Patricia's discovery stresses the relationships among the team. Themes and Elements listed apply to entire story, Rating to this submission. Thanks to Marina Kelly and Robyn Hoode for their editorial assistance.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

We went back to Gretchen’s room after delivering the cookies all around the compound, even the Security Center. When I was a cop, I maintained that a person could get into any special event if they carried a bag of ice on their shoulder. If you carried two, they’d open the doors for you. If you wanted to get into an office building, a hard hat and clipboard would usually do the trick. Those scams have nothing over two cute girls and a bunch of hot cookies.

Or maybe that’s two hot girls and a bunch of cute cookies. Guess it depends on your audience.

Either way, I got a second look at everything I saw before and managed to pick up some things I missed the first time, like multiple emergency back up generators. The more I see, the more impossible the job seems. There’s just no way to sneak around this place without being observed. Even if I could, everything is completely locked down.

We’re sitting together on Gretchen’s bed, looking through some “Style” magazines I’d brought with me. I’m not actually reading anything, I’m mentally reviewing that image, making sure I don’t forget part of it. I can’t afford to write anything down now, I’ll have to wait until I get home … which needs to be sooner than later, but I can’t just bolt.

“Patty … are you okay?” asks Gretchen.

“Sure, why not?”

“Well, you haven’t said much in awhile.”

“I’ve just been thinking about all the stuff I’ve got to get done at home before school on Monday. I probably should split pretty soon.”

“You’re not bored are you?”

“No, are you?”

She puts down her magazine and takes my hands in hers. “I’ve never had a better weekend in my life.”

“Come on Gretch, we just hung out, did a little baking, nothing special.”

“It may not seem special to you, but it was to me. Other girls may get to do stuff like this all the time, but I don’t. I’ve dreamed about having a friend come over … and it finally happened. It’s been everything I hoped it would be.”

“Jeez Gretch, pressure much? We’ll get more chances, don’t worry. I think it all went well. Your dad didn’t seem to have any problems with me being here.”

“I think he actually enjoyed it, which really surprised me.”

“What, I’m not likable?”

“NO! I mean yes, you’re likable … you’re very likeable … maybe even … lovable?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I would.” She lets go of my hands and then hugs me, her elbows pressing into the sides of my chest, her arms running up my back, hands on my shoulder blades, pulling me into her chest, hanging on to me as if she was afraid I was about to disappear. I think she may be crying.

I return her hug but not nearly as intensely, patting her back. “Hey … hey … Gretchen … it’s okay … it’s okay. We had a lot of fun. I had a lot of fun. We’ll have more fun next weekend when we kick ass on the basketball court, right?”

She sighs deeply. “Yeah, we will.”

I gently pull away from her hug. “Good. Now, I really need to book. Mom’s got to review my homework and I’ve got to get supper started.”

She reluctantly lets go, then rubs the tears from her eyes. “How do you find the time to do all the stuff you do? I never seem to have time to get my schoolwork done and I don’t have to do a tenth you do.”

I slide off the bed and scoop up my bag. “It’s just what I’m used to doing. All in the scheduling. When you get to come to my house, you’ll see for yourself.” I wink at her. ”You may not want me as a friend after that.”

She smiles, then laughs. “You don’t think I can do it, do you?”

“We’ll see, real soon.”

“I sure as hell hope so.”

I sling my bag over my shoulder. “Gotta go. See you tomorrow morning.”

She jumps off the bed and grabs my arm. “I’ll see you out, okay?”

“Sure. It’s a big place … I may get lost.”

We walk down the hall, bumping up against each other while she keeps a death grip on my arm, giggling the entire time. When we get to the bottom of the stairs, Hobbes is waiting for us and Henry’s manning the front door. Someone must have been listening and gave him a heads up. This place is security to the max. Bet the only place not monitored is his office … and the top floor of the Security Center.

“Ahh, Ms. Conner, all packed I see.”

“Yes, Sir. I appreciate you letting me visit this weekend. It was a lot of fun but I’ve got to get home and get to work.”

“We enjoyed having you here. Perhaps you could come again next weekend? I would like for you to meet Enrique.”

The mysterious Enrique. Yes, I’d definitely like to meet him. “I’ll ask my Mom. I don’t know of anything we’re supposed to do but I can’t do this every weekend. I usually get a lot of stuff done around the house on Saturdays and Sundays. Laundry, cleaning, cooking, things that I can’t get done during the week.”

“I understand, Patricia.”

I walk over to the scanner and drop my bag on the belt. Henry starts to reach for it but Hobbes calls him off.

“That won’t be necessary, Henry”

“I’d prefer that he did” I say.

“There is no reason.”

“Could we talk for a moment … in private?”

Hobbes looks confused. “Certainly” he says and leads me back to his office. He shuts the door but neither of us sit down.

“Look, I appreciate the offer, but I really think it’s in my best interest that I get scanned coming AND going.”

“And why is that, Patricia?”

“No offense, Mr. Hobbes, but we both know what you do for a living.” He starts to say something then stops. I continue. “People who do what you do, they don’t normally retire like average people do. Sooner or later, it ends … badly.” I pause, waiting for his reaction.

He seems to be tense but under control. “Go on,” he says.

“If something bad happens while I’m around … let’s face it, I’m gonna be suspect number one. Everybody else is either family or a partner or a long time employee or a person you’ve known for years. I’m the new girl, the unknown, and I’m the one who’s getting blamed. That’s the risk that I’m taking when I come here to visit Gretchen, that’s why I’d rather do this at my house, why my mom’s so afraid. The best protection I’ve got is for me to be scanned and watched as closely as possible. That’s why I don’t care about all the cameras and the bugs, they’ll help protect me when all hell breaks lose … and we both know that, sooner or later, all hell will break lose. No matter what you do, eventually, their gonna get you, they always do.”

“Maybe I’m the exception to the rule.”

“Maybe you are, and more power to you, but the odds aren’t good. Either the cops get you or one of your competitors do. In order to avoid trouble, you’ve got to win all the time. They win once … you’re in deep doo doo. Nobody wins all the time. Like I said, sooner or later. I just don’t want to be caught up in the mess. So you’ll be doing me a big favor be letting Henry do his job.” I step closer to him and drop my voice. “I didn’t want to say any of this in front of Gretchen because I didn’t want to worry her. It’s not something she should have to deal with.”

To Hobbes’ credit, he doesn’t react right away. It’s clear he didn’t like what I had to say, but he’s thinking about it. Eventually he walks past me, reaching for the door knob.

“A very sensible argument Ms. Conner. You’re request will be granted.” He opens the door and steps aside to let me leave. As I walk by him, he reaches out, gently touching my left shoulder. I stop and look up at him. He still appears to be upset. “I appreciate your honesty, Patricia. It is a rare commodity.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Hobbes.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

I keep reviewing the image as I ride home. It still feels clear in my mind, whatever the heck it is. Mom’s car is in the driveway as I pull up to the house. I sprint to the back door, unlock it, and burst into the kitchen. Mom’s there, stirring a pot.

“Patricia! My God, you scared me to death! Are you okay?! I’ve been worrying ever since you left Friday! Thank God, you’re home! How are …”

“I’m fine, Mom. I need a big piece of paper … right now.”

“Paper? Why do you need paper? What happened at that terrible place?”

“I’ll explain later. Right now, I need to write something down while it’s clear in my mind. Do we have any big sheets of paper?”

“How big?”

“Two feet by two feet maybe, something like that?”

She looks around the kitchen and picks up a roll of wax paper. “How about this?”

“Good size put wrong surface.”

“Of course, you’re right.”

She looks around again, smiles, and hurries back to the utility room returning with a large white paper shopping bag from the recycling tub. Opening a drawer, she pulls out a pair of scissors and starts to cut the seams of the bag. In seconds, she has a large, irregular sheet of heavy white paper with several creases in it but it’ll do.

“Great! Perfect! You’re a genius, Mom!” I open another drawer and grab a handful of pens and pencils. Sorting through them until I find a good sharp pencil. Laying the paper on the kitchen table, I sit down, smooth out the creases and start drawing. I can feel Mom hovering over my shoulder.

“What is it? Some kind of blue print or lay out of the house?”

“No, it’s the reflected image off Hobbes’ computer screen. I only saw it for a few seconds before he switched it off. It may be a spread sheet but it could be something else. I just need an hour or so to recreate it and we’ll see what it is.”

She leans down, her head practically resting on my shoulder as I return to work.

“Do you think it’s important?”

“I don’t know, Mom. It could be nothing. His security’s so tight, I’ll take scraps. Give me a little time.”

“Sure, honey.”

She stands up and moves away. I hear her rattling around in the cupboards and then the gurgle of liquid pouring. She’s back hanging onto my shoulder in seconds accompanied by the distracting smell of coffee. I didn’t have any while at Gretchen’s and I missed it … a lot. She reaches down and points to a block of backward numbers.

“Are those supposed to be account numbers?”

“Mother! Please! Let me do this! I don’t want to start interpreting until I’m finished. If I start guessing while I’m drawing, it my influence what I draw. I just want to recreate what I saw as best I can.”

She backs off. “Sorry … Patricia.”

Great. I’ve upset her. I’ll deal with it later. Right now, I’m going to do my best imitation of a human Xerox machine.

Ultimately, it takes longer than I hoped. After two hours and several pencils, I’m getting close to the end. Mom had walked out of the room after I snapped at her but she couldn’t stay away for long. At least she was quiet when she came back. A few final strokes to complete the crosshatch shading of the header and I lay down the pencil, taking a deep breath and rubbing my fingers, working out the stiffness.

Mom returns to her spot behind me. “May I look?”

“Sure. Knock yourself out.”

She says nothing for a few seconds, then reaches down to rub my neck. “I have no idea what it says, Patricia.”

I reach up, covering her hand with mine. “Neither do I. Let’s take it to the bathroom mirror.” Carefully grasping the upper corners, I stand up and lift the paper off the table, keeping it stretched out. It probably wouldn’t smear but I’m not taking any chances. Mom leads the way, opening doors and holding them for me as I walk through. When we finally reach the bathroom, the picture is facing me, not the mirror. I hold one edge out.

“You take this edge, Mom, then I’ll walk around in front of you, switching it around. Don’t stretch it until I get in place.”

“Okay, sweetheart.”

She takes the corner from me and I edge past her, it’s a small bathroom but a big mirror behind side by side sinks. Once I get past her, I turn to face the mirror.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Let’s do it.”

We lift the picture up and slowly pull in opposite directions until it’s straight and flat. This is what I saw, but now I can read it.

Oh. My. GAWD!!!

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

“EVERYTHING?”

“I can’t be sure. Certainly it’s the majority of the U.S.”

Patricia’s legs actually buckled when she first looked at the picture. All I saw was a big spreadsheet with lots of numbers but she must have known what it was almost instantly. She fell back against the wall behind her, almost dropping her corner, but she caught herself. We ended up taping the picture to the wall behind us and then leaning into the mirror to read it.

“Why just the U.S.?” I ask

“I don’t know. There might have been a page two. Or three. My Gawd, what if there was a page three?”

“What are you saying?”

“Well … there’s going to be product in the pipeline, plus at the manufacturing sites. Plus, he’s also in Europe.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because Raul has specialty meats you can’t get in the U.S. shipped back after deliveries in Europe.”

“Who is Raul?”

“Hobbes’ chef, a really nice guy. He showed me how to make this roux, it was HEAVENLY! And so simple! It’ll be great with chicken and …”

“Patricia … the drugs.”

“Right, sorry. So, this is just what’s ready for distribution here in the United States.”

I point to a column of figures. “Are these pounds?”

“You’re off by a factor of three.”

“Thousands of pounds?! Then this means …”

Patricia reaches out with a toothbrush, touching different areas of the mirror. “Cocaine. Meth. Marijuana, though that may be tons. Heroin. I’m not sure about this row, it might by Oxy.”

“How many locations?”

She quickly runs the toothbrush across the mirror. “Eleven.”

“So this is worth … “

“Over nine hundred million, maybe closer to a billion.”

“And we know where it all is?”

“Pretty much. There aren’t any actual addresses but it has cities and business names. Assuming there’s only one facility in each town, we can locate it.”

I feel a bit faint myself, almost falling back into the picture, forgetting for a moment it’s actually behind me. Patty grabs me before I make contact.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

“Oh heavens yes my baby! We’re finally finished! We’ve got him! Well, you got him and I couldn’t be prouder! We get this information to Daniel and we can go home!”

“I’m not so sure about that, Mom.”

“What do you mean? This is exactly what we need. The police raid the buildings, arrest all the gang members, some of them take deals, testify against Hobbes and he goes to jail for the rest of his life. If we’re lucky, maybe some one will know about what happened to my Robert and darling Alisha, then Hobbes can go to the gas chamber. We’ve won!”

