The spring breeze carried the sweet aroma of the bog melon orchards up into the hills of Tali Sveelba. At night, as the breeze moved downward from the hills, the smoke of the controlled burns in the high farmlands would salt the air. It was nights like this that made John love the spring visits to the farm. Every spring his family would make the long journey back to the old country, to the family farm where his grandmother still made a home. Parts of the original acreage had long since been sold off to other family members and some developers…but the house stood. The ancestral home of the Clan D’yen.

 

            At the family gatherings Johnny had a tough time. While his brother also shared human and elf blood, John took most of the physical human traits; the heavier bone and musculature, his skin slightly pinker than his father and brother. During games with his numerous cousins, John easily fell behind in races and couldn’t balance as well. Sarah, his mother, often watched him as he played.  She would watch his temper flare, another human trait he had inherited. He would return later and find shelter in her hip, tears of rage seeping into her slacks. She would just smile and hum to him to quell the rage.

 

            It was John’s eleventh year. At the time he didn’t know it, but it was his last trip to the Tali Sveelba farm. Within a year his Grandmother would die and the family would sell the farm. To him is was just another blissful spring visit. As he and his brother had gotten older they had started to grow closer. Now that John was 11 and Edward was 13, the age difference seemed to be mattering less to them, except when Edward’s friends were around. Then John was the annoying, tagalong brother. But when they were alone, they were close friends.  John loved spending time with his brother, even when Edward called him by the nickname he hated: Pinky.

 

            As the dying rays of the sun streamed in between the knotty wood planks of the old barn, Edward burst from the hay. John screamed, fell backward and laughed. Edward, always the cop in cops and robbers, leveled the toy gun at John.

 

            “Did you think I wouldn’t hear you sneaking up on me, Pinky?” Edward poked the toy gun into John’s chest. John laughed harder as he scrambled to his feet and swiped at Edward. The older brother stepped back but not before John knocked the toy gun away.

 

            With all the evil laughter he could muster John snatched the toy and aimed it. Edward bolted for the other side of the barn. John followed with a loud shout of “BANG!”. He watched as his older brother, ever the dramatist, spun around and grabbed his chest, like on TV. Then he stumbled back into a corner where a bunch of shovels and rakes leaned against the dark wall. With a giggle and a dramatic flourish Edward fell into the rakes.

 

            What happened next happened so fast that John was helpless to stop it. Edward stood up laughing and brandishing a shovel. With a howl, a cat that had been cooling itself in the shadows darted through Edward’s legs. Edward yelled in shock and brought the shovel down.

 

            The boys soon found themselves standing over the twitching body of the cat. John looked up at his older brother. Edward’s eyes had grown large and glistened with tears.

 

            “Is it dead?” John mumbled.

 

            A tear slipped down Edward’s cheek, “Yeah.”

 

            “We have to tell mom.”

 

            “We can’t. I’ll get in so much trouble. We need to hide it.”

 

            Edward took the cat’s body, stuffed it into his knapsack and took it to the melon bog at the bottom of the farm. John couldn’t do it. When he was peddling away, Edward had threatened little John with great tortures if he told. John didn’t tell; he couldn’t stop thinking about it, but he didn’t tell.

 

            That night Sarah knew something was bothering her youngest. Thomas, for all his police training, wore blinders toward the family. He never understood why John was so emotional; He just wanted the boy to lighten up. Sarah looked beyond it. She remembered well her own father, also a police officer, was the same way. During dinner she could tell that something was wrong. John always had a hearty appetite, especially for his grandmother’s cooking. That night, he pushed his food around the plate.

 

            Sarah smiled slightly. “Johnny? You’re not hungry?”

 

            John glanced at Edward for a moment and then shook his head. “I don’t feel well. Is it all right if I’m excused? I think I’d like to go to bed.”

 

            Tom wasn’t really paying attention. He was glancing through the doorway into the living room at the game. Sarah’s smile fell for a moment. She nodded. The look between the boys was brief, but it was enough that she knew something had transpired that day. John’s head hung as he hopped down and went upstairs.

 

            That night John could hear someone calling out a name in the distance. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep but he could still hear the voice, some farmer’s wife, elsewhere in the valley, calling out to the cat that hadn’t come home that night. When the voice went away John’s mind was filled with the images of the cat, twitching, bleeding in the dirt of the barn floor. He could hear Edward’s breathing in the darkness. How could he sleep?

 

            Morning came as no surprise. John had watched the curtains become lighter and lighter. Soon he could smell the sausage and eggs cooking in the kitchen. There would be fresh tomatoes and ulbeck roots chopped up in the eggs. His gut twisted again. He couldn’t tell anymore if it was hunger or guilt. He wondered if his mom was awake. He couldn’t take any more. He had to tell her.

 

            Half an hour later he stood in the hallway, his eyes partially lowered, watching Edward march in front of their father into the guest room where Sarah was waiting. The knot in his stomach had loosened but the regret of broken trust made him tremble. Edward turned and glared at John, his eyes stabbing at the younger brother. As their father closed the door John fought the urge to run in and say it was all a lie. To fix what he had broken.

