   "Not really. Define what rich, even means in today's world… I'm not even a millionaire, honey. Any asshole with a decent job, that put his money away… should retire with a million in his 501K retirement portfolio, if the market doesn't crash again and he watches how much money his wife wastes. I need to be a millionaire, just to be considered financially secure in today's world. Inflation. A millionaire hasn't been a big deal in a long time. You need to be a billionaire these days. I have less than a million, so… I'm not rich."

   "This is just so your website's gun range, has a decent gun shop."

   "Basically. Yeah. If we get to have the biggest house in town? How cool is that. I bet not one person, anywhere around here, no matter how much money they have… has marble floors and marble walls like this. Did you see what used to be the executive offices on the top floor? Bedroom… bathroom… tanning… marble racquetball court… whatever."

   Merry laughed.

   "You mean to tell me, after this goes through, if this goes through… I can call one of my waitress girlfriends, back at the steak house… and brag that my boyfriend is rich, and just bought his own bank."

   "Yes and no. Technically? I'm not rich. And I'm buying a bank building, not a real, operating bank. But… I guess you could say, and not be lying, that I bought a bank. So yeah."

   "Is this a secret?"

   "No, I expect you to tell all the FBI agents. That I'm stealing and selling cop car chips, illegally, on the black market. I'm sure that's a good idea."

   "Smart ass. I meant the bank building."

   "Secret for now. Only Rob and Skykid know about that. I'll handle it? When this is all over, and we get back."

   "You know something? You're full of surprises."

   "Really? Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment."

   "What's that supposed to mean?"

   "Nothing. Little miss uncomplicated."

   He got narrowed mean eyes, but paired with a curl at the corner of one lip.

   "Besides. I'm just following Mike's instructions."

   "Like Uncle Mikey told you to steal cop chips."

   "I'm supposed to skirt the gray areas. I can't be too squeaky clean, but I'm not supposed to be a real menace. I shouldn't steal gold? But… I should profit from the robberies. His example? I'm supposed to be a fence. Position myself between the robbery and the system. The person that steals the gold, can't deal with the legitimate system. The legitimate system? Can't be seen dealing with straight out criminals. White hats hang out in their own bar, and the black hats have their own bar. They can't hang out together. Both the black hats and the white hats? Need gray hats as a go between. So they're both safer in their own way. So they can sleep better at night, that they're not bumping elbows with the enemy."

   "Pawn shops are a thing…"

   Panic laughed.

   "Yeah. Ask any cop. Pawn shops? Are just legal fences. Everyone knows it. The cops come in and badger them all the time. Everyone knows if you get away with stealing something? Go to the nearest pawn shop. Wanna have some real fun with a pawn store owner?"

   "Sure… how…"

   "Go in. Look around. He asks you what you're looking for? Just say you're window shopping. Then? Pretend you don't know he's watching you, and act like you're trying to take a cell phone picture of the serial number on something."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah. He'll get real pissed, real quick. He'll throw you out if he thinks you're checking serial numbers."

   "You've been through this."

   "Oh yeah."

   "How did it go?"

   "I had an expensive adult pellet rifle. Not some kid's toy, either… this thing can kill a deer. I didn't even buy it because I really wanted it. I just bought it, because it had lots of rails built into the body of the rifle. Places to attach lots of accessories. I was working on something. A project. This project? Early on, required me to attach things I could aim, all over the rifle."

   "Oh. You showed me your night vision gun."

   "Yeah. Someone broke a car window while I was eating, and snatched it. In broad daylight. I browsed all the gun shops within a hundred mile radius of where I lived. Then, I started hitting the pawn shops within a hundred miles."

   "What were the gun shop owners like about it?"

   "I just gave them a description of what I was looking for. They were all friendly."

   "They were all friendly? Because they already knew you. You're a gun guy."

   "Local ones? Yeah. But, I hit a bunch I never knew existed. The ones that never met me before? Just as friendly as my regular shops. They all asked me for a description, and asked if I had a serial number."

   "Did you have a serial number?"

   "It ended up I did. Found the box at home. I only owned the damn thing a month before it got stolen."

   "Did you ever get your… adult pellet gun back?"

   Panic nodded yes, that he had.

   "Pawn shop?"

   "Yes. And no."

   "How was it a yes?"

   "At the time? I thought I had a serial number. Turned out? It was just a long model number. But… I'm checking out every pawn shop I never knew existed. Guns and pellet rifles are all out on display. Every pawn license, is a license to resell guns, too."

   "They gave you shit. Looking at the serial numbers of anything that looked like yours."

   "Oh yeah. I finally got into an argument with a guy that ended up being the owner, working his own counter."

   "You accused him of knowing he was buying and stealing stolen shit."

   "When you're not allowed to look at serial numbers? Hell yeah. Know what his story was?"

   "This ought to be good."

   "His story, is that if he doesn't watch customers? They'll copy down serial numbers. Then go and call the police, and make up a story about a theft. Give the serial numbers to the cops, and say they found it. Then? Those wacky police come, and steal his merchandise, for free… and give it to the homeowner running a scam."

   "You know something? I was about to laugh at his story… until you stop and wonder. He might be telling the truth. You don't know."

   "Lovely world, isn't it? Just because a guy's house got robbed, doesn't make him honest. A guy could have got robbed a couple times, and figured out that any serial number he can get a hold of? The cops will go and steal it legally and give it to him, and thank him for helping them."

   "You're saying you believe the poor pawn shop owners?"

   Panic sighed.

   "I'm saying I believe in human nature. Homeowner finds one item stolen from him, at a pawn shop. He also lost a TV in that robbery. This place? Has stolen shit. Why shouldn't he write the serial number down, and get another TV. I mean, in his mind… it's probably stolen too."

   "Do you blame that homeowner?"

   "Not really. I can see where he's coming from. Course I can also see him bragging about it. People like to brag, you know. Story gets around the bar. Next thing you know? It's possible."

   "But… you said you got your pellet rifle back. Pawn shops won't let you look at serial numbers. And? You told me you only thought you had a serial number, and it was just a complicated model number."

   "It's… an interesting story."

   "Hmm. How interesting."

   "Eh. It's me. They say god works in strange and mysterious ways. Right?"

   "So they say…"

   "Well? God made man in his own image. I make it my business to work in even stranger, and even more mysterious ways. I decided, that the… pawn shop in question? Most likely had my stolen property. It was such a unique item to see on the shelf? Odds were very high, that it was mine. But, I needed proof. I also decided, that if I could get that proof? That the pawn shop in question… deserved to know what it was like to be a robbery victim."

   Merry stared giggling.

   "Oh. This I gotta hear."

   "I bought another adult pellet rifle. Identical to the first one. Plus? I spent the extra money, and ordered a suppressor for it. Couple hundred extra to buy the silencer. Now, this was a time of year it was cold out. No windows open. I found a place I could park my car, that no one would notice. Wandered around through back yards, until I positioned myself in some thick bushes nearby. An hour after the pawn shop closed? I loaded my adult pellet rifle with a hard rubber ball. Used low power. I shot the window of the pawn shop with a rubber ball."

   "Smash and grab?"

   "Please. It's me, not some crackhead. At that low of power? The pellet gun is so quiet, it's ridiculous. Remember, I bought the silencer. It's winter, all the doors and windows are sealed up tight. No one can hear it. I just vibrated the window, without breaking it."

   "What did that get you…"

   "The owner had just gotten home. Now? His alarm goes off. He comes flying back. Here come the cops. Then? They left. So… I did it again. I did it several more times. The owner quickly got tired of driving home, then turning around and driving back… for nothing. The local cops were more resilient. They came out to check a few more times. You know, try the doors. Look at the windows. Then? After a couple more times… they started just driving by. Then? Hey, it's Saturday night… the cops had better things to do now, than drive by for nothing…"

   "That's when you did it."

   "Yeah. Now? I can go in with a crowbar. The owner ain't coming. The cops won't so much as drive by, let alone stop to check it out anymore. Now, the guns are all locked up in a real gun store safe. It's a law. But the pellet rifles? Only so much room in a gun safe, you know. I took every pellet rifle he had. Plus, I walked around and went shopping. Hey… I had to cover the expense of buying another pellet rifle, the silencer, and all that gas and money and time I spent. Yeah, I grabbed a few things I knew were small but expensive that I wanted. You know what the best thing I found was?"

   "Afraid to ask…"

   "Junk box by a workbench. In the back room. Every gun shop, has a gun junk box. Scopes and slings and recoil pads… it all goes in there. You've seen my night vision rifle. Well, one of them anyways. You ever once seen a tiny TV screen on a rifle, before or since?"

   "Never."

   "Gee. There's my little video screen. There's my battery pack. There's my little invisible flashlight… all in the junk box, where they stripped it off my pellet rifle. I left all that shit there. I took all the pellet rifles he had, though. On the first trip out."

   "First trip?"

   "Yeah. Cops won't come. Owner won't come. Remember… malfunctioning alarm system, right? That means the alarm company has already been notified, and will quit calling 911, every hour on the hour. I had a little Hansel and Gretel trail to keep me off the streets, through the back yards I used to get there anyways, casing the place. I made like three or four trips. First couple trips? Pellet rifles. Then? I made a couple more trips back and forth. Shopping."

   Merry's giggling was threatening to go to laughter.

   "What did you take?"

   "You know those expensive J-phones and J-pads…"

   "Oh Christ…"

   "Yeah. I got a stack of those motherfuckers. One of the most popular things to steal, that you can't trace once you wipe them digitally. This place? Already did that for me."

   "What else. You said you made a couple trips…"

   "I raided the computer workbench. Lots of little goodies. I left all the computers, and most of the laptops. Only took a few high end laptops. But… I loaded up on little things, I knew were expensive. The good stuff? All very helpfully, on separate shelves and boxes."

   "Because you're into computers."

   "And? When you take a stolen laptop in to sell it? First thing you do, is take off all the doodads that come with the laptop. Thumb drives. External hard drives. External DVD burners. You swap out the bigger hard drives and memory cards? For smaller, cheaper ones. Ever buy a laptop, price them?"

   "I get mine from work."

   "Right. Same laptop. The difference between the 400 dollar one, and the 1200 dollar one? Same base model? Does it have 4 gigs of RAM, or 16 gigs of ram. A two terabyte hard drive, or a 500 gig one. You see, Merry… same as my gun? They knew what they were doing. They were stripping the stolen shit, and taking off what both helped identify the item, and they could sell on the side for more money. Like gun scopes… you buy and sell guns? Most guns come in with a scope on them. You save them up, and make money selling those, too. And yeah, I hit the gun scopes. I knew which ones to grab."

   "What did you do with all the stuff? Sell it all?"

   "No. I kept a few of the best things I wanted, and gave the rest away. Remember… this was winter. Christmas was right around the corner. You know how every town has a toys for poor kids program?"

   "Sure."

   "The donation box, got a mysterious package. All those expensive J-phones? Wiped and reset already. With a note. Explaining that I know exactly how many expensive J-phones I donated, and that if the workers steal all the phones? I'm watching, and I'll bust them with a letter to the editor, that I intended these expensive phones to go to the kids, not handed out to all the rich people trying to make themselves look good volunteering. The kids don't get these phones? You will be embarrassed. Publicly."

   "Kids get the phones?"

   "Yeah. Small town. Whole bunch of welfare kids running around with 800 dollar phones, and 1200 dollar tablets. I got a kick out of it."

   "Weren't you afraid someone might catch on?"

   "No. I had a 100 mile radius. This was about, oh… 85 miles north of me. I did this? 150 miles to the southwest. And all those 10 pump pellet guns? Teenager toys…"

   "Yeah?"

   "Surprise midnight donation to a gun range. Letter explaining it was for the little kids to play with, when the parents come for shooting. The place has a little gun rack now, in the clubhouse. It's funny. Dad comes to shoot trap, and the little kids like coming too. They get to use their own rifle out of the rack, and shoot with the other kids, to keep them out of the adult's hair. This mysteriously happened… oh… about 50 or 60 miles to the southeast. I saved an internet link, to the newspaper stories. I think it's particularly funny. Anytime I'm in a bad mood? I look at the stories, and laugh my ass off."

   "I bet."

   "You didn't even get to hear the best part yet."

   "There's more?"

   "Hey. I did it on a Saturday night. So the cops would be busy chasing around after people drinking and raising hell. Place was closed on Sundays. I left the door wide open the last trip I made out. So… anyone that wandered past? Could just go in and go shopping. No one found out about that, until the owner came in Monday morning. The locals? No one called the police to report it. Tools… guitars and amplifiers… stereos… big-screen flat TVs… all mysteriously cleaned out. And, it seems no one saw a thing. Which is strange. Houses all around the place, and not one single homeowner calls the police. Huh."

   "Soon as someone spilled the beans, everyone came and… went shopping, as you so delicately phrased it."

   "Human nature. He was sure having fun, when he was making money off it. When that same human nature was turned against him? Pure poetic justice."

   "Which merit badge was this."

   With a charming smile, an easy laugh, and his signature quick wit, he responded instantly.

   "Archery. That? Was my archery merit badge."

   "Archery? Where was a bow and arrow even involved in this---"

   "Archery. Robin Hood?"

   They both had a chuckle. Panic held her hand, sitting next to her on the bed. Panic looked around suddenly. They had drifted back into the room to gather their things, and he had a look of mild concern as he glanced around him. Merry wondered what that was all about.

   "This room…"

   "What about it?"

   "It's not…"

   Merry smiled.

   "No. I wouldn't do that to you. Neither would Uncle Mike."

   He visibly calmed down.

   "I trust you."

   "You don't trust Mike?"

   "I trust Mike transitively. I trust you. You? Trust Mike. Therefore, until I know better? I'm getting to trust Mike. But I don't know him like you do."

   "Why do you trust me again?"

   Panic dangled an imaginary pocket watch back and forth in the air for comedic effect.

   "Because you hypnotized me with your ankle chain, if you don't remember. I am forever within your power."

   "Hmm. The ankle bracelet of power? Is losing it's zip, I can tell you that. I'm lucky to even get laid until this thing's over."

   "Sorry about that. Getting closer and closer to death and mayhem for the innocent villagers? Doesn't exactly give me a raging boner. I only know me. Do… most so called tough guys… get a chubby anticipating approaching violence?"

   "Are you asking me clinically, or… personal experience."

   "Both."

   "Clinically. A few… rare, warped psychopaths? Have reported spontaneous orgasms from committing their crimes. For example? The lipstick killer, the one that wrote 'please catch me before I kill again' in lipstick on the female victim's bathroom mirrors? Reported multiple, spontaneous ejaculations as he walked from room to room, after his first kill. You're talking about a class of violent criminal, by the way, that have a very firm link between violence and murder, and their… sexuality."

   "Personally?"

   "Hmm. You must mean… the boys."

   Panic shrugged.

   "You live and work around violent felons."

   "Well? For one thing. You don't need to know about anything you don't need to know about. They? Are some of the rare criminals… that don't brag nearly as much as others routinely do. Much? To law enforcement's disappointment."

   "Really. I would have thought… otherwise."

   "What. You think I just gave my national enforcer ex boyfriend a hand-job, and he listed all his crimes that week? Pffft. It doesn't work like that. If anyone asks too many questions? They don't like it. One of the reasons they like me, is I don't ask any questions. Actually… I'm trusted more, because if someone asks me if I'm curious about this or that? I tell them I don't need to know it. That's how the guys act and talk to one another, so? That's how I act and talk. I don't act like one of the girls, so… I don't get treated like one."

   So, you're saying that your whole operation, is a complete waste of the taxpayers dollars. Lovely."

   "Smart ass. Do you think the Bureau is concerned with an assault that happened in some town or city somewhere? That's a local police matter. And… it's not like we care about some guy buying and selling a couple pounds of weed. That's another local or state matter. This isn't a targeted investigation."

   "Targeted?"

   "Told you before. A targeted investigation… example? There's a lot of cocaine being sold in city X. Figure out where it's coming from, then we make arrests. That, is a target. Me and Mike? We're long term successful, simply because we have no target. Use your big brain, Panic, because mommy knows that you have one. Let's say… some biker named Tiger, is bragging at my turf bar I hung out at in DC. Bragging… he killed some guy in Toledo. Tiger gets pinched on it? He got away with it clean as a whistle for years. Where was he when he got drunk and bragged. Who was there. The nationals want a list of anyone and everyone that was in that bar that night, that might have heard. They make a list, and put it away."

   Panic shrugged.

   "That's actually smart."

   "I know, right? Everyone thinks these guys are stupid. They're anything but, most of them. They don't recruit drunken morons. Now… let's say some biker name Dog… brags about something and gets pinched. Again, after getting away with it for years. Where was he at. Who was there. The nationals? Make another list. Now. Impress mommy with your big brain, honey. What happens after two or three of these…"

   "You… put all the lists on a table, and several people sit and stare at the lists. Looking to see if one name, appears on more than one list."

   "Bingo. What do you suppose would happen then?"

   "You lose your 10 percent group buyer's discount on new motorcycle purchases?"

   "Hardly. You're dead. Full patched members get the benefit of the doubt. The nationals test them. There's always a few guys around that you wish were gone, like any organization. You put a crew of them together, and put them onto something. Then… you let that member being tested? Know about it. You fail a test? You're dead. If a member needs removed for informing? Standard signature of the crime, is a double tap with a 380, to the back of the head."

   "You don't report felonies in your reports?"

   "Of course I do. But… they're not targeted. The bureau has a couple different kinds of files. We have internal intelligence files. Names, dates, places are redacted. Simply throwing money and agents at the problem? Doesn't solve this problem. Long term intelligence? Solves problems. Contains them. That's what me and Mike are doing. It's why I'm… for lack of a better word… safe. This has been done before. The bureau had trouble dealing with national organized crime. The only thing that worked? Long standing intelligence operations, like this one. Eavesdropping operations, with no targets, at least until the operation closes out."

   "It's considered that useful?"

   "Yeah. You want examples?"

   "If you trust me."

   "You trusted me, didn't you?"

   "I watched you get your hands dirty."

   "Same here. It's the little things. Guy comes into town for a while. Casually mentions he's from wherever. To more than one person, naturally. I report any interstate movement of any subject. Dates as best I can manage. If everyone is learning his real name? Same thing. These guys, have silent members. Guys that almost never wear their colors. They graduate from their local area, and go national. With a new nickname? Poof. I can tell a patched member without seeing them in their colors or being told. I have two reports I file at the same time. Things anyone could know, and things only I could know. For obvious reasons."

   "So… this all accomplishes nothing, for now."

   "Pffft. There's been a couple big busts of these guys over the years. They always bounce back, bigger than ever. It's uncanny. We're learning how they do it."

   "The silent members?"

   "That too. But mainly, they have an extensive network of tryout clubs. Guys that normally would graduate from pee wee ball, to play professional ball? Stay in the tryout club. Everyone knows who they are, but… they're invisible. During these down times? They do the work of full patched members. All these guys. Moving around the country. Staying over at turf bars, getting treated better than normal, while they're traveling. I've listed tons of them. Where they're coming from, where they're supposedly on their way to. I usually meet them on their way back through, going home. I now know how long they were… on a working vacation. Very useful. Remember Pound? Everyone wants to shake hands with him while they're passing through, it's like getting your picture taken with a politician to them."

   "So… all the state police know who to watch."

   Merry waved an invisible magic wand…

   "Ta da. In the past, after a big bust? Everyone thought they were keeping their heads down for a couple years. They weren't. Just because you don't see big packs of them at the bars and running on the highways, doesn't mean they're gone. They're normal guys when they take their colors off. When they're running under radar like that? They're actually doing more than ever. Earning more than ever. Engaging in a heavy recruiting drive. Through the tryout club network."

   "Waiting for their big… comeback."

   "Yeah. Following any big bust? Years down the road, they just appear overnight. Just when you would think they're about down and out? The 2,000 member club? Suddenly has 10,000 members. Unlike other biker organizations that those would be new guys that can't be trusted? Uh uh, These guys have been doing everything the full members do, waiting. You suddenly go from 2,000 to 10,000 colors riding around. Overnight. And they're trustworthy. It scares the shit out of the other biker gangs they butt heads with, like the Hell's Angels. It rattles law enforcement. It takes time, money, and manpower to work organizations. The state police around the country? Have by then de-prioritized their actions against them. Because they were flying under the radar. When they pop back like they do? No one is in place to handle it. They can run wild for several years. Then? They do it again. They actually get bigger every time a big bust goes down, not smaller."

   Panic took it all in.

   "Membership? Is power."

   "So is earning. Money? Is power. Reputation is power. They know they'll never have the numbers that gangs like the Hell's Angels have. But… the Hell's Angels? Have a lot of social members. Only a certain number of one percenters. These guys? Are all one percenters."

   "Hmm. Biker version of… Team Sigma."

   "Yeah, basically."

   "Question."

   "Yeah."

   "What's your… value to them? I don't get it. Once Pound went on the run, I would of thought you became… a whole lot less important. Especially since you didn't just jump on some other guy's bike and ride it."

   "Oh. That. You wonder what my… value to them is."

   "I guess."

   "You have scooter skanks. That's the girls you see hanging around. You know the ones. Too much makeup and hair. Wearing miniskirts with no underwear. You know the drill."

   Panic put his girly voice on.

   "I like bad boys. Tee hee."

   "Right. That's the cheerleaders that like fucking the ball players. Usually for lines of coke, and to show off how bad of a boy they can ride to all their girlfriends. The boys like riding them as much as they like riding their Harley's, but… no respect. They're just scooter skanks."

   "That's not you."

   "No. You noticed. How perceptive you are. You also have mama bears."

   "Girlfriends?"

   "Sometimes. Sometimes not. You ever see some big, fat, mouthy bitch? Kinda looks like a girl version of a biker?"

   "Mama bear."

   "Yeah. That's why a girl that can fight? Is called a tank. Usually as big as a tank. Get the joke?"

   "That is cute."

   "Right. They're… useful. You can't always go around, punching women in the face. For running their mouth… for bragging too much… you send a tank to handle that."

   "Another girl smacks her around."

   "Right. In the biker world? It's considered prestigious, to have a girlfriend, that is considered to be a tank. In case you haven't noticed? There aren't that many women around, that fit the bill… that are half decent to look at. Older fat guy? Sure. But, what young guy wants a big, fat, smelly girlfriend. They tend to date scooter skanks."

   "And if they can find a cute tomboy, that can actually fight…"

   Merry gave a wan little smile.