Patricia steps away from me, turns and walks out of the bathroom. “What’s wrong?” I ask as I follow her back to the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”

She sits down, putting her head in her hands for a moment, then looks up at me, her hands trailing down either side of her face. “Look Mom, it’s like this. I’ve been thinking about it for some time. I don’t see how Lipscomb can use anything I find. I’m never gonna be able to testify in court. He can’t explain to a judge about me, so how can I be a reliable source to justify a search warrant? Even if he’s got a tame federal judge out there, without my testimony, the evidence gets tossed at trial. I just don’t see how he’s gonna do it.”

I sit down at the table opposite her. “That’s not our problem Patty … it’s his. He’s the lawyer, he’s the expert. We’ve done our job, now it’s his turn to do his.”

“I’ve been doing some reading about that and the rules are pretty clear about what it takes to make the evidence admissible. There’s just no way. There’s also all the damage this is going to do. What about Gretchen? She hasn’t done anything wrong … this’ll destroy her, particularly when she finds out I did it.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t care about Hobbes’ daughter. He obviously didn’t care or he wouldn’t have gotten into this business in the first place. What about my daughter? Killed by his hoodlums, they go free and she’s dead! Dead! I vowed to make him pay one day and that day is now!”

“Let me think about this for a little bit, okay? Don’t tell Lipscomb right away. I need to find addresses for all the locations anyway.”

“We’re going to met him Tuesday after work at Matthews’ office. What are you planning to tell him then?”

“I don’t know yet; just let me think about it. There maybe another way to do this. We can afford to take our time and get this right. Please, Mom, give me a chance to think of something.”

The look on her face is heartbreaking, how can I say no? She’s gone through so much, I guess she’s entitled to a little time. However, I will not let this opportunity get away. “Okay, Patricia. You can have a week, then I tell Daniel about this.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

Mom’s not going to give me one second more than a week. She wants Hobbes bad and doesn’t care who else gets hurt. Obviously, there was going to be some fall out if we caught Hobbes but this whole thing was a fluke. You don’t get this kind of intel the first shot out of the box. I’d hoped that I’d have the time to figure out a way to safely use any information I discovered but now I’m out of time. Well, I’ve got a week.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Patty’s waiting for me on the court Monday right after lunch. She told me to eat light. I hope we aren’t doing a bunch of running. Terri’s also with her. As soon as she sees me, she waves me in, so I hurry over to where they’re standing under the basket. She passes the ball to me when I get close.

“Hey, Gretch. I asked Terri to help us, she’s on the school team. We’re gonna keep this simple. Basketball is all about physics. Once you figure out the physics, it’s a piece of cake. For example.” She pulls a laser pointer from the pocket of her shorts and shines it on the backboard, making a small red dot appear on the left corner of the box painted on the backboard right above the rim. “You hit that spot with the ball, it’s going in the basket.” She shoots the ball, squarely hitting the spot she had pointed out. The ball bounces off the backboard and crisply through the net. “It doesn’t have any choice, physics dictates the outcome every time. You hit that spot, it’s two points. Simple. We don’t have time to teach a whole lot but if you can learn to hit a lay up and catch a bounce pass, we can beat those guys.”

“Don’t we have to have a bunch of plays or something?”

“We’ll need just one play, the pick and roll. John Stockton and Karl Malone are in the Hall of Fame because of that single play. They knew every variation there was. We just need to practice a couple. Nobody in those games have organized plays anyway, it’s alley ball. An actual, honest to God play is as common as Haley’s Comet.”

“What about defense?”

“We’ll need to work on that too, but if you get the ball and score, you get the ball back. As long as we keep scoring, we never play defense.”

“Yeah, but Riley’s like 6’ 6”, he block’s shots all the time. I can’t shoot over him, and if I can’t, you sure as heck can’t.”

“Don’t worry about it Gretch, physics will win out. Issac Newton would have made a great ball player. When you get open, I’ll put the ball right in your hands. All you have to worry about is hitting lay ups, wide open lay ups.” She tosses me the ball. “Let’s start on that now. Just stand there and hit the spot on the backboard. Terri and I’ll rebound.”

I felt kinda stupid, just standing three feet from the basket, shooting the ball at a point on the backboard, though Patty was right, if I hit the spot, the ball went right in the basket. I must have shot a hundred times, Patty and Terri chasing down the ones I missed, though I didn’t miss many toward the end. Then Patty had me take a couple of steps and jump as I shot the ball. This was harder, but I got the hang of it pretty quickly and managed to hit twenty in a row, though my legs got a little tired towards the end.

“Okay” Patty said. “That’s enough for today. Tomorrow, we work on you catching a pass as you get to the basket and then the pick and roll. By the end of Friday, we’ll be ready, I promise. Go change clothes and I’ll be right behind you.”

As I trot off to the locker room, I’m feeling more confident than I did at the start. We may be able to do this.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

“What do you think, Terri?”

“She learns quick enough. I didn’t realize she was so athletic, I’d never seen her do much in gym.”

“I know, she just needed a little prodding and some coaching. She’ll be okay as long as she doesn’t panic.”

“I don’t know, a 6’ 6” guy, is he any good?”

“Yeah, he is.”

“Good looking?”

“A blonde babe magnet.”

“Ooooo … sure you don’t want to play three on three? I can make the time.”

“You’re a bit of a slut Terri, you know that?”

“Am not. I’ve just got … healthy appetites, that’s all.”

“You’ve got appetites, that’s for sure. She won’t have to worry about his defense too much. The guy plays on her father’s team. He may push around the other guys, but he’ll be too afraid to knock Gretchen around, daddy may not like.”

“And her daddy may do something about it.”

“Exactly. He’ll be too worried about his own his own skin, at least at first, to play rough. They may switch off and Gretchen’s dad covers her, which is fine by me.”

“A 6’ 6” guy guarding you?”

“I’ll run him into the ground.”

“Oh, I just thought of something. Do they play shirts and skins?”

“Yeah?”

“So what’s his abs …”

“Like iron plates.”

“You know, three on three is a much more interesting game. I could …”

“Down girl.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

I’ve decided what I’m going to tell Lipscomb about the Hobbes compound, but am still up in the air about the spreadsheet. It’s a break that’s not likely to be duplicated, but the storage sites aren’t going to change any time soon, he’s got too much invested in the locations. I went online and came up with addresses and pictures, both street level and overhead. Each one is an active warehouse with a customs section, all near the coasts or the Mexican border, some within a mile or two of the border. The particular inventory in each place will move out and get sold, but there’s always more drugs coming in. They can raid them anytime and get hundreds of millions of dollars of drugs, so we don’t really lose anything by waiting. There’s got to be an ideal way to use this information, one that causes the least amount of harm to innocent people. I’m really tired of destroying everybody’s lives when we finally bust the bad guys. I need to find a better way.

When we walk into Dr. Matthews’ office, Lipscomb is already there, as usual, drinking a cup of coffee.

“Hail the conquering heroine! I hope you have good news for me.”

Mom and I sit down. “What do you want to hear first, the bad news … or the terrible news?” I ask.

Lipscomb frowns. “Shouldn’t that be bad news and good news?”

“Sorry, not a lot of good news, mostly just bad and terrible.”

“Then I’ll take the little good news.”

“I’m invited back for next weekend.”

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much. The bad news is the place is a security fortress. Cameras, sensors, biomechanical security on all physical file cabinets, all computers and files encrypted. Lots of guards who know their stuff. Weekly bug sweeps. Everything and everyone who enters the place gets scanned. The White House could learn a thing or two from these guys.”

“And the terrible news?”

“Their head of security wasn’t even there, he’d been gone for at least two weeks dealing with some problem in Los Angeles, so they had probably gotten a little lax. He’s back tomorrow. Things should get back to normal real soon. Oh, by the way, does the name Enrique Cardoza ring a bell?”

“No, can’t say it does.”

“He’s the security guy and second in command. My briefing didn’t mention him at all. I’ll probably be meeting him next weekend. It would have been nice to know something about him … anything at all.”

“Peter, I told you up front that there were gaps in our knowledge about Hobbes’ operation. I had no reason to hide anything from you, we all want success here.” He looked over at Mother. “We all have our reasons for that.”

All this time, she hadn’t said a word, not even “Hello”. She doesn’t look particularly comfortable right now. I hope she’s not changed her mind.

“It’s not completely hopeless Lipscomb. I think I made a good impression and most of them either like or tolerate me. If I can get past Cardoza, there’s a chance I can find out some stuff that can be useful. It may be a long shot but …”

“We know where he keeps all his drugs” Mom blurts out.

“WHAT?!” Daniel shouts.

I stare at her. Betrayed by my own mother. We had a deal. She looks back at me, pleadingly.

“I’m sorry Patricia; I can’t miss this chance to take Hobbes down. He destroyed my life, he’s got to pay for that. If things are as bad as you say they are, this may be our only opportunity. It’s a gift from God.”

“Will someone tell me what is going on?” asks Lipscomb.

Mom looks at me but it’s her show now. “You wanted to tell him, go on then, tell him.”

“Patricia, don’t be like that. It’s what’s best for all of us.”

I’m not buying that, not now. She’s on her own. I sit there, arms crossed, gazing at the wall next to me.

“Very well. Patricia happened to get a look at a picture from a computer monitor reflected in the glass of a photo. She quickly memorized it and, when she got home, recreated it. We looked at it using the bathroom mirror to turn the image back around and discovered it was a list of Hobbes’ inventory in the United State, including locations. Patricia thinks there may be a billion dollars worth of drugs, adding it all together. It’s all there, waiting for you to pick it up.”

“Where’s this picture?”

“Back home, hidden.”

I’m not looking at him, but I feel Lipscomb getting closer to me. “And when were you going to tell me about this, Peter?”

“Probably … never.”

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t use it. And if you try, we’re all dead.”

“How’s that?”

I turn towards him. “You can’t get a warrant because I’m not ‘a reliable source’, I’m a freak, whose existence must stay a closely guarded secret or we all go to jail. Even if you could manage to get a warrant, the drugs would eventually be tossed at trial as fruit of the poisonous tree and Hobbes goes free.”

“Let me deal with the legal issues, that’s what I’m trained to do.”

“Fine. Explain to me how you plan to do this … legally.”

He looks a little nervous, which is unusual. He never looks nervous. “I’d rather not reveal those plans at this time, but I assure you, I have it under control.”

“I don’t think you do, Lipscomb, but let’s assume I’m wrong. Let’s assume you manage to talk your bosses into going ahead with this, your office makes a request for search warrants, the judge grants the eleven warrants for searches over six states, you contact the necessary agencies, the FBI, DEA, local police, get everything organized and raid the warehouses … you know what you’ll find?”

“What will I find, Peter?”

“Nooothinnngg. Hobbes has got people on his payroll at each and every step along that process. He’s got people in the DOJ, the Judge’s office, the FBI, the DEA, the local cops, everywhere. By the time the last guy informs Hobbes what’s going down, he’ll be politely told that the problem’s already been taken care of. Every place will be empty of drugs, cleaned up spic and span. And after this all blows up in your face, Hobbes will come looking for the leak. We ALL end up dead, probably tortured first, then killed, our bodies never found.”

Lipscomb appears to at least be thinking about what I said. He’s looking down at the table, slowly tapping his fingers on its surface. He finally looks up. “Peter makes some valid points, Jessica.”

“NO! YOU CAN”T BE SERIOUS?! Daniel, this is our chance! We’ve got to strike NOW! We may never …”

Lipscomb raises his hand and Mom falls silent but seething with anger. “Hear me out, Jessica. Peter is quite correct about the corruption within the system. I raised the same points with my superiors in putting this team together. Bribery is rampant; you have no idea who you can trust. An operation that large would surely get back to Hobbes at its earliest stages. We could never move fast enough. Odd as it may be, this information is too big to move on.”

“Then go after only a few places! Do SOMETHING Daniel!”

“To what end, Jessica? We make a few, possibly spectacular, busts but we don’t substantially hurt his operation. Hobbes’ involvement is likely shielded by a convoluted ownership history and we’ve revealed the existence of a leak, bringing unwanted attention to bear on Peter. This information is too great to safely pursue but too small to provide a killing blow to Hobbes and his organization. We’re stymied.”

Mom looks completely defeated. I almost feel sorry for her but she’s the one who broke our deal. However, there may be a bone I can throw her. “Lipscomb … about that killing blow. Hobbes has an advanced computer system, totally up to date security wise, both physically and electronically. He keeps everything on it, and I do mean everything. It probably has records concerning pay offs, his total inventories across the world, manufacturing records, the works. If I could get to that, you’d have all the evidence you’d need. I still can’t see how you’re getting it in front of a jury, but, at least you’d know who you can and can’t deal with, probably give you names of guys who you can flip to testify against him. It may take me a while to figure out a way to do it, but it’s worth a shot. I mean, I’m already inside, no reason not to try, right?”