 

            With a skull rattling BANG the door shut and Edward’s glare of angry betrayal was gone .

 

            Little Johnny D’yen was alone in the hallway.

             

 

Big City

“APEX”

by Eric Schwartz

 

           

            Stack took a step back from the trunk of the car. The clock on the bomb slowly ticked backward. He felt the moisture collect in the palm of his hands. He didn’t know that the blood racing to his brain in an attempt to solve this problem was constantly feeding his brain the drugs that crime boss Nick Manzetti had been secretly pumping him with. He knew only that he couldn’t concentrate. He knew that he had a headache. He knew that Manzetti was controlling everything now.

 

            Stack watched the red numbers intently for a moment. Less than two minutes. Then he started laughing. It surprised him but he laughed. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his view of the bomb, but the laughter still came. He pulled the body completely out of the car onto the cement. Still chuckling he examined the bomb. Images of a thousand TV shows filled his head. Cut the red wire? Cut the green wire? He looked. Black wire had been used exclusively in the construction of the bomb. The revelation made him chuckle again.

 

            A minute. There wasn’t enough time to evacuate the building or the area. There wasn’t enough time to get the bomb squad and a robot diffuser in to deal with it. There were forty-five seconds left and all Stack could think to do was run. And he did.

 

            He barreled full speed into the concrete stairwell and ran down as many flights as he could. Finally he reached a landing, he huddled up with his forearms protecting his head. He waited for the boom. Forty-five seconds had passed, he was certain. He looked at his watch. He waited another thirty seconds. Still nothing. Finally he stood up as his phone rang. Without a word he turned on the phone and put it to his ear.

 

            “Boom,” came the voice. Manzetti chuckled. “Did you run away, Sgt. Forray? When the chips were down, did you abandon your post?” Stack said nothing. The adrenaline screamed in his ears and he felt the quiver of anxiety, with no payoff, just under his ribs. “I think by your silence that you did. You see? I know you. I know that under that focused, problem-solving exterior you are a soft, frightened child. You’re weak like everyone else. I’ll be in touch.“ The line went dead.

 

            Emotionless, Stack slipped the phone into his pocket and trudged back up the stairs to the car. He approached the body that was now prone on the floor of the garage. A few weeks had started the process of decomposition and Stack finally noticed the smell. And the buzzing. Buzzing? The front pocket of the man’s pants was vibrating. Stack reached in and pulled out a handheld PDA. ‘Incoming Text’ was flashing on the display and it was vibrating. He extracted the stylus and opened the message.

 

            “Pomrey Building downtown. Twelfth floor. 1256 – Z433B56”

 

            Stack slipped the PDA into his pocket and proceeded to lift the corpse back into the trunk of the car.

 

*

            Laura nearly kicked the door to Kendra’s office open. “What the hell are you thinking?!”

 

            Kendra looked up and smiled in her sickeningly sweet way. “Why, hello Laura. Come in. Sit a spell.”

 

            “You stole my story.”

 

            Kendra smiled, set her jaw, leaned forward and pushed herself up off the desk. “Close the door,” she said calmly. Laura obliged. When the latch had clicked shut Kendra exploded. “Now you listen to me. I have been covering your ass for months with management. I know how important taking care of Charlie has been to you. That’s why I went to the wall for them to approve your leave of absence. But you forget yourself. You don’t call me up and play two ends against the middle. You work for me. You don’t work for the BCPD. You are a reporter and you seem to forget that. I had every right to go into your voicemail and get my story. The public has a right to know that Manzetti killed Alder.” Kendra sat down hard.

 

            Laura blinked for a moment. “You blew my shot at getting information before anybody else.”

 

            “What information? You HAD the information before everybody else. What other information is there? Look, you tried to be smooth and you got bit in the ass. You still get the byline. You still take the credit. You’ll probably get another freaking award for it.”

 

            “You know what, Kendra?!” Laura took a deep breath in preparation for the yelling. She was quieted by silent finger.

 

            “Before you say something that you can’t take back, let me remind you about journalistic integrity. Let’s talk about a code of ethics. Let’s talk about thin ice.”

 

            Laura’s fists clenched for a moment. She licked her lips, her tongue lingering in the cool air for a moment. It calmed her. “Fine. I will be taking the rest of the day. The assassination shook me up a bit.”

 

            “You need a trauma counselor?” Kendra shot back sarcastically.

 

            Laura’s chuckle was hollow. She turned to the door. “I’ll be fine,” she hissed.

 

*

            As Smiles car sped south across the expanse of the Black Flats, he ran the tuner on the radio. Occasionally he would catch a few staticky moments of some old standard or a religious broadcast. Then the desert would swallow the sound again. The hunt for music occupied his mind. Smiles had trouble wrapping his brain around the other issue. His sister, Gina was alive. She had been spoken to in the last month. Smiles was heading to the overgrown and generally malignant mining town of Thrombis on the western edge of the Flats. There he would find his sister’s PO Box and possibly…her.