   "Bingo. Girls like me? We don't exactly grow on trees. And out of those? Most turn into mama bears. Outta what's left? How many can be trusted to keep their mouth shut. Like a guy."

   "And, that's how you get a biker princess."

   "Yeah. We don't exactly wear tiaras."

   "No. You get signed T shirts and signed business cards."

   Merry smiled.

   "Any property girl gets those things. Mine? Have three differences, that only a member would recognize."

   "Which are…"

   "One. I'm national property. Pound was a national enforcer. My shirts and cards? Have signatures that prove it. Also? If you were to really look at my T shirts and cards, you might notice something. Little dots and little scratch lines. Those mean something. Three? I'm an earner, not some burner."

   Panic held his hand out, palm up, waiting for an explanation.

   "The dots? I was seen by full members in a fight. I closed some girl's eyes in front of everyone, like one of the guys would do it. Because she was annoying me."

   "And the scratch lines…"

   Merry smiled.

   "I was asked if I wouldn't mind doing the same thing, and telling the girl what it was for. We're all hanging out somewhere. Some skanks are acting up. Running their mouth. Annoying everyone. Hey, Christmas… see those skanks over there? The ones all coked up and running their mouth? They're insulting some of the guys girlfriends. Would you mind going over there, and explaining to them to tone it down a notch? And if they don't take your polite hint, hand out Christmas presents, if you feel like it."

   "Now that you mention it? You do have a bunch of dots and lines on your T shirt."

   Merry gave a wan little smile, and wagged her head.

   "You saw me fight the FBI wives. You can't always send guys to give girls stitches. Really bad publicity. You send a girl to handle it… much less of a… legal issue to the cops. You know, just another cat-fight. Remember that night in the bar, I walked in the back and handed my card to whoever was in charge?"

   "Yeah…"

   "That's what those guys were smiling about. They saw all the scratch lines, and thought it was funny. There's also the matter of a little squiggly line on my card and my T shirt. Another little secret code."

   "Which is?"

   "Kinda looks like a little kid can't write numbers, and tried to make a number three. The dots and lines and that squiggly mark? Really doesn't mean anything to non members."

   "I'm afraid to ask."

   "Pound? Was a national enforcer. If they need to send a guy somewhere, to put someone in the hospital? He's one of the guys they send. He's not one of the biggest guys in the club, but… he used to be a heavyweight boxer when he was young. There's two kinds of enforcers. Hands on guys, and… the other kind. The kind that use guns and knives and baseball bats and pipe bombs. Pound is a hands on enforcer."

   "He's… number three?"

   "No. It's on my T shirt, on my card. I am."

   "Number three at what?"

   "Pound took me to work one time with him. You know, take a long drive. Go somewhere. Locate the guy in the picture, and mark him up. Publicly. To make a statement. It's what he did. He asked me to go with him. The scooter skanks in that bar? Were known to really run their mouth."

   "You… were backup?"

   "No. The guy was being an asshole. To members. His girl? Was running her mouth, and the asshole was hurting too many members over her and her mouth. Pound was sent in, from out of town… to handle the problem. He asked me to go with him? To handle the girl. You might wonder what the game plan was. It was a long drive there and back on his bike."

   "Like it's any of my business, but go ahead."

   "The member's girl runs her mouth non stop. Starts trouble. The guy? None of the locals could handle him. Which was why Pound was sent in. My job? Was to just go in with him, and when that girl started her shit? Well… kinda obvious what happened. She got the… donut girl treatment. When her member boyfriend went to do his thing? That was Pound's job."

   "Was the girl a… tank?"

   "Pffft. Not even close. Typical scooter skank. A line of coke and they run their mouth all night. Her little crew of girlfriends thought they were hot shit too. You saw me on the video. I don't pull hair like other girls."

   "I get it. You did three of those little… jobs."

   Merry made a face.

   "No. Just the one. But… that got me invited to go with Pound to the once a year national party. Members only. Nationals only. I was just local chapter property before that. Pound asked them if I could be national property."

   "So… what's the three for then."

   "Part of the entertainment at the week long party? The girl tanks were part of the entertainment, if we wanted to. I came in third."

   The quality with which Merry described coming in third, indicated she wasn't very happy about it.

   "Who came in first and second?"

   "Turns out I can go through scooter skanks like wet tissue paper. Mama bears? Are mainly just tall and fat… and about thirty seconds in, they about fall over and I can clean their clock. That was the day I discovered that there are girls out there? That were boxers. You know, just like Pound used to be a heavyweight boxer that didn't make it? Turns out there's girls that didn't make it too. That was the number one and the number two that year."

   "Still pretty impressive. I mean, I'm impressed."

   "Well, you know me. I used to be a high school athlete. Then? I spent six years at a big college on sports scholarships. I don't like to lose, but…"

   He smiled and wiggled his butt over on the bed to put his arm around her.

   "Hey. It's all right. I work out with Rob, right? He just carries me for a workout. He'd win almost every time if we weren't just working out. Considering where I started out in life? Just being able to get on the mat with him, and be his sparring partner when he's in the mood? That's enough for me. If you're not going to try to make a living at it? It's just a hobby."

   "I know. I like to work out anyways. Pound used to take me to the gym with him once every weekend. You know. Hit a heavy bag. Hit a speed bag. Go jogging with him. I wanted to try to do better next year, if I went back. Then? The dirty DC cops put stolen coke in his saddlebags. Chased him out of town with paper on his ass. That put a stop to that shit. So, I found the racquetball club."

   He tightened his arm across the backs of her shoulders.

   "Well, I got my thing out of my system when I was younger. Sounds like you did too. Don't beat yourself up about it."

   "Hmm. You never complain about me trying it. Am I getting any better at it?"

   "Better at what, hun?"

   She looked at him with her brow furrowed.

   "Duh. Wrestling. I'm pretty sure you noticed. Be kinda hard to miss it. You remind me of that wrestler boyfriend in college I told you about. I can't hold you down in bed. Not if you don't let me, anyways. Am I getting any better at it? We've been doing it, a couple months now."

   "Oh. I… thought that was… just… part of the package."

   "What package…"

   "The whole… science girl, sex is one big fun adventure with you. That package. I figured… fuck-fighting was… another game."

   "You never complained. You seem to have fun doing it."

   "More than fun. It's pretty hot. Hell yeah I like it."

   "Okay. Just checking."

   "What about you? Do you…"

   "Like it? Duh. Do I complain about it at all…"

   "Nope."

   "Well… what girl doesn't like her guy to wear her out, and make her do what he wants. Like you said? It's hot. You're two inches taller than me, you got twenty or thirty pounds on me. And you seem like you know what you're doing, too. What's not gonna be hot about a rough date rape. It's fun time. Besides, what are you going to do to me, I don't already like it… you know I like it rough sometimes. You're sweet about it."

   "What do you mean?"

   "You let me win when you're in the mood for that. I just can't figure out how you do it. I keep trying."

   "Figure out what…"

   "Duh. If you want me off you? You just grab my ankle and peel me off you and flip me. It's like you're peeling an orange."

   "I thought you just wanted… it made it hot for you. You want… instructions?"

   "Sure."

   "How long we got?"

   "We always take our one hour each in the motel room? Together. So we get two hours. But… we're the last two hours every day. I'm pretty sure, no one says anything, but… we could stay a little, if we wanted to."

   "You want the basics?"

   Merry's face showed the delight of a little kid that wanted to know if they could lick the icing off of the mixing beaters.

   "Go on. Lock the door…"

   Merry did and came back to the bed.

   "We might work up a sweat. We already had a bath and a change of clothes. This kinda defeats the whole purpose."

   "I can fix that…"

   Merry fixed it, by laughing and kicking her jogging shoes off, and losing her clothes. He followed suit. They were standing there in their underwear.

   "All right. Right off the bat. I'm not a wrestler, like you keep saying. I'm a grappler."

   "What's the difference?"

   "Wrestlers have rules. There's things they can't do. Grappling? Very few rules, and what rules exist? Are just for practicing. So we don't maim and kill each other. Basically, grappling is dirty wrestling. Moves that would make the ref blow the whistle, yell 'potentially dangerous move'… and restart the match. In grappling, that's pretty much what we aim for."

   He shoved her down on the bed. Rough.

   "Grappling works best, against a bigger, stronger, overly aggressive opponent. Who doesn't know what he's doing. You have two ways to win. One, you gas him out. Two? You hit him with a move. Now then…"

   He jumped on top of her.

   "Who's in charge?"

   "You. You're on top."

   "Yes and no. I'm in charge? Because my legs are outside of you. This? Is a full mount. Once I have you here? All I have to do, is put my hands on your shoulders. You? Will tucker yourself out, trying to fight gravity. Stupid."

   "Well. What should I be doing, then…"

   He stood up.

   "Stay. Spread em…"

   "Ooh baby. I thought I was being taught to fight…"

   "You are. Spread your legs…"

   She did.

   He hopped on her again.

   "Now. Wrap your legs around me… no, up over my hips."

   He unwrapped her easily.

   "See? Hook your ankles… hold them…"

   He showed her how much better she could hold on.

   "Right now? Unless things change? You, are in charge. Because you're legs are around me."

   "You're still mounted on me…"

   "Nope. A mount? Is when I'm on top, and I have my legs around you… this is the guard. I'm not mounted. I'm in your guard. Keep your ankles hooked. Watch…"

   He grabbed her wrists and pinned them, but, he couldn't do much more than that.

   "It's not about strength. It's about position. It's about technique. You wrap your legs around me. You hook your ankles. That's all you do. You don't try to buck me. You just pretend to, to keep the guy on top wasting his gas. You? Are taking a break. Eventually? A moron in this position, will either wear himself out, or… do something incredible stupid. Like this…"

   He rolled over, and it dragged her up on top of him.

   "See? When they figure out they can roll… all they manage to do, is put you into a mount… now? You're in the catbird's seat. There's just one teensy problem, with an untrained moron taking a mount…"

   "Which is?"

   "This… you called it the… orange peel?"

   He reached down and grabbed her ankle, and lifted up. It rotated her off of him and he rolled on top.

   "I'd rather be in your guard, than have you in a full mount."

   "Well… how do I keep on you? You open up my ankles, too."

   "It's called a figure four… take one ankle? And put it under your other knee. It'll draw it tight when you close your leg down."

   "This?"

   "There you go. Now look… I can't stand up and stretch you out. I can't get to my feet, and body slam you. And by the way… if all you can do, is ankle hook, and guard? Keep doing it… you let your opponent pick you up and body slam you. As many times as they want."

   "Why?"

   "It takes an incredible amount of strength and gas to do it. You only have to suck up, say four five six body slams? They'll be laying on you like jello. Also… every time they body slam you? You take a wrap…"

   "Which is what?"

   "Don't let me sit up on you, when you have guard on me. Wrap your arms around me, like you did the figure four with your legs. Go around my neck. Hold me in a clinch…"

   He let her do it.

   "Now? I can't punch your face. All I can possibly do? Is little rabbit punches. I can't do ground and pound. I can't just sit up on you, and rain down gravity blows. I can rabbit punch your ribs, to try to soften you up. But, I can't really wind up."

   "What do I do?"

   "I go to your ribs? You rabbit punch my face. You rabbit punch my neck. Then grab back up."

   "And if you go to rabbit punch my head? Or my neck?"

   "Duh. Get my ribs. Work 'em. Now… am I right handed, or left handed?"

   "You're right handed."

   "Okay. A regular person? Has a strong hand. My right hand. Take your left arm? Drop it over my shoulder… yeah… cinch up… Now? You're controlling it. You? Are controlling my strong hand, with your weak hand. Your strong hand? Is free. And all I have, is my weak hand to try to stop you. Against an untrained opponent? You'll wear him out every time with this."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah. He'll waste his gas tank, trying to push up, and power out, and sit on you. You figure four your arms? No way in hell. Let him waste all the energy he wants."

   "But… how do I win like this…"

   "Against an untrained opponent? You really don't. You just gas him out. When he's weak? Gassed out? You just roll over on top. Take mount. Then… you've been saving your energy. You explode on him. Her. Whatever. Or? You wait for them to gas out, and you choke them out."

   "How?"

   "Do the figure four with your arms. Now… I'm tired out… your right elbow? Pinching the other hand so I can't get out of the hug?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Bring it over. Shove up suddenly, with all your strength. But not yet…"

   "Why not?"

   "Because I don't wanna die, and you probably want me alive. So… you only push up? Until I tap you three times. Is that understood? Anytime I tap you three times? You instantly release. Are we clear on that?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Good."

   He reached over with his left hand, and pulled her right hand over, and did all but shove her forearm up into the soft underside of his neck.

   "You do this when they're tuckered out, and can't resist you. When they try to sit up? You sneak that forearm over. Do it… push up for all you're worth…"

   "Really?"

   "Do it. I'm going to try like hell, to get you off. When I tap you? You let go. That means I'm about to black out. Go…"

   She pushed her forearm up, and as he had told her, she held on and shoved with all her might. He pushed. He pulled. He rolled, but, he just dragged her with him. After what seemed like forever, with him bucking and twisting and pulling… he tapped the back of her neck several times in rapid succession. When she remembered to let go, he exploded into breathing.

   "See…"

   "You really can't get out of that?"

   "All I can do, once it's on and cinched tight? Is rabbit punch your ribs and side of the head. I'll break a couple ribs with my strong hand, but… you just take it and don't move. If you think I'm actually unconscious? You can let me go. Or? You can hold on. Until you feel me piss on you. When you feel the warm piss? You got only so many seconds before brain death occurs."

   "It's all about how long you can hold your breath then…"

   "And how much damage I can do, under adrenaline, until I pass out. That's why you wait, until they're gasping for air, worn out. You take less abuse. Also? Pro tip… You're already in a clinch. My cheek on your cheek, right?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Don't drop that forearm in, until you feel me breathe out. Heavy. Then? You hit it when they have no air in their lungs."

   They separated. He got his breath back, and she calmed down some as well.

   "One question…"

   "Yeah?"

   "When I'm in a mount, and you grab my ankle… how do I stop you?"

   "Oh, right. Let me lay down… take your mount…"

   "You don't know any better. You leave your ankles out there, hanging around. Tuck your feet in. Tight… under my knees, under my thighs… go on…"

   "Ooh."

   "Yeah… now I can't peel your ankles. Now? I'm caught."

   "Ooh. I? Am gonna like this…"

   She tucked and held on, and started poking him. Teasing him.

   "Oh yeah… this is more like it… squirm, little boy…"

   "You ready for something?"

   "Sure…"

   "You're too close to me…"

   He clapped one hand behind her neck, and shoved his first two fingers of his opposing hand, into the hollow of her neck. She was caught, and started gagging. Her look of first fun, then determination… turned into a wild struggle.

   "Just tap me. I'll let you go, dummy…"

   She got mad, and twisted and pushed, but… in the end, resorted to tapping his shoulder several times, quickly. He let her go, and held his palms up to show he was done.

   "That works on everyone. No one can lift weights with their throat. It closes the windpipe off."

   "So. I sit up more, right?"

   "Go ahead. Try that…"

   She leaned back, and soon had her fun face on. Enjoying it. Poking him and teasing him again.

   "Lots more like it… yeah…"

   He grabbed her right wrist with his left hand, and yanked her down. She buried her forearm down into the soft of his under-neck, and shoved. He winked and popped his hand on her elbow, which shoved it over and off his windpipe. He held it up and reached back and grabbed her wrist. Her own arm was now wrapped around her own neck, and he was slowly cinching it tighter and tighter. She thought he was letting her go, but, he just slipped his hand in and re-tightened it. His fist was drawn close to her neck, and she couldn't breathe again. She had to tap out.

   "Sit up again…"

   She did, and kept her hands back. She felt him bucking and twisting his hips, and thought he was losing that battle. Until… he wormed her up above his hips a hair too far, and she felt herself get pushed up. She sat her weight down, and made a face as if to say "nice try…", when it happened. Too far up on him for just a moment? His legs came up and around her. She grabbed an ankle and he just sat up on her, and doubled her up. She ended up with her knees by her face, and he was hugging around her neck on top of her, drawing her arms and legs in tight. She fussed and struggled, but, nothing doing.

   "What's that thing called."

   "This? It's called a full cradle. Well, it's a full cradle? As long as I hug your neck. I quit hugging you? You might recognize this position…"

   "Ooh. Legs over the shoulders…"

   He went back to hugging around her neck, and bit her neck. She started making noise.

   "There's only one problem."

   "Problem? With what…"

   "Teaching you to fight like this…"

   "Ah… it's… fine…"

   "I'm getting a boner."

   "So… fucking use it… you dumb-ass…"

   He continued to bite her neck, making her generate noise and squirm.

   "Just figured I'd check…"

   "Ah… on what…"

   "Thought maybe… you wanted to be on top…"

   "Don't… don't you dare…"

   But he quit. Grinned down her.

   "Oh. Fuck this…"

   She stood up, and took her panties off. Twirled them around on her fingers. Face dropped. Half a smirk.

   "You think it's funny to quit? Hmm?"

   He nodded.

   "Yeah. We'll see how funny you think it is…"

   She put her panties where she stuck them for rough sex when she was in charge, and clamped them home with one hand. Wrapped her other hand around his neck tight, drawing herself down close onto him. No longer content to just ride his hips, she tucked her ankles in like he had just showed her. She bit his neck, and used it to make him generate noise that she stifled.

   She stopped and started. Laughing into his neck. She started tickling him during the breaks, and talked dirty into his neck the whole time, between neck bites. Having previously had a quickie already, it took a little while, but between neck biting and turbulence, well… it didn't take forever. When it became clear she was going to do nothing-fuck style over-stimulation, she laughed into his neck and teased him about all the noise and commotion. Constant turbulence, and constant neck biting, made for constant noise coming from under her clamped hand.

   There was no third flight, but, it wasn't for lack of trying. She eventually took little breaks, then slowed and quit. Instead of hopping off, she shushed him and told him to lay still. Eventually, both their breathing patterns slowed to resting rate, as did their heartbeats. She kept her tucked mount until she was half asleep, talking and breathing into his neck.

   "That? Was fun. I usually need the handcuffs, to have that much fun with you. I hope you enjoyed it… because? You'll be doing this again sometime. I can guarantee it."

   Mercifully, no one came and interrupted them during grappling practice, or the fun afterwards. Merry had an initial period of fluster, until she located a second pair of clean panties at the bottom of her duffel bag. She smiled and apologized as they were getting dressed, after a quick rinse again in the shower and the obligatory shared drying off time.

   "What are you apologizing for? It's not like I didn't have fun…"

   "Aw. You're not nearly in the mood as much until this is done. Figured I'd make hay while the sun was shining."

   "Take one any way you can get it, I guess, until this is over."

   "You know, I just can't help being a smart ass."

   "It's a free country. What?"

   Merry grinned.

   "This how Rob taught you how to fight?"

   They both caught the giggles and shared a laugh, toweling off.

   "Rob was a champion kick-boxer. All through high school? And even after. Me? I wasn't. I just never did real well, trying to box, and kick-box and all that. My workout friends in the Air Force?"

   "Yeah…"

   "I didn't really get anywhere with them. Until… I started doing what they called take-down practice. It's what it sounds like. Taking down an aggressive guy you're trying to get into custody. And controlling them, once you got them down. There's no real rules. If it works? You use it. If it doesn't work? Fuck it, try something else. It's how I got out of trying to box, and into grappling."

   "Rob does it too, right?"

   "Yeah. Dirty grappling tricks? It's done through all the special forces. The MPs, too. By the time I met Rob and the boys? I already knew it was the best way for me to fight. Before I switched teams? That's kinda how it all started, to be honest. I was already used to playtime, with the MPs. I wanted to work out with those guys."

   Merry kissed him. Then hugged him, then smiled. She drew him in close, imitating her last position on the bed before they quit and got their last quick rinse off in the shower.

   "Am… I more fun to do playtime with? Hmm?"

   "Definitely."

   She tightened her grip and gave the hollow of his neck a gentle bite. She whispered hoarsely into his neck, with her deeper than ever new voice. Her deep voice was smoothing out, but, it wasn't ever going to go back to normal. That much seemed clear.

   "Good answer. I better be more fun, mister."

   "Just one thing, honey."

   She tightened up a little more, crowding him into the wall for fun.

   "What?"

   "Just this…"

   He poked his finger just below her ear. Where the top of her jaw went up to meet her ear. He wasn't pushing like crazy either. Pretty light, mild pressure that he increased very slowly. It was at first? Highly irritating. Then positively painful. She gritted her teeth, and tried to wrench around to stop it. Nothing doing. She had no choice, but to lose her precious tight clinch around his neck, that let her stay anchored and latched onto him.

   "Don't worry. Very few people know that one. Highly unlikely someone will ever use it to get you off of a good clinch. If anyone ever grabs you up? Use that one. Both hands, couple of fingers driving in. Hard as you can. They'll scream and drop you, instantly. If you do it hard and fast enough? Don't be surprised when you completely dislocate their jaw. I mean, the whole lower jaw will hang down and swing free. If you punch or twist a dislocated jaw? Well… it ain't pretty. And they'll scream like a rabbit getting eaten alive."

   "Really? Show me…"

   "First one finger. Gentle… and quit when I tap your arm…"

   She tried pushing in gently with one finger, and it didn't take long before he was craning his neck, and gritting his teeth. He quickly patted her arm, and she quit. She was amazed, how light of pressure brought the quick little arm pats.

   "Seriously?"

   "You just felt it, didn't you? Did it feel like something fun…"

   "Wow. That's easy."

   "Don't show everyone that one. That's… uh… family only. Now then… when you use any dangerous move like that? Practicing? I expect you to put the move on gently, and give me a chance to tap out. You don't go breaking my arm, breaking my neck, breaking my jaw. Okay?"

   "Sure."

   "I need a promise. One I can believe…"

   "Jesus. I promise."

   He lifted the edge of his lip. His little patented half smirk. She furrowed her brow, she knew something was coming, but she didn't know what. He deftly grabbed the back of her neck with one hand, and was poised to push two fingers into the hollow of her throat. Right about where her trake scar was. She already knew what that did, and raised her hands, palm up.

   "I promise. I promise… okay?"

   "All right. I know you think I'm being mean about this? I'm not. It's ironic, but… it's almost always the instructor that gets hurt, not the student. And I don't need my neck broke. The only way for you to learn the moves? Is I show them to you gently, then let you put them on me. We practice gentle, unless I say otherwise. You put moves on with gentle pressure. You don't just whip into it with all your might, trying to impress me. You wanna impress me? You learn to sneak the move on. And apply gentle pressure. Do you promise?"