His eyes light up. “Now, that’s what I’m talking about! I don’t recall computer hacking as a skill listed on your resume, Peter.”

“Peter Harris didn’t know squat about hacking, but Patricia Conner knows quite a bit and plans to learn a whole lot more.”

He rubs his hands together rapidly. “Very good. The computer system is our new objective. Contact me if you need assistance or equipment … and please keep me informed of progress. While I agree with your opinion about the usefulness of the inventory information, I insist on being told about this type of intelligence in the future. I have people I must answer to and both my life and career are on the line here as well as yours. I will not be kept in the dark. Do you understand, Peter?”

“Yeah, I got it, but let’s keep these meetings to a minimum. Every one is a potential security breach. I can’t afford to be linked with you in any way.”

“Fair enough. We can continue to use the dead drop system. Is that acceptable Jessica?”

She just nods dully, all the fight sucked out of her. Serves her right.

I stand up. “If there’s nothing else, I’ve got homework to do.”

Lipscomb also stands. “One last thing. I want that computer image.”

I’m instantly suspicious. “Why? We both agreed we can’t use it. What can you do with it?”

“Likely nothing, but I may be able to pull additional information from it, you never know.”

I don’t trust him, not at all. My gut is screaming at me to keep it away from him … and I don’t know why. It’s a reasonable request, he’s part of the team after all. “You know, if this gets out, Lipscomb, I could end up dead real quick.”

He smiles. “But not before telling Hobbes all about me, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then I better take very good care of it.”

He’s got me. “You can have a copy, I’m keeping the original.”

“That’s a reasonable compromise.”

I walk out the door, heading directly for the car. I hear the office door open and close behind me, so Mom is probably following, but I’m not going to look back. The lock on the car door clicks, so I open it and sit in the front passenger seat, eyes forward. The drivers’ side door opens and closes. It’s Mom, I smell her perfume.

“Patricia … I was just doing what I thought was best for all …”

I keep my eyes straight ahead. “Mother. I’m not talking to you now. I don’t know when I will.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

It took me much longer to resolve the disputes in Los Angeles but it was time well spent. My personal relationships with both gangs are stronger. Right now, as far as they are concerned, Enrique Cardoza is the face of our cartel. When it comes time for Hobbes to go, the transition should be seamless. That day may be fast approaching. I’ve barely dropped my bags on my bed before he calls for me. It’s a polite request, on its face. “Come see me when you are available.” He means I’m to make myself available right now. The man is Argentinean, through and through.

When I get to his office, he is all smiles and congratulations. “Enrique!” He takes my hand, shaking it vigorously. “How are you, my old friend? Have all issues been resolved?” The man is a born politician. If he had dedicated his life to politics instead of the more lucrative drug trade, he might be President of Argentina by now.

“Yes, X-ray, everything has been worked out … for now. There is no guarantee each gang will stick with the agreed upon boundaries. Each is looking to take a bigger slice of the pie.”

“Fools! Why can’t they see the harm they cause with these petty disputes?”

“Everyone always wants more, X-ray. It is human nature.”

“But there is plenty of profit for all. How much is enough?”

“These are young, aggressive men. They are still attempting to make their fortunes.”

“Not like us, eh Enrique?”

You mean not like you. We have failed to take advantage of numerous opportunities over the last few years, particularly in Mexico. We could wipe many of the smaller cartels out, if Hobbes would only unleash our men.

“Yes, X-ray, not at all like us.”

“Well, there is peace for now. It is good to have you back. I’ve had to deal with a number of issues with the staff while you were gone, I don’t know how you keep this place running so smoothly.”

“A minor skill of mine, X-ray. What problems?”

“Nothing serious, mostly just keeping the peace. You would think that grown men could deal with a single girl.”

“What girl?”

“Patricia Conner, Gretchen’s little friend. A truly remarkable girl, we were quite wrong about her.”

This can’t be good. “What are you talking about?”

“You remember, Patricia Conner. You had her investigated and we decided that it would be best for Gretchen to have no further contact with her. I’ve spoken with her several times; we could not have been more mistaken. She is an absolutely delightful girl … intelligent, responsible, mature, relatively respectful, very accomplished and a lot of common sense. Gretchen’s attitude and behavior have already improved.

“When did you speak with her?”

“That is an interesting story, Enrique. Apparently, two weekends ago, she did a sit in outside the gate, demanding to speak with me about Gretchen. No one told me about it until it was too late … I had dinner with the Senator scheduled, I’m sure you remember that.”

“Certainly. Why was she permitted to stay outside the gate?”

“Speak to your guards. If you were here, I’m certain that you would have handled it, but they seemed incapable of dealing with her, though, in their defense, she is a deceptively cunning girl. And brave too. When she first met me, she threw a collection of electronic bugs on my desk, accusing me of ordering their instillation. Can you believe that?! And she knew who I was!”

“Well, it was true.”

“I know, but still … the audacity, you must really appreciate the audacity. And it didn’t stop there. I was basically dressed down for being a terrible father.”

“I see. What happened when you threw her out?”

“Ahhhh … that’s the interesting part. Once we were done talking, we ended up agreeing on a number of things. I permitted her to come visit Gretchen this past weekend and it went quite well, actually surprisingly well, except for the staff problems.”

“What were they?”

“Mr.Tippett seems to have been making inappropriate comments about the Conner girl in front of one of the guards and he took offense. Perfectly understandable but I had to remind Lou as to how valuable Tippett is to our business. He understood and that will, hopefully, be the end of it.”

“Did she say where she found the electronic bugs?”

“Around her home, naturally. That is were your people planted them.”

“And how she found them?”

“No.”

“Did you ask her?”

“No, does it matter?”

Damn it! I’m too late! He’s already infatuated with this girl! He didn’t even think to ask the obvious questions. I’ve seen this before with him. He has a weakness for women with strong personalities. Like his mother. And his wife. And now, apparently, this girl.

“When will Ms. Conner be back?”

“This weekend. How did you know she would be coming back?”

“Just a good guess. I’d like to meet her.”

“I want you to, you’ll be impressed.”

He’s likely correct. Unfortunately.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

Cardoza ordered me to meet him at the end of my shift. I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong, I sure as fuck hope I haven’t, he’s not the forgiving kind. He told me to meet him on the third floor, not his office on the first floor. I don’t know anybody who’s ever been up there. I take the stairs instead of the elevator, it gives me time to think and I wouldn’t be trapped in elevator cab if he’s waiting for me with a surprise.

I raise my hand to push the buzzer on the intercom but it crackles to life.

“Come in, Mr. Escaban.”

Huh. Same trick as Hobbes. Wonder who came up with it first.

The deadbolts open so I slowly turn the doorknob and push the door, stepping back as it swings open. Nothing yet. I quickly enter and look around. There’s a lot more room than furniture. If he’s not going to use all this space, they ought to expand those damn cracker boxes we live in. Cardoza’s in the kitchen, holding two beer bottles.

“Have a seat on the couch please, Mr. Escaban.”

There’s nothing obviously suspicious about the couch, but it’s Cardoza, there wouldn’t be. As I sit down, he walks out of the kitchen and sets the two beers on the low table in front of the couch. “Have one.” He says, sitting in the padded chair on the other side of the table.

Which one? The one near me … the one near him? Are they poisoned? Maybe this is a test. Maybe I’m just too fucking paranoid. No, I’m not. I take the one nearest Cardoza but don’t drink until he does. He smiles at me after taking a swig from his bottle.

“Yours could still be poisoned, Mr. Escaban.”

Great. Am I being that obvious? I sniff the beer, seems okay. Well, I knew the job was dangerous when I took it. Tipping the bottle back, take a couple of big gulps and return the bottle to the table. “You can only take so many precautions.”

“True, but I’ve noticed that you always appear to be aware of when to take them. For example, when ever there is an emergency call, you’re never the first person to arrive, even if you are the closest to begin with. But you aren’t the last to arrive either.”

This IS a test! “Are you saying I’m not doing my job, Mr. Cardoza?”

“Not at all, Tony. I approve of your caution. Why be the first man through the door? You could get your head blown off. It is almost always best to be second or third. You may miss some profitable opportunities, but almost always survive to fight another day, eh’?”

“Something like that.”

“I have appreciated your willingness to keep me informed as to what is going on among the staff. You’ve provided valuable information in the past. Which causes me to wonder why you failed to contact me about Patricia Conner.”

I KNEW IT! That little BITCH was going to cause trouble! I’m the one who’s gonna take it in the ass! Well, I’m not going down alone. “Look, Mr. Cardoza, I wanted to contact you right away, but Henry said that we could handle it, to leave you out of it, that you were away on really important business.”

“Henry was right. I was away on important business and you all should have been capable of dealing with a tiny teenage girl. I have reviewed all the security tapes, she made fools of all of you.”

“I was on the night shift then, I had nothing to do with chasing that phony motorcyclist.”

“True … but it WAS your idea to call the police to try to force her off. Very successful.”

The cops should have done their damn job! “If they had been willing to do what we hire them for, the problem would have been over.”

“Or much worse. Ms. Conner planned her attack quite well. She benefited from some favorable circumstances that she could not have been aware of … or at least I hope she was unaware of. If she knew of the dinner party and my absence, then we have more serious problems than a young girl. Regardless, she had an answer to every action by the guards. This is an intelligence not possessed by your average young girl, not even an extraordinary young girl. So … what exactly is Patricia Conner?”

He’s looking at me, expecting an answer. Crap!

“I’ve seen her at the pool, she’s all girl, Mr. Cardoza. She’s got a pair of tits that just don’t stop, ya’ know? And that ass? No doubt, she’s a fine little bitch. Me personally, I don’t fuck with jail bait, at least not in this country, she looks to be exactly what she says. You don’t think she’s an older woman faking it, do you?”

He doesn’t say anything right away, just swirls the beer in his bottle. “I am not certain. She could be, though my investigators confirmed her story. All I know is that, when I watch the security files, she seems believable, but when I just listen to the files, she does not sound like any teenager I have ever known. She sounds more mature and intelligent than many women I have known … and most MEN. All of which concerns me. It is likely too late to do anything about it now anyway.”

What’s he talking about? “Too late for what? You can talk Mr. Hobbes into getting rid of her. You can talk him into anything.”

He smiles at that. “Perhaps you are correct, but not in this case. Raymond Hobbes is an outstanding man … loyal, charismatic, generally intelligent, well bred, all positive attributes, but he has one glaring weakness.”

“Which is?”

“He has an unnatural infatuation with women possessing strong personalities. His mother was such a woman, which probably explains a lot. His deceased wife was also such a woman. It appears the Patricia Conner fits that description.”

I chuckle. The old goat is fucking that little cunt. I shoulda known. Though … none of the guards said anything. If any of them knew something, they’d speak up. Well, a couple might keep it quiet. “Are you saying that Hobbes is screwing her?”

He seems surprised. “Sex? No, you misunderstand. He puts them on pedestals, worships them, but, most importantly, he listens to their opinions. I can see it in his face when he talks about her, he is already in the process of infatuation. Opinions will not change that course, though facts might.”

“What kind of facts?”

“Proof that she is not what she seems.”

“Got any of those ‘facts’?”

“Not now, but I have yet to speak with her. After that, we shall see. However, even if her story remains intact, she may still be useful.”

“How’s that?”

Cardoza looks at me for several seconds, remaining silent. It’s like he’s studying me or something. He suddenly stands up, walks back to the kitchen, picks up a file folder, returns to his chair and sits back down.

“I have been working with Hobbes for many years, we built this organization together and it is very successful, very profitable. Hobbes has a good head for business and a willingness to do what is required to get ahead. When we started, he had the contacts we needed among the authorities and I had the contacts we needed among the drug suppliers. We started as simple lieutenants in the Miguel Gallardo cartel. Soon we had our own territory, then multiple territories, then a country, and finally, countries. Gallardo … retired and we took over the largest, most profitable parts of his organization. The rest is history. Currently, we are the most successful and profitable of the cartels.”

“I know, that’s why I wanted to work for you.”

“Work for me … or Hobbes?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Not until now.”

Uh oh. “Now?”

“Hobbes has become complacent, more concerned with expenses than increasing sales. He doesn’t realize that we are under constant attack, directly or indirectly. Our position at the top is not guaranteed. We need to be more aggressive in Mexico, not only responding to attacks but going on the offensive, removing weaker cartels, survival of the fittest.”

“And Mr. Hobbes doesn’t agree?”

“He does not! He wants peace among the cartels. All this conflict is bad for business, according to him. While that’s true in the short term, there can be long term benefits, if you are willing to fight! He has become soft and content.”

“So … you plan to talk him into doing things your way? You seem to be able to do that on a regular basis.”

“It is interesting that you have noticed, Tony. Or did someone tell you that?”