 

            Since he left the Mooghan compound Smiles had been pondering the Walk of Ascension. The cleansing rite of the Mooghan Pod Dwellers. He thought of Gina living like a hermit in the wilderness, in the harsh unrelenting bleakness of the Black Flats. It was too much to take, so he put his mind to finding a radio signal.

 

            With a beep Smiles found a signal. It was weak and quivering on the edge of fading, but Smiles hand gently released the tuning knob like a vault-cracker gingerly working a combination lock.

 

            “BCJT - Big City’s most reliable news radio with traffic and weather together on the 8s, market reports three times an hour and headlines twenty-four hours a day. Here are the top stories this hour… The Big City Herald has just released a statement that they are about to publish an article claiming that fugitive mob boss, Nicholas Manzetti, is responsible for the public assassination of Transit Authority Manager Pembrandt Alder…”

 

            The car screeched to a halt in the middle of nowhere.

 

            “What?!” Smiles stared at the radio as the news station quickly moved to another topic. As Smiles started up the car again he drummed his fingers. He recognized Alder’s name from eons ago, but why did Manzetti choose to go public? It all stank. Getting to Gina was more important than ever. If Stack catches Manzetti, Gina could testify and end the speculation of nearly a decade.

 

            The serpentine belt that drove the car and the A/C compressor groaned as Smiles pushed the car faster. He wanted to reach Thrombis before it got too late. At night the streets of Thrombis roll up…and the violence rolls out.

 

*

            On the floor of the passenger seat Needless’ ever present mix tape collection sat open. One tape for every mood that Needless could ever hope to be in. He kept the “cop collection” in Stack’s car. That box contained tapes like “Terry Stop”, “We Got A Warrant” and “High Speed Chase”. Music was one of the greatest comforts to Needless. He never used music to alter his moods, just highlight them. Angry times…angry music. Music to work out to. Music to be sad to. He hadn’t yet gotten into the CD burning thing …but it would come.

 

            For once, his stereo was silent. Needless didn’t know what to make of the emotion he felt as he sped back to the station. It was anger, tinged with regret, sadness and fear. He and Tim Carnaby had just uncovered that Manzetti had been feeding drugs to Stack for weeks, possibly months, ever increasing the dosage in his water supply, slowly changing his brain chemistry. Now the partner who no longer wanted anything to do with Needless was out in the city somewhere, pumped full of drugs. Manzetti was on the move, and his best friend was out there, unprotected.

 

            As Needless moved from side streets to the freeway, hoping to cut some time off his trip to the station, he became aware that another vehicle was keeping pace with him. He looked to his right and was amazed to see The Java Jalopy keeping up with him. Greta was yelling at him. Where the hell did she come from? What the hell does she want?

 

            She edged over in the lane and Needless could read ‘pull over’ on her lips. Needless blinked. This was a new selling tactic for her. He gave a confused half smile, shrugged, pointed to his watch and cocked his head in an apology. He looked back at the road. A moment later he became aware that Greta had pulled the Jalopy right next to his car. He glanced over just as the desperate Greta swerved slightly toward Needless’ car.

 

            “What the…” Needless swerved to avoid being hit. Greta then gunned the Jalopy and darted in front of him and slowed down, forcing Needless to slow also. Pissed off and swearing loudly Needless pulled onto the left shoulder. The Jalopy did the same. He angrily leapt from the car, put his hand on Penny and stalked toward the idling Jalopy. “Greta! I don’t want coffee. Okay?! What is the deal?”

 

            Greta jumped from the hind end of the Jalopy and in tears threw her arms around Needless. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I was so scared that I wasn’t going to find you.”

 

            “What’s going on?”

 

            Greta babbled a mile a minute. “But there you were. I couldn’t believe my luck. It was like fate.”

 

            Needless put his hands on her shoulders and tried to calm her. “Greta. Slow down. What’s wrong.”

 

            “Sgt. Forray. I saw him. He gave me this and told me to find you.” She held out the receipt.

 

            Needless read the back; Needless  ASAP Trouble!  No search.  Manzetti  avatar hostages . His head snapped up and his eyes locked with Greta. “Where was he? Where did you get this?”

 

            “He was at the bus station. He was on a cell phone. But he was acting weird. He did this whole fake ‘pen doesn’t work’ thing while he wrote this.”

 

            Needless smiled. “Greta, you were very brave to do this for Stack. I need you to be brave a little bit longer. Okay?” She nodded. “Go home. Keep the Jalopy in for a few days.”

 

            “Am I in trouble?”

 

            “It’s just a precaution. Stack wouldn’t put you in danger. But, just to be safe, go home and lay low for a few days.”

 

            “Will Sgt. Forray be alright?”

 

            Needless nodded with a smile and lied. He had no idea. Greta had just delivered the worst possible news.