   "I promise."

   He instantly let her neck go, and dropped his fingers that were poised over the hollow of her neck.

   "I'm sorry I had to scare you. I just want you to understand that practicing is dangerous, if you get all… rambunctious and start trying to muscle around. Now, that said… if you listen to me, and follow my instructions?"

   She nodded quickly. Smirking.

   "We call it playtime? Because it is kinda fun. And I'm sure you'll be amazed what you can learn quick, just by rolling around in your underwear, with your boyfriend. Getting all hot and bothered up."

   "Now. Go easy. I'm not gonna hurt you. These tricks? There's places all over the human body, that can't be protected. If I wanna move you back, and create some distance? Maybe I wanna shoot you, and I need some room to draw. I simply…"

   And he pushed gently with one finger in the hollow of her throat. She had no choice but to take a step then another quickly back. It was automatic on her part. He lifted his leg, to show her he could stomp her midsection or shove her back with his jogging shoe. He pushed her back even further, but slowly and very gently.

   "And now that you're crowded into the corner and can't get away? I can grab the back of your neck and use my fingers in the bottom of your throat."

   He gently demonstrated, but with no pressure on her throat hollow. She already knew what it could do.

   He touched either side of her jaw, just below her ear with both index fingers, very lightly.

   "You already know this one… but… it sets this one up nice…"

   He switched it to grabbing her head with both palms firmly, and gently and slowly, brought her around, and she saw she was quickly going to go over his leg and get dropped or thrown. He lifted her back up just as gently.

   "Bring your fists up. Like a boxer. I'm just sure they taught you how to stand up and fight at the academy, right?"

   She brought her fists up. He put two fingers on the palm of her fist, and his thumb on the front of her hand. He have a gentle, minute twist and push… and she felt her body dropping down, before he stopped and reversed to help her stand up straight again.

   "You do that quick? You'll snap the wrist or the arm. The reverse? Is this…"

   He began to do it, and reversed his twist. Her arm shot out ramrod straight, and he put one finger on her elbow to apply an ever so slight pressure, so she could feel it.

   "You smack your hand there? It snaps the elbow. Or… you can just push them around to go where you want…"

   He ever so slowly pushed with that one finger on her elbow, and she slowly rotated into the wall.

   "Fast and hard? Into a wall, tree, door, post, window… whatever is handy. No wall or tree? No biggie…"

   He stood her up at the start and did it the other direction, with her other fist, and she saw he could throw her over his leg, or even just step on her foot to throw her down.

   Before she could take it all in, he would quickly move onto another one.

   "You have a big bundle of nerves right here…"

   Then he poked in gently with his first two fingers. Right below her breastbone.

   "You hit that just right? It stuns them, and they'll see stars for a second or two. You can run, or make it count. You have an even bigger bundle of unprotected nerves? Here… and here…"

   Which he punctuated by poking in just above her hip from first one side, then the other. He stopped her silently and took her out of the bathroom, and into the main motel room.

   "Most people punch like fucking retards. I think we all know the famous big cowboy punch, right? It's in all the old movies… show me real slow how it goes. Go on… rear back, then do that big, slow punch they throw…"

   He stood back and watched.

   "Good. Now? We're going to analyze it. I don't want you to imagine it as one punch. I want you to think of it? Like… a thousand little slow motion pictures, like from a training film, how to swing a bat or throw a fastball. Okay? Now, rear back…"

   She drew her hand way back, like the cowboys did it in the movies. When she got all the way back, he yelled.

   "Freeze!"

   She froze.

   "It's the stupidest thing anyone ever came up with. Look…"

   He took one finger, and quite gently shoved with only that one finger, on a shoulder. She practically fell backwards.

   "You're so off balance? It isn't even funny. Now… this time? Throw that cowboy punch real slow…"

   She slowly reared back again, and started to come in. Her hand went slowly past his face, then he said "freeze!" again.

   Her hand was out, and she was leaning into the cowboy punch. He took his thumb and index finger, and yanked quite easily on her wrist. She felt the lurch forwards, and if he put any effort into it at all? He could probably throw her.

   "So. The big sucker punch? The cowboy punch? Nothing could be worse. Now let's look at how people throw punches. Throw one, slow, over my shoulder…"

   He indicated with his hand where he wanted it.

   "Faster…"

   She did.

   "Faster…"

   He reached out, and put two fingers on her shoulder, right before she threw the punch. She made a funny face, she hadn't expected that, and it felt really weird. Her fist went slightly sideways, instead of straight. Kinda slow, and not at all fast.

   "Put your fingers on the shoulders? Punches become pretty much useless. Oh, sure… you might land a few here and there, but… there's no power in it now. All the sting's out of it. But then, why would I even stand here. Where you can hit me, you know? I might as well just stand where you can't hit me. At all. Like here…"

   Instead of taking the sting out of her punch, pushing gently on her shoulder, like before? He started to, then slid his hand down her arm. He kinda just held his hand out while he stepped over to her side, and said "freeze!". She froze.

   "Look where I am now. Your arm? Is out. My hand? We already established you have no strength when your arm is out…"

   He grabbed her wrist quite gently. She couldn't pull her wrist back in now. He took one finger on her elbow, and started to push gently.

   "You can't punch me with this hand. You certainly can't punch me with that hand, either…"

   She tried to turn to face him better? He stepped lightly on her near foot, and she was rooted to the spot. He smiled, and started to just reach out and touch her, with one finger? In all those "special spots" he already showed her to start all of this out, previously. She was amazed.

   "That's nothing. I can put them together…"

   He put his foot behind hers, at the same time his free finger pushed on the hollow of her neck. He swooped his hand down and caught her from behind the knee, and simply took one step back. Which had him holding her ankle around midsection height, and she found herself hopping on one foot.

   "I can kick your leg out from under you…"

   But he didn't.

   "I can break the leg instead…"

   He put his foot up against her knee from the side, but stopped.

   "And if I just shove your ankle up and forwards, for all I'm worth? Because that's all I know how to do starting out at this? Well… you'll land on either your shoulder, your neck, or your head. None of which would feel good. Something will break. Something? That you need to keep, to stay in the fight."

   She just looked at him.

   "Well… did any of what I'm doing… seem like I needed to have any strength to do it? That's why I made sure, to demonstrate it all… with one or two fingers. Now… imagine it. I'm grabbing you with all my strength, instead of just two fingers. I'm not shoving gentle with one or two fingers… I'm slamming into it. I… actually don't fight like this, with some drunken idiot that insists on giving me a problem. I don't wanna hurt people that bad, just because they're drunk, and trying to show off. But… if anyone thinks they're gonna pull that shit, where you and two of your buddies, corner me in the parking lot? They're gonna spend the next year, just learning to walk again. I'm shy about it, and I'll try anything I can think of to avoid it, but… if someone tries to make me? It's not good."

   "What's… little Robbie like?"

   Panic got the giggles, and laughed.

   "Well, little one. Let's think this through. He's what… 6'5" or 6'6". He's bigger than me. He's stronger than me, in most ways. What's he wear, size 14 or size 16 work boots? Something like that. I'm not the biggest guy in the world, but… I'm not little. And he's got something ridiculous like nearly a whole foot of reach advantage on me. He doesn't just have long arms and legs because he's six and a half feet tall? He's got longer arms and legs than most guys that tall. You ever look at him make a fist? He's swinging around little bowling balls on the ends of his arms. Not to mention, he knows what he's doing. Probably the worst thing? He's not shy about it, like I am."

   "He's dangerous to be around…"

   "No. Not really. I honestly don't know what some drunk guys got going through their little pea brains, but, it can't be much. He doesn't like to go out to bars where guys don't already know about him. I don't know what they're thinking, but, they do give him shit. Mostly, it's those tall, fat loudmouths. You know the kind…"

   "Yeah…"

   "Like I said. He's the nicest guy god put on this earth, under normal circumstances, but… he operates on a three strikes rule, and he sticks to it. Strike one? He will tell you to knock the shit off, but, he will make it funny, and make a joke about it. So as not to embarrass a guy for no reason."

   "Second time?"

   "It's not a joke anymore. He laughs, and tells them he already told them once, this is twice. You do it one more time? I'm gonna knock you the fuck out."

   "Strike three? I guess that one's obvious…"

   "Yeah. They wake up later, and usually wonder what the hell even happened. Most of the guys he hits? Don't even remember it. He doesn't knock guys out, as much as he puts them into a little coma, to be honest. A lot of them? Don't wake up until the next day."

   "He doesn't try to take it easy on drunk assholes?"

   "Actually? He's being nice about it, in his own way. I know he's not winding up and hitting them with everything he has. I mean, he's hitting them, sure… but… it's a whole lot more like… how do I explain this… he's just sticking his long arm out in slow motion, and they're more or less running into it. For the most part."

   "Really?"

   "Honest to god? Yeah. They probably get hurt worse when their own head hits the floor or the wall, than from his punch. He's a big guy, and he was pro kick-boxer. He's trying not to break a regular guy's neck. Remember, these are regular drunk guys, not professional fighters. Then, there's the matter of he's got the classical boxer's paradox."

   "The hell is that…"

   "Boxers paradox? Boxers, kick-boxers… hell, anyone that learns how to actually throw even a half decent real punch? Doesn't take very long, before you can throw a harder punch, than your hand can take without breaking your hand or breaking your wrist. Why do you think fighters wrap their wrists and hands, then tape up, and still wear the padded gloves? Guys that can actually fight, can't even throw as hard as they want to, or else they're hands are useless for about a month. Sure, it looks good if the guy he hits doesn't wake up for three days, but… then he can't lay bricks for a month. And he's a bricklayer by trade."

   "I'm afraid to ask about Skykid…"

   "Honestly? He thinks me and Rob are both half nuts. Don't get me wrong, he's not a guy to go poking with a stick, just for fun. Is he going to stand up and fight? Probably not. It's not his thing. First off, he wasn't a combat specialist, like Rob, and like I turned into. He was a support specialist. Not his job. Now, that said? He'll tell you straight out, hey… I'm not stupid like these two here. I'm using a weapon of some kind, plain and simple. Rifle. Handgun. Knife. Beer bottle. Wine bottle. Heavy glass ashtray. Big wrench. Whatever he gets his hands on? That's what you're getting hit with. That's when he's cornered. You just pray he doesn't have room to move around… cause that's Skykid's secret weapon."

   "Moving around?"

   "Yeah. In his own way? He's actually more dangerous, than me and Rob put together. Sort of."

   "How's that…"

   "Rob definitely, and yeah, me too… I got it off Rob."

   "What…"

   "Ego. We'll stand there, and fight. It was our job. Go out and find the enemy? And engage him. Set up an ambush? And engage the enemy. It's what a combat specialist does, one way or anther. Engage the enemy. Skykid's not dumb. He's got long arms and legs for such a little guy? And… he can run like the wind. He doesn't get tired, either. I gotta carry how much weight when I go to run… 200 plus pounds? Rob's gotta carry more weight when he hoofs it. We're not slow, but… Sky? That little bastard can run around like a goddamn monkey. You can't catch the motherfucker. He climbs electrical poles for a living… he can go straight up any pole or any tree? Like a monkey. Seriously. Just using his hands and feet? Looks like he just walks up the pole."

   "So they can't catch him. Gotcha."

   "More than just that. We have a saying. You can't kill, what you can't catch. So? He can't be killed. Now… use your brain. If you can't kill what you can't catch, how in the hell are you going to get away from him when he comes for you? You can't. I've never seen the man, that he couldn't run them down. Again? It's like trying to escape from a goddamn monkey. It just can't be done. If you don't corner him from the get go? You're actually fucked, and you don't realize it. Not until it's too late."

   "But… if he doesn't fight like you and little Robbie fight…"

   "You don't get it. I'll spell it out for you. You chase after him, trying to get him? Good luck. He actually has to slow down, to let you try to keep up with him. So you keep on running. You keep chasing him, because you naturally think he's scared. You're trying to catch him. But… use your brain, Merry. What happens, when you get tired? Eventually, you can't run anymore. He slows down, to keep you running… then? Just when you fall over, and can't stand up anymore? Now… he turns around and comes for you."

   "You guys taught him that? Rob taught him that?"

   "Nope. He figured it out for himself. Did the combat guys tease him about it? Oh, sure. Until he got pissed off and bet us on it. I can't catch him in the brush. Rob can't. Hell, we found out that none of us can catch him. When we finally get too tired? He doesn't quit. He circles around and starts coming for us. We're all too tired to stand up. He's still got wind. Fuck it. Rob gave him a rifle and a box of ammo, and he knows how to use it. His job? Go off, take cover, and provide support fire. From cover. Then, late in the fight… when the last couple guys split up and scatter? Everyone picks out a man, and takes off after them. No one ever got away from him. Not once. He's also, been chased before. A pack of guys take off after him, and that's less guys we gotta stand and fight with. He runs them until they drop? Then he starts coming for them. Or? We used him for a rabbit. He gets them chasing him, and he runs them into our ambush."

   "He's smart."

   "He is. Guys will say… hey, If you stand and fight? I'll win every time. He says… then why in the hell would I wanna do that. Here's a funny one. He bet Rob, that he could win the marker fight."

   "What's a marker fight?"

   "Felt tip marker. Remember when I played with you in the woods that one night?"

   "Yeah…"

   "We get felt tip markers. Not knives. There's boundaries and guys watching those lines. You have to stay in the zone. You can only fight, with the felt tip markers. He bet Rob he could take him."

   "He took little Robbie on, in a practice knife fight, in the woods?"

   "Yep."

   "He actually won this bet?"

   "Yep."

   "He ran Rob into the ground…"

   "Nope. Just the opposite, That? Was part of the bet. He couldn't run like a monkey. Rob took that bet… and ended up losing."

   "How."

   "Well, like I said once. Little Robbie? Is like a ghost in the woods. Sky knew he couldn't play that game and win. He also bet that he wouldn't run around, either. So? He did the complete opposite of playing hide and seek with Rob. He went right out in the open? And just fucking stood there. Rob couldn't play hide and seek like he's good at. He now had no choice, but to come out in the open. He had no other option… Sky was standing right there, and talking shit, so Rob could find him easier."

   "Well… they both have felt tip markers. You said Rob has ridiculously long arms. And he's a pro at this game. How could he lose?"

   "Skykid? He's just standing there, in the middle of a clearing. Turning around slowly, so Rob has no way to sneak up on him, out in the wide open space. When Rob had no choice, but to show himself? Fuck it. He walks right for Skykid. Who is just standing there. Smiling. Laughing. Rob slowed up when he got close. Sky's just standing there, hands behind his back. Taunting Rob."

   "What was the trick…"

   "He had tied his felt tip marker? To a long thin stick. Rob couldn't get within three goddamned feet of him. Didn't take Rob long to figure out, he's gonna lose this bet. He tried running, to give him time to try to get his marker tied to a stick too? To even it up, but…"

   "Sky stood in the middle of a clearing. Rob couldn't make it into the woods to get away. He got him."

   Panic nodded yes.

   "How much did he win?"

   "Bet wasn't for money."

   "What was the bet then…"

   "Loser? Had to act as the winner's butler and servant for I think it was something like two weeks, when we were camped up."

   "Oh Christ…"

   Panic belly laughed…

   "Yeah. Skykid got full enjoyment outta that, trust me. Rob had to wait on him, like a waiter in a restaurant. Towel over his arm. Filling his water glass every time he ate… wash his dishes… clean his guns… the works."

   "Did the guys all tease Little Robbie?"

   "Ha. What do you think… he never heard the end of it. Remember, that's Sigma Delta's leader. The Seals and the Airborne Rangers? They have a good sense of humor. We laughed about that one for a year straight. Rob might have known better."

   "Why's that…"

   "Remember. Before the hard asses got sent down, because we were getting chased through the jungle, for trying to document what was going on? Skykid was the one that found a couple barrels of diesel fuel, and an old sprayer. He sprayed the diesel all over a small field, and had us stand at the end of it. When they crossed the field to get us? He just shot a flare into the field, and cooked the whole team, alive. He won't stand in one place and fight it out, but… if he does? You can bet your sweet ass, he has an ace up his sleeve."

   Merry shook her head, taking it all in. What would seem to be the least dangerous of the three of them? Was actually, in his own way, probably the most dangerous one. He was French. He freely admitted, that he was a devious little frog.

   Merry started chuckling, now she got their little in joke.

   "What?"

   "Nothing. Just remembering something Skykid said once. Joking…"

   "What's that…"

   "I'm French. I fight with my feet…"

   Panic grinned, and nodded.

   "Yep…"

   Merry continued giggling, then chuckling again.

   "What else…"

   "I'm… just remembering. You always mention the little frogs down there? You touch them, they kill you."

   "Yeah. Poison dart frogs. They're really small. Thank god they're colored bright, so you can't miss the little bastards. They're so goddamned deadly, that if one hops and touches your clothing? You have to cut that piece of clothing off, and drop it."

   Merry kept laughing, if only intermittently.

   "What?"

   "Little. Deadly. Frogs."

   "Huh? Oh, that is funny… yeah. Some of the guys made jokes about that before. Little frog. Deadly. The joke was? We ought to paint Skykid bright yellow or bright orange. Like the dart frogs. As a warning…"

   They both chuckled at the mental image of it.

   "All right, Merry. We're over our two hour limit now. We gotta get back. Story time? Is over. Come on…"

   "Aw. We're the last two to use the shower. No one is coming, until morning. Why can't we… you know… sleep in the bed. We don't both fit on one of those cots in the van… and I miss sleeping on you. Come on…"

   "Merry. As much as I would truly love that? And trust me, I miss it too, believe me. It's not fair. I'm the only one of the guys, that has his girl out with him. Everyone, is sleeping on a cot, in the vans. Your fellow agents? Are all roughing it. Even Mike, the big boss? He's setting the example, sleeping on a cot too. We just keep this room for the shower."

   "You soon forget, don't you? I'm not an agent. I'm just some witness, that Mike has to drag along with him. You think it's some kind of accident, that our hour for shower time, is the last two hours, next to each other? The last ones each day? Hmm? It's no accident. Plus… remember, mister. If I stay here? You… have to stay here too. You're not allowed to leave me alone. If I get Uncle Mike's permission? You… have no choice. I'm calling. Nothing you can do about it."

   Merry texted Mike a couple times, then he called. Merry put him on speaker.

   "Hell. Just means I get the van? All to myself. There's nothing going on. Go ahead. Hell, for that matter? Sleep in tomorrow morning. We're waiting on a sneak team anyways. Panic and JG, said they have to wait for late in the day to try the telescope. When's the first shower hour scheduled anyways… isn't it 2:00 pm?"

   Merry smiled at Panic.

   "Yeah."

   "So? Go ahead. You don't have to be out till 2:00 pm. Honestly, hun… I thought you and Panic were maybe having a little spat or something. I was wondering why you two didn't use the room. What the hell do you think I scheduled you two last for? We can't do a damn thing right now anyways, we're just killing time. Have fun. Me and some of the boys? Are playing cards tonight. So… do your thing."

   Merry grinned at Panic, and stuck her tongue out at him, like a little girl would. Then to be funny, the next thing she did with her tongue wasn't at all like a little girl. She dropped her face, and licked her lips slowly. Then? Blew raspberries at him, and put her face back on.

   "Ha ha… you're stuck with me. All. Night. And? It's early yet. We don't have to get up early, either. We even have the car if we want."

   "We could even sleep, in the bed."

   "There's a pool out there. Wanna go for a swim?"

   "The pool's closing in a little while."

   "Really. I was thinking… of waiting until it closed. Then we go for a quiet swim."

   "It's against the rules."

   "Hmm. I seem to remember? There's a guy working the night shift here. Wanna make a bet, if I can talk him into it? Hmm?"

   "You probably could."

   "Runs in my mind, there's a hot tub somewhere here, too. You feed it a quarter every 15 minutes, and it keeps the jets running. Wanna make a bet, that I can get the night guy to let me use that room?"

   "You sure do know your way around a motel. What's a guy to think."

   "Well, whatever I decide to do? You… have to go with me. Ha."

   "We were supposed to pick up a 12 pack of decent beer and bring it back. You heard Mike, the boys are gonna play cards tonight to keep from being bored on a stakeout."

   Merry smiled.

   "It's early. Hop to. We'll deliver the beer, and bring the car back. I want the chores out of the way, so I can enjoy some… fun. You? Have forgotten something. Something very, very important. And late tonight? I'm going to remind you about it. And you don't need to be scared. I promise, mommy won't hurt you."

   They went and got a case of beer instead of a 12 pack. They filched a 6 pack out of the bigger case, and dropped off the now 18 pack for the boys and the card party. They drove back to the motel before anyone had even arrived for the card party, they must have went back to their own van beforehand. Panic asked if the guys were sore about him missing the boys card game night.

   "Panic? Funny you mention that one. The one joke was… is it really that bright of an idea to play cards for money, with a guy that does card tricks."

   "Hey. I resemble that remark."

   "Right. Go show Merry your magic tricks."

   "I plan on making her virginity? Disappear…"

   Mike had no choice but to laugh as he walked back out, twirling the car keys.

   On the short drive the long way around, to avoid going past the house and spooking the suspects, they hit the edge of town to stop for a couple of hand snacks at the gas station. Merry was looking out the window, because there were two big guys standing next to a big Harley on the side of the road.

   "Oh, look honey… looks like two of your buddies."

   She stared and made him slow down going past…

   "Actually? I think I do know one of them."

   As they passed, both men were looking because the car had slowed down, and the girl in the car was staring at them.

   "You gotta be kidding me. Do you know every single tall guy with a big loud Harley in the entire country? We're like… four states away from your home base, hun."

   "Go back. I'm telling you, that looks like Digger."

   "You serious?"

   "Yeah. And remember… I'm working, 24 hours a day, seven days a week."

   "If you say so."

   Panic went and turned around to double back at the first chance, then did it again to come up and park right behind them.

   Merry got out and walked right up to the two big men.

   "Hi boys. Bike trouble?"

   They looked at one another, and both shook their head no.

   "We already called someone to come and pick it up. We're good."

   They weren't being particularly friendly, and by the look on their faces, they didn't seem to be in the best mood. Merry was all smiles and squatted to look at the bike after circling it, to admire it. Panic had gotten out and came over, he was smiling friendly… but he honestly didn't like the body language the two men were showing. Arms crossed. Little fake smiles, that didn't go at all with their posture or their short, polite, clipped speech. Panic smiled more broadly and held his hands up, palms out.