I shrug. “People talk. I haven’t been here that long but I know your history with Mr. Hobbes. I know you’re the power behind the throne.”

“I am. My question to you, Tony, is where do your loyalties lay?”

SHIT! I don’t need this, not now, but he’s not going to give me time to think about this. “I’m kinda partial to whoever pays me, Mr. Cardoza.”

“You mean, who ever pays you the most?”

“Exactly!”

“I would hope for loyalty not contingent on a paycheck.”

“You’re the realist, Mr. Cardoza. I’ll go where ever I can do the best.”

“If you help me now, Tony, I can guarantee you’ll be taken care of in the future.”

“What about the present?”

“Better treatment now would only raise suspicions. I’m not ready to move yet, though it may not be long before I am. For now, you’ll need to continue to monitor things here at the compound for me. That hardly seems to be too much of a burden.”

“What will you be doing?”

“Traveling mostly, checking on the security of our far flung operations, making face to face connections with the vital people in the organization.”

“If I’m going to be doing all this extra work, I really think there should be some kind of pay increase.”

“So you won’t have to steal from the kitchen anymore?”

OOOHHhhh Jesus Christ! “I’ve got no idea what you’re …”

Cardoza taps the manila file folder on the table in front of him with his right index finger. “Raul keeps his inventory records in his head. He knew what was missing almost right away. When I checked the security logs, there were a series of camera feed outages. I get the same feeds here in my quarters up here.” FUCK! I didn’t know that. “So, I decided to stay up a couple of nights and watch. Imagine my surprise when I discover who has been stealing Hobbes imported beef. The man is an Argentinean, they know … and love their beef.”

He’s just sitting back, smiling at me. Hobbes wouldn’t have me killed for this, probably, but I’m gone if he finds out. Cardoza’s got me.

“I’ll keep you posted on what happens here, but what if Hobbes doesn’t stay put?”

“How many times has Hobbes left his home since you’ve been working here?”

“I don’t know … three, four I guess.”

“And each of those was by helicopter, straight to the airport, right onto a plane and out of the country for meetings that required he personally be there. Other than those few times, he stays right here, where I want him.”

“You want him stuck in this place?”

“Hobbes has an enormous fear of assassination. His parents both died that way and he’s been threatened a number of times. I’ve managed to foil several attempts over the years.”

“Real attempts?”

He smiles. “As far as anyone can prove. His wife grew tired of the constraints and was close to persuading him to be more willing to venture out into society when she, conveniently, died.”

Oh my GOD! Conveniently?! Did he kill Hobbes wife? I’m not even going to ask him that, just nodding my head.

“I see. So, how is it the kid goes to school instead of a tutor here at home?”

“An unfortunate promise that I was unaware of. As I said, Hobbes has a number of admirable qualities. Keeping his promises is one of those. The end result of all of this is that he is not likely to be going anywhere in the near future. Raymond Hobbes remains a good manager, a charismatic figurehead and a focal point for the organization, all positive assets for out cartel. He is not an unbalanced lunatic looking for fame and glory like some of our competitors. They live their lives as if they expect to die shortly in a blaze of gunfire and publicity, lives of excess and conspicuous consumption. I plan to help them reach their goals, then pick up the pieces, building the new, dominant drug cartel of the future. If Raymond is unable to support that vision … then we had a good run, he and I.”

He had as good as said that he was going to kill Hobbes when he stopped being useful, but he didn’t actually say it. With what he had on me, Cardoza could get me fired and discredit anything I might say about this meeting, though it probably wouldn’t come to that. He’d already told me way too much to let me go and blab to Hobbes. If I didn’t accept his offer, I’d likely not make it back to my room. So, that’s the test. Am I smart enough to see my options and pick the right one. I grab my beer bottle.

“Okay, I’m in. Let’s drink to your successful trip.” I extend the neck of the bottle towards him.

Cardoza clinks his bottle against mine. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Escaban.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

It’s been two days and Patricia has barely spoken with me, and then just one or two words at a time. I don’t know where she learned it, from my programming or Peter Harris’ experience with three wives or the unknown recesses of a female teenage brain, but Patricia wields the Silent Treatment like a pro. I tried to explain why I felt it necessary for Daniel to know about the warehouses but she won’t let me get two words out before she’s gone, headed for her room, the basement, wherever.

I know it was wrong to betray her trust, but surely they both can see how this is an opportunity to finish off Hobbes and bring this dangerous, exhausting operation finally to an end.

I’ll try to talk with her again tonight, after work.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

Gretchen’s doing a footwork drill, setting practice picks, then pivoting and sprinting to the basket, looking for the ball. Patricia doesn’t pass the ball, she’s just checking out her form, which is way lots better than anybody on our pathetic team.

Gretchen’s really improved in the few days we’ve been practicing after lunch, she’s getting the hang of it, particularly for someone who’s never played ball before. Whether or not she can play against a real person in a real game and, oh bye the way, that person is a tall, strong, GUY, that’s another thing. I look over at the gym clock. It’s 12:50, time to wrap this up. Patricia looks my way, I wave and point to the clock. She glances at it, turns back towards me, and nods her head.

“That’s enough for now, Gretchen. Get changed and I’ll see you sixth period.”

She trots gracefully over to Patricia. Gawd! A girl who looks like her, so tall and beautiful … it makes you want to claw her eyes out. Too bad she’s so damn nice. “How’m I doing, Coach,” she asks brightly.

“Not bad, not bad. You still hesitate when you first take off towards the basket. Don’t wait, just go as soon as you pick the guy off. They’ll probably try to grab you a little, maybe a lot. Just knock their arms away and GO. If you’re open, I’ll hit you. Don’t chase the ball, it’ll be there,” answer’s Patricia.

“When do we start actually passing and shooting?”

“Tomorrow, Thursday. Friday it’ll be defense and Saturday we kick butt!” She puts up her hand for a high five but it’s barely higher than Gretchen’s head. She slaps it anyway, turns and strolls towards the locker room, wiping her face with the front of her shirt. Patricia watches her go, while I walk over to talk.

“What say you, Terri?” she asks, not taking her eyes off Gretchen.

“She’s doing way better.”

“Come ready to play tomorrow. It’ll be your job to push her around as hard as you can.”

“Can I push you around?”

“You can TRY, if you can catch me.”

Fat chance of that. I don’t know why it is, but she seems kinda … sad.

“You okay, Patty?”

“Sure, fine … why not?”

“Don’t know, you just don’t act fine.”

She sighs. “Had a fight with my Mom. We’re not talking right now.”

“Hah, wish me and my mom weren’t talking. She’s all over me about all kinds of shit every day. It’s like hand to hand combat. What you guys fighting about?”

“She just told somebody something she promised she wouldn’t.”

“Ohhh, the old violation of trust thing, that’s a toughie.”

“She says she thought it was the right thing to do.”

“That’s always the way, isn’t it? Like a parent ever admits she did something wrong. But you try to explain why you did what you did and she’s all up in your face, no excuse is good enough, you’re just an immature little kid who can’t think for yourself, right?”

“Uhhh … yeah, just like that.”

“Don’t let her push you around, Patricia, stick to your guns. Everybody around here looks up to you.”

She smirks. “Everybody?”

“Well, a lot of girls … the smart ones.”

She winks at me. “I’ll try not to let em’ down. Thanks for the help, Terri. I couldn’t do this without you.”

I stand up taller, prouder. “No prob … Da’Pee.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

I haven’t had a chance to check out my lap top since getting back from the weekend at Gretchen’s, haven’t even turned it on. I made a mirror copy of absolutely everything before giving it to Mr. Tippett and I want to check it for changes before doing anything else. I’m curios to see exactly what he did. He said it was only what was necessary for me to access the home network, but I’ll believe that when I see it.

After booting it up, I attach the backup USB hard drive and start comparing code, using a separate monitor, line by line. Normally, this could take weeks but I can scan this stuff at lightning speed. Setting the Balancer on Pink Forty Five, I’m just looking for changes, nothing else. I can feel the computer part of my brain smoothly shift into high gear and take off. When I catch a change, I note where it is and move on, analyses is for later.

It only takes me about an hour to go over everything twice, just to be safe. Now, to see exactly what he did. At first, the subroutines appear to be what I would expect, then they take a more sinister turn. He’s getting access to the modem and the wireless card. And the root drive. If I read this right, whenever I access the internet, he’s going to not only know it, but be able to monitor what I do and see, along with searching my emails and reading any file on my computer.

I shouldn’t be surprised, I’m sure he did the same thing to Gretchen’s lap top, but she’s Hobbes daughter, I’m just a visitor. He had to be pretty confident of his skills to even try stuff like this. I could march right into Hobbes office, show him exactly what Tippett did and scream bloody murder. I’d likely get an apology and a new lap top, even if Hobbes had originally ordered Tippett to do it. Blame whoever you can when you get caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

However … now that I know about it, I can use it. There’s absolutely nothing incriminating on my computer and, by studying what he did, I should be able to see how he thinks when programming. It could help me find some security holes in his system. Any information can help.

After turning the Balancer back to Blue Fifty, I sneak back to Mom’s bedroom and return it to the table by her bed. Technically, I’m not supposed to mess with it, the Balancer is her responsibility. We’ve not had any fights about it for months. In fact, she’s insisted on Blue Fifty more often than our original deal. For quite awhile, I honestly can’t say that I’ve noticed the particular settings between Blue Thirty Five and Pink Ten; it all feels the same to me. If I concentrate, I could probably determine the setting within a couple of points, but it hardly matters. Still, I shouldn’t be changing settings on my own. I just don’t want to deal with Mom right now.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

I shouted out to Mom that I was leaving for the weekend as I left the house after school on Friday, not waiting for her reply. I know, I know … this Cold Shoulder thing has gone on long enough, but I don’t know how to end it. I’m certainly not going to apologize because she was in the wrong but there’s got to be a good way to stop this. It’s a shame they didn’t add all the old columns of “Dear Abbey” to my data base.

The attitude at the gate is friendlier this time, as is my search by Henry. He actually helps me take off my back pack and everything.

“You got anything special planned for us this weekend, Conner?”

Actually, I thought I could do several fruit pies for Saturday dinner and chocolate chip muffins for a Sunday snack … but I’m not telling him. “If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise.”

“The guys have been speculating, Lou’s betting on a cake of some kind.”

I lean in close as I sling my bag over my shoulder. “Take his money.”

He smiles. “Sure thing.” He points to a section of the x-ray image of my bag. “What’s this?”

I bring the bag back off my shoulder, drop it to the floor and unzip the front pouch. Reaching in, I grab the camera and pull it out. “It’s something Mr. Tippett asked me to bring for him to see. He seemed interested.”

Henry took it from my hand and inspected it from several angles. “Okay, as long as you take it right to him, got it?”

I salute crisply. “Yes, Sir!”

He hands it back to me. “Get out of here, smart ass. I’d keep an eye on Tippett, if I were you though. He’s a bit of a pervert.”

I swing my bag over my shoulder. “Thanks. I’ll be careful.”

“Make sure you are, Conner.”

As I enter the foyer, Gretchen comes hurrying down the stairs, grabbing my left arm as soon as she reaches me. She looks worried.

“Enrique’s here!” she urgently whispers.

“So?” I whisper back.

“He’s gonna want to see you!”

“Good, I want to meet him. I’ve already met everybody else.”

“You don’t understand, he’s not like the rest of the staff, he runs this place! He’s in charge. Nothing happens around here that he doesn’t approve.”

“But, he works for your dad, right? Your dad makes the important decisions.”

She squeezes my arm tighter. “Sometimes I wonder about that. They start off disagreeing once in awhile, then Enrique gets his way, eventually. He’s a Svengali.”

I pat her hand, then gently pry it off my arm. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. I gotta drop this off at Mr. Tippett’s office, then we can change for dinner. Is Mr. Cordoza going to be there?”

“Probably, he’s there about half the time, talking business with Father. I leave as soon as I can.”

I take her arm in mine. “C’mon, let’s take this to Mr. Tippett. One job done, on to the next.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

Patty just doesn’t understand. Enrique’s nothing like the guards, like anybody else here. He’s … scary. She acts like it’s no big deal to have to talk with him, but the guards are afraid of him. I’ve seen it.

Tippett seemed happy to get the thing Patty took to him. She showed him how it worked and he went right to taking it apart. He better be able to put it back together or I’m telling Father. Patty doesn’t seem to care but he can’t go breaking my friend’s stuff, especially because she doesn’t have that much to start with. The clothes she brought with her look like most of the same things she brought last week. We got rid of a lot of my clothes last weekend and I didn’t even think about what she might have at home. I forget how much better off I am than her, at least financially.

We go to my room to change and I offer to let her use the bathroom but she says we’re cool, which makes me happy. I like it that we’re comfortable with each other, I’ve never really been comfortable around girls my age, boys either for that matter. Patty’s just different from anybody else I know.