 

*

            The man with green eyes sat quiet in Center Park. He’d just returned to Big City after a time away. Things had gone so wrong. Things had slipped away from him. For many years, watching Charlie had been simple, a pleasure. Watching him grow up. Watching him become a man. There were so many lessons that Charlie had been learning working with Johnson: self-reliance, initiative, resourcefulness. He stepped further back than usual to allow Charlie the ability to experience these things. To learn. To become the man he should be.

 

            Recently though, things had gone so wrong. The blindness, the torture and the operation. Each step seemed to take Charlie further and further away. The Watcher had broken his oath and revealed himself to the shape-shifter to protect Charlie. Then the doctor’s and their barbaric surgery nearly destroyed what the old man had sworn to protect, and it left Charlie with a broken mind.

 

            Love and duty had so often collided in the old man’s heart over the last quarter of a century. This time they worked together. He had been away making preparations. The time had come. This had gone on long enough.

 

*

            Laura stepped into the Big City Eyes waiting room and was greeted by Emily behind the desk. Laura sat down on the couch.

 

            “Smiles in?”

 

            Emily shook her head. “Nope. He said he might be out of town for a few days. He’s working some case.”

 

            “Gotta make money.” Laura leaned back and ran her fingers through her hair.

 

            Emily raised her eyebrows and set her jaw slightly. “Actually no. It’s personal. I have no idea what it’s about. He’s been working on it for weeks.”

 

            Laura cocked her head. “You mean Smiles hasn’t done any actual work in weeks?”

 

            “Months more like it. After Charlie went— “ Emily looked at the desk. She’d forgotten who she was talking to. “—you know, blind. He did a few, but this case seemed to take more and more of his time.” Emily smiled sadly. “Smiles would kill me for saying this, but I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

 

            “Bills piling up?”

 

            “No. The money from the Basco case is still covering them, but there’s no money coming in. I know Smiles doesn’t want to replace Charlie…but…the Basco money is going to run out sooner or later, and then…Big City Eyes will close, unless...”  Laura nodded in understanding.  Emily looked at her watch. “Oh crap. Do you mind covering the phones for a while? I have to go get Dex from school. It should only take forty-five minutes or so.”

 

            Laura stuck her lip out and nodded. Emily thanked her and dashed out the door. Laura sat for a while on the couch, her mind numb. She was tired. It was all too much. She stood up and slowly made her way to Charlie’s office. Nothing had moved in months. Their picture. The joke name plate she’d given him that said ‘Smirks Pickens’. Everything was as it was when he left to go down to the vampire caves.

 

            She would have cried, but there was no point. She felt cried out, and she was sick of it.

 

*

            As rush hour traffic began to stifle the downtown area below, Stack stepped out of the elevator onto the twelfth floor of the Pomrey building. He checked the PDA again. 1344. He slowly moved down the hall. The Pomrey was one of the wealthier high-rise apartment buildings in Big City. Each apartment a quarter-mil condo. After a few moments Stack found himself in front of 1256. He jiggled the knob. Nothing. He looked up and down the corridor. He was alone.

 

He pulled a small lock-picking kit out of his pocket and was inside a moment later.

 

            As he tumbled slightly into the room, he heard a quiet beeping. He turned and found the security keypad. A red light was flashing. He quickly punched in the code from the PDA. The liquid crystal display flashed “alarm deactivated”. He calmly closed the door.

 

            Stack slipped his gun out of his holster as he moved into the room. Clean, but unimaginative. Not much on the walls. It felt more like a hotel room. Stack’s first note to himself: the home of some one who travels a lot, or has traveled a lot. Home, but no real roots. As he moved from the living room, he stepped into the bedroom.  Some small pictures were attached to the mirror.

 

            It’s what Stack had figured. One of the pictures was of the man that Stack found in the trunk of the car. He didn’t recognize any of the other people in the pictures. But one of the pictures had the deceased in a black suit with a Bureau badge clipped to his belt. He was with the Bureau. He took one of the pictures and moved further up the hall.

 

            He eased open the door to the den. It was as he expected. Nearly every cop he ever knew had a room or an area like this. Cluttered. Press clippings, certificates, department pictures. A lifetime of service in one place.

 

            Special Agent Garrett Spencer. That had been his name. Unmarried. Fifteen years of service to the Bureau.  From the newspaper clippings Stack found piled in manila folders, Spencer had more than a passing fancy with Manzetti. Clippings dating back to the death of Manzetti’s wife, the investigation, the trials, Gina. As Stack rummaged further he found some papers that indicated that Spencer left the Bureau a few years back. No reason given.

 

            Stack took a few things and stuffed them into his back pocket. He continued up the hallway. He was surprised to see a sliver of light coming from an open door. He tightened the grip on his gun and edged toward it. His head pounded. He felt short of breath. He reached out his hand and gently opened the door.