   "Guys. She has a bunch of friends that ride Harleys. Honest. She figured you might need a hand, that's all. We don't mean anything. Honey? The nice men said they already called someone."

   "Hey. You're Digger, right? You came through DC once."

   "Lady? You got me confused with someone else."

   "If you say so."

   Panic smiled and cut in.

   "Honey? The guys are having a problem with their bike, and they don't seem to be in the mood to make friends. Let's go. Guys? Sorry we bothered you."

   The guys followed her hands with her eyes when she pulled her little business card out, and handed it to them.

   "You sure you don't need a ride… or some gas brought out? It's all right. You're with friends."

   The one cocked his eyes at her card, and flipped it over and nodded. Handed it to his buddy, who chuckled and did the same thing. They both all but started laughing.

   "I'm Ford…"

   "Cowboy…"

   "They call me Christmas."

   "This your old man? Is he cool?"

   "Yes, and yes. Everyone calls him Panic."

   "Fuck me. Sorry for giving you the routine. We thought you were pigs. No offense."

   "None taken. I flashed you cause you're flying diamonds."

   Both men laughed again.

   "Sorry. Freaked me out when I thought a pig rolled up and tried to flash me."

   "We look like cops? Christ almighty."

   "Well? You guys slowed down and eyeballed us. Then you came back and rolled up on us. And that car ain't making you any friends."

   Merry laughed.

   "I didn't think about that. Don't let the car spook you. You got a phone? Just look up Merry Christmas. I was DC… now I'm outta Wrightsville. They got a little turf bar there, no clubhouse yet. Now… I suggest you look me up, because if you see me running around with pigs? I have special permission."

   Both guys lost their smiles, and just looked at one another, then back to both of them.

   "Look it up. Merry Christmas, DC pig roast."

   The palpable change in mood continued, as the one brought out his cell phone. He tapped on the touch screen a little. Then he smiled, and brought the phone up to show his friend. They laughed harder than ever.

   "Holy sheep shit…"

   "What?"

   "Don't you remember the story Junebug was telling us? Last week at the bar? This is her…"

   Both guys started laughing out loud.

   "Wait a minute. If this is your guy… is he…"

   "Yeah."

   "Aw, man… no one's gonna believe me, when I tell em… come on, I gotta get your picture."

   "Hey… get my scooter in the picture…"

   They weren't happy, until they both got several pictures of Merry posing on and around his bike. They wanted Panic with her, so Merry hung on him and posed some more. She thought it was funny, to act like she was driving the bike, with Panic sitting behind her, hugging her waist.

   While the guys were checking their cell phone pictures out and saving them, Merry kissed him and whispered in his ear.

   "You're my property…"

   The guys looked around at passing cars, and the one observed to the other.

   "Fun as this is? We're just standing around waiting for the pigs to show up. Can we get this show on the road?"

   Panic was confused.

   "You guys said you had a buddy coming for you."

   "Yeah, right. You two rolled up driving a kosher car. Pigs always start out with the you need help bullshit, then the only help you get is helped into fucking county. His bike's in the shop, so he had to ride bitch to stop off at the bar after work. Now? I think I just blew a fucking coil."

   "So you want a ride?"

   "Yeah. Cowboy? I'm staying with the bike. Get a ride to Junebug's. Borrow his truck."

   "You want me to take our shit?"

   "Hell yeah. Take my bike keys, too. If the pigs do roll up on me here? I'm good. No keys, no way to get pinched. Leave everything at Junebug's till we can get back to pick it up."

   Cowboy looked at Merry and Panic.

   "It's only about… four, five miles. I just need dropped off, and you two can bounce."

   "You don't need help getting the bike up into the back of the truck?"

   "Oh. Junebug's got a little trailer, with ramps and everything. We're good. Just drop me off, and I appreciate the hell out of it."

   "Well? Let's go."

   The one nodded to the other.

   "You guys mind if I have a few things on me? It's a short ride."

   Panic looked at Merry.

   "It's fine. Go get your shit. Toss it in the trunk."

   "Thanks."

   He went over to the guardrail, and went over it and was back up in a little while, with a small satchel about the size of a small shoe-box. He waited, peeping like a little kid over the guardrail until no cars were moving by, then came over to the trunk Merry was standing by, open but pulled down.

   "Here. Thanks… you sure you don't mind? It really is just a short drive."

   Merry smiled.

   "What are friends for. Just trust me… you really don't wanna look in the trunk."

   "Christmas? I got 10 to 20 years in that tool bag. Unless you got a dead pig in the trunk, I'm pretty sure I got you beat."

   Merry lifted the trunk just enough to plop his leather tool bag in and closed it. Merry got in the front with Panic, and their passenger rode in the back, and gave them quick directions. He had them pull over, while he called his friend.

   "Hey… I'm rolling up on Junebug's front door. In the back of what looks like a cop car. With what looks like two cops bringing me in. If I don't warn him first? He'll shit his pants."

   They met a third big guy, who lived in a small run down trailer park. The big custom Harley looked like it was worth more than his mobile home. He was standing on the tiny porch, shaking his head in disbelief.

   "What the hell."

   "My bike shit the bed, right on the side of the road. I swear to god, this isn't what it looks like."

   "Christmas? Mind if I get my tool bag…"

   Panic popped the trunk, and Merry held it all but shut, and just reached in to get the leather tool bag and re-closed it. He went to go into the trailer with his buddy, who just remained standing there. Politely blocking the way in.

   "Junebug? Meet Christmas. Would you show him your card, so he settles down?"

   Merry handed her card over, and Junebug made a text and a phone call. When he got a text back, that he read carefully… he started laughing.

   "Sorry Christmas. You gotta imagine what this looks like."

   Merry rolled her eyes and shrugged. Their passenger joked…

   "Yeah, I know. First time I ever rode in the back of an unmarked car, and wasn't nervous about where I was going and how long it would be till I got back."

   "What about him?"

   "Bug? You're the one, that was telling the story last week."

   "What story?"

   "We have a little bar up in the sticks, in Pennsylvania."

   "Okay. The dirty dozen."

   "Bug… remember the girl tending bar? Shot a dozen dirty pigs and the pigs were scared to go in the bar and get her out for a couple days?"

   "Hell yeah. Pound's old lady did it. The same one that put a couple of FBI wives in the hospital. Bloody Mary. So… she's friends with her?"

   "Bug… this is Bloody Mary… show some respect, man!"

   Junebug busted a gut laughing and was about to hug her, when he stopped and grabbed her hand instead. Merry gave him a hug to show him it was all right.

   "All right, so… that, isn't a cop then."

   He was pointing at Panic standing over at the car.

   Merry piped up.

   "Nope. He's my property. When Pound left town? We split up."

   "Then… that's the guy that…"

   "Yep."

   "Holy shit… he got one, you? Got about a dozen of them…"

   Panic smiled.

   "Thirteen, but who's counting anyways."

   Now Junebug and his buddy they gave a ride to, wanted pictures with both him and Merry, standing with them. They took turns snapping pictures.

   "Bug. Fun as this is now? We got a brother, standing on the side of the rode with a dead scooter. You put the tool bag in your safe, and we're clean. You been drinking?"

   "No."

   "Okay. Grab the truck and the trailer, and let's go get him."

   "All right. Everything go okay, other than the bike shit the bed?"

   "Yeah. It looks good. We stashed the two keys, and both our guns over the guardrail. Then? These two came and helped us out."

   "All right, but I'm dying to ask… what's with the unmarked pig-mobile."

   Merry answered for both of them.

   "We both killed dirty cops. Until the trial's over? I'm up to my goddamn ass in cops, day and night. Him too. I gotta go for a walk, just to smoke a fucking joint, like I'm a little kid living at home again, until this shit's over. And yeah, I got national permission to testify to put the dirty cops in jail. It's a fucking nightmare."

   "Ugh. I was gonna see if you wanted to hang out with us while you're in town, but…"

   "I wouldn't really recommend it. I basically live in a pigpen, until the trial's over with."

   "Well? Nice meeting you. Christmas and Panic. If you two ever get away from all the cops, and you come through? Stop and say hi. We gotta go get our buddy."

   On the short drive back, Panic asked what flying diamonds meant.

   "You know what a one percenter is, right?"

   "Yeah."

   "The one percent patch? Is always a little white diamond. It has a little number 1 and a percent sign in the diamond."

   "I've seen them before. They all have them."

   "Right. When you're not wearing your colors? There's still ways to let other members know who you are. Anything with a diamond shape. If you looked at his leather jacket? No one else would even notice it, but… even though it's black leather over black leather? He's wearing diamonds."

   "I don't know. This all sounds like a snow job to me. You? Are just trying to get me to buy you diamonds."

   "I don't wear jewelry very often, but… remember the night I got all dolled up for you?"

   "Yeah…"

   "My diamond earrings? They're cubic zirconia, but… same thing. It's just one more thing the bar skank should have picked up on, but… she was too busy being a cunt to notice."

   "Anything else?"

   "Oh… you know all those little workout shorts you seem to like seeing me in? There's a diamond pattern on most of them. You know my soccer shorts you like? Same thing."

   "Honey? Please tell me we didn't just deliver two kilos of cocaine. Just lie to me."

   "Okay. But to be fair? Flip a coin. It could have been either two keys of coke, or… two keys of crystal meth."

   "And the two guns."

   "Probably without numbers on them. Probably hot handguns, too. Almost all the guys have a record, so they can't carry legally. You probably figured out by now what was going on. After work, they went to pick up 2 kilos of shit. Then the bike broke down on the way back. They hid the drugs and the guns over the side of the road, in case a cop stopped to hassle two bikers on the side of the road. No local cop would pass that chance up. If nothing else? He would have jumped on the DUI, because they had a couple beers. If they're on probation or parole? More trouble than just the DUI. The local cop happens to have a drug dog with him? And the dog goes over the guardrail and finds their little tool bag? Hoo boy. You know how much a kilo weighs?"

   "A kilo, is layman's slang for a kilogram. That's one thousand grams. Roughly 2.2 pounds."

   "So, they had almost four and a half pounds of either coke or meth."

   "You know, for them thinking we were cops at first… they really weren't that nervous."

   "Guns and drugs were stashed. We didn't have a drug dog. They're not wearing colors. If they ain't on probation or parole? They're not risking anything more than a run of the mill DUI. Which is really small potatoes to those guys."

   "Did you stop just to say hello, cause you thought you knew the one guy? Or…"

   "Do you have any idea how much intelligence I just gathered? Took every bit of what, twenty minutes."

   "Two bikers. Carrying handguns. And they run some drugs. I mean… is it that earth shattering?"

   "Hmm. Let's see. First off? We're not allowed to fly colors in this state. No one knows why, it's what the nationals decided. So… law enforcement in this state? Has absolutely no fucking clue how many outlaw bikers are down here. Those two? Don't talk southern like little Robbie does. If you didn't think about it? They talk like northerners, like we do."

   "I didn't notice that. Good one."

   "Yeah. With no colors flying, and if those two are down here… there's more. Those three? Weren't all tatted up. There's an entire club down here, and no one even knows it. Where there's one club? There's more clubs in the same state. All running under radar. Rednecks on Harley's? Don't attract much attention. We're close to Florida. A kilo of coke, goes for about 15 to 20 grand in southern Florida, because so much of it comes in there. You get that kilo up north? It can go for 50, 60, 70 grand."

   "Well… you sell it in smaller quantities, it's worth a lot more."

   "Yes. But… that attracts attention. It's way safer to just buy a cheap kilo down here, and sell the whole kilo up north. One deal. 40 grand profit. No hassle dealing and moving and collecting. That's 80 grand profit, if it was two Florida kilos being moved north. Remember, its about zero risk… when it's club members dealing with club members."

   "Why not just set up shop in Florida then?"

   "Florida is heaven for coke dealers. The coke is cheaper, there's lots of it coming in, and there's shit-loads of people with money in their pocket looking to party. It also means, there's a shitload of law enforcement. People that just run kilos from Florida to here? Probably make about 5 grand for each kilo they carry up. Not to mention… we don't get along at all with the Hell's Angels. They flooded Florida with clubs and members. Why risk it? Pay 20 grand for a 15 grand kilo, right here. No Hell's Angels to deal with. You're not up to your ass in local police, county police, state police, DEA, FBI, under-covers buying and selling. Look around you… you see any of that going on?"

   "Here? No. Sleepy little southern area, really."

   "See my point?"

   "Yeah."

   "Now. I got more, but, I can't fault you for not seeing it. What was the name of the shitty little trailer park we just dropped off our new friends at?"

   "Uh… Diamondback trailer park."

   "And what trailer did we go to?"

   "Trailer number one."

   "And… was that trailer in the row of other trailers? Or, was it off by itself."

   "It… was off to the side. Now that you mention it…"

   "What does that tell you? I'll give you a hint. Think of my cute little workout shorts you like to see me in."

   "Oh my god… Diamond-back trailer park."

   "Trailer one. And as any former pizza delivery guy knows, trailer one, especially when it's not in the line of all the others? Is either the owner, or the manager at least."

   "Now. Put it all together. We have a club down here. In a state we're not allowed to fly any colors in. If there's one club here? There's a bunch more, I'll guarantee it. Junebug probably owns that little trailer park. Cowboy and Ford? Seem like they report to him. When any members wanna score a cheap kilo? They have a safe connection. In a safe area. And a safe place to stay."

   "Wow. All that, in twenty minutes of work. You know something? You… ought to do this for a living."

   "Now granted, something this good doesn't plop into my lap every single day, but… see how useful me and Mike's tiny little one woman eavesdropping operation is going?"

   "But… you can't use what you just found. You can't send the cops to raid that place. Even though you know there's four and a half pounds of coke and two stolen handguns in the safe."

   "Think of how much intelligence I just put in our files, honey. I got three members, and now a silent club. I know there's more around, there always is. Why bust them, and get one guy with two kilos and two handguns. We let them go for the next 5, 10 years while this operation runs it's course. By then? Two keys will turn into ten keys. Did you notice that after they wanted pictures, I got some too?"

   "Yeah…"

   "I just happened to get faces to go with nicknames. I got bike and vehicle pictures with no suspicion. I just happened to snag every plate of every vehicle. Now? I can put real life names, to club nicknames. Automatic license plate readers at toll booths? Will silently log their general movements between states. Any other vehicles traveling with them? Leads to more. Imagine where me and Mike will be, five or ten years down the road."

   "Honey? I'm impressed. Really, I am. Don't take this the wrong way? But… I can't wait for you to retire."

   "I'd love to, hun. I really would. But… this whole thing just fell into my lap, and it was too good a chance for me and Mike to pass up."

   "I have to admit. Your whole… thing… is running perfect."

   "I know, right? No one gets arrested after I see anything. The more I'm not interested in their business, the more I'm trusted. The more I get to see. They love me. Everyone thinks we killed fourteen dirty cops between us."

   "That's probably because we did…"

   "No loss there. They had it coming. Did you notice how happy those three were, that we helped them out, and didn't wanna know any of their business? You heard them say it. When you finally get away from all the cops? Come and visit. When the trials are over? I figure me an you, can take a little… vacation. Come down here, stay for a week or two. We helped them out of a jam… we go out for a couple drinks, smoke a few joints with everybody. Nothing suspicious. Why wouldn't we wanna spend a week or two in the winter, down where it's warm?"

   "If you think it's safe."

   "It is. Here's what all cops do in my position. They always ask to meet everyone, ask to go places. They always wanna buy drugs. Buy guns. Mike taught me? To do the opposite. I don't ask to get taken to meet everyone down here. They ask me. They suggest going out and meeting everyone. Because I don't ask about guns and drugs? Everyone trusts me more. Any other cop in my position? Would be trying to bring other cops in. I don't. You? Don't even wanna be a biker… which makes me look even less suspicious."

   "Well? Are we gonna sit here in the parking lot all night? Or… are you done working for the night."

   "I'm done working. Now? I wanna have a little fun. I meant what I whispered in your ear on the side of the road, you know. You… are my property. I think I'm gonna have some fun… with my property. You have to stay with me. Which reminds me…"

   She looked in the glove-box, and giggled as she pulled out what she figured was in there.

   "There's usually two pairs of handcuffs, in every glove-box, of every cruiser in the motor pool. Now… how convenient, is that. And that's not all."

   "Really?"

   "Oh… I have a few things. You know I got my baby oil. Once we get undressed later? There's a couple of belts. I have my little silk robe, which means I have the silk robe belt… I have panties. And do you remember that little vibrator I bought at the novelty store? The tiny one. You know what that's for?"

   "You stuck the little rubber ring on your hand once."

   "Well, that's not all it's for. Watch…"

   She turned her head away, and when she turned back around, she grabbed his head hard, and kissed him. Then went for his neck. The tiny vibrator's rubber ring? Slipped over her tongue. She giggled and ran it around his neck in between bites.

   "We're in a motel. No one's gonna hear you squealing, and even if they did? No one cares. I advise you, not to give me any problems. But if you do? I even have the timer. Now… if you're good? I promised you a surprise you forgot about. Wanna know what it is?"

   He did.

   "Remember making jokes about the hole in my throat? What did I tell you I would show you, when my throat was all healed up, hmm?"

   "Oh."

   "Yeah. I thought you'd like that idea. In fact, I'm sure you'll have fun. But… this whole I'm not in the mood thing, for days at a time? That was cute for a little while, but… that's not going to fly. I'll just rape you."

   When they got back to the motel room, Merry dug around in her giant duffel bag, and came up with the makings of a hand-rolled cigarette for them. She had her little machine, and made a couple of perfect unfiltered cigarettes.

   "Good idea, but poor execution, dear."

   "How so?"

   "Maybe we shouldn't stink the room up."

   "Hmm. Later on? We'll blow it up into the exhaust fan in the bathroom. But for right now? I'm taking a walk. Come…"

   He followed her. The pool had very little use, and would close in a little while. Merry appraised the situation.

   "We can step right over this fence. It's for keeping dogs and kids out, not people. No one cares."

   She ambled over towards the office, and went in. Younger kid was now on duty.

   "Hey. You must be the night guy."

   "How did you guess…"

   "Mm. We picked up a delivery here, and it was someone else. Just figuring."

   "Yes. I'm the night guy. You folks need something?"

   "Not really. Just wondering… you think it's okay to smoke in the room?"

   "That's what the ashtrays are for, ma'am. Try not to put cigarette burns on anything, but hey, who's checking anyways. It's fine."

   "Thanks. I live in a motel apartment, back where I'm from. The night guys? Always get really bored. Poor guy gets the short straw, working the graveyard shift. While all the other employees get to have a day life and all. I'm thinking that's… you."

   "Yeah. If none of the customers raise any hell? I watch cable TV, and play my video-game all night."

   "Video-games, huh? Middle of the week like this, I bet it's extra quiet. Probably okay to sneak a beer late at night. I mean, I'm just saying."

   "Yeah. In the middle of the night? I can have a beer if I feel like it. I just gotta be here, and check people in all night."

   "I always made friends with the night guys, at the motel I lived at. I mean, I always got home late. They worked late. Made sense. And what if I wanted something, and I didn't wanna wait till morning to get it, you know? I could get extra towels. Some toilet paper or paper towels. Whatever."

   The guy smiled politely. She wanted something, and she was him hawing and smiling about trying to get it out of him. What, he didn't know.

   "You want extra pillows, extra towels, something like that?"

   "No. I'm good."

   "You both look like you're over 21, so… if you want beer, you already have it."

   "Mm hmm…"

   "So…"

   "You weren't following my conversation closely enough. I didn't ask for anything, per se. I was just mentioning I always made friends with the night guys at the motel. That's all."

   "Lady. You seem nice. Look… it's really none of my business… what a nice lady like you does for a living, when you live in a motel. Keep the noise down, don't set the place on fire. Always a nice touch when the cops won't show up. As long as the noise complaints from the neighbors are… normal motel noise complaints? I don't even care if you scream a little. Like I said, none of my business."

   Panic smiled at this back and forth, and Merry did too.

   "I'm not a… working girl. My boyfriend here? He's an electrician. I went with him on a long job. He's waiting for the job to start? So, he's as bored as I am."

   "All right. I'll play along. Lady? What do you need."

   "Like I said… just wondered if you get bored working all night, nothing to do. Thought you might wanna take a walk with us. We're gonna get some fresh air…"

   Merry ran an unfiltered cigarette under her nose. Sniffing at it like a cigar. Smiled.

   "Oh. Smoking in the rooms. Gotcha. Uh… ever been to college? Dorm rooms?"

   Merry nodded.

   "Towel under the door. Some people like to burn incense? And people that don't like to smell incense? Makes them happier. And no, that's not a complaint? That I care about. So… have fun."

   "And did you wanna take that walk with us?"

   Merry held the perfect cigarette up. Wiggled it.

   "Oh. I forgot that part. You know, funny you should mention a walk. I'm supposed to do a walk around, make sure nothing got busted up on the last shift, and they didn't report it. Then check and make sure the empty rooms are locked up. I could see me getting an early start on that. You know, before I get into my video game and being bored all night."

   "Like I said… I like to make friends with the night guys at any motel I live at. The day crew? Kinda… stuffy. The night guys? Have more of a sense of humor about things."

   "Yeah. I got a buddy coming over to play video games later. We both go for a walk. What you can do in your room? Ain't what we can do here, in this tiny office."

   They waited while he plopped a 15 minute break sign to hang on the door knob of the tiny office that was more of a converted large closet, and made sure it was locked behind him.

   "Allow me to show you nice people around…"

   They walked with him, past the pool. He idly glanced around, saw no one was about, and carried a rather small bag of garbage back to the dumpster. Another look around, and they all three paused behind the dumpster, out of sight. Merry lit her perfect unfiltered cigarette, and they passed it around. After giggling and small talk, Tim the night guy explained they really wouldn't have any issues with their stay, and not to worry about it.

   "I was wondering about the pool…"

   Tim laughed heartily.

   "If you don't drown yourself. If you don't leave beer bottles and wine bottles floating and sinking. If you don't leave cigarette butts in the filter… like I honestly care. You can see the fence wouldn't keep a grasshopper out of the pool after hours? Honestly, I'd suggest… after midnight. Have fun. Traveling, uptight grannies are asleep by then. At least wear a towel to the pool, and back to your room? Then… what you wear in the pool? Is your business."