She puts on the same blouse and skirt she had last week, though she adds a light scarf tied loosely around her neck. She seems calm. I wish I could explain to her what kind of person Enrique is, how dangerous he is. I can’t say that I’ve ever actually seen him do anything that bad, but I’ve heard the guards talking about him when they don’t know I’m around. If they aren’t lying, he’s done or ordered some terrible things. I hope my Father’s not aware of all he’s done, but I’m afraid he may. What kind of person does that make him?

“How do I look?” Patty asks.

“Great. Ahhh … listen. You sure you want to do this?”

“Eat? Yeah, I’m famished! You may not have noticed, but I didn’t eat much lunch, wanted to leave plenty of room for whatever Raul is making today. You don’t know how lucky you are, he’s a terrific chef.”

“Yeah, I’m reeaallyy lucky. I wasn’t talking about supper, I meant are you sure you want to speak to Enrique. He’s not the kind of person most people want to talk to … or see … or be around … or breathe the same air.”

She pats my arm. “Don’t worry. I think your Dad likes me, that should be enough.”

I shake my head. “I sure hope so.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

Both Patty and I are sitting in the dining room, waiting for Father to arrive, when Raul comes into the room. He never comes in unless Father asks for him. It’s not like he isn’t allowed, he just doesn’t do it. This time, he opens his arms wide.

“Where’s my girl?!” he shouts.

Patty jumps up, runs over to him and they hug, both smiling. I’ve never seen Raul hug anybody before. He’s so much bigger than she is, she practically disappears when he grabs her, you just see her arms around his waist. They do this for a couple of seconds, then break apart.

He puts his hand on her shoulder. “You got ideas for this weekend?” he asks.

She looks around quickly, just seeing me, leans in closer and quietly answers. “I’m thinking fruit pies.”

“Basket weave crusts?”

“With egg white glaze.”

He smiles. “Very good! We start right after supper, get crusts ready. In morning, we go to city market and get fresh fruit. Okay?”

She looks over at me. “I’ll go if Gretchen can go; I’m her guest this weekend. It’s only fair.”

Raul frowns. “I no think Mr. Hobbes like that.”

“But if you ask him, and we take Henry and Lou with us, it should be fine. It’d be like a school field trip, right?”

Raul grins down at her, rubbing her head. “Okay, Raul ask, maybe he say yes. You enjoy meal. Lemon broiled tuna, asparagus soup, your bread, Caesar salad. Everything perfect!”

“Sounds wonderful Raul! I can’t wait. Haven’t eaten all day!”

He laughs, waves goodbye, opens the door to the kitchen hall and walks out, whistling. I’ve never seen him so happy.

“What was that about?” I ask.

“What was what about?”

“All that. The hugging, the planning, all that. I didn’t get a hug.”

“You want one?” She opens her arms.

“That’s not the point.”

She drops her arms. “Then why’d you bring it up?”

I don’t know why I mentioned it. “That’s not important. Just what’s the deal with you and Raul?”

“Nothin’. We’re just friends and coconspirators.”

“About what?”

She leans in closer to me. “To get you out of this house once and awhile. You heard about the city market, right?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“It’s a fascinating place, plus, it gets you away from here for a little while. It’s the first small step of many. Trust me, you’ll enjoy it.”

Just then, Father and Enrique came in. They seemed to be in a good mood. Father’s face lit up when he saw Patty.

“Patricia! So good of you to come see us this weekend! I’d like to introduce you to Enrique Cardoza, my strong right hand. I don’t know what I would do without him.”

Enrique gives her an oily smile and offers his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Conner. Raymond has told me so much about you, I feel as if we are already friends.”

She takes his hand and shakes it, returning his smile with one of her brightest. “Happy to meet you, Mr. Cardoza, though I’m afraid I don’t know much about you. People here don’t seem to want to talk about you.”

“I prefer it that way, Patricia. May I call you Patricia?”

“Sure, Mr. Cardoza, it’s my name after all.”

Father pulls out his chair and sits. “Let’s all sit down. I hear that Raul has outdone himself today.” He looks over at Patty. “I wonder why that is.”

She simply shrugs and sits back down, as does Enrique.

The maids immediately come out and serve the soup and salad, putting baskets of bread on the table. The smell is incredible. If it tastes half as good, Father could be right.

Patty and Father pick up their philosophy discussion again. This time it’s about fate verses self determination. Patty argues for self determination while Father seems to believe fate has a hand in most situations. Patty claims that there is always a moral choice to be made and not choosing is a choice. They go back and forth, eating and fighting, but in a friendly way, Father frequently laughing and Patty giggling.

All this time, Enrique says nothing, he just watches, listens, and eats. It’s just like him, watching like a snake, waiting for his turn to strike, all the patience in the world. As Father finishes eating, he turns to Enrique.

“Is she not everything I said she was, Enrique? Have you ever met a more interesting girl?”

“No … no, I have not. Raymond told me you are originally from Spokane, is that true?”

Patty doesn’t say anything right away, she gets a serious look on her face. “No … Portland Oregon.”

“Ahhh yes, Portland. And your mother works for a bank?”

Now she’s frowning. “A public relations firm.”

“Where was it you went to school before St. Ann’s?”

“Look, Mr. Cardoza. Mr. Hobbes and I have already talked about this. I know that you know all about me and my Mom and how you found out. She and I are still pretty upset about the whole thing. Mr. Hobbes and I agreed not to mention it again, to avoid fighting about it.”

“That is true,” Father said.

Enrique smiles tightly. “I, however, have not agreed to anything. I am curious how you discovered the listening devices.”

Patty returns his smile with one of her own. “That was easy. I was trying to set up a Wi-Fi network at home and got a free router from Craig’s list. It was first generation B, so it was pretty old. I couldn’t get a clean signal because of a lot of interference. Turns out the bugs were broadcasting on a nearby frequency and there was some bleed over. I just used my laptop and the router to find the source of the interference and viola … found the bugs. Took about twenty minutes.”

“How did you know it was done by us?”

“You didn’t do it, you hired someone else. They passed themselves off as FPL repairmen. They were the only people who had been through the house recently. I should have suspected them from the start.”

“And how did you trace them to us?”

“I didn’t, it was obvious. Why would anybody care about me or my Mom? We’re just a couple of nobodies. They show up shortly after Gretchen and I become friends. One plus one equals two.”

“I see. You seem to have an answer to every question.”

“My Mom says that if you always tell the truth, you won’t have any trouble answering any question.”

“Interesting. Do you and she always tell the truth?”

“Pretty much. We’re fighting right now because she told somebody something I thought she should have kept to herself.”

“And what was that?”

“None of your business, Mr. Cardoza.”

I gasp quietly. I’ve never heard anybody say anything like that to Enrique. The smile has left his face. He leans forward on his forearms.

“And if I decided to make it my business?”

Patty cuts a piece of fish on her plate with her knife and fork, spears the slice with her fork, slowly raises it to her mouth while intently staring at Enrique. She pops it in her mouth, thoroughly chews it, swallows, and replaces the fork on her plate.

“Then you and I will have a problem … Mr. Cardoza.” She’s not smiling either.

Oh. My. God. I stop breathing and look over at Father. He looks shocked. Patricia just told Enrique, very politely, to drop dead. I don’t think even Father ever told Enrique that! There’s just total silence for several seconds, no one moving. Patricia and Enrique continue focusing on each other, neither blinking. Finally, Enrique leans back into his chair, a small smile on his face but fire in his eyes.

“No Raymond, I have never met a more interesting girl.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

After supper, Father summoned Raul to compliment him on the meal. While he was there, he asked about Patty and I going with him to the City Market Saturday morning. He’d already spoken with Henry and Lou and they, reluctantly, had agreed, as long as they got extra pieces of pie. Enrique made his usual objections about safety and security, but he didn’t really push it, which was odd. Father ended up agreeing that we could go. Patty gave me a thumbs up, smiling broadly. I gave her a thumbs up back. Then Raul mentioned we’d be leaving at 6:30 in the morning.

What the hell is with Patty and Saturday mornings?

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

I was in the last half hour of my shift, watching the monitors in the Security Building, when someone put their hand on my shoulder. I looked up and back to my right. It was Cardoza.

“I would like to talk with you when you’re done here.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Cardoza.”

He walks away to his office, closing the door behind him.

I know he’s just finished eating at the house. We’ve got a camera in the dining room but we’re ordered to turn it off during meals, to give Hobbes some privacy. The microphones on other nearby cameras can pick up parts of conversations so I’ve got some idea what went on. I think there was some kinda argument about something. Actually, there was a lot of arguing throughout the entire meal, but the early stuff sounded friendly, there was a lot of laughing. Not so much later on.

The rest of the shift is normal, nothing happening any where on the grounds. As the next shift comes wandering in, I walk over and knock on Cardoza’s door.

“Come in, Tony.”

I open the door, slide in and quickly close it behind me.

“Sit down.”

The office is as bare as his apartment above, nothing but the basics. The chairs are also just basic wooden chairs, no padding. The ones out in the main room are much nicer. I sit down, saying nothing. He seems upset, though it’s hard to tell with him.

“I met with Patricia Conner.”

“How’d it go?”

He doesn’t answer me, instead he leans back in his chair, elbows resting on the arms, fingers interlocked, thumbs bumping against each other.

“It is worse than I thought. Hobbes is completely taken with her. I can’t tell what her game is, she seems to have no interest in our business but she has attempted to befriend every important person in the household. I suspect some of the guards are also … attracted to her.”

“They spread the word, she’s strictly hands off.”

“Which just proves my point. She’s made an effort to make friends with most everyone … except me. She goes out of her way to confront me. If she was trying to charm her way into the household, she should be trying to win me over more than even Hobbes. Unless she’s unaware of my position.”

“Oh she knows. Raul’s told all of us to watch out for her, make sure she doesn’t accidentally do something stupid to annoy you. Talk about winning someone over. I think Raul would adopt her if he could.”

“Which makes her behavior even more puzzling.”

“You think she’s a plant of some kind?”

Again, he doesn’t answer, just sitting in his chair, thinking, the only thing moving are his thumbs. “No … no … I don’t think she is … at least there is no evidence she is … not yet, though that may change. She is … unsettling. Too smart and mature for her age, too opinionated for a young girl.”

“How many young girls do you actually know?”

“None, other than Gretchen.”

“Then you don’t know any young girls. They’ve got lots of opinions. Some of em’ will talk your damn ears off. I agree, she’s different, but that’s not why.”

“Why do you find her different?”

“Because, it’s like she’s always thinking. Every time I see her, it’s like something’s going on in her head. You don’t know what or why, but it’s there … just like you, Mr. Cardoza.”

He smiles for the first time tonight, chuckling. “Maybe that’s it, Tony. Maybe I subconsciously recognize some similarities between us. Regardless, she could be useful. It has been some time since Hobbes suffered a personal loss. The lessons from the deaths of his parents and wife may be wearing off. It is getting more difficult all the time to keep him from leaving the compound. If he becomes emotionally invested in this Conner girl, her death will be all the more devastating.”

WHAT?! “You’re going to kill her?!”

“Me? Personally? No, of course not. That will be your job, Tony.”

“WHOA! You want ME to kill her?”

“Possibly, though it’s more likely that you’ll find someone else to do it for you. You DO have connections with the local gangs … don’t you?”

So that’s why he’s using me, my outside gang contacts. “Yeah … what about em’?”

“Simple. I don’t want Conner in the household. It is too late for me to persuade Hobbes to just kick her out. She has done nothing wrong, or even suspicious. But her presence is a problem, none the less. She is disruptive and unpredictable and I can’t control her, quite similar to Hobbes’ wife. If I can’t control her, I might as well use her. Her death, perhaps gruesome death, could be helpful, properly timed of course. Let Hobbes have his new toy, let him grow fond of it, let him have a taste of freedom. It will be all the more crushing when I take it away … don’t you agree?”

He’s looking at me, a bland, emotionless expression on his face. There’s no doubt … he’s a crazy mother fucker. A dangerous, crazy mother fucker who’s always thinking. There’s only one thing to do.

“Absolutely, Mr. Cardoza. I completely agree.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

I was deep asleep when the bed started shaking. It took me several seconds to figure out what was going on. Patty was on her back, arms spread out at her sides, pressing down on the mattress, head tossing back and forth, muttering something I couldn’t understand. She seemed to be still sleeping. I couldn’t decide what to do, I remember a girl at school saying that if you wake somebody who’s sleep walking that they’ll die. It could be the same thing here. Patty’s getting louder and more active, now she’s practically throwing her body left and right, back and forth. I’m just about to push the panic button by my bed when she screams real loud and shoots upright, breathing rapidly.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

I’m back in the darn warehouse with Tommy Flannigan, doing the deal for the guns. Of all my continuing nightmares, this one is among the top ten. Try as I might, I can’t stop the inevitable from happening, me blowing Tommy’s head off. And it’s just as horrifying every blasted time. This time, when I wake up, I don’t recognize anything. It’s not my bed or my bedroom … and someone’s in bed with me.