 

            He found himself in the bathroom.  Scrawled in big letters on the mirror, in yellow paint marker, were these words: BAD COP! SO SAD. SO NEAR THE END. U-STOR-IT  CORNELL WAY #J87 MY FILE.  A key was taped to the mirror.

 

            Stack chuckled slightly, shut his eyes, shook his head and put his fist through the mirror.

 

*

            Thrombis, for being a piss-poor excuse for a town, was bustling with life. Shift changes in the mines and plants were always busy times. Waves of workers heading home or to the bars or to whatever release Thrombis had to offer. Smiles parked on the street and stepped out of his car. A gust of wind blew a dark cloud of black sand into his face. Smiles checked his watch. He made it just under the wire. Another ten minutes and they would’ve closed. He stepped inside and moved to the counter.

 

            “Afternoon,” the clerk intoned.

 

            Smiles nodded his reply. He stepped up to the clerk with a tired, fake smile. “I’m glad you’re still open.” The clerk gave a small chuckle. It was obvious he was not glad. “I’m looking for something and perhaps you can help.”

 

            “Maybe. What are you looking for?”

 

            “A person. In fact, this lady, right here.” He slid the picture across the counter.

 

            The clerk barely looked. “Haven’t seen her.”

 

            “You sure? She keeps a box here. 1344? You’ve never seen her?”

 

            “My eyesight ain’t what it used to be.”

 

            Smiles rolled his eyes and slipped a fifty across the counter. “Here’s a donation to the Postal Service’s insurance plan.”

 

            The clerk eyed the money with the corner of his eye. “Yeah, I seen her. She was here two days ago checking on her box. Crazy chick. Lives out on the flats.”

 

            “Yeah she does, so she would need supplies. Gear. Essentials. Where would somebody get that?”

 

            The clerk chuckled. “I don’t even need to guess.” He pointed across the street. “She always walks across the street to Edna’s. They got supplies and food and drinks.”

 

            Smiles turned to leave. “Thanks.”

 

            “You might want to watch your ass, city man. Day shift is likely to be drinkin’, and mean.”

 

            He wasn’t sure the clerk heard him but Smiles chuckled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

*

 

            Needless closed the door to Breen’s office. “I know where Stack is.”

 

            Breen sat back in his chair. “Good. Where is he?”

 

            “I don’t know. But I know what he’s doing.” Needless handed the note to Breen. “I just got this from the Java Jalopy driver. She said Stack slipped it to her to give to me. She said he was on a cell phone the whole time.”

 

            “Avatar?”

 

            “Something that represents something else. The lake monster thing last year. That was an avatar. What I gather from that, is that Manzetti has Stack by the balls and has him running around for him or he’ll kill some hostages.”

 

            “Shit.”

 

            “And there’s more. Carnaby and I found that Manzetti, or somebody, has been pumping Stack full of drugs for a while, steadily giving him more. That’s what’s been causing the mood swings.”

 

            Breen stood up and pulled open his desk drawer. He pulled out a large bottle of antacids, tipped it back like a liquor bottle and started chewing. “So.  We don’t know where Stack is, or what he’s capable of right now, plus Manzetti’s hand in the Alder thing is all over the news now.”

 

            “Laura? Damn it!”

 

            “Yes and no. Anyway, that particular part of Manzetti’s plan has succeeded.”

 

            “Cap, we gotta smoke this mole out, now. In the next few hours. We need to know what Manzetti has planned for Stack. I’m afraid that we’re nearing the end of this and if we don’t do something now, it will be too late.”

 

            “How are we going to do that?”

 

            Needless sat down and leaned forward. He stacked a pencil on top of a notepad. “I’ve been thinking about this since I left Stack’s place. Who would Manzetti pick? Who would he have had somebody approach?”

 

            “The weakest link. Gambling debt, marital problems, history of violence.” Breen cocked his head at Needless. “Are you the mole?”

 

            “No.”

 

            Breen shrugged. “That’s all I had.”

 

            “See, more than weakness, I think the first person Manzetti would go for would be somebody familiar. From everything that Stack and Smiles and Laura have said, this guy plays everything close to the chest. He’s meticulous. He needs to know that person. He generally needs a history. The cop he needed was somebody with something to lose, something to gain AND had a history with Manzetti.”

 

            “There’s a dozen guys on the force who were part of the Manzetti investigation at one point or another eight years ago. We don’t have time to interrogate them all and break down their stories.”

 

            “Is there a listing of the officers who had contact with Manzetti? Transcripts of conversations?”

 

            “Nothing we have access to anymore. When the Bureau took over the investigation, that was all taken as evidence in the case against Manzetti. When he vanished, it got locked away. The city fought to get it back, but…you know the Bureau.”

 

            “How many people know about that?”

 

            “Not many. It was a little embarrassing.” Breen popped another antacid.

 

            Needless smiled and nodded. Breen cocked his head.

 

            “You suck with computers right?”

 

*

            Smiles moved to the bar and had a seat. The bartender, a rather androgynous looking Goblin, wiped it’s hand and moved to Smiles. He was surprised when a female voice came out.