   "The sign, said something about a hot tub… 25 cents…"

   "Oh. Yeah. There is a hot tub. A quarter is supposed to give you bubble time. To be honest? It's in a side room, and we just act like it isn't open anymore. The, uh, quarters thing? Replaced by a light switch with a timer. Like the one that turns the infrared lamps on to dry out the shower room. You have to work the switch up and down to make the bubbles work again."

   "That's interesting. A hot tub. Private room. That no one even uses anymore. That sounds like it still works. Wow."

   Tim chuckled.

   "If you two are interested in the… finer points of motel administration in the evenings?"

   "Sure."

   "When you rent a motel room? You're renting a private room. It's yours for the night. Whatever you wanna do, weird or not? Hey… it's a motel room. Two married people, not married to each other? Boss and his secretary sneaking off? Hey, what are motels for. It's an American tradition. The last decade or so, though…"

   "Yeah?"

   "Basically… drug dealers and drug addicts and hookers. Now, if these people would have contented themselves to doing… again, whatever… in their own rooms? Who would know, and who would care. Problem… junkies shooting up and passing out at the pool. Grandma and the grand-kids finding the nice young man sleeping in the morning, with a needle hanging out of his arm? Not good for business. Now… can you guess what was going on in the private hot tub room? Why we don't rent it out any more…"

   Panic chuckled.

   "My imagination? Is filling in the blanks."

   "Right. Would you like to buy a vowel? If you pick the letter O, I bet you get two letters turned over on one guess."

   Merry smiled at him, as they were passing the second half of the unfiltered cigarette around.

   "So…"

   Tim chuckled.

   "So… the nice lady, made friends with the night manager at the motel. My buddy and me? Are gonna play video games most of the night. You two? Follow me back to that shitty little office, I'll trust you two with the key to the hot tub room. You two can use the pool and the hot tub all you want? Till about 5:00 am. Drop the hot tub key off at the shitty little office before that. Now, as long as I get that key back before 5:00 am? We're still friends, and this can go on every night while you're staying here. If I don't get my key back by 5:00 am? We're not friends anymore. I gotta get a new lock and key. On account of I lost the key and I get a lecture from the day manager. Which would ruin our friendship."

   "We'll be sure to be good friends."

   Tim lifted up the now small roach he was pinching and hitting.

   "You already have…"

   On the way back to the office to get the hot tub key, Panic asked if Tim and his video game friend wanted a pizza or anything.

   "Huh. Funny you should ask that. My buddy? Delivers pizza. I was gonna ask you guys, if you wanted anything from the pizza shop. He brings home whatever he feels like, after the owner leaves."

   Panic smiled.

   "Steak and cheese hoagie for her. I want a meatball hoagie."

   "And a pizza. You're staying up smoking and swimming and splashing in the hot tub…"

   "How much?"

   "It's free. Like any charity? All donations are appreciated. You can rest assured that 100 percent of all donations? Directly benefit the working poor of America."

   They were back at the office and followed Tim in.

   Merry dropped off another perfect unfiltered cigarette, and ran it under her nose smelling it and smiling, before leaving it on the counter. Panic dropped a 20 next to it. Tim smiled and plunked the key-ring onto the counter.

   "If you go just around the corner, around this office? You'll see a door that says authorized personnel only. You'll see a door at the end of the hallway? That's the hot tub room. Key works both doors. If you really wanna steal towels or sheets and shit? The other doors are storage and laundry. We go through so much of that shit, no one notices. Have fun."

   "Thanks. We'll see you before 5:00."

   "I thank you. My video game buddy? He thanks you."

   Merry grinned before they turned to leave with their little prized key.

   "Bye, Timmy. It's nice to have friends…"

   "Mi casa, su casa, lady. And hey… stop back around midnight, a little after. That's when the pizza guy gets here. Unless you want cold food."

   Once out of earshot, Panic immediately started razzing her.

   "You? Have quite a way with young boys working the night shift."

   "Really? Wait until you see what kind of a way I have with the boys I bring back to my motel room. You forget, everyone thinks I'm some kinda hooker."

   "But see, you're a nice hooker. That goes a long way with the management."

   "What are you? You're either the john, or the pimp."

   "I prefer to be called your entertainment manager, thank you very much."

   "Christ. Best we can hope for? He actually thinks we're both married and cheating."

   "It's funny. We probably couldn't convince him we're actually together, and not sneaking around."

   "How do we plan our schedule."

   "It's early. Pool is after midnight, our new friend says."

   "That leaves hot tub. Private. We have the key."

   "And the room…"

   "Well. You already milked the cow. Then? You milked it again. Then? You all but gave the cow's udder a brush-burn, having fun making the cow make noises."

   "I did. It amuses me. And later tonight… you have no idea how much… over-stimulation I plan on doing."

   "The cow's empty. The pool? Is after midnight. We need to work up an appetite between now and midnight, when the food gets here. I'm pretty sure, you have something to stimulate our appetite while we kill time in the hot tub room."

   "I'll grab the beer…"

   Merry returned with the six pack, and they casually ambled off to the hot tub.

   "We forgot towels…"

   "We don't need any. Timmy said we can have as many towels as we want. These are supply closets."

   "Locked supply closets, honey."

   "Same key, both doors… it's a passkey for the staff…"

   He grabbed a handful of towels and they hit the hot tub room. Turning on the light switch, made the jets and bubbles fire up. For a motel hot tub, it actually didn't look bad at all. Most likely because it was staff and friends only now, because of the hooker and drug dealer problems motels had to now contend with.

   They dropped their clothes on a wooden park bench styled affair, and slipped into the hot water, roiling and frothing. With sex out of the way earlier, they were content to just be close and relax. Merry had fun with the "you are in my power" joke, holding her ankle chain up above the water.

   "This isn't bad. I could fall asleep here…"

   "Panic? Do you wonder, what these walls have seen, over the years in here?"

   "Looks like they've changed the water since then. I smell a lot of chlorine. I don't see used rubbers thrown around. I'm okay with it."

   Periodically, one or the other had to get out to work the light switch, to reactivate the power. Every time Merry did it, she gave him a smile and a shake the hair show she knew he liked.

   "My parents never had a hot tub, honey. You?"

   "I didn't have… hot tub parents. We were a pool family."

   "Huh. Mine too. Are these things… expensive?"

   "Like everything else. Depends. The bigger? The more expensive. The more jets and doo dad ticklers you want? The more it costs. The more powerful the pump and heater? More again. Brand new? You can spend all you want on a top of the line new hot tub. Indoors? Creates a moisture and mold nightmare. Outdoors? You need a deck, maybe a roof."

   "Do you own anything brand new?"

   Panic had his eyes closed, floating and would appear to be dead or sleeping, except for talking.

   "Uh… guns, that's about it."

   "You buy everything used, and learn to work on it, don't you?"

   "Pretty much. I own more, I spend less, and I can work on a lot of stuff over the years."

   "Do… you know anything about hot tubs?"

   "A little. You want the fiberglass shell. Used. One with a lot of little holes, which is a lot of doo dad ticklers, which impresses people. Good place to get one? Used, needs work. You have to know what you're looking at. Best place? Free… any place that sells and installs hot tubs? Has a pile of the used ones they stack up. You can have any one you want free, it costs them money to dispose of them."

   "Why is that?"

   "Rich people. You spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on house hopping? Whats another ten grand, twenty grand, for a rich guy brand new hot tub… they see a leak, or the tub won't turn on? They buy a new one at the showroom, pay to have it installed… take the old one away. Like I said… we can pick the biggest one known to man up, with holes for the jets all over it. You just need help getting it home."

   "Then what?"

   "If you buy the kit, from the manufacturer? You're a retard. You slowly buy O rings, and fittings, and line… by size. Off of supply sites on the internet. Same pieces, one tenth to one twentieth the price. You buy the biggest pump you can find, that's a good place to put your money. You can always turn it down. The heater is a couple grand, and there's no getting out of it. Assuming you got a big, rich guy shell? When you're done, a couple months later pissing around for fun… you got about 5 or 7 grand tied up in a 30,000 dollar hot tub. But… everything's new, and you have an even better heater and pump than the original. And? You now know exactly how to work on it."

   "Huh. I was hoping you actually knew something about them."

   "I already knew you wanted a hot tub."

   "Did you?"

   "Yeah. You got some kind of a… almost like a… fetish? For water. You love taking a shower together. Going swimming for a bath and laying out at rape rock. Back when you thought I was poor and out of work? You said you wanted some kind of tub with warm water in it for us at the cabin. It's so obvious you'd love one, it isn't even funny. I always planned on getting one for the cabin, this little talk just ruined the surprise."

   "My fetish for water? Hmm. I'm not sure it qualifies as a real fetish, by definition. But… it's close."

   "What's a real fetish? I thought a fetish was anything that turns a person on."

   "No. The definition of a fetish? An object or action, that needs to be present for the person to get enjoyment out of sex. They can have sex without it? But… they're just going through the motions. Example. If I wear my ankle bracelet? I catch you staring at it. Off and on, all day and night. It turns you on, doesn't it?"

   "You have no idea."

   "Actually? I do. But… you don't have to have the ankle chain on me, to enjoy yourself. It's not a fetish. If ankle chains were a true fetish? You would beg me constantly to wear it. It would be obvious, that you enjoyed sex more when I had it on, versus when I didn't. As it is? I know you like seeing it on me, so… I wear it for you. Not all the time, so it's a little bit of a treat when I wear it."

   "Now. While it's obvious, that I really like fooling around in water… do I seem to have any problems when we aren't wet? Do I seem like I enjoy sex less without the water."

   "No."

   "Then? It's not a fetish. But yes, I definitely like to be wet and fool around. You probably wanna know how that happened?"

   "Curious."

   "I told you about growing up. I had trouble getting boys to fool around with me at first. I didn't wear girly clothes. Something about swimming? Seemed to make it easier to get a boy to kiss me. You know, without grabbing him and making him. Now I realize, without wearing clothes and doing makeup and hair? Wearing my swimsuit was probably about the only time I looked like the other girls looked. Swimming? Was kinda my lucky rabbit's foot. I used to be more… confident, in water."

   "I don't know about girls, but… us guys? We love watching the girls in their swimsuits. I mean, come on now. You go swimming, and all of a sudden? It's like the girls are all running around in their underwear, soaking wet. What's not to like about it. You get to see their bodies."

   "Same for us girls, honey. We get to see you soaking wet, in your underwear. Which brings up something I find hysterically funny in our society."

   "Which is?"

   "You can't walk around in public, in your underwear, can you? You'd get in trouble. Why when you wear swim trunks? Is it magically fine. Same for us girls. We can't run around in panties and a bra all day, or we get in trouble. We go swimming? We can wear a bikini that covers less of our tits and ass than our panties and bras ever did. It's not logical. I'll never understand it."

   "So. You ready to burn another one? Then I'll show you a trick. A little taste test for you."

   "Sure."

   They sat up and dried their hands off thoroughly, and finished another one. By the time they were done, they were both getting dreamy eyed, and it settled in fully in short order. Merry showed him a long beef jerky stick she had bought at the gas station. She sat on him down in the hot roiling water, facing him. She proceeded to put on a show for him, doing everything but eating the beef jerky stick.

   "Yeah. I figured you'd like watching that. Now… I can't… just do it? But… just watch…"

   She giggled inches from his face, as she pushed and poked the back of her throat with the now thoroughly moistened stick of jerky. She made a teeny, tiny cough with every slight poke. One after another. She had a normal gag reflex, which prevents most women from… performing the porn star trick. Then, after what seemed like a hundred little tiny pokes and hiccups? She made it. The moist stick of beef jerky? Disappeared. She winked at him, and showed it moving in and out, or staying in, until she brought it out.

   "I told you. I can sorta do it. It takes me forever, but, if I try long enough? One of them… goes in. Eventually. Now… I can't breathe when it goes in, so… it takes a long time to get it, then I can only do it for as long as I can hold my breath. Fortunately for you? I jog and work out a lot, so… do you think you're going to enjoy this?"

   He nodded.

   "Yeah. I thought so. Here's the deal though. There's no way I'm gonna let you grab my head and start ramming and jamming. I have to do it. After a while, when it finally slips in? I can hold my breath for over a minute, easy. But… when I have to come up for air? I have to start all over again, and you can see it takes a while. Now… do you wanna try it out?"

   He did.

   "All right. Now… I'm only warning you? One time. You let me do it until it happens. You move at all? I'll quit. Now then, when it finally happens? You can grab my hair and have as much fun as you want, for about a minute, maybe a minute and a half. I suggest you make it count. Do not, and I mean do not… come all the way out and think you're going right back in. I will bite you so hard, you'll wish you didn't. So, that's about it. And one more thing. When I'm done holding my breath? I swear to god, if you think you're going to keep going? Well… that's why I'm holding these things. I dare you to try it. Now… do we understand each other, how this is going to work?"

   "Yes."

   "Good. You probably wondered why I grabbed a couple extra pillows. Go sit on the bench. And remember… if you don't follow the rules? Not only will I quit, but I promise you, you'll pay for it later. Any questions?"

   "Where in the hell did you…"

   Merry kissed him and rolled her eyes. You remember the racquetball girls?"

   "Yeah."

   "Well, we were talking about it, and… the one girl claimed anyone can do it, it just takes forever to get one to go. If you're curious? This was about a month before we met. I didn't believe her, but… I was bored, and… it took me an hour to get my first one. A hot dog, if you were wondering. Bitty Kitty sat and watched me like I was retarded. Then? I accidentally lost the hot dog, if you know what I mean. I did not know it was possible to swallow an entire hot dog, but… I did. As you can see, I got it down to about five or ten minutes. So… if you're wondering why? Well… I think we both know there isn't very much on me that we can call a cherry. My throat? Sort of is. Are you wondering what you have to do, to pay me back for this?"

   "I don't care."

   "You might. Later tonight? I'm going to…"

   She whispered with her deep voice in his ear, what she was going to do, then pulled back and looked at him.

   "You? Are blushing so bad right now. It's so cute, you have no idea how much fun I'm going to have. Now, one more thing. I feel silly, so… you'd probably wanna keep your mouth shut, and just enjoy it. I don't advise making any jokes or teasing me. Normally, I like it, but… putting baby oil on a hot dog, while the cat watches me like I'm going to cough up a hairball? Just don't talk."

   "Anything else?"

   "Try not to move around while I'm trying. You won't get into big trouble for that, but, I'll quit until you sit still. If you come out and try to force back in? You're in big trouble. If you don't quit when I push on you? You'll be in huge trouble. And don't laugh or make fun of me, because I feel silly. Now… if it goes okay? We'll try it again some other time. You think you can handle all that?"

   "Uh huh."

   "All right. Go sit down on the bench. That's what I brought the pillows in for."

   He didn't know how long it lasted, start to finish, but… 90 seconds at a time, with five or so minute breaks in between? Worked wonders. When they were done, they checked the time and saw it wasn't even close to midnight, so, they went back into the hot tub again. They got the temperature set to where they could stay in as long as they wanted.

   "So. Did you enjoy your little treat?"

   "Definitely. Please tell me it went okay, and it can happen again…"

   "It's fine. I really thought I was going to feel silly, but… I think I know why girls that claim they can do it? Brag so much."

   "Why… I thought it was just for attention. Any guy that gets that? The other guys never hear the end of it."

   "Did… you ever get that before?"

   "The truth?"

   "Duh."

   "My, uh… first blowjob ever? Was one that could do that. I didn't completely realize I was dating the town whore. Which did become apparent later on down the line, but… anyways, like I said. It was my first blowjob, ever. She ended up never giving me anther one, I don't know why. I had heard guys raving about blowjobs, and… after that? I thought that was what a blowjob was, you know? Then… I wish someone had been there to tell me. Enjoy this kid, you might never get one of these ever again. I… thought I was going to die never finding one again."

   "I… don't know if that sounds sweet? Or tragic."

   "Probably a little of both. Oh shit… I'm sorry…"

   "About what?"

   "I was dating the town whore, and… she did that, and… I don't want you thinking I'm calling you a town whore, I just---"

   Merry chuckled and smiled.

   "It's fine. I really thought I was going to feel silly, but… honestly? I was scared I was going to barf my beer on you, and… once I got over that… wow."

   "You liked it?"

   She smiled at him.

   "Honey. Women like to feel wanted. Women like to feel special. Do you know what I'm getting out of you telling me this?"

   "Something good, I hope."

   "You're about 40 years old. You've gotten this twice in your life now, right? When was the first one."

   "18 or 19."

   "Here's what I'm hearing. Every twenty years, on average? You come across one. You're telling me it's a rare treat to find. That girl, was mean. She gave you one, knowing full well it was going to be the best thing ever for you? Then refused to ever give you another one. Now me? I promise you, it'll happen again. Have I ever once, done something for you that you liked… then refused to ever do it again?"

   "No…"

   "All right then. Honey, you're very sweet. You're telling me it's a once every twenty years thing to find. You're telling me you love it. You're telling me, that if you leave me? You're afraid you won't get another one until you're 60. So… you're making me feel really special. If you wanna brag to your buddies when you get back to the camp? Make them jealous? I allow you. If you're friends are jealous, it makes you feel like you have something special."

   "I can't believe you let me brag. Most women get mad if they find out you bragged. Then? They tell their friends everything you get embarrassed about. And magically, you're not allowed to complain about that. The guy isn't allowed to brag. The girl? Allow to tattle tale anything to everyone in town. It's part of the overall shit show."

   "Honey? Science girl's masters was male female relationships. I've read a million and one papers and studies, of what men and women like, and what they hate. Men like to brag, and it makes them feel good to do it. So, if you like something that happens on the Merry go round, and you wanna brag about it? Have fun. Now, if you're blushing about something we do… don't worry. I won't embarrass you. I know men hate that. Take later tonight, for instance. I told you what I'm going to do? And that's what we're going to do. But it'll be our dirty little secret."

   "You're a very dirty little secret. But you know that."

   "Yes. I do. You know how they say, that men give love, in order to get sex. And women actually give sex, to get love?"

   "I've heard it."

   "It's mostly true. But not for me. My two biggest joys in life? Are sex and food. I love to eat food I like, and I love to try new food, and enjoy the novelty. Sex is the same for me. Before I'm old? I want to know that there's nothing I haven't tried. At the dinner table, or in bed. I don't just give sex to get love and affection in return for it. I actually like it. I can't ever make a baby, and I can't get married even if I wanted to, for quite a while. You know what kills a lot of relationships?"

   "What."

   "Say a guy gets married to a woman, he loves her, but… she refuses to… I don't know… ever give him a blowjob. She thinks its dirty, she won't do that. You know as well as I do? That some woman in town will blow him. It works the other way around. If a woman marries for money, but she really likes wild sex, and… her husband only gives three pumps and a dump once a week? What do you think is gonna happen. Sooner or later, some guy is gonna start meeting her and dragging her around by her hair like she wants. Stuff like this kills relationships. I might lose you someday, but I swear it's not going to be because I refused to do something in bed. Do you have any complaints in that department?"

   "What am I going to complain to anyone about? I just don't think I'll get much sympathy, if I complain I'm getting too much sex."

   She kissed him.

   "So… you like being my property, huh?"

   "Yes. It certainly has it's little perks."

   She stuck her tongue out and made a silly face.

   "It's at least a medium sized perk… I think."

   They were back to enjoying hanging on each other, enjoying the closeness. They were quiet for a while, and were barely moving much.

   "Merry? The bubbles stopped. I think it's your turn to flick the switch."

   "Okay. You wanna beer while I'm up?"

   "Yeah. Sure."

   He smiled and enjoyed the sight of her naked, wet body stepping out of the hot tub. Water running off of her, dripping wet. Her love of fooling around in water was rubbing off of on him. Remembering what she had recently done for him? Made him smile. Somehow, the strong scent of chlorine water that filled his nose while she was kneeling and working on his special little treat? Made him realize that burying his face in her neck later, and smelling the chlorine was going to excite him. He loved seeing her leg muscles work, just watching her walk to the switch and back. Seeing her easily twist the caps off of the beer bottles with her surprisingly strong hands, seeing her smooth arm muscles twitch. It made him feel lucky. She smiled and bit her lower lip, and gave him a nice, long, hair shaking show because she knew he liked it. She paused getting back in the hot tub to rejoin him, letting him stare at her ankle chain.

   Instead of sitting down, she stood in front of him, and let him look up at her. She was dropping her face, and giving him the intense eyes he claimed gave him a shiver. She gave him his beer, and sipped hers.

   "I'm starting to think, it might be time to go to the room. I already told you, what's going to happen to you, right?"

   "Is this going to be my… big night?"

   She laughed.

   "No way. Another one of those… little taste tests you get. Another little… practice rape. I already told you what I'm going to do. Then? I'm thinking nothing-fuck, but… it just never stops. I'll come down to get the food? And bring it back up. Then? I'll go back to it. It's not going to hurt, but… I'm going to get some noise out of you. I have all night. I'm thinking sleep comes at 5:00 am, and that's eight hours if we sleep till 1:00 pm. But, until 5:00 am comes? You're all mine. Are you in? Does that sound like fun?"

   "Oh no. Please don't."

   "Hm. Good… now, let's get---"

   Whatever the hell happened, it wasn't clear. They heard something that was clearly a big noise, but it was outside and seemed far away. It resembled an explosion, but it was hard to tell. If it was a huge explosion really far away, or a smaller one that just happened closer? It was impossible to tell. The immediate result, however… was that the bubbles in the hot tub quit, the lights flickered and went out, and they were inside with no windows, so it was pitch black.

   "What the hell?"

   "I don't know. The power's out."

   "I can see that, Panic."

   "Well… actually you can't see it, but…"

   "Smart ass."

   "Aw. Just sit down in the water. It's 100 degrees, it'll stay nice and warm for a while. Maybe the power will kick back on. Maybe they have a generator or something. Give it a couple minutes. You're not scared of the dark, are you?"

   "No… I'm more worried about falling and breaking my goddamn neck, trying to get dressed and out of here. Fuck me."

   "I plan on that. You can rape me just fine in the dark, can't you?"

   "Yeah… but I need the TV on loud. So we don't scare the neighbors. Over-stimulation? Makes noise… and I need the TV on loud, so no one calls the cops on us."

   "You made a joke at the campfire one time, that if the cops don't get called on you for making too much noise? You're not doing it right."

   "Yeah? I was kidding."

   "All right. This is gonna take some time. I'm gonna try to get out, and feel my way down off this deck. Without breaking my neck. Wait till I feel my way out? Then, I'll try to guide you out."

   "All right… be careful."

   "If I can just find one of the towels? I can dry my hands off… then I'll find the lighter. The lighter? Should get me to your cell phone. The cell phone? Will be like a little flashlight."