“Patty! Are you alright?”

“What?!... What? … Where … ” I can’t catch my breath, as usual. Who ever it is reaches out with her arms, gently pulling me to her and wrapping her arms around me. I hang on for dear life, breathing hard.

“Come on Patty,” she quietly says. “You’re gonna be fine. It was just a bad dream, that’s all it was, just a nasty ol’ bad dream.” She lays her head against mine and tenderly rocks me, until my heart stops pounding.

I’d remembered it was Gretchen and where I was almost as soon as I’d gotten my senses back in order, but I don’t stop her, I just let her hold me and slowly sway back and forth, both of us sitting upright in her giant pink bed. Closing my eyes, I return her hug, pulling my right cheek into her soft breasts, her warm breath tickling my neck. We just stay there, for what seems like several blissful minutes, when there’s a knock at the door.

“Miss Hobbes! Are you alright?”

Gretchen sighs. “Go away, we’re fine. Patty just had a bad dream, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve got to check on you, Miss Hobbes. It’s the rules … sorry.”

Gretchen lifts her head from mine but keeps hold of me. “We’re okay,” she says, raising her voice. “I’m okay, everything’s okay. It’s fine, just a bad dream … that’s all. Go away … please go away.”

“I’m very sorry,” the voice insists, “but I gotta see you, see you’re safe, that’s the rules … very sorry about it.”

Gretchen sighs again. “Damn it” she mutters, then loosens her grip on me. I reluctantly let her go too as she slides away towards the edge of the bed, throws off the covers and quickly stalks to the door, switching on the lights when she reaches it, momentarily blinding me. She unlocks, then unbolts the door, throwing it open.

“See! We’re fine, no problems.”

A guard sheepishly steps in as she stands back, away from the door. He looks around the room, his eyes landing on my boobs, hanging mostly out of my black satin nightie. Quickly covering myself with the sheet, he continues to stare at me, like I’m gonna give him another peek or something.

Gretchen steps next to him, craning her head around so that she’s speaking directly into his left ear. “Seen enough?” she asks acidly.

The guard snaps his eyes away from my chest and rapidly backs towards the door. “I’m really sorry about this Miss Hobbes but the rules say I gotta check out any suspicious noise. When she screamed … I had no choice ya see.” He stops, standing just inside the door way. “It’s the rules,” he repeats.

Gretchen puts her hand to his chest and shoves him out of the door way. “Fuck the rules!” she shouts, slamming the door and relocking it. She returns to bed but the moment is clearly gone, both of us looking awkwardly at the other.

“Sorry about that, Patty.”

“No, no, I completely understand, makes perfect sense. Someone screams in the middle of the night, ya’ gotta check that out. Could be anything.”

She flops back onto the bed. “I have NO privacy in this place. People come in here all the time. If I hadn’t let him in, he would have come in himself, they’ve ALL got the key.”

“That’s a bummer. Uhhhh … thanks for helping me … you know … back then … when I was all … uh, panicky and everything.”

“You’re welcome. That’s what my mother used to do when I was little and had a nightmare.”

“It, ahhh, it really helped, a lot. Wish you were around all the rest of the time.”

“Does it happen often, the bad dreams?”

“Yeah, most of the time, actually. Some are worse than others. That was a bad one.”

“What was it about?”

“It’s kinda hard to remember the details, ya’ know? Basically, some one I know gets shot. I try to stop it but can’t. There’s a bunch of blood and stuff.” And guilt … lots of guilt.

“That’s terrible! Can’t they give you something for that?”

“Maybe, but I don’t really like to take drugs, not if I can help it.”

“But it’s medicine, good drugs instead of … you know.” She looks ashamed. It’s not her fault what her father does. I take her hand.

“What do I need drugs for when I’ve got Gretchen’s healing touch, right?”

She smiles and pulls me down next to her, wrapping her arms around me. “Fine, but no more bad dreams tonight. I was scared to death during that last one, all that thrashing around. At first I thought it was one of those sex dreams, until you screamed.”

“Sex dreams can end that way too … if you’re lucky.”

She giggles. “You nasty girl!”

You’ve no idea how nasty … girl.

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

Mom and I’ve been to the City Market several times, but never this early. This time of day, it’s a completely different experience. The only ones shopping now are the professionals, commercial chefs from local restaurants, buyers from the smaller markets and non-chain grocery stores, and personal chefs like Raul. Everyone seems to know Raul and he knows them. Buyers know what they’re looking for and how much they’re willing to pay. There’s a lot more haggling going on. When it’s just regular people, the prices are what they are. Now, it’s raw capitalism on parade. Supply and demand rules.

Raul introduces me to every vendor he deals with and has me check out each item he’s considering, waiting for my opinion before making an offer. I don’t really know what I’m doing but can fake it, thanks to all those years under cover. We actually do a little bad cop, good cop on a couple of fruit and vegetable sellers, managing to get several good deals on some really nice fresh fruit, particularly the strawberries and blueberries. The apples are good too, this years crop fresh from Michigan. The peaches are disappointing though. There’s nothing you can do to save an average peach. If they’re good, you’re fine, if they aren’t, don’t bother with em’.

Gretchen wanders all over the place, checking out everything, Henry and Lou staying right with her. I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything else but it would have been nice if they’d cut her a little slack. It’s clear that not many shoppers show up with bodyguards. I think some people are trying to figure out who she is … a singer, an actress, maybe a model. It’s kinda funny to watch how people treat her, nicely but warily.

Henry and Lou end up carrying most of the stuff back to the car, grumbling the entire time. I’ll need to make sure they’re properly rewarded at supper tonight. Gretchen was full of questions all the way back to the compound; she’d really enjoyed the whole thing, except the early morning part. I bought her an Elephant Ear when we first got to the market and her attitude improved immediately. She’d never had one before.

I promised Raul that I’d be back in plenty of time to work on the pies. First, Gretchen and I’ve got some asses to kick.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

Hobbes is anxious to end our meeting after lunch, he’s wanting to get to his little basketball games. In fact, he’s already changed clothes. I don’t understand why he’s adopted American basketball when football is the sport of the world, though, admittedly, it would be hard to fit a football pitch inside the walls of the compound and get enough players together for two full teams. Still, it seems to be an abandonment of his culture.

“Enrique, our inventory is too large. I’m uncomfortable having this much product in the country, it’s pushing our storage capacity to the limit.”

“Don’t worry X-ray, it is a temporary problem. Once things settle down in California, their sales will increase and product will start moving again at the usual rates. Besides, what are your other options, let it accumulate in Mexico? You’re always complaining about how unstable everything is there, that our competitors are crazy fools, likely to do anything. At least we have control here in the United States.”

“True. You are correct again Enrique, as usual. Do you still plan on visiting all of my facilities in South America?”

“Certainly the major ones in Bolivia, Argentina, Venezuela, and Chile. Plus Mexico, of course.”

“Venezuela. There the government is crazy. Chavez should hurry up and die.”

“Then who replaces Chavez?”

“Good question. Dictators rarely have a succession plan, unless it’s within the family. He doesn’t have a son, does he?”

“I don’t know, X-ray.”

“Let’s hope not. As for my competitors, what progress on the infiltration plan?”

“Very good. We have contacts with people in all the major cartels and most of the minor ones. I believe that they want to have a connection with us so as to have some other, shall we say, employment possibilities, should their current employers fail.”

“Have promises been made?”

“Some.”

“Are any of them likely candidates?”

“No.”

“Then they will be disappointed. Unfortunate for them. If there is nothing else …” He starts to stand up but there is a buzz at the door as soon as he rises from his chair. I can see the monitor, it is Tippett.

“Yes, Tippett.” He says, clearly frustrated about being delayed.

“Sorry Mr. Hobbes. You wanted me to tell you if I ever heard about good business opportunities in the tech area. I think I’ve got one.”

Hobbes rolls his eyes. “Perhaps this can wait until later.”

“Sure Mr. Hobbes. It’s just that the Conner girl gave me her camera and …”

Hobbes’ face lights up. He reaches over and pushes the button to unlock the door. “Come in, Mr. Tippett.”

He slowly opens the door as Hobbes waives him in, pointing to a seat. Tippett is carrying a small box with him, which he keeps in his lap as he sits down.

“What about Patricia?” Hobbes asks.

“I asked her to bring me that surveillance camera that she built, you know, the one that caused all the problems? I got it yesterday and took it apart. It was really amazing! A hand built circuit board, a SD card for memory, off the shelf solar cells, rechargeable batteries from some old cell phones …”

“Briefly, Tippett.” I say. Hobbes looks relieved.

“Sure, sure. The whole thing is brilliant. Self contained, mobile, good anywhere in the world with 4G wireless access, lots of battery power to get through cloudy days, it does it all. She cobbled this together using old tech and off the shelf parts then wrote a dead simple operating system to make it all work together. It’s so simple, it’s hack proof.”

“Your point, Mr. Tippett?” asks Hobbes.

“There’s a market for this, a big one. If you used current tech and manufacturing, you could get this thing down to the size of a softball, maybe smaller, depending on the solar cell’s efficiency. You could drop it anywhere in the civilized world and you’ve got eyes and ears on the ground. The military would love it! Security firms would kill for it. She’s got night vision in here, for God’s sake. Change the wireless card and it’s good in Europe, China and Japan. You could sit in this office and check out what’s going on in damn near two thirds of the world. Five years from now, it could be the entire world. That kid is fucking good!”

“And why does that matter to us?” I ask.

Tippett appears to be confused. Hobbes speaks up.

“I told Mr. Tippett to keep an ear to the ground for attractive business opportunities. I thought that it might be good to expand into more legitimate areas, should the prospect arise.”

“Why would we be interested in that, Raymond?”

Hobbes stands up, moving towards the door. “We can talk about this later, Enrique. I’m already late for the game. Thank you for bringing this to my attention Tippett, we will speak in more detail later.”

And he’s gone, leaving Tippett and I alone in the office.
“Tippett …”

“He told me to do this, Mr. Cardoza! I’m just doing what I was told to do! It’s not my …”

I raise my hand slightly. “Calm down Tippett. I understand, I’m not blaming you. I just have a question. Since you’re so good at doing what you’re told, did you follow my instructions concerning Conner’s computer?”

He appears relieved. “Yes, sir! Any outside computers with access to our systems gets spy ware. It wasn’t easy either. She damn near had her own version of Linux, took me a lot longer than usual to make the mods. I couldn’t begin to describe the kernel …”

“I don’t need the technical details. Can you monitor her computer?”

“Absolutely. She goes online and I’ll know it. I can see anything she does, read any email, search her hard drive, just like I do with Gretchen’s.”

“And she won’t know it?”

“Naw, not a chance. Clearly, she’s good. I mean, wow, that camera, but I’m the best, Mr. Cardoza.”

“Good. I want you to watch her carefully. Report anything suspicious to me immediately.”

“Yes, sir. You got it. You can count on me.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

Hobbes was late, so they started without him. He and Riley never play first any way. Sidney blows hot so he and Gomez win twenty one to ten. Jackson was pissed, must have had some kinda side bet. Hobbes showed up just after the first game finished so he and Riley warmed up. Five minutes later, Lou arrived, slapping me on the back.

“Hey Henry, just won twenty from Jackson.”

“He didn’t look happy about it.”

“Shouldn’t have made the bet then, should he?”

“Guess not. Got money on this game?”

“You kidding? Who bets against Hobbes? Might as well bet against the Globetrotters.”

“Yeah, for the same damn reason.”

“They’re good, you know that.”

“Riley’s good, Hobbes is okay. You switch Jackson for Hobbes, Riley still wins. No one gets up in Hobbes face on defense, not really. You watch.”

Lou sits down next to me on the bleachers. “I know. Maybe you and I can get out there, show em’ how it’s done.”

“Yeah. Right.” I snort. “I’m way too old for that shit, you too. I’d like to keep my ACL in one piece, thank you very much.”

“You’re a chicken shit, Henry.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“You need to take a chance now and then, that’s all”

Gomez has called time out. They’re already down seventeen to ten, they won’t last much longer.

“WE GOT WINNERS!”

Who the hell? It came from behind me, everyone looks that way. It’s Gretchen and Conner, standing side by side, dressed in athletic shorts and T shirts, Conner with a ball on her hip and a crooked grin on her face, Gretchen looks scared and nervous.

Some of the guys start to laugh, including Lou, but I’ve learned the hard way not to underestimate Conner. She looks cool and confident. She’s up to something.

“What the hell do they want?” asked Lou.

“Looks like they want to play ball.”

“Against Riley and Hobbes? No chance.”

“NO Chance, Lou? None at all? You haven’t seen them play yet.”