 

            “What can I get you?”

 

            Smiles pulled out his money clip. “Whatever comes in a big, thick mug.” He slapped some money down on the bar. As the bartender moved away to get his drink, Smiles sized up the crowd. They were filthy, piled high with muscles, and most of them didn’t look like they wanted to talk. When the beer appeared near him, he downed it in one go which got the attention of a few.  He knew that there was only one way to really get information in a place like this.

 

            “Excuse me!” Smiles barked over the noise of the bar. Every conversation stopped and the patrons turned and looked at him. “Normally I wouldn’t do this, I try to be a little more slick. However,  time is of the essence and my money clip is probably too small to bribe everyone I need to. I’m looking for this woman.” Smiles held Gina’s picture in the air. “She is possibly living in a cave or mine in the area. I was told that she comes to this… establishment for supplies.”

 

            An large man, his skin smeared black with dust and sand, chuckled. “Well, from the looks of her in that picture, I got something I could supply her with.”  Some of the bar chuckled with him.

 

            Smiles turned. He had been hoping that some kindly person would offer up information. He knew it was a fool’s hope. In a place like this, on a night like this, in a hope-crushing town like this there was only one real way to get information. You had to earn it. Smiles’ eyes locked with Mr. Smeary. “If you haven’t seen her, you have no reason to open your gas hole. So shut up.”

 

            The miner stood up. “What did you say to me?”

 

            “I said… you dumb Thrombis fuck, SHUT UP.”

 

The miner lunged and half the room seemed to move with him. Smiles brought his big, heavy beer mug around and smashed it into the guy’s head. He then felt two hands grip his shoulders from behind. He threw his head back and heard the assailant’s nose snap and the grip released.

 

The bartender was shrieking something. Some others stood back as Smiles found himself squaring off with a miner that was head and shoulders above him. Smiles sent his fist flying but was beaten to the punch, literally. He staggered back at the force of the hit. The miner lumbered forward. Part of the crowd was cheering the miner on as he moved toward Smiles. The other half seemed to be trying to convince the oaf to stop and leave Smiles alone. The miner’s huge hand reared back, ready to smash down onto Smiles’ head.

 

The miner soon found himself at the business end of a gun. He froze, terrified of the little man who, it seemed, was now going to kill him. The crowd went quiet. Smiles winked, spun the gun backward into his palm and smashed it into the side of the miner’s head. A bleeding gash opened up on the side of the guy’s shaved head and the lumbering man dropped to one knee.

 

            Smiles dropped the gun to his side and cocked it. “What’s your name?”  The miner didn’t reply. “Is it okay if I call you Mr. Mountain? I have a thing about giving people nicknames. It’s a habit. So, Mr. Mountain, I have no desire to continue this course of action.” Smiles glanced up at the other patrons. “The rest of you. Now that I have your attention, and maybe your respect… have any of you seen THIS WOMAN?!”

 

            “Yeah.”  The voice drifted from the back of the room. “I know where she is.”

 

            Smiles uncocked his gun and helped Mr. Mountain to his feet. Then he hurried to the man who had returned to watching the news with subtitles. The man was cleaner than most. Still a little grungy, but what wasn’t in this town? He looked to be late thirties and fairly respectable. The growth of beard indicated an edge. Smiles sat down across the table from him.

 

            The man took a sip of beer. “Quite a display. You’ve been in places like this before.”

 

            “Gotta do what you gotta do. So who are you?” Smiles lit a smoke.

 

            “First, tell me why you’re so hot to find this girl.  I don’t want to get her in any trouble, you understand?”  The man stared at Smiles, and Smiles knew he wouldn’t get any more info without being honest with him.  He lowered his head, his bravado from the previous minutes gone.  “She’s my sister.  I thought she was dead.  I just want to make sure she’s…okay.”

 

The man stared at him for a moment, then spoke.  “I’m a geologist. I work for one of the big mining companies in town, IDON. You heard of them?” Smiles shook his head.  “Anyway, I met your…sister at the Assessor’s office. She was looking to rent an abandoned mine.”

 

            “Did you oblige?”

 

            The guy shrugged. “Yeah. It was a little over a month ago now. The mine she’s staying in is approaching a hundred years old. I told her it wasn’t safe. The company usually holds on to those mines for historical societies…sometimes, when one thing is tapped out they’ll check it again later when they’re mining something else.”

 

            “So, does IDON know that she’s staying there?”

 

            The guy smiled and took another drink. “Not exactly. She paid up front, why should I turn it down?  She told me…the older the better. No offense, but she’s kind of creepy.”

 

            Smiles waved away the comment without a word. “Look, how do I find this mine?”

 

            The guy looked at his watch. “You won’t reach it before dark. It’s almost two hours into the Flats, and I’m not talking about off the main highway, I mean…across the Flats. You’ll need a GPS to find your way. You got one?”

 

            Smiles bit his lower lip and shook his head. “You got one I can buy?”