   "Go slow. I was kneeling on a bunch of pillows. The towels, I think are still on that bench you were sitting on. Pretty sure the cell phone and lighter are right next to each other."

   "Where?"

   "I think they're both on a dry towel, on the bench. Unless we moved them."

   "Okay. I'm down the deck steps. Pillows… all right. Towel on the bench…"

   "Go to the end of the bench. Should be a pile of dry towels…"

   "All right… found the joint, I think."

   "Lighter should be right by it…"

   He finally scraped the lighter after drying his hands off. Which found him her cell phone. He toweled off quickly, and used the cellphone screen to give a dim light so she could get out and dry off. She sat down on his towel, and lit the joint.

   "What are you doing, honey?"

   "I was having fun drying you off. Gives me an excuse to play with your legs."

   She told him to "have a ball", and held the joint out for him to take hits.

   "Mind if I… dress you?"

   "Pffft. If it's doing something for you? Fine by me. That would be one of the tamest things we ever did--- now what are you doing?"

   "I'm smelling your legs."

   "Is there something wrong with them?"

   "No. You smell like chlorine. I just got my first porn star blowjob in twenty fucking years. Every time I smell chlorine water now? I'm going to get a chubby."

   "I thought you were going to dress me…"

   "I will. I just realized, that I was kneeling on your pillows… and what they're for…"

   "Hey…"

   "Well? Quit moving around? Or I'll stop…"

   Which produced a sudden peal of laughter out of her. When he seemed to be done, she asked if she could finally get dressed. He started dressing her slowly.

   "Okay. We got everything?"

   "I think. Let's try to get out of here…"

   "I'm taking the extra towels and pillows up to our room."

   "I got the cellphone and the lighter."

   They finally made their way out and discovered it wasn't just their room or hallway, the entire motel was dark. They found Tim standing outside his little office, and motel customers were coming down to tell him the power was out by one's and two's. When there was a break in it, he confided in them…

   "Like I don't already know this."

   "The hell even happened."

   "You heard that boom?"

   "Yeah."

   "Boom and the power goes out. You guys were in the hot tub, huh?"

   "Yeah. Hard to feel our way out, but we managed."

   "Sorry about that. I should have came and got you. I got a flashlight."

   "No worries. I guess you don't have a generator here?"

   "No. No power, means no TV. Which means no video games. The water heaters? Are all electric, so… hot baths are going to turn into cold baths in a little while. All the customers are going to be bored in the dark, and with no TVs to cover their noises? Everyone is going to annoy everyone else. The customers are coming down one at a time, to tell me the power's out. Like I'm blind and I can't tell. Then they'll start coming down to give me the scoop that the TV doesn't run without power. Then when the cold showers start? I'll go through it all over again. Then people are gonna try to talk me into refunding their money? And I have no godddamn clue if I'm allowed to even do that. My night's looking like it's completely fucked, and to cap it all off? The stupid security system is a pain in the ass to get going again. If anyone steals anything, and I don't have the security cameras recording? I'll get a lecture from the day manager. How's your night going?"

   "Been perfect up until now. I just had the best sex I think I had in the last 20 years? And we were getting ready to go back to the room and get our kink on. Now no hot tub, and no loud TV? That's shot in the ass."

   "Well. If you want my prediction? You can ditch the next idea you were probably going to get, which was to go skinny dipping in the pool? Cause when everyone gets bored, they're all going to wanna go in the pool for something to do. Sorry to be raining on your little parade, guy."

   "Ain't your fault, Tim."

   "Everything else is manageable, but two years ago the power went out for a couple hours? Everyone starts walking around, and half of them forget to lock their doors. Then the other half seems to get the bright idea to go in and see if there's anything to steal. With the cameras down? Honest people don't stay honest very long."

   "What the hell is there to steal?"

   "Wallet or traveling money is the big score. Or car keys to rifle the car and trunk. Rifle through the purses and bags. Grab any goodies, like cellphones and tablets and laptops."

   "Any good news, Tim?"

   "Powers on at my buddy's pizza shop. I called him to check. So… we still get our hot food after midnight. So, we can at least eat hot food, while customers all take turns coming down telling me all the things I already know. When people can't recharge their cell phones? They start to get cranky. I'm just curious what the boom was."

   Panic started listing things off.

   "A car or truck? Ran into just the right pole. A transformer short circuited and blew. A tree or a chunk of metal fell across the main lines on the top? Shorted out, which blew the big fuses. Some asshole could have shot a transformer with a hunting rifle, it happens. The substation could have lost oil in one of the giant transformers? The giant arc makes a boom you can hear miles away. Lightning could have even struck just the right pole and transformer. Which blows the fuses up and down the line in both directions."

   "Wow. You really are an electrician…"

   "What did you think I was?"

   "Some guy fucking his buddy's wife. We're the cheapest motel in the general area, that looks like you wouldn't be scared to get on the bed. It's a motel. That's over half of our business. Don't take it personal."

   Merry laughed.

   "Hey, at least he didn't think I was a hooker."

   "Folks? You do what you want, but my advice? If you want a hot bath? Get it now would be my suggestion. Unless you know something about when the power's coming back that I don't. The power company? Busy signal, which means everyone called to let them know at once, and they wised up and took the phone off the hook. I got half a mind to just lock myself in my little office and let everyone do whatever they want, if they don't bother me about it. I can do a lot, but shitting electrical power ain't one of my usual tricks."

   "Honey? The nice man suggests we use up all the hot water before everyone else figures it out. Hmm?"

   "Where's my purse…"

   They used Tim's flashlight to get her purse, and double check the hot tub room. Merry showed him both sets of handcuffs in her purse and stuck her tongue out at him. They returned the flashlight to it's rightful owner and went and locked themselves in their room. As they went to jog up towards their room, they heard Tim remark to another helpful customer that had wandered down to state the obvious…

   "How did the human race manage to fuck before electricity was invented? God almighty…"

   "You. We're on a schedule, mister. Shower. Move it…"

   As they got in and started to do their best to use up whatever hot water remained, Panic quipped…

   "I don't know. I was starting to kinda enjoy the whole hot tub hooker smell. I mean, after what you did for me down there… for just two beers and a joint and no money? I'm seriously starting to wonder what twenty bucks and a nose full of candy would get me."

   "Just keep it up, smart ass… you? Are my property tonight."

   They came out of the shower without toweling each other off, and laughed onto the bed in a flurry of wet skin and shaking hair and some sort of tumbling, rolling brawl. Panic bolted upright, and told her to stop.

   "Shut the---"

   "I'm serious. Stop. Gimme your phone."

   "What? It can wait for---"

   "Phone. Now…"

   Merry stopped, and furrowed her brow in the dark motel room. But… she handed her phone over. She started to, at any rate. She yanked it back at the last minute.

   "You stop. You want the phone? You hear me out."

   "Make it quick. This is work. Come on…"

   "Is it your case? Or mine."

   "My case. The phone!"

   "Your case is stalled. You can't do anything tonight. You're waiting on a team to come in, and Mike doesn't even think they'll be there tomorrow. Are you listening to me?"

   "Yeah. Because if I listen to you, I might get the phone."

   "Honey. Do you see me putting our moment off, and writing a report on my laptop?"

   "The hell does that even have to---"

   "Do… you… see… me…"

   "No. I don't. Move on…"

   "I shared it with with you. What I learned tonight. It's important. My report can wait until I see Mike tomorrow. I put that part of my life on hold any time I can. When I come home? To my home life? I put it on the shelf. As best I can. I might be working 24 7, but… you need a shelf."

   "Merry… please…"

   "Don't Merry please me. We're here? Because you've been drifting away on me. Slowly. I just wanted one, big, fun night. Before I lose you completely to… those fucking gypsies you and Mike are chasing. Once we hit the road, chasing goddamned GPS signals? It's gonna be quickie hand-jobs in gas station bathrooms, for Christ's sake."

   "Are you done?"

   "No. I can see it on your face. You're gone. You're not here with me. Are you sending Mike and the boys, drinking and playing cards… into that property tonight? Are you?"

   "No… but…"

   "Look. I know you. When you were in your 20s? I can just see it. You were killing yourself. Throwing everything you had and more into… the equator shit. When you met me? How bad were you doing, and you be honest. I know what you're doing, and… it's great, but… nothing is going to happen tonight, is it? My big reports are waiting until tomorrow night, when you and JG can do your telescope thing."

   "Merry…"

   "You did this when you were staying up working on the girls. I saw it. One night? And you were starting it all over again. Don't. I don't want your body… and your mind is somewhere else. Honey, don't you understand? This is the same thing that, some… I don't know… investment banker does to his wife. He jumps out of bed, when they're having a moment, and he calls his investment banker coworker with an idea about… whatever the fuck they try to do. He can't wait till tomorrow morning, he has to tell him now… please?"

   "Merry. You never pull this sissy la la girly shit, and you pick right now to start it? Christ…"

   She put the phone under her thigh and got piss-y.

   "The fuck does that even mean?"

   He took a deep breath, and held and exhaled it… then he began.

   "Merry. I'm on this project. Yes. Its my new equator thing. Its temporary. The end game, of the chess game… is starting up. I need to be on these motherfuckers. When its over? I'm yours. Mind, body, and soul. In fact? Merry is my next project. Merry's life. Merry's case. For the next what… five to ten years? I've been running around like a dog with two assholes, when you and your whole thing? Exploded into my project. Did I ever once complain?"

   "No."

   "Let me finish this. Then? I'm yours. My whole life? Such as it was, I grant you that… but my whole life? Is a piece of clay that I am wrapping around you. And your case. The project? Comes first. I pinch this off? Then… it's all you."

   "Just like that?"

   "Just like that. Triple digits, of innocent villagers? Have died already. Triple digits more? Will follow. I can statistically predict the victims per year, per hunting season. There is a motherfucking hunting season on human beings. The devil himself? Is not a mile away from van number one and van number two."

   "The little lady comes second."

   His face had dropped slowly, but it was long gone.

   "You don't want to get into this. Please? I beg you. Do not touch this subject. I won't lie to you."

   "Where do I fit in? I thought I was…"

   The blank stare. The monotone voice, that was far too even and level. The body language that just sat there, and said nothing. It drove her up a wall.

   "You want a top ten list?"

   "Of what?"

   "What's important in a man's life. We might as well go over this right now."

   "You son of a bitch. You accuse me of being a… sissy girl all of a sudden… what the fuck do you think you're doing? What is this… out of nowhere… goddamn…"

   "You're being emotional. Its making you act irrationally. Where is my fucking sociopath girlfriend that I fell in love with? Who are you, and what have you done with Merry."

   "Fine. Say hello to Holly…"

   Merry dropped her face, and stared into his vacant eyes, with her own. He curled the tip of his lip up in his now suddenly maddening and infuriating smirk.

   "Real men. Put work… or in my case? The project, the plan. Number one. On the list. Everything I have. Money. Time. Energy. Brainpower. Sleep. It all… goes behind it. You go all in? Or you don't go. Do or die. Fucking period. No other sentence. Do you understand this? Every human being must find the one thing. What is that one thing? You decide, but… that's the number one thing."

   "What about me."

   "What about you. Did you want to retire? Did you want to leave the city? You're like a man to me. Your career. It's important. Not just for money and retirement benefits… you're on a fucking project. It's important. Lives are at stake. You? Understand this. Don't you. Holly."

   "Yeah."

   "So. What's number one on the list?"

   "The project. Move down your list."

   "Moving right along. Mister Fuzzy. My cat. He's loyal. I return that loyalty. He's alone. Scared. Where's daddy. I put my best friend in limbo, and it's killing me. Mister Fuzzy is second on the list. He was there when no one else was. He'll be there when everyone else leaves. His love? It's… pure."

   "Go down your list. Where's the bitch at."

   "I don't know. Men like little Robbie? Skykid? They were there long before I met any woman. I know they'll be there for me, long after any woman leaves. I can show up on Rob's doorstep, and he wont ask me anything. Four in the morning, I could be dragging a human head behind me… he'll just ask if there's a mess to clean up, and did I do Team Sigma proud. Yeah. You make me choose between my best friend and any women? Don't ask. These men have saved my life, and I've almost died paying the debt back."

   "So you're even."

   "Most men put… I don't know or really care where they put shit at. I just know they should put it above getting ass. Technically? I give three shits about getting laid. I like it. Other shit comes first."

   "Great. Where the fuck is Holly at."

   "Choose. Me? Or Bitty Kitty. Bitty came first. Remember that. He has seniority. He proved himself to you. You said it yourself… he made you feel something. He made you feel alive. Admit it."

   "Fuck you."

   He shrugged.

   "Maybe later. Maybe not."

   "Does Holly make the top ten?"

   He faced her. Quite easily, given the situation.

   "I moved you, and your special, unique problems? Right up. Notch by notch. My best friend, in the entire world? That I share a pure, distilled zen and love with? I moved you up… and I'm here with you right now, instead of running home and moving him down to the cabin. I put my number one? On hold, indefinitely… while I sorted out you and your situation. I don't have anything else to give you, Holly. You can't move up any further. Can you tolerate the number two spot, for ten fucking minutes… I just want to make a goddamn phone call."

   She didn't have an answer for him.

   "I wanna make a phone call. I consider it important, for the end game on the chess match. You have some kind of special, unique… flotation device that keeps bobbing you up to the surface of my damned list. God fucking forbid a few waves wash over you, bobbing to the top all the time."

   "Make your call. But…"

   "What?"

   "Everything for your project, for your number one, right?"

   "All in."

   "You really put me up against your number one, your number two?"

   "Duh."

   "So… where's Holly. On the list. When your case is done…"

   "I'm in Wrightsville. Holly on one side of me on the bed. Mister fuzzy on the other side."

   "Where's… Bitty at?"

   "Him and Mister Fuzzy can sort that shit out for themselves. If you wanna bet wild handcuff sex, on the outcome? I'm betting on the Fuzzy. You, can bet on Bitty if you want."

   "What if I want something. For the phone. For sharing you with… the devil."

   He didn't blink.

   "All in. Name it."

   "Just like that…"

   "Just like that."

   "You don't know what Holly wants to do to you yet. Till 5:00 am… then sleep till 1:00 pm. Maybe… a little more… Holly fun… till 2:00 pm."

   "Am I talking to Merry right now? Or Holly."

   "I'll let you know."

   "Holly had… issues. Scary eyes. Thought she was too tall. Her feet and hands were a little too big. She had a little too much muscle. She didn't know how to walk in heels. Whatever. I can tell you this much. If I was five years younger. And Holly was five years older. And Holly would have tortured me for fun in an upstairs bedroom of some party, learning how to have sex with a boy? Scary eyes and all… I'm pretty sure Holly wouldn't have had to chase me down at another party, to have more fun with me."

   "Why…"

   "I always liked tall girls. Girls that were strong. Too good at sports. I never was intimidated or scared of those kinds of girls. I liked them. I always wanted to know how to get one of those, and couldn't figure out a way to do it."

   Merry's hard eyes fell away into something softer. She practically whispered her response.

   "Too much sweetie pie."

   "I wish I'd grown up in… whatever fucking town Holly actually grew up in."

   Merry was whispering now… barely audible.

   "Why…"

   "Why do you think. So everyone could have pushed both crazy people together, until we figured it out for ourselves. Merry?"

   She didn't answer him.

   "Holly?"

   No answer.

   "Whichever one's in there right now. I've had the shit beat out of me, more times than I can count. And I have two degrees in mathematics and computer science. Even I lost count. I've been run over by a truck. I've had my leg broken off at the knee. I've been shot. Stabbed. Bayoneted once. I actually count that as worse than just stabbed, technically. I almost died from hypothermia once. Felt pretty good, I was ready to go. I mean, if I get my choice of how I'm going? Till something better comes along… I'm picking hypothermia. Oh yeah. Been electrocuted once. Almost fell off a cliff once. Me and little Robbie spent almost a whole year? Picking shotgun pellets out of our asses…"

   "So."

   "Whatever Merry. Or Holly. Wants to do to me till 5:00 am? Like I give a fuck. I don't ask the price. I just go all in. I thought I was in the Merry club. Now I find out, that there's a Holly VIP room too? Where do I sign up. If I get to go upstairs with her at a party? Tell her not to hide her eyes. The eyes? They're kinda hot."

   She just held out her phone. When he reached for it, she lifted it up.

   "You're still my property tonight, right?"

   "If you still want it."

   "I'm counting. Every minute, that you're on that damned phone call? Is five more minutes on the digital timer."

   "Deal."

   "That's on top of the ten minutes I had originally planned. You know. The minimum to get the tickle cherry off."

   "If you promise to shut the fuck up while I'm on the call? Whatever."

   Merry, or Holly, it wasn't really clear at the moment… smirked and showed him the digital timer running. He called JG…

   "Yeah. Shut the fuck up and listen to me. We had a power outage here. Yeah. At the motel. Shut up… the manager? Just fucking listen. Pure genius. When the power goes out here? The security system… is a… and I quote him… a pain in the ass to bring back up. What do you think about that…"

   "No shit. Yeah, we're still going to do the camera numbers with the telescope. But listen… those numbers will indicate what system they bought, right?"

   "Oh. I'm getting through. What?"

   "Yeah… I'll engineer a little power outage. What? Fucking worry about how, just figure on it. That work?"

   "What do you mean, verification. I'm gonna out the power. Let me worry about how… if the cameras stop moving, we're good, right? Means they aren't recording, if they quit moving…"

   "All right. Phones about to die. Give me Mike. Be quick about it. Merry's being piss-y…"

   "Mike? How's the cards going. Oh… that bad huh? Is your team getting here?"

   "Oh. Your sweet little niece. If the team isn't here yet… and you like the idea I just told JG? I want permission we stay here."

   "Because the power's out. It's ruining our night…"

   "Oh, okay. We can see you 24 hours later then?"

   "Well. If anyone wants a cold water bath, fine… but the power's out. No electricity? No hot water."

   "No. I don't want called with instructions to the next motel that has power. We're fine here. Can I go now? You… go back to losing."

   "Okay. Fuck you and have a nice day, too. We good?"

   "Yeah. I'm fucking with you. Look. Phone's gonna die. Power outski. See you 24 hours later after I planned on. We good?"

   "All right… yes, I'll tell her… uh huh… bye bye…"

   He handed her back the phone.

   "You want an update on our situation?"

   "I have ears."

   "Are your ears so sensitive that you can magically hear the other end of my conversations? Or, are you just going by my side of it."

   "Did I miss anything special?"

   "The boys are playing cards. For money, if you wondered. The team Mikey's waiting on? Definitely isn't coming yet. Waiting on one of the members to get done with something else. Apparently? Mike's losing at the moment, by the way. Since it's going to be at least another day or two waiting? Seems Senior brought a bottle of scotch to the beer and card party. Senior is running around in his boxers, tipsy, but he happens to be winning at the moment. Curious turn of affairs there."

   "Anything else?"

   "On account of the scotch and wearing boxers situation? It seems Senior's testicles are visible to the other van inhabitants, and it's a source of some amusement."

   "When I keep asking if there's anything else? I mean anything relevant and important about your number one project."

   "What do you care. You want me to put it up on a shelf. You're more interested in me you personal stuff. I wanted to make my call. I got to make my call. Figured I got what was important I needed, I'd try your shelf out."

   Merry sighed.

   "Do you want me to apologize for… being self centered, and begrudging you a couple minutes of a phone call?"

   "No."

   "Do you want to apologize to me, for…"

   "No. I'd have rather done it more diplomatically. I'd have rather done it more… long and drawn out. With more delicacy and tact. With more well prepared stories that explained the ideas to you, in a better and more understandable way."

   "So… you could apologize for doing it the quick, direct, rudest way possible then."

   "Okay. I'm sorry I wanted to act quick, and you got in my way for no real reason, and forced me to lay it out like that."

   "Wow. Try not to beat yourself up so much. I don't know how you'll manage to live with the guilt."

   "Wanna hear something?"

   "Go on…"

   "I'm going to start out? By pointing out that you're not the typical woman. So… I'm not describing you. Remember that."

   "Okay."

   "Typical woman? Not you… some typical one. It's all about me. Whee. I'm the center of the universe. If I stay at home and make babies? The whole family is basically all orbiting around me. The man has to run all financial decisions past her. She runs the kids, the house, the man's generally superior finances… runs everything. She grew up? Boys get smacked, girls just get a finger shook at them. Boys have to get a job to buy their own car. Girls get tossed brand new car keys and a credit card. Boys have to work or get scholarships? Girls get pampered through college. Their whole life? Is getting catered to."

   "I'm not a typical woman like that."

   "No. You're not. Nowadays? They enter the work force. Once again? They're treated special. They have to immediately get promoted, or someone is complaining. How many times have you seen some little girl get a job somewhere, and within six months, she's the team leader? Men worked there for years are passed over."

   "That's not me."

   "Didn't say it was. You're not like that. You went to college yourself, on scholarships. Your daddy doesn't make half your car payment and rent, like a lot of so called modern independent women. Maybe because of sports? You think and act more like a man. Logical. Tough. Thick skin. Maybe some of it is because… of the lower thermostat. You don't have unpredictable little floods of chemicals that drive intense urges and emotions, that you act on, with a whim."

   "Well now. That is me."

   "I wanted to make a simple phone call. Relate a new plan idea, that I thought was really slick and important. Couple minutes, done. Over and out. I'd have been right back with you, me and my mind… within minutes."

   "I'm trying. I was trying, anyways… to stop and make time for us. For one night. Then we can go back to the chasing and the whole thing. I put my big report off till the next day. I wanted you? To put your big phone call off. Till the next day. That's all."

   "I didn't have a big report like you do. I had a little phone call. It's done. We could have been right back to… me and you. Instead… I don't know. Look. You decide we're going into the criminal bar? Well, we go in. You decide we're going to pull over, and make friends with two felons and meet a third? We do. I back your plays 100 over 100, I don't question it. It's your number one thing, I lead, I follow, or I get the hell out of the way. I just wanted to make a couple minute phone call… all of a sudden? No. No phone call. We need to talk about this. Here's this nice story about the special shelf. Now, let's talk about me, and you, and how important we are to each other… I don't do that shit to you, about your number one thing. I tried to talk you out of it, now I admit it's important, I just accept it and help you any way I can."