“They’re just a couple of girls. Gretchen’s tall, for a girl, but Conner’s a midget! Look at em’. Mutt and Jeff with tits!”

“I’d wait until you see what they can do, if I were you.”

“You think they’ve got a chance, put some green down buddy. Hell, I’ll give you odds, three, no, four to one. Four to one, Henry. What do ya say?”

“I’d say I’m in for a benny.”

“A hundred?! You’re kidding!”

“Nope. You gonna cover that, big man?”

“Hell yes.”

Hobbes is smiling. I can’t figure out if he’s happy, amused, surprised, proud or what. I know he tried to get Gretchen into some kind of sport for years before he gave up.

“You girls certain about that?” he asks.

Everyone turns to look at the girls. Conner nudges Gretchen with her elbow, who steps forward.

“Yeah, we’re certain!” she shouts.

“Excellent! We’ll finish this game quickly and then it’s your turn. No mercy, just because you’re my daughter, Gretchen.”

“No mercy because you’re my Father either.”

A number of guys go “UUUUUUWWWWWW!!” then laugh, but they don’t see Conner pat Gretchen on the back, who turns and smiles at her, her nervousness apparently gone.

While Hobbes and Riley finish off Gomez and Sidney, I slip off the bleachers and walk over to Conner.

“Hey.” I say.

“Hey.” Conner answers.

“Can you guys actually win this?”

“Yeah, we can and will. I’ve been watching them, got a pretty good idea what they can do. They’ve never seen us and we’ve been practicing.”

“When?”

“After lunch at school.”

“So, you’ve been planning this?”

“Yep.”

“Well you better win. I’ve got a hundred bucks riding on it.”

“Huh. You must have a lot of confidence in us.”

“I got good odds.”

“What are they?”

“Four to one.”

“Not bad. From who?”

“Lou.”

“He good for it?”

“Better be.”

Riley just slammed home the final point over Sidney. I’m pretty sure he and Gomez didn’t put up much of a fight after the girls showed up, they knew what Hobbes wanted.

“Looks like you’re up girls. Good luck.”

“Thanks, we’ll do our best.”

“Screw that. Win.”

They trot off to the court and I return to my seat.

Nobody’s left and they’re intently watching the girls warm up. They’ve both got decent form and Gretchen actually has some hops, for a girl, but Riley can block anything she’s put up so far. I don’t know how Conner is going to even get off a shot. They both have hit about one third of their warm up shots.

“You wanna pay me now, Henry?”

He may be right. “Fuck off, Lou.”

“They can’t hit shit unguarded. Riley may set a block record.”

“We’ll see.”

Hobbes and Riley are sitting in chairs on the sideline, also closely watching, occasionally leaning closer together, talking. Hobbes reclines in his chair, hands behind his head.

“Ready whenever you are, ladies.”

Conner passes the ball to him. “Let’s go.”

“Very Good.” He and Riley get up and walk on to the court. “I assume you both know the rules.” He passes the ball back to Conner.

“First to twenty one wins, win by two. Behind the line’s two points, inside the line’s one point. When the ball changes possession, you gotta bring it back beyond the line. Score, you keep the ball, check it before play starts. Call your own fouls, though that’s a waste of time.”

“Nicely put, Patricia.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a coin. “Call it, heads or tails.”

“That’s okay, you can take it out.”

Hobbes looks surprised. “As you wish.”

Riley sets up close to the basket as Hobbes takes his place outside the line, handing the ball to Conner, who bounces it back to Hobbes. She immediately attacks, getting in close to him, raising her arms, trying to reach the ball. Hobbes simply holds the ball high above his head, passes it to Riley, who catches it while Gretchen’s behind him. He pushes past her, stuffing the ball in the basket. One nothing. The guys whoop as Riley retrieves the ball and passes it back to Hobbes. Hobbes again hands the ball to Conner, she bounces it back to him and the same thing happens, two nothing.

This ain’t good. Lou looks like he’s already spending my money.

This time, Conner and Gretchen quickly change places, Conner fronting Riley. She barely reaches his waist. When Hobbes gets the ball back, Gretchen presses him, hands high. She’s only an inch are so shorter than he is and he’s having trouble getting a clean pass to Riley, who’s just holding Conner off with his arm as he stands just to the left of the basket, though he has to bend over a lot just to reach her.

Hobbes dribbles to his right but Gretchen’s all over him, flailing her arms around. It’s not very pretty but it’s effective. Hobbes isn’t used to having someone in his face. When he finally passes the ball, she manages to deflect it so that Riley has to move about six feet to reach it.

He doesn’t take a step before Conner takes off, easily beating him to the ball, then sprinting to the line.

She shouts “GO” just as her right foot lands outside the line. Gretchen breaks for the basket, Conner hitting her with a perfect bounce pass for an easy lay up. Two one.

Hobbes doesn’t react. Conner sets up outside the line, handing him the ball, which he bounces to her. Immediately, she quickly runs to the baseline outside the line, leaving Hobbes standing there, she stops, jumps and swish, two points. Two three.

Next possession. She takes two quick dribbles to the left, but Hobbes is ready, he’s chasing her until she quickly reverse dribbles back the other way. Hobbes stumbles, almost falling down. Riley charges at Conner but she gets the shot off long before he can get close. Nothing but net. Two five. I’m feeling a lot better and Lou looks a little sick.

So far, Gretchen’s just stayed near the basket, keeping Riley occupied. This time she set up just inside the line to Conner’s left. When Conner gets the ball back from Hobbes, she fakes right, then comes back left, with Gretchen setting a pick. Hobbes bit on the fake and is trailing Conner. The pick freezes him as Riley shifts to cover Conner. She shouts “GO” again and Gretchen breaks for the basket. Hobbes tries to grab her but she slaps his hands away and Conner makes another perfect pass, this one bouncing sideways, finding Gretchen all alone for another lay up. Two six.

The guys don’t know what to do. It’s clear some of them are impressed with what Conner and Gretchen are doing but they’re not stupid enough to cheer for them. The other guys who play are sick and tired of losing to Hobbes and Riley, but, again, they can’t say anything. The result is an eerie silence, where the only sound is the breathing on the court.

Conner gets the ball back from Hobbes and this time, he starts talking.

“Impressive Patricia. You better hope I don’t get the ball back. If I do …”

Conner takes off again, ignoring him, this time dribbling past Hobbes, heading for Riley under the basket, Hobbes chasing her. When she gets to Riley, she pulls back, then goes left as Riley lunges at her. Hobbes and Riley nearly run into each other as Conner dances away. Conner keeps dribbling around, letting Hobbes and Riley chase her. She’s trying to tire them out, which may not be that tough to do because they’ve already played one game and aren’t used to being pushed. This goes on for at least three minutes, Conner just dribbling all over the court.

I’ve never seen someone as quick as she is. She dribbles like the ball is part of her body and she’s so damn short, the ball never gets far from the court. Neither Hobbes nor Riley can get low enough to steal the ball. She changes direction so quickly, you try to stay with her, you’ll twist an ankle.

Eventually, both Hobbes and Riley just stand there, watching her dribble outside the line, where she simply stops, shoots and swish. Two eight. Hobbes, gasping for air, calls timeout.

He and Riley huddle away from everybody, but it’s clear they’re arguing, or at least as much arguing as you can safely do with Hobbes. Conner and Gretchen also huddle but they’re closer to the bleachers so we can hear what is being said.

“Great job, Gretch! You’re playing just like we practiced! We got em’ right where we want em’.”

“Thanks, you’re playing pretty well yourself, haven’t missed yet.”

“Neither have you, but don’t count on me hitting everything. Go for the rebound. Box Riley out.”

“I know … but he’s so big! I never thought he’d be that tall. It’s different from just watching.”

“Doesn’t matter, play like we practiced and you’ll be fine. You having fun yet?”

“Oh yeah.”

“So am I. Let’s get em’!”

When the girls take the ball out, Hobbes has backed off Conner just a bit, he knows he’s not quick enough to stay with her but she could just shoot it now and he’d never get to her before it was too late. Gretchen’s positioned to set a pick again. Conner takes a hop step towards Hobbes, trying to freeze him, then dribbles towards Gretchen. Riley jumps the pick, leaving Gretchen wide open. Conner shouts “GO” but Gretchen’s already heading for the basket, Hobbes chasing her. Conner makes another one of those screwy passes of hers, like it’s a Gretchen seeking missile. Just as she reaches for the ball, her dad grabs her, pulling her back, the pass going out of bounds.

“Foul!” she screams. “You FOULED me!” pointing at Hobbes. Before he can say anything, Conner’s there.

“Okay, okay. Your ball out.”

Gretchen is pissed. “He grabbed me, Patty. I was open and he just grabbed me! It was a foul!”

Conner takes her arm and pulls her a short distance away. “This is a man’s game Gretchen and we’re playing by men’s rules. Our time will come. Okay?”

She’s still pissed but calmer. “If you say so.”

She pats her arm. “Good. Take it out on them on the court.

Hobbes actually looks ashamed. Everybody saw him blatantly foul his own daughter and Conner let him off the hook, which was actually worse than insisting on the foul call. When he checks the ball, he looks distracted, like he doesn’t know what to do. Conner’s guarding him again, but not as tightly as before. He dribbles right a few feet then burns a pass over her head to Riley, who’s gotten good position near the basket, pushing Gretchen around like she’s not even there. He slams it home. Three eight.

They do that two more times before Conner backs off a little more, sagging down on Riley a couple of feet. Hobbes takes the opening to shoot behind the line, but he’s not quick enough. As he starts to bring the ball up from his waist to shoot, Conner rushes in and swings her arm up, cleanly knocking it up and out of Hobbes grasp. She runs it down, dribbles backwards across the line and shoots. This time, she misses, but the ball comes off the board right into Gretchen’s hands and she lays it in. Five nine.

Gretchen takes her usual pick position but this time, instead of setting a pick, when Conner yells “GO”, she hands the ball to Gretchen. Riley’s jumped the pick again so he’s out of position when Conner takes off for the basket. Gretchen throws a poor pass, making Conner wait for it, giving Riley a chance to catch up from behind. He’s still behind when Conner goes in for a lay up. Riley’s all big eyes and open mouth, ready to swat it away, but she dribbles past the basket, then quickly shots a reverse lay up before Riley can jump, using the basket to block him. Five ten.

These girls know what they’re doing. I scoot over next to Lou. “Four to one.”

“Shut the fuck up you bastard. It’s only ten to five. There’s plenty of time.”

“Look at em’ out there. Hobbes and Riley are toast, they just don’t know it yet. The longer this goes, the slower they get. Conner’s as fresh as a daisy and faster than a cheetah. They couldn’t catch her with a net. If they don’t get the ball back in the next five minutes and hold it for at least eight straight possessions, it’s over.”

“We’ll see. Don’t count your money yet, Henry.”

Lou’s mad as hell but he knows I’m right. Hobbes doesn’t get the ball back until five eighteen, when Gretchen misses a lay up, fumbling the pass out of bounds. She’s all apologetic but Conner just swats her on the ass, tells her to forget about it and to guard her dad. When Hobbes gets the ball back, Riley makes a bee line for the corner on the opposite side of the court. Hobbes passes it to him and then tries to go under the basket but Gretchen’s all over him, sliding with him left to right and back, pushing and shoving him. Riley decides to show off his ball handling skills so he turns to face Conner, getting down low, right foot back, elbows out.

Big mistake.

Conner swipes the ball before he can even dribble once. She kicks in the afterburners and dribbles to the opposite corner nearest the bleachers, Riley in hot pursuit. He doesn’t have a chance. She turns and shoots, holding her hand up, wrist bent, following through the shot.

The ball gently falls through the net as Riley runs over Conner, tossing her violently into the bleachers.

The crowd erupts. Everyone but Lou was rooting for Conner and Gretchen by now. How could you not? They played hard, no hot dogging, took fouls most of these other guys would have been bitching about for weeks. Now Conner was sprawled face down across the third row of a set of metal bleachers. A couple of the guys, including me, ran to check on her, the rest rushed the court, screaming at and shoving Riley.

By the time I got to Conner, she was sitting up, running a finger across her teeth, checking to see if any were loose. I’d done the same thing back in the day when I played football and got my bell rung. She took the finger out of her mouth, twisted her head left then right and spit. There was a lot of blood in that spit.

She had a small cut over her left eye and a couple of nasty abrasions on both knees.

I lean down close to her face. The pupils of both eyes are the same and the eyes are clear, no blood. I check out both ears, no blood there either.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Let me stand up and I’ll see.”

I squat down in front of her as she slowly climbed off the bleachers, arches her back, which just happens to push her boobs near my face, turns left at the waist, then right, then bends forward, giving me another good look at those boobs of hers. She flexes at the knees, pulls up her right leg, then left, rotates both arms at the shoulder.