 

            The guy reached into the knapsack next to him. He slipped the Global Positioning device across the table. “$200.”

 

            Smiles looked at the beat-up device and back at the geologist. “Are all geologists money grubbing pricks?”

 

            The geologist laughed. “Haven’t met one yet that wasn’t.”

 

*

 

            The evening edition of The Big City Herald hit the newsstands. Fabled mob boss Nick Manzetti was back. He’d killed some politician. He had kidnapped some reporter a while back and tipped her off to the killing. He had kidnapped some cop’s sister and another cop’s fiancee eight years ago. They believe he killed her before he escaped custody and went underground.

 

            Along with the main story there were articles about Alder, about the original investigation, about Stack. The Herald had a hit on their hands. Laura had broken another hot one for the paper. As she stood reading the paper on the sidewalk, she could feel how she had messed up. She had played right into Manzetti’s hands. She needed to make it right, for Stack and for Smiles.

 

            There had been no word from Stack all day. She had called several times and there was no answer. Needless was out of communication, as was Smiles. She was alone. She wanted to fix it. She folded up the paper and dropped it in a garbage can. There was only one place left to go. She needed to see him. She walked back to her car and headed toward the hospital.

 

*

            Stack hadn’t come back that day. ‘Manzetti must have started things in motion. D’yen and Breen are in a panic. Twenty minutes ago Needless left Breen’s office pissed off. Wonder what’s going on. They can’t find Stack. That’s what’s going on?’

 

            The Mole watched casually. Soon this would all be over and he could just go back to being a cop. He looked back at his computer. New mail. He opened it.

 

            FROM: dbreen@bcpd.gov

TO: jdyen@bcpd.gov

            CC: <Department>

           

N - You were right about that file. All the transcripts from the Manzetti interviews are over in the  city archives. This Alder thing has me up to my eyeballs, I can’t get over there until tomorrow morning. Meet me over there early and we’ll pull those files. Whoever it is, they’re sure to be in there.

 

B

 

            A cold sweat broke out on The Mole’s forehead. ‘They’re looking for me. I’m in that file. Do they know it’s me? Why did they send this to me? Do they know?’

 

            Across the floor another cop laughed. “Good one Cap! Way to be stealthy.”  A moment later a muffled “SHIT!” could be heard from behind Breen’s door. A few moments later:

 

            FROM: dbreen@bcpd.gov

TO:<Department>

            CC:

           

Hi all,

 

Please disregard the last message. And don’t bother telling me. I know I copied everybody. Just ignore it. Yes, I’m an idiot.

 

Cpt. Breen

 

‘They don’t know. Not yet. I have to get that file.’ The Mole watched Needless get up from his desk, dial his phone and walk out of the station. He checked his watch again. He’d go soon and get rid of those files before Breen and Needless had a chance to get there.

 

*

The sun was starting to hang lower over the bay, its light moving to a deeper orange. It was suppertime. As traffic had started to ease and the early evening hours began to take their hold, Stack pulled into the U-Stor-It lot. He pulled the car up to the electronic gate, slipped the key into the hole and turned it. With a whir the gate opened. Stack slowly drove in. He scanned the sign for the location of J87.

 

He followed the arrows around and pulled up in front of #J87. It was a smaller storage locker, not much bigger than a walk in closet. There were a few boxes of clothes, a box of paperbacks.  It seemed that our Bureau agent had a taste for pulp noir novels. At the back of the locker there was a stack of two or three file boxes. Stack reached over and pulled them out onto the hood of the car.

 

As Stack began to move through the files, he realized that Spencer had stolen these from the Bureau before he left;  hundreds of files that he shouldn’t have had. The first box had nothing. Stack started on the second box. More files, sometimes mixed with newspaper clippings. More and more Spencer seemed like a collector. These were his favorite cases. Perhaps cold cases that he would pull out and work on in his spare time…Smiles did the same thing from time to time.

 

Finally Stack opened the last box. He began digging. Pay dirt. The entire box was dedicated to Manzetti and the operation of the Syndicate. Pictures, notes, interviews. Which file did Manzetti want? Stack finally came across a newer folder. The date was only two years old. He opened the file. It gave locations of where Manzetti had been. Sightings. Contact between Spencer and Manzetti as recent as two years ago.

 

Spencer, and possibly the Bureau, knew where Manzetti had been for the last eight years. This was the file;  Stack could feel it. He was about to close the box when his eye caught the next file down. The label read “Johnson”. Stack reached in slowly and pulled the file out. He took a deep breath, leaned against the car and opened the file.

 

It had been a balmy day. He and Gina had finally settled on a date for the wedding. They had gone to a beach-side restaurant for a weekend dinner. It was early and the sun was still up. Gina loved seafood. Her favorite was grilled White Bresbak, pepper and citrus hand-rubbed into it before going on the grill. She’d had dessert that day. She didn’t have much of sweet tooth, but on occasion she did like a good cheesecake. She had worn a white blouse that caught the sea breeze, with her ball cap. As usual she had her hair in a ponytail, pulled through the back of the hat. They ate outside and walked through the beachfront carnival.