   "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm used to working alone. I take orders from, and plan strategy with… Uncle Mike. But… I make all my decisions and just go with it. The bar? By myself, normally? I'd have gone myself. When it wasn't busy. Introduced myself so when I went back, people knew I belonged in the clubhouse. I knew I could handle it, if things started to go sour. And I did. That? Was a result of me normally working alone, and I was with people. And you're right… it's not fair I make you pull over, to take 20 minutes to run a couple kilos of hard drugs and a couple hot handguns, while we're out picking up beer. Then? To get in your way of a phone call. Start giving you a schedule. I won't get in the way of your case again. And certainly not like I just did. Do you accept my apology?"

   "None needed. Can we now get back to… me getting into… Holly's VIP room upstairs? I'm curious what goes on in there. Heard some noises, and can't wait to get dragged into the VIP room."

   Merry gave a little smile.

   "You're not in any trouble. The deal's off. No timer minutes."

   "Well… couldn't I still be in a little bit of trouble?"

   Merry laughed.

   "If you want to be? Sure. Not hard to arrange it. Maybe later on. I know you won't be in the mood for a little while. You snapped into your… zone you get into. We should wait for you to… snap back. What's the new schedule, by the way."

   "You, are scheduling the me and you time."

   "No… the schedule with the van."

   "Oh, right. Remember we had to be back by 2:00 pm? That's moved up 24 hours. We… now have all our original time tonight? Plus another 24 hours on top of it."

   Merry smiled.

   "I… was complaining about our time, and your phone call I wanted to forbid you to make, got us an extra day. I'd have fucked that up. I'm glad you stopped me."

   "Merry? I don't want you to think I was barking at you. Putting you in your place. I'm not like that. Do you want to know why I didn't want to wait to make that call, till tomorrow? There's a reason."

   "Well…"

   "You about figured out, that the lights going out here, and the camera system going down here being a problem? Gave me the obvious idea I'd have never thought of. Cutting the power to the house? Shuts the cameras and the system down, if they don't have uninterruptible power supply setup going. Which is unlikely. Getting the idea to JG as early as possible? Gives the AV camera god, more time to chew on it, and be ready for when the team arrives eventually. Probably solves the problem, probably makes JG look like a take charge kind of field agent coming up with a cool solution, that only a techie agent brings to the field table."

   Merry nodded along.

   "For me? Time is not a limited resource. It's always better for me to wait, take my time, wait until what I want to happen, just happens. It will eventually. I just learn more about more things, along the way. Your case? Totally different."

   "Time is a precious resource to me. Other things that were once in limited supply? Are now available to the project. In nearly unlimited quantities, it would seem. Time though… has replaced money, as the controlling resource. I have to conserve it. Spend it wisely. Make sure I get as much bang for the buck as I can, for every second."

   "I'm the opposite. Everyone would prefer us to run the microphone operation for ten years instead of five. We'll just close down more and more when it finally caves in at the end. Think of me like one person, down into a tight hole. I'm scraping away with a spoon… here, there, back here, now back there… opening up a big cavern underground, slowly. No one hears, no one sees, no one notices. Eventually? We yank the lever, and the whole surface operation collapses. The more I scrape away with my spoon, over more time? The bigger surface area collapses when the time comes."

   "So… you're not mad I…"

   "No. When you explain it all like that, it was the right call. I'm glad we weren't in the field, and I pulled a move like that. You know, it completely fits your personality profile too. It's uncanny."

   "What do you mean…"

   "You just go along, quietly. Following the leader, whoever it is at the moment. Something important jumps up though… you leap right into alpha role, start issuing orders, handling it. Then? You toss the credit off to your favorite underling, here JG… and go right back to being a little church mouse again. You're a dyed in the wool Sigma. You're doing to the devil as you call him, what you did to the pawn store owner. A carefully aimed and timed lightning strike."

   "You know, Merry. You're not just along for the ride. You brought Mike in to take over and handle things right. You and your big… interruption? Worked out better for me. I got plugged into your IA, I got plugged into city IA, I got plugged into Uncle Mike, the magician stage coach driver."

   "It worked out back just as well. Me and Mike? Uncle Mikey is sitting back, looking at what the hell happened after that night in my motel apartment… then after the field behind the bar? Christ… everywhere I go now, all the boys can't wait to invite me places, everyone wants to take pictures with me, have me take pictures of their bars and bikes… now look what I just found, another whole set of things to run around and peep on. Things that will invite me in."

   "Didn't Mike ever think of pulling the plug on Panic, so to speak?"

   "He called you the tornado for a while, as our little in joke."

   "Hmm. I liked the lightning analogy better."

   "I guess behind the bar? Some of the scene workers said it looked like a tornado had touched down."

   "And Uncle Mike?"

   "He just sits back, strokes his chin… and says it would be insane not to make use of everything the way it all sits. You originally refused to go on the… payroll. Then you talked about it. Lately? You've been… talking about it as if you were going to."

   "Are you asking for Mike?"

   "Yeah. We don't want to… pester you about it, but… we do bring it up as often as we figure we can, without the whole thing going sour."

   "You've heard me leaning towards it."

   "I know. You seem to be coming around to it slowly."

   "How confidential, is a… whatever the hell I am once I do that."

   "Calling someone an undercover cop or agent? Is a layman's term. I'm sure other agencies and departments might have different terms than Mike and I would use, but… let's use the alphabet. Type A. Ordinary agent. The agent, in the course of trying to accomplish something, simply introduces himself as Joe Blow instead of his true name, Agent Smith."

   "What's type B?"

   "The next step would be to not just call yourself Joe Blow, but to be able to provide some sort of documentation. Fake ID. Fake credit card that works. Plenty of agents have done it. If an agent has never used another name, not once, not ever? They lived a sheltered life at the agency after 20 years, I can tell you that."

   "What's behind door number C…"

   "That's a little further down the rabbit hole. Fake ID starts to turn into a real ID. These days, you need more than a driver's license. You need a social security number. You need a bank account. It's a fake identity, but, the documentation is real."

   "Are you a type C?"

   "No. Type D. Down the rabbit hole and around the corner some more, I suppose. You actually live as that person. You become them. Type C? Yeah, you have some stuff in your wallet… but… if someone really digs? They quickly run into a situation where you sort of appear out of nowhere. A cop with some contacts and experience, could figure out the person wasn't real. They could about figure out more or less when the identity was created."

   "Merry is real?"

   "Merry is about as real as she can be. My employment history, for instance. I worked at the steakhouse for years. Everyone knew Merry. Merry paid bills. Merry dated and had boyfriends and breakups. Before that? I really was a truck stop waitress. A couple years between high school and my adult employment record, isn't a huge flag. Lots of normal people have sketchy employment for a few years when they're young. Type D though… Merry went to college. Not as long as I did, not to the same school, but still. She has a transcript. She has a high school diploma."

   "Is it all secure?"

   "As secure as it can be. There's gravestones where Merry's parents are buried. A person doing a real investigation, checking? Would come up with obituaries, and Merry is mentioned as a surviving relative, that's in college, and Merry's college is mentioned by name. It's really not that rare to visit a high school or a grade-school and the person you're tracing didn't leave enough of an impression on teachers that they can recall them and tell you stories. Wallflowers are all over America. Merry was a wallflower that didn't stand out in any way at school. Going on ten years living as Merry now, sure helps patch that over, too. Merry even has dead grandparents that came through immigration."

   "Are they Italian?"

   "Duh. It wouldn't be very smart to pick Irish grandparents for me, would it? Even the Italian town they came from? Has shitty enough records that you can't find real paper on real people that actually came from there. Bombs in world war two fixed that."

   "A layman would say you were deep undercover…"

   "Hmm. Deep undercover, is usually referring to type C. DEA agents, CIA agents. People like that? You run into the thing where they sort of appear all of a sudden, going back. I have fake roots. I wasn't kidding when I told you I probably need my head examined by this point. I get a real kick out of hearing you call me Holly, when you whisper it in my ear. My parents, if my sister is in for that holiday I pop in? That's about the only time I hear it. Burner phone and a burner email for them, so they can't fuck my shit up."

   They had slowly nestled up against each other on the bed. Propped up on the extra pillows Merry had knelt on for their tryst in the hot tub room, before the lights went out. All the previous agitation was long gone out of both of them. Merry was talking into his chest like she did often enough. She did it enough that she was moving her foot slowly up and down, so slow you would need time lapse photography to really notice it. A slight tic, as a person that twirls hair without noticing it will do.

   "Was that our first fight, Panic?"

   "Hmm. I'm not sure. Wouldn't our first fight technically be the night I pulled my gun on you, asking you if you killed the donut whore?"

   "I don't know. They didn't go over this in any of my classes in psychology. Which one would be our first fight?"

   "Not sure this was really a fight. More of a disagreement. We weren't butting heads over who's wearing the pants, or who's more at fault. What's science girl have to say about it."

   "Science girl says it's not possible to have a relationship, without having some bump in the road now and then. It's about how you handle it."

   "Did we handle it okay?"

   "I think we did. Do you?"

   "I think so, but, I'm not the expert."

   "Science girl says if you're not avoiding the issue, that's generally good. We ran into a situation where there was an A, and a B. You can agree to go A, you can agree to go B, or you can come up with some amount of compromise. You're reasoning was sound. It's fine. Now that I look back on it? I was being kind of… what do we even call it… girly?"

   "I don't know."

   "Hmm. I don't do you're kind of case. You don't do mine. It makes sense. Now that I chew on it? I came off as one of those… I don't know what you call them. You'll see some… usually a woman… in some stupid training video or pamphlet. Intended for combat veterans, maybe. Now… these things were bad. These things have hurt us… we put these things into our little hurt locker, and we never have to be hurt by them ever again, and we just move on."

   The silly sing song voice Merry used doing her voice-over made Panic chuckle.

   Merry smiled and almost laughed at herself.

   "I sounded kind of silly, didn't I?"

   "Do the voice…"

   "Now, this is our work life, and this is our home life. We put our work life? Up on the shelf, when we go home to be with our significant other, and play house. Honey? You put your phone call up in the shelf, like mommy does. Okay?"

   "You can laugh at yourself. That's good. I like that about you. I try not to take myself too seriously, at least not all the time. I've heard that it's healthy to be able to step back and have a good laugh at yourself."

   "So… you're really thinking about taking the… "

   "Are we back to my being on Mike's payroll?"

   "Asking. Mike's really… hep on it."

   "And you?"

   "Oh… I'm in favor of it."

   "All right. I'm about there. How much of a record is there of me doing that."

   "You know how I'm… we called it type D? When Mike does it… you could think of it as Type D. No one but Mike himself knows exactly where that money went. He's authorized to make those decisions. He wasn't recruited from military intelligence for nothing. You can't have secretaries that are able to go through filing cabinets, and look things up on the computer for this stuff. We were already at Type C? Mike brought type D and implemented it at the Hover building. Your debit cards? Won't be like regular snitch payments, at other agencies."

   "Now I'm a snitch?"

   "No, but paying someone for whatever reason in our line of work? There are paid snitches and paid informants. Lots of agencies use them, the FBI included. Mike demanded things when he came on board. If some… busybody starts demanding answers, demanding oversight, trying to fluff their career up? They can't get it. Mike's understanding was that if it ever comes to it? He'll tender his resignation effective immediately, and erase his files. Apparently, he had the kind of… background and record of success, that he was recruited and asked what he needed to get things done right. We sort of had a little string of… failures. And by failures? I'm sugarcoating operations that went face down in a ditch somewhere. Literally."

   "A lot of people claim that they would rather end their own career rather than leave someone hung out to dry."

   "Mike left at the height of his career, that was still on the rise. It's not like he screwed up somewhere, and was looking for work. Security wise, would you consider it secure, if someone just handed you a stack of hundred dollar bills to make that sort of payment?"

   "Yeah. Then it's on me to explain my finances."

   "Same thing. Me and Mike now assume you have enough… financial wherewithal of your own already, that his doesn't raise any eyebrows. You're not like some addict somewhere, that never works, and magically has his bills paid. The DEA snitches can be compromised that way."

   "Only Mike knows, and even the… brass above him don't have access?"

   "People like the director and the assistant director that oversees Mike's area of work? Know that Mike has assets. Me and Mike think it's funny, that they know he has an asset on this eavesdropping operation? But… he let me hear him on a phone call once. They naturally assume it's a he asset, not a she asset. He said he didn't plan it, he just never once corrected anyone. Mike said, that if the director himself were kidnapped, and his life threatened? He couldn't give me up if he wanted to."

   "Remind me to tell Mike I'll do it."

   "Mike will be happy."

   "I care a whole lot more about you being happy."

   He was content to feel her head scrape up and down on his chest as an answer.

   "You're out of your… little zone you got into. I can tell. It's been a while now."

   "You're not looking at my face."

   "I don't have to. I can hear it in your voice. I'd be able to tell over a phone call. Did you mean what you said?"

   "I usually lie to you?"

   "Just making sure you weren't in… sweetie pie mode."

   "What…"

   She was still talking into his chest, still moving her foot on his leg slowly.

   "When you said if you would have known me in high school, or college… that you would've…"

   "Definitely. I wouldn't kid you about that. Did I run from you and make you chase me down, when you… gave me my first taste test?"

   "Hmm. You didn't."

   "Did Holly ever… set the timer for too many minutes before?"

   "It's… there's two ways it can go sour."

   "And that is…"

   "Well… one is obviously if the timer's set for too many minutes. I mean duh. And the other? What I do after that."

   "What do you mean."

   "Well. You have to remember I was experimenting. Boys weren't chasing me like I suddenly wanted, and I was…"

   "Date raping instead of flirting."

   "You could say that. See… the first time? I wanted to make out. So… I wanted… extended kissing. Touching. So? That's what came after. That was what I was seeing about. Practicing it, I suppose."

   "And the second time?"

   "I think they used to call it heavy petting… that went okay too."

   "And the third…"

   "Is it obvious by now, that each time was more or less me practicing a different… thing?"

   "Yes."

   "Well. It depends what I was practicing then. After first base, second base, third base… I wanted a different… kind of home run, we could say."

   "Positions?"

   "At first. Girls talked about BJs, so… I did a couple of… practice sessions for that. I had to get some kind of technique going. When a girl said that if you can't do the…full Monty, the best trade off she ever found was… well, what I do."

   "The hand-job slash blow-job…"

   "It was nicknamed the hoe-job in my high school, don't you know anything."

   "I'm always happy to learn the proper medical terminology. Thank you."

   "You're welcome. In case you wondered? The hoe-job practice sessions went… no problems."

   "I can imagine. A pretty girl is making me take hoe-jobs. Hard to find fault with that."

   Merry laughed.

   "Yes. That was some kind of record. Took about ten seconds of tickling to get a hell yeah…"

   "Not a tough sale."

   "Well. If each… practice session was a different… thing. When I moved on to try some of the other stuff out… I mean, if I read it, saw it in a movie, heard girls talking about something? That's how I tried it out. Is it that much of a stretch that… some things required substantially more minutes of convincing than others? I mean, where do you think the repeat came from. Five minutes of convincing, I get a yes yes okay okay… then it's a no no no again? Repeat."

   "What were some of these…"

   "Oh. Anything, really. Use your imagination."

   "With you? I really don't have to use my imagination. You either tell me, or you do it."

   "Yes. I haven't had any real… problems with you yet."

   "What do you mean… yet."

   "Ha. Surely you noticed, that I moved quickly early on. Then… we've been going slower, about adding things to the menu as we go.

   "I figured the menu was really fleshing out."

   "It is. I'm happy. You're more adventurous than a lot of guys out there. I mean, we were going to…"

   She grabbed his head and whispered it into his ear again, giggling.

   "We were."

   "Yeah. It was in the moment. The moment passed. We still might. Or another time. We have forever."

   "We have another 24 hours. And the night's still early yet."

   "I kinda thought it would be… prudent to have a loud TV for that one. Especially since it was coming with extended over-stimulation, which guarantees a good bit of… noise that should be covered up."

   "Eh. We could pick up something for music, that runs on battery power. Not like a big Bluetooth speaker wouldn't be useful in the van, on the road. We can all take turns from our cell phones."

   "You're still… willing? I was worried I might have got a yes because it was… associated with your special treat."

   "Oh. That's right. It was. Does that mean, we would have to do that again, to make trying it official?"

   "That? Could probably be arranged. We should pick a few things up anyways, right?"

   "Baby wipes for our showers. Water. Caffeine. Snacks. Bluetooth speaker. You… want some beer or wine or something? We got an extra day now."

   "I think I'd be more into wine than beer. You? What would… put you more into the mood to try something like that."

   "Wine works. Smoking works. Quite frankly, some hot talk out of you works wonders too. And dangling your ankle chain around? Never seems to fail, does it."

   "All right. We have plenty of time before the food gets to Tim's office. The night is young."

   They went out to get what they wanted for the night and now the extra 24 hours. They had stopped by Tim the night manager's little office, to be friendly and see if he wanted anything. He gave them money for a case of beer, amid the observation that the place was "turning into a zoo" and that he considered it "therapeutic" to deal with all of this better. Panic asked what therapeutic meant, and Tim joked that therapy might well involve locking him and his buddy in the office, although with now no TV and no video-games likely without power miraculously reappearing, he might be locking himself in his office alone.

   A quick trip to a department store provided a decent sized Bluetooth speaker. Pressing the button on the display allowed them to try them out before purchase, and they picked a smaller one than they would have without hearing it first. Panic said there was no such thing as too many baby wipes when you're on the road, so he got a small pack that came in the plastic case with a locking lid and the giant refill triple pack to reload it numerous times.

   Merry was in a good mood, and smiled and kissed his cheek before whispering in his ear that she didn't mind at all when he gave her a "field bath". A case of water and snacks and a couple two liters tossed into the cart didn't take long, and Panic wasn't used to seeing wine and beer in a department store. He had to explain to Merry that it was a "Pennsylvania thing" as he let her pick out a big box of wine. He accused her of being a lush, and she swatted him playfully and told him the box made it easy to take back what they didn't drink to the vans.

   "Who else is going to want a glass of wine, but us?"

   Merry smiled.

   "Exactly. No glass rolling around to break either. Like I said… easier."

   "The only thing getting easier, with this much wine? Is you, dear."

   "Funny. That reminds me though… follow me…"

   He followed her to the girly arts and crafts aisle. Merry pointed. Candles.

   "The lights are out. And it's romantic."

   "Hmm. Do you want… beeswax? Or… modern wax."

   "Does one smell better? Burn longer?"

   "I'll get a pack of both… so you can see the difference…"

   "What's romantic about getting drunk and setting the motel room on fire."

   "Seriously?"

   Merry gave him a quick few seconds of lips on ear time to pass a brief explanation, since Bluetooth had failed her at the moment.

   "Oh."

   "Anything else you can think of?"

   "Yeah. Your turn to follow me…"

   Panic picked up a small butane powered soldering iron with different tips. And a six volt lantern battery that was really a battery holder for four D size dry cells included, then extra D cells. He went back past where they picked up the Bluetooth speaker, and bought a long, cheap, USB cable. A little pack of heat shrink insulation, when he doubled back again past hardware.

   Merry's face asked by Bluetooth what this was for.

   "Power's out. Where you going to recharge a battery powered speaker?"

   "The car. I recharge my phone there. This thing recharges the same way, right?"

   "Do you really want the music going off, in the middle of having fun?"

   "Hmm. Might be just when I need the music most. Good thinking."

   "Plus… without the car running? Car charging takes forever. This will charge it while it's still playing music. Charges our phones, too."

   "Someone doesn't want disturbed… now who's the easy one."

   When they got back to the still dark motel room, Tim had been a sage about it. Lots of people were sitting out at the pool, and swimming. On the walk back, Merry paused briefly and studied the gaggle of customers at the pool.

   "What you looking at, dear? I don't see any of your biker friends out there."

   "No. It's nice."

   "What?"

   "The people. Everyone would normally all be locked up in their rooms. Leaving to buy something, then running back to the locked rooms. Look, they're socializing. This isn't a rental motel like mine was, these are all strangers. Remember my small town lecture? This is small town, this is healthy."

   "Science girl's here? Hope she brought the glasses."

   "She did. I thought you said you wanted Holly, though."

   "Can't Holly wear the glasses?"

   "She can. She'll look like science girl, but… she might not act like her."

   "What's the difference?"

   Merry put her lips to his ear…

   "Holly? Can be a little rough. Science girl knows how to get what she wants with honey. Holly didn't learn that yet."

   "You know something? A wise man once told me. Never stick your dick into crazy."

   "You calling me crazy?"

   "No. It's totally normal. I'm dating a serial rapist, who now has multiple personalities."

   Merry just dropped her face, and gave him the eyes he liked.

   "Run."

   "Not allowed to leave you alone."

   "Then? You like it."

   "I do."

   "Good. So… do you agree with me? That sociologically, the lights going out is actually a good thing. Look… normal, small town, evening get together."

   Panic sighed.

   "What?"

   "No, you're right. I'm just… never mind."

   "No. Finish it. This is a potential short article. You make a good observation to the contrary, especially one most people wouldn't come up with? It gives me a twist. Much better article."

   "If science girl insists."

   "Do I have to tickle it out of you?"

   "I'm not saying you're wrong. You're seeing small town people. It's a warm evening, no electricity, no air conditioning. They're gathering at the pool. I see beer, I see food."

   "So? What's wrong with that…"

   "This power outage? It's a tiny emergency. During an emergency, modern man goes tribal. Overnight. Remember… I read body language."

   "So?"

   "The men sit in groups. They're telling exaggerated stories. About all the big animals they killed. About all the beautiful women they caught. The women? They're sitting together too. Talking about whatever you girls talk about."

   "What's so bad about that."

   Panic sighed again. Held it and exhaled slowly.

   "You make the power outage big enough, long enough. A real emergency? You won't see this happy, small town thing you're enjoying. You'll see… big groups of these innocent villagers grouped together for protection in numbers."

   "Protection from what?"

   "Human beings are two animals. Most of us are herd animals. We feel better in herds. It's not because we like the way it makes us feel, although we think it is. It's the herd protecting itself against the predators. Wherever you find a herd of prey? The predators aren't far behind. You ever read about what happened after Hurricane Katrina?"

   "Some. Tell me…"

   "Gangs of assholes formed. They went around stealing food, water, valuables. They had to bring in cops from all over the country. The cops? Some of them grouped together. Went house to house stealing guns. Looting. Before you tell me all about the hero cops? I have videos that prove it."

   "I remember. They ended up, they had to herd everyone into the big sports stadium they took over. They had to lock the herd up, to protect them."

   "Yeah. Worked wonderfully. All you created? Was a big prison. The predators grouped up, and went around doing what they do. Taking whatever they wanted. Stealing the ration food and water. Assaults. Rapes. And if you go and tell? We'll hurt you more. Prison rules. You know the best thing to do in an emergency like that?"

   "Afraid to ask."

   "Stay away from the herd. You stay away from the herd? You stay away from what's attracting the predators. You avoid getting rounded up by the cops, and herded into an armed prison camp where you can't get away from the…"

   "Animals?"

   "Nope. Animals act better."

   "Honey? We're here for an extra 24 hours. I thought you might like to go and have some… small town life for an hour or two, before we…"

   "Mate?"

   "Yeah. Look… they might be acting like a herd, gathered for protection, on instinct. But…"

   A woman was waving at them. She saw Merry and Panic looking at them. She held up a bottle of beer and pointed at it.

   "Honey. If that isn't an open invitation, from one happy villager to another? I don't know what is. Look. They have a cookout going. Everyone is going to eat, drink, swim, and sit around telling ghost stories. It's sweet."

   "Merry? Do you know what purpose ghost stories served humans? Where they come from?"

   "I'm about to find out…"

   "The good people sit around the fire. The ghost stories? Boogums and monsters are out there. Don't go too far after dark, or… something might get you. It's how you teach little children not to get eaten by night time predators. It's how you teach young girls not to get… attacked and killed. By some… animal. Where do you think prostitutes floating face down in a ditch come from? Where do you think a lot of the missing children end up? I know we don't like to think about it, but… there's your human nature. The herd? Is basically good. But the predators…"

   "Well. We better go mix with the herd then."

   "I think you just wanna get a couple of drinks into your victim, that's what I think."

   "Hmm. You're probably right. Couple of drinks. Some small talk. Put the victim at ease… before the rapist cuts them from the herd, and gets them alone. Vulnerable. Helpless, even."

   "Ooh. What do you do with your victim then?"

   "What's a cat do with a mouse? Hold them down. Enjoy all the squirming, all the little squeaking noises. If they're fun enough to play with? The cat even let's them go, after the fun's over. Catch them again later on down the line, when the cat gets bored eventually."

   Panic looked to the little crowd at the pool, then back to Merry.

   "You know something? You've sold me on this. Let's go put your rape supplies in our room, and come out for a little bit. You can tell me all about that fascinating article you're working on."

   "Bait."

   "Live bait works best, dear."

   They put their stuff in the room, and filled up a couple empty drink containers they hadn't thrown out yet, from the box of wine. Merry rolled up a couple party favors, in case it seemed okay. They stopped by the office, to check that their hot food was still on the way. They gave Tim the night guy another little hand-rolled goodie, and a candle so he didn't run his flashlight out for no good reason.

   Merry kept a running commentary going on her article idea. How it would seem to be a wonderful description of why small town life was so wonderful on the surface, then it could drift into what those instincts were really for. On the walk back to the pool Merry asked what you did with the predators.

   "Merry? Harsh as it sounds, there's a reason early man used to simply kill people that steal, rape, and commit murder. The modern system of locking them in a cage with the other predators, then setting them loose again? Doesn't work. Why do you think society's problems are getting worse over time. We stopped obeying our instincts, and using logic."

   They went and joined the other people gathered at the pool. Apparently, a number of the people were there for a big sporting event in the city. Cheaper to stay here, and drive up to the city and back. More fun to get here a couple days earlier, and easier to stay another night when you got back, before setting out on a long drive back home. Which meant that a number of these people had tailgating gear in tow with them. Portable BBQ's. BBQ food and drink.

   The tailgaters had set up camp at the pool to enjoy the power outage, and it had attracted other people staying at the cheap motel to come and join them. Merry's small town porch party. Panic's tribal herd. The ages were mixed. Older couples, and groups of younger people that had clicked up for traveling to the game.

   Panic found himself at his ease. Sporting event crowd. Common purpose. Shared experience. His litmus test of asking where his neighbor was from? Well, he wasn't from none of your business, in the state of go fuck yourself. Panic explained he was an electrician. They had already set the job up, and were now waiting for the job to begin. His fiance, Merry? Had joined him for a free trip.

   Merry smiled watching how the electrician story brought questions about the lights out situation. Panic easily explained that it was several blocks in any direction, so, it was a grid down. How it was most likely a lost gigantic transformer at the substation. Within a day or two? The lights would come back on. They would be warned ahead of time when the lights would go back off again, but this time planned and only for a couple hours, when they rerouted the temporary work.

   Novel knowledge got Panic and Merry free beers. They each had a hot dog, and politely explained they had a food order coming later. Merry shared dollops of box wine with the other herd members. They were all taking turns between sitting around gabbing, and swimming. Practically no one had swimsuits, but nearly everyone had shorts on. Merry posed for a picture soaking wet, right by a sign that clearly stated that cutoffs were strictly prohibited. Naturally, while dripping wet in her cutoffs.

   People splashed for fun, and organized a loose made up game derived from tossing a football around in the pool. The four corners were the three bases and home plate. You had to swim in the deep section to get to the next base, and try to run in slow motion when in the shallow end. Tagging a runner out? Was a full dunk. Pitching seemed to be accomplished by standing at the far end of the poolside, and passing to the hitter. A makeshift umpire was declared, since a bad pass was a ball, and a catch-able pass was a strike if you didn't catch it.

   The game didn't really work all that well, and no one seemed to care. Merry passed around a hand-rolled treat at two different times, and this brought jokes and catcalls. The biggest complaint anyone had about the power being out, was that people went and bought all the cases of water, and were going around scalping the two dollar cases of water for ten dollars. After all, some herd members were low level predators.

   Midnight had Merry and Panic saying goodbye to their new friends they had made, and going back to check on hot food at the office. Tim and his pizza shop buddy, had traded in their video-gaming night, for some kind of fantasy card game. Panic never collected the cards and traded them, but he recognized the characters. JG would likely want to even play with them if he were here, he was younger than Panic and in the age group of the hey day of the "gamers" click emerging. Since the theme of the fantasy card game was part magic, they thought that playing by candle was somehow appropriate.

   They took their still warm giant sandwiches and pizza with them to their room, after leaving another little treat for the two gamers. Merry said if they wanted another candle, she would bring one down later.

   "You guys wanna play? We got beer…"

   Panic looked at Merry, who smiled and shoveled her hand at the two playing cards.

   "We got our own card game planned back in our room, if you can dig that. Shouldn't you two guys have a couple girls over? You got a case of beer."

   Tim's buddy laughed.

   "Bros before hoes, dude. My girl's over his place. We don't wanna watch a romantic comedy, and they're not gamer girls."

   "Oh. So… get gamer girls instead."

   Now Tim laughed.

   "Real gamer girls? Are about as plentiful as unicorns. Girls just pretend to play video games, so boys will talk to them. What's the crowd at the pool like?"

   "Oh. That's mainly the tailgating crew, in for the big game this weekend. Textbook rednecks. I think the worst you'll get out of them? Is some skinny dipping after they get drunk."

   "More power to 'em… you two? Have fun."

   Merry took over for him.

   "I will. You know our room number, right?"

   "Sure…"

   "Well, you can ignore the loud music complaints."

   "I was planning on it anyways. Have fun. You can scream all you want. It's a motel."

   They said goodbye, and went back to their room. Panic let Merry watch him with rapt interest as he made his battery powered USB charger. He cut the inexpensive but long USB charging cable off at the one end. He carefully stripped electrical wires inside, then soldered the leads to the thick wrapped wire on top of the lantern "battery". The shrink wrap insulation he pushed up the cut wire ends before soldering, then got used. After soldering, he pushed it down over the solder joints, and onto the beginning of the wire terminals. One of Merry's candles made low heat that shrunk it to a snug fit.

   "See? It charges our Bluetooth, it charges our phones. Runs forever off of four D cells. Just let it charge fully, before we turn it on the first time."

   "Whatever will we do, to pass the time, waiting?"

   "Science girl usually runs the Merry go round ride."

   "How long does that thing take to charge up?"

   "I'm guessing about an hour, give or take."

   "Sound like we have about an hour, for a little before-flight safety check then."

   They had fun setting up shop around the bed, and Merry watched as he tied a string to the doorknob. Wound it around several times after, and put an empty water bottle tied to the loose end hanging down. Asked for an explanation, Panic explained.

   "Burglar alarm. Bitty Kitty isn't here to let us know if we have company. Until we fall asleep, if that bottle swings, we know someone's trying the door knob."

   "And after we fall asleep?"

   "I replace it with a beer bottle. That will break and wake one of us up. When a warm beer bottle that hasn't been opened breaks? It more or less explodes. We can file these both under ghetto alarm systems."

   "Great. Now get over here."

   Merry put her glasses on, low on her nose. She didn't need them for reading, and this kept her from getting a headache using them for fun. Panic reported that seeing them low on her nose? Was another little thrill he enjoyed. Pre flight activities? Seemed to be comprised of constant engine checks, that ended quickly. She wanted him in the mood, and obviously planned on teasing him until the music started. All of his food and drink? Came from a kiss, and no other way. All intimacy and anticipation, by candlelight. They were getting close to the Bluetooth speaker being fully charged, judging by the red ight going off and on, when Merry pouted and pointed at the door.

   The empty plastic water bottle was swinging. They both watched silently, mildly amused. It happened twice more, then quit. Panic looked out the peep hole, and whispered the coast was clear. They spoke in lips to ear whispers.

   "There's no way this is anything serious."

   "Timmy said, when the cameras go off? The customers go looking around for unlocked rooms. See what goodies they can make off with."

   "Listen. Everyone's still tailgating at the pool."

   "The bottle never lies, honey."

   "Call Tim? Or call the police."

   "Tim can't do anything but call the police. Calling the police? They'll be long gone."

   Panic slowly and silently cracked the door, and peeped down the walkway. Three younger guys he didn't recognize. They were slowly going down the row of doors, trying the door handles. He watched. He waited. He finally spoke low.

   "Ha. They found a room. There goes one… two… okay. One lookout. You? Wait for me to go have a little talk with our friends. Then, go run and get Tim. Be quick, and bring him up here."

   "Where are you gonna be?"

   "Like I said. I wanna go have a little talk with our friends."

   "What do you need Tim for?"

   "If it's customers? He can call the police. If it's just locals, that aren't paying customers… I'll have a little talk with them."

   "Can I talk you out of this?"

   "You scared?"

   "Not really. This isn't keeping a low profile. Just saying."

   "Hun? Try to imagine all the dumb shit these guys get up to. If they're locals? The local cops hate these guys. These assholes can't go to the cops. I'm gonna fix the problem."

   "You're not going to fix the problem… permanently, are you?"

   He smiled.

   "Perish the thought. Like I said… wait till I'm in the room with our three friends? Then go get Tim. Tell him not to call the cops. And bring him up."

   Panic got dressed, mumbling to himself the whole time. Giggling at some private joke under his breath. Merry started getting dressed when he was about half the way done. He waited by the cracked door, watching. When Merry was done but for slipping on her jogging shoes, he quietly opened and closed the door.

   Merry now watched through the cracked door. He was stumbling down the walkway, slurring and talking to his "buddy" he found to talk to. When he got there, he acted. He grabbed the guy by the throat and rammed his gun up under the guys rib-cage. Blocking the door, with his hostage, he looked around a few seconds and waited. Then he shoved the guy in, and blocked the door. Merry saw his fingers wiggling in the air down in her direction. Bye bye. She jogged off to go get Tim.

   Tim and his buddy were playing their fantasy card game by candlelight, when Merry's knock and voice got Tim to answer the door. Tim asked what was up, and Merry nodded at his friend.

   "Just come with me. We found something, and we want to show it to you. It's your motel. You're the night manager. So? Come and manage things."

   Tim told his buddy he'd be back and went and followed Merry. Merry took Tim to the room down the walkway, to outside the room where Panic was holding a conversation with his new friends. Standing outside the door? They could hear occasional bursts of conversation, and the occasional mild thud that sounded like someone kicking a door. Merry opened the door, and there were two guys on the bed. Backs up against the headboard, their palms in the air. Wild eyed and nervous. The third one? Was bent over the desk, sitting in the chair. She backed up and let Tim see. They watched just out of view of the guys on the bed.

   "Hi guys. See you found our friend. Hold on, this won't take very long. I'm starting to make myself understood. We were having a teensy language barrier, but, we're past that now. It's been a real breakthrough moment for all of us. We'll probably hug when our little therapy session is over? But no homo. Close the door, guys…"

   *Wham*

   "Still can't hear you. Still don't see an address getting written down."

   The guy started to explain how "I can't", which was as far as he got before his face got slammed onto the desk a couple more times.

   "You should probably? Choose your words more carefully right now. I can't, means you can't read and write well enough to write the address down. What you're telling me? Means you won't. I'm trying to make friends with you. If you don't share with me? We can't be friends…"

   *Wham*Wham*

   "I can guarantee, you wanna make friends right now. And you two. He goes unconscious? You're next. I got all night, and all day tomorrow. I'll wake you up with cold water, and we'll start all over again. Someone better make friends with me, real quick."

   *Wham*Wham*Wham*

   "I'm getting bored, with group therapy. Next game? Gonna see how you long you assholes can hold your breath. Under piss water."

   *Wham*

   "I'm not a cop."

   *Wham*

   "I don't play by the rules."

   *Wham*

   "I don't play well with others."

   *Wham*Wham*Wham*

   "Uh oh… contestant number one, is trying to play unconscious on me. That means…"

   He pointed the gun at one of the guys on the bed.

   "We're gonna move onto our next game. With contestant… number… two…"

   Prospective contestant number two, started yelling at contestant number one, to tell him.

   "Hold on. I wanna get this right. It would be rude of me, to go through all this, and not do it right. Everyone? Shut up. We're gonna play a little game."

   He grabbed contestant number one, and by the neck all but threw him on the bed with his buddies. He walked over to the desk, and got out the phone book, and a pen. He ripped three pages out of the phone book, and gave a torn page to all three of them.

   "Now then. No talking. You… that's right. You. Get up. Slowly. Sit down, and write the address down. Then? Fold it up and give it to me. We're all going to play this little game. If all three addresses don't match up right? That means one or more of you is lying to me. You don't want that. Right now? We just made friends. Friends tell the truth. No one knows what lies the other two is gonna write down, so… that leaves the truth as the only way out of this little game. Let's get started. MOVE!"

   Prospective contestant number two, got over to the desk, slinking and keeping his body as far away from this lunatic as was humanly possible. He quickly started scribbling on the torn out phone book page. Folded it up and held it out. Panic shoved it into his pocket.

   "Back on the bed. You? You're next. Move it…"

   This went exactly as the first time. Panic took that folded up little love note and stuck it in his pocket.

   "Back on the bed. Wake your friend up. He's faking it. I can tell by the way he's breathing. Unconscious people breathe real slow, and real shallow. Let's go."

   With contestant two and three out of the way, contestant number one now played. A little blood dripped on his paper, but other than that? Panic had a third love note folded up and into the same pocket. He ended up back on the bed with his buddies.

   Panic had an amazingly quiet tone to his voice when he wasn't suddenly raising it. It clearly unnerved these three.

   "Honey? Our friend might wonder why he's here, would he not?"

   "He might."

   "Do any of these three fine, upstanding citizens belong here? Customers, I mean. Eyes closed, assholes."

   Panic had Tim peek in and scan them.

   "Not a one."

   "Didn't think so. I assume my room mate explained by now, that we caught these assholes going into unlocked rooms, right?"

   "Yeah."

   "Honey?"

   "Yes dear."

   "These geniuses will be parked in the back lot. Where you can park and get in and out without anyone seeing anything. Take these car keys here… and see if you can't figure out which car it is. I want all the stolen shit back."

   Panic and Tim heard a car fire up and run. It sounded like it had a bad exhaust, it revved a few times, then the car went silent. Panic stepped just outside the door, and spoke quietly.

   "Tim? Perhaps you could do me a favor."

   "What did you have in mind?"

   "An empty box? Something to put all the stolen shit into. We'll let all the customers here, get their shit back."

   "Uh… what's the plan for these guys…"

   "Oh. We're all friends now. I just have to let them go. It's like fishing, Tim. Catch and release."

   He stepped back in the room so he could be heard again.

   "I'm sure you boys like that part of the plan, where I let you all go, right?"

   They agreed enthusiastically to that part of the plan.

   "Good. If you could get me a box to put the stolen shit into. I'll have her, empty the contents of the car out. Then… we'll say goodbye to our buddies. Who I'm sure will never come back here, as long as they live, right?"

   Once again, everyone agreed.

   Tim met Merry on her way back to the new fun room. He explained he was going to get a box for the stolen loot. Panic related to Merry, how he wanted her to toss the car.

   "Everything. Put it all in a pile next to where it's parked. Pretend you're a cop. I want an empty glove box, an empty trunk, check under all the seats. You three? Just sit tight. No talking. We're almost done, we're almost to the part I let you go. You wouldn't wanna fuck that part up."

   After about ten minutes, Panic could hear Tim had long since came back with a box, and he could hear him and Merry laughing out in the parking lot. The two came up, still giggling.

   "All done. Got a pile of shit in the box."

   "Anything interesting?"

   "Three guys riding around with about a dozen cell phones. Couple tablets. One laptop. Got a bunch of wallets and purses."

   "Anything weird?"

   "One small packet. Of mysterious white powder. Glove box."

   "Trunk?"

   "Clean as a whistle now."

   "So, it has a trunk…"

   "It does."

   "Think these three assholes will fit in the trunk?"

   Merry looked from one to another.

   "They'll just fit. Slam the lid, like a newlywed suitcase, but… they'll fit."

   "Good. Go get both pairs of handcuffs and the keys. I don't want any problems taking these three for a ride to let them go."

   Merry came back from down the walkway with them. She took Panic aside, and spoke in his ear. He laughed.

   "Go on. I like it."

   When she got back, she had three bottled waters. Panic took the bottled water in, and one at a time? Directed that the contestant chug the water. All three followed suit, one at a time.

   "You boys might be hanging out for a while, wouldn't want you to get thirsty."

   After a while of Merry peeking in every minute or so, she told him it was time.

   Tim was amazed that the three contestants? Followed instructions to take all their clothes off, and pile them up on the floor. Merry came back with the two pairs of handcuffs, and Panic had her cuff the guy in the middle, each wrist to his buddy's closest wrist.

   "Now… let's all get ready to go for a ride. Come on boys… let's go get into your car. Come on…"

   At gunpoint, they got first one into the trunk, and shoved him far into the back of it, after getting his handcuff off. Then the next two went in, and they got the second set of cuffs back. Merry had been right, slamming the trunk lid? Just made it. Laying face down and scrunched up, and the trunk lid smacking them down to close it, movement would be all but impossible in the trunk.

   Before loading them in the trunk, though… Panic had grabbed a tire iron that was in the pile next to the car. He whacked the inside of the trunk lock mechanism several times, until he got what he wanted.

   "Disabling the release latch."

   The three of them went to the pool, which was where most of the customers were located anyways. Tim explained that they had found a box of cellphones, that were probably stolen. Would everyone go through and pick out their shit. While that was going on, Timmy walked around and knocked on every door, and got a few more people down to look around and see if anything was theirs.

   There was still a little pile of cell phones. One tablet. A couple wallets and one purse. The three of them now went back to the car with three men crammed naked into the trunk.

   "Tim? Is there another motel in the general vicinity? I'm thinking another one that has the lights out too."

   "Actually? Yeah. Not far away."

   "Thanks…"

   Panic took his time, making out a new and longer note on the desk on yet another phone book page. When he was done, he wrapped it around the three other pages of the phone book, and wrote "COPS" in huge block letters on the outside.

   It directed the police, that here was a box of stolen shit and which motel it was probably from. That the three guys locked in the trunk, were caught red handed stealing it. He noted that one had "fallen down, several times" but was not seriously injured. The packet of mysterious white powder was in the little package he made as well. The note explained that if the police wanted to? Those three matching addresses were the local meth house, and that even if they didn't arrest these three, they could hold them for 72 hours on suspicion, which would give them time to go to the address and check it out.

   Panic drove the car with three men in the trunk, and Tim rode with him, to better direct him to the police station. Merry parked about a block away, while Panic parked the car right in the middle of the road at an intersection near, but not within sight of, the police station. Then he walked off, leaving the radio blaring and engine running. He walked down to meet Merry and Tim, and they sat for a little while. When they saw what looked like police lights in the distance, they laughed like hell. More police cars came, from three different directions and homed in on the same intersection. The three of them couldn't drive for laughing, for a couple minutes.

   They made jokes the whole way back to their own motel. The couple actually staying in the room they had their little party in? Was still at the pool party. Panic exchanged out the phone book, with a fresh one.

   "You know. Just in case the cops take their story seriously? How about we switch out this desk with the blood on it too, huh? Tim?"

   "Sure thing…"

   They left the room the way they had found it. Unlocked. Panic had caught them in the act in that room, so, he left all their stuff behind. If the cops did come and were interested in that room? They would find a couple in their early 50s. Tailgating at a motel, waiting on the big playoff game in the city a few days hence. A desk with no blood on it, and indeed, no tell tale smell of cleaning products on it. Smart cops might want to ask to look a phone number up in the phone book, to check for the missing page numbers they were now in possession of. An intact phone book, would make the three burglars look like complete idiots.

   Panic, Merry, and Timmy… all shared a hand-rolled cigarette, and Tim went back to join his buddy. All the friend knew, was that after a knock on the door a half hour ago, his card game buddy had disappeared, and now he was back. Tim had another hand-rolled goodie for him and his friend to enjoy. Locked in his office, which was where Tim preferred to be anyways.

   Merry and Panic went back to their own room, after burning a small plastic bag of clothes and a phone book. Not that the pool party cared or even noticed that someone had thrown something in the burn barrel they had going. They brought out some more wine and passed it out, and accepted another cold beer each. With the actual game a few days off, this pool party was now in full swing, and everyone was happy there was no bar closing to stop it. The motel manager wasn't even complaining about anything. Some random, drunken skinny dipping was occurring in random spurts, to laughter and general encouragement of the herd.

   Merry talked Panic into one quick skinny dip, and she shared a hand-rolled cigarette with him in the pool, then passed it for everyone else to enjoy. They got out and toweled off, then got dressed and made for their room. The Bluetooth speaker was long since charged, so they put music on and slowly got back into the mood. It wasn't exactly the same, and they ended up falling asleep after a couple drinks and nothing particularly outrageous. They both agreed that would be tomorrow, since tonight had been a wash out.