 

Stack smiled as tears welled in his eyes. He remembered that day like it was yesterday. Each black and white photo brought on another flood of memories. Gina’s apartment. Gina, Smiles and Stack playing a pick up game of Square T’s at the department’s annual picnic. Those were different people. He was a different man. He missed the man he was with Gina. He missed the love he felt. He missed Smiles. The real Smiles. The man who laughed all the time. The man who was almost his brother. He missed those three carefree people laughing in these pictures.

 

In his heart he knew Manzetti wanted him to see this. Manzetti, the man who had ripped Stack away from the life he had had in these pictures.

 

“What do you want?!” He shouted. “Why are you doing this to me? Just kill me! Please. I’m tired of the games.” He began to sob. His head was throbbing. He couldn’t focus his eyes. He couldn’t stop crying. What was wrong with him? His hand was already bandaged and cut from the mirror at Spencer’s house when he drove it through his passenger side window.

 

He stood, gulping air, rage blinding him. He closed his eyes. ‘I have to calm down. I have to. I have a job to do.’ He swallowed his anger and opened his eyes. He closed up the locker and put the file boxes in the trunk of his car. Everything except the file of Manzetti’s whereabouts after his disappearance.

 

The phone rang. Stack was numb as he activated the phone and pulled it to his head.

 

            “What?!”

 

            Manzetti’s voice seemed to circle his head like a wolf. “It’s been a long day, Stack. Do you have it?”

 

            “Yes.”

 

            “Then it’s time to end this. Bring it to me.”

 

            “Fine.”

 

            “Come alone, Stack. I want it to be just you and me. Man to man.”

 

            Stack couldn’t help but chuckle. “Whatever. Where?”

 

            “Sergeant…” Manzetti sounded slightly disappointed. “I think you know where. “

 

            The phone went dead. Stack dropped the phone into his pocket. He knew where. The only place this could all end. The place it all began…or ended, depending. Stack took a deep breath and moved to his car.

 

*

 

                The lock was picked and the knob turned.  The door slowly creaked open. The old police file archive was dark and deserted. A dim light remained lit in the center of the room. The figure made his way toward the central row of filing cabinets.  He moved along, reading the labels of the drawers as he went. When he found the drawer he was looking for, he reached out and opened it.

 

            Unpracticed hands nervously pulled the plant file out of the drawer. The hidden eyes could make out the unmistakable form. The receding hairline. The unimaginative tie riding the wave of the pot belly. The eyes in the shadows knew well the person standing before him; Detective Callisto. They had been waiting for quite a while for him to arrive.          

 

“How long?” The voice seemed to seep from the shadows of the archive. Callisto turned with a start, dropping the file back into the cabinet. Needless stepped slowly out of the darkness into the dim light, his arched, elven eyebrows nearly touching in anger. “Did you hear me?” Needless hissed. “How long have you been selling us out to Manzetti?”

 

            Callisto stammered. “Needless? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

            Like a spring loaded machine, Needless raised his arm with his beloved Penny targeting Callisto’s face. “Callisto, I really don’t have time for games. Breen and Internal Affairs are on their way.”

 

            The chubby face of Callisto shattered into a pitiful sob. “The money was too good. I couldn’t…I have four kids.”

 

            “How long have you been feeding that son of a bitch information? Stealing tissue samples. Telling him our every move?”

 

            “About a year. It started with information about Vester.  By the time the whole lake monster thing had come down, I was up to my eyeballs.”

 

            “You’re the one who knew when I went in for a physical and had my tissue swiped. You knew when and where I was so that bitch Autumn could fucking drug me. You helped frame me as a werewolf. After the Serenity Massacre you were with Stack so you let them know that they could fit the trick pipe with the drug, right?!”

 

            “Yes.”

 

            Needless wanted to snap the fat man’s neck. To beat him until he was unrecognizable. But he couldn’t. He had to find Stack. “Well, I need you to play informant for about five more minutes.” Callisto nodded. “What is Manzetti’s game?  The guy has a shape shifting assassin on his freaking payroll. He could have taken me and Stack out a long time ago.”

 

            “I only met with him once. Everything else has been through a go between. Some goblin accountant.”

 

            “Slith?”

 

            Callisto nodded. “I met with him just before he kidnapped that reporter.”

 

            “Why did he want to see you face to face?”

 

            Callisto put his face in his hands. “He had pictures of my kids. It was a threat. He’s gonna kill my kids.”

 

            “No he’s not. Now what did he say?” Callisto continued to cry. Needless lowered the gun. “Anything!” He grabbed the detective’s shoulders. “Anything that can help Stack.”

 

            “He’s sick.”

 

            Needless straightened up. “What?”

 

            “They took me to his home. To his bedroom. The guy is dying. There was all sorts of pain medication. And there’s somebody there with him. Looked like some kind of religious guy.”