“Think I’m fine. What’s going on out there?”

Looks like things aren’t going so well for Riley. He’s been forced back to the basket, about nine guys around him in a half circle, all shouting and threatening. Someone may need to do something before this gets out of hand. I turn to see if Conner is still fine but she’s not there.

Where the hell did that girl go? If I got hit like that, I’d have broken something, maybe several somethings. She may have a concussion for all I know. It’s not safe for her to be wandering around alone. One problem at a time though, Riley’s first.

When I look back at the court, Conner’s pushing her way on from behind the basket. She stands next to Riley, waiving her hands. “I’m okay! I’m okay! No problem! Just a few scrapes and cuts! Really, I’m okay!”

The guys start to quiet down, though the mood is still ugly. Hobbes steps past the crowd, getting in Riley’s face.

“Riley! What in God’s name were you thinking?! You could have killed her! What would I have told her mother?”

“I’m sorry Mr. Hobbes. I never meant to hurt anyone … I just lost it for a second, snapped …”

Conner moved next to both of them. “It’s all cool Mr. Hobbes. I’m okay, it’s a rough game, things happen. We’re cool, right Riley?” She makes a fist and holds it out to Riley, who tentatively and very carefully, bumps with his own fist. “See, we’re good. Our ball, right?”

“Patricia, I don’t think we should continue under the circumstances” said Hobbes.

“I’m fine. Henry checked me out. Didn’t you?” Hobbes looks at me. I just shrug. “No concussion, nothing broken, just some scrapes and cuts, a little blood. The rules say first to twenty one, right? Everybody sit down and we can finish this.”

The guys slowly move back to the bleachers as Gretchen comes up to Conner.

“You’re really okay? I thought you were dead!”

“I’m fine.” She spits again, still a lot of blood there. “The shot went in, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Good, one basket left. Let’s try the special.”

“Really?”

“Why not?”

“Why not. Fine.”

Conner takes her place outside the line. Hobbes picks up the ball and bounces it to her. She starts to dribble. Hobbes is guarding her but he’s back at least five feet. Riley’s also guarding her, ignoring Gretchen. He’s ten feet behind Hobbes. Conner’s moving slowly, slower than anytime today. Something could be wrong with her. She’s sliding to her right, Hobbes and Riley moving with her. She stops and nods her head. Gretchen dashes to the basket as Conner throws the ball through Hobbes legs with an insane amount of back spin. The ball stays low, spinning and hugging the court as it shoots through Riley’s legs too. As the ball gets near Gretchen, it finally bites the surface of the court and pops up, right in front of her.

Five twenty one.

There’s shouts and applause all around, even Lou. He looks over at me.

“Henry … it was worth it.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

A couple of the guards got Patty some ice packs for her injuries. She’s holding them to both knees when Father comes over and sits down next to us.

“I’d like to apologize for what Riley did out there, Patricia. It was completely out of bounds. He will be disciplined.”

“Don’t do it on my account,” she says. “He was frustrated. I bet there’s been lots of fights on that court.”

“Certainly. I like my men to be prepared to defend themselves as well as protecting me. Emotions get high during competition.”

“Well, that’s what happened here. Did you discipline those other guys when they fought?”

“Not usually.”

“There you are. Why do anything different now?”

“Obviously, you’re a girl. A man should never do something like that to a young girl.”

“Don’t make special rules to protect me, Mr. Hobbes. I’ve been hurt before and worse. He’s your guy, you can do what you want, but I don’t need anything like vengeance. If I did … I’d take care of it myself.”

Patty may be little, but I think she’s the toughest person I’ve ever met. And the smartest. And the nicest.

Father shook his head. “I understand the frustration, but he should have controlled it better.”

“You know, Mr. Hobbes, this is the only kind of basketball game Gretchen and I even had a chance to beat you in.”

“What do you mean?”

“Long term, we couldn’t play defense against you guys. With make it take it, we just had to keep scoring. With only two people, you couldn’t double team me. Even three on three would have been tougher than two man ball. Five on five would have been impossible. My ace in the hole is quickness, which you guys didn’t have an answer for. A team can defend a quick guy but two people can’t, not without leaving someone wide open. Gretchen’s way too good to leave open, she’ll make you pay every time.”

“You seemed to be able to stop us when you needed to.”

“We were lucky a couple of times. The score could easily have been the same but going the other way.” She dropped the ice bags in a bucket. “Sorry, gotta run. I’m helping Raul make pies for dessert tonight.” Patty hurried off. I started to follow her.

“And where are you going, Gretchen?” asked Father.

“I’m going to help Patty.”

I continue following her but only take about another ten steps when Father called to me again.

“Gretchen?”

“Yes, Father?”

“You played well today … very well … I was impressed.”

“Thank you, Father.”

I ran to catch up with Patty before she got to the kitchen.

“Patty!”

She stopped and waited for me.

“Yeah?”

“Can I help?”

“Sure, no problem. It’ll be fun.”

“Thanks. What was all that stuff you were saying to Father? Was it true?”

“Sorta. The rules gave us an advantage … as long as we kept scoring. We had a chance to scout them, they never had a chance to scout us. Next time, it’ll be harder.”

“Next time?”

“Did you like it?”

“Sure, it was fun to beat him.”

“Was it fun to just play?”

“That was fun too.”

“Then why stop? You’ll only get better with practice. Heck, we could play on the school’s team. Think what you could do against girls if you practice against guys.”

That might be fun too.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

“WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU?!”

Patricia had several bruises on her legs, a cut on her forehead and nasty scrapes on both her knees. If Hobbes has been beating her, I’ll kill him myself!

“Take it easy Mother, I’m fine. I just took a spill while playing basketball.”

“I played basketball in high school and that’s more than a simple fall!”

“Alright, I got shoved off the court and landed in the bleachers.”

“Who did it? I want his name, right NOW! You are NOT going back to that house until he is punished.”

“Don’t worry. If I had known what was going to happen afterwards, I’d have paid him to do it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everybody came after him, including Hobbes. All I had to do was make nice and suddenly I was the poor, innocent victim, beloved by all. Raul had to be actually restrained when he heard about it. If I was Riley, I’d be eating take out for the next few weeks.”

“So, who is this Riley character?”

“Just another guard, but now, thanks to him, I’m the sweetheart of the entire household! The food didn’t hurt, but now, I’ve got their respect. I’m the tough little girl who got up off the floor after being unfairly pounded by a bigger person and forgave him. I’m golden at that place.”

“And how does this help us get what we need to put Hobbes out of business?”

“Not directly, but it keeps me in the house until I can think of something.”

“I’m not sure I like how this is turning out. They shouldn’t treat you like this. You’re just a little girl, after all.”

“I’m not a girl, Mother, I’ll be seventeen in two weeks … I’m practically a woman.”

She’s what? “A woman?”

“Well … you know what I mean.”

She couldn’t have forgotten who and what she is, could she? “No Patricia, what do you mean?”

“Clearly physically, I’m … below average height but that doesn’t mean I’m some kinda baby. I’ll always be … shorter than most people, no matter how old I am.”

This isn’t right. Patricia has never acted like this before, even when we knew we were being watched. Her identification as a woman has never been this strong, certainly not at Blue Five … assuming she’s still at Blue Five.

“Patricia … do you know what your setting is?”

“Setting?”

“The Balancer. What’s the current setting?”

“I returned it to Blue Ten before I left for Gretchen’s.”

“YOU set it?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Mother. That should have told me something. She never called me “Mother” unless she was angry at me or the setting was high Pink, very high. “Patricia, wait right here.”

“Certainly, Mother.”

I dash to my bedroom and pick up the Controller from my bedside table. The lock button is off and it is set on Pink Forty Eight. I never forget to lock it once I change the setting, but Patricia doesn’t know about that feature. If you don’t lock it down, the setting can drift. Why was she changing her settings? That is my responsibility. I return to the living room, controller in hand. I hold it out for her to see it.

Patricia is amazingly truthful at this setting so I might as well take advantage of it. “Do you see this setting?”

She leans in closer to get a better look. “Yes, mother.”

“Can you explain it?”

“Yes, Mother.”

She is also literal at the highest pink settings. “Tell me what happened, Patricia.”

“I had to review the computer code on my personal lap top computer, looking for changes. It’s much easier to do that at the high Pink settings, where my cybernetic features dominate. After completion, I returned the settings to Blue Fifty. Friday I changed the setting to Blue Ten and left for Gretchen’s.”

“Why didn’t you come to me?”

“I didn’t want to deal with you right then.”

No need to ask why that was. She hadn’t said twenty words to me since returning from Matthews’ office. I just did what I thought was right. Why can’t she understand that? It’d serve her right for me to leave her at this setting for a day or two, teach her a lesson, but that’s not going to solve anything. I turn away from her, blocking her view of the Controller as I change the setting to Blue Fifteen. Patricia immediately becomes sullen and withdrawn.

“Patricia, do you have anything you want to tell me?”

“Like what?”

“Maybe … thank you.”

“Yeah, right” she snorts. “Thanks for ratting me out to Lipscomb.”

“Will you please get over that? We had a disagreement, that’s all.”

“What we had was an agreement to keep that information to ourselves and now Lipscomb’s got it. God knows what he’ll do with it.”

“You won that point; he said he agreed with you, that it couldn’t be used.”

“What he says and what he does are two separate things. He’s a lawyer, you can’t trust em’. I thought I could trust you, but apparently I was wrong.”

“Is that what all this is about … trust?”

“In this business, trust is all you’ve got.”

“What about you, going behind my back, changing your settings by yourself … and screwing it up, I might add. Do I have to lock this up?” I ask, shaking the Controller in her face.

She doesn’t like that. “Do what you think you have too. It had to be done, and it worked. I found out what I needed to know.”

“And you could have walked into Hobbes compound set on Pink Forty Eight. How would that have turned out?”

She looks away from me. “I’d have handled it.”

“How? All anybody had to do was ask you an open ended question and you’d have spilled the beans. You can’t lie to me at Pink Forty Eight.”

“Don’t be so sure about that. Besides, talking to you is different from talking with Hobbes.”

“You mean you … trust me?”

She picks up her bag. “I’m going to bed. I’ve got a physics test early tomorrow.” She heads for the stairs.

“What about supper?”

“Fix it yourself!” she shouts from the second floor.
She’s getting gourmet food and I get beanie weenies! I throw the Controller onto the couch, where it bounces up and hits the floor.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

I don’t have a test; I just needed to get away from Mom. There’s no doubt that could have been handled better, certainly by me. I don’t know why I can’t be more reasonable but, sometimes, she just ticks me off … particularly when she’s right.

I hadn’t noticed the change in my setting right away when I walked into the house. I’d always wondered if Matthews was right about the range of the Remote, now I know. Once Mom started talking to me and I couldn’t control my answers, I knew something was up. She’s right, if I’d gone to Hobbes at that setting, who knows what could have happened.

Right now, I just want to go to bed. Those late nights with Gretchen create a sleep deficit that’s catching up with me. Gotta stay sharp at school.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

I’m in the back of a pick up truck, in one of those camper things people put in the beds, which is weird because I never did anything like that when I was working undercover. I’m moving, it feels like a bumpy road, bouncing me around. I pull a curtain open on the side and look out. It’s dark, but there is a small light on in the camper. I can see my reflection in the window.

I’m Patricia!

This has never happened before! I’ve always been Peter Harris in my dreams … always! Why would I be Patricia? What’s changed? Peter Harris never rode in a pick up camper before, where’s this memory coming from? Maybe it’s not a memory, like the other nightmares. Maybe this is an honest to goodness dream.

I check out my reflection in the window again. I look younger, maybe twelve or thirteen, hard to say for certain. The truck hits a big hole, throwing me off the seat and onto the dirty floor. The camper smells bad, kinda like a little hunting lodge a friend of mine used to have … actually it was just a one room cabin by a lake. It smelled of fish guts, dead worms and sweat, lots of male sweat. He rarely cleaned the place so it eventually smelled just like this camper, minus the exhaust fumes.

I unsteadily stand up, the camper still rocking back and forth. I’m wearing a mid-calf dress and a short, padded jacket. It’s chilly and feels damp. The next big bump throws me back towards the seat, which I grab and hold onto tightly. The camper’s a bit of a mess but most stuff is tied down, one way or another, with ropes or bungee cords. Looks like who ever owns this likes to fish cause there’s a number of fishing poles and several tackle boxes.

The speed slows as the truck turns right and the road gets rougher, sounds like a gravel road or driveway. We continue for just a few more minutes then stop. The truck door opens with a rusty groan then slams shut, then heavy, crunchy steps work their way to the door of the camper. Keys rattle in the door momentarily and it opens. A large hand reaches in and flips a switch by the door, filling the small space with light.

“Get out, Jenny Jo.”

He’s a large man, or at least he looks large, squeezed into the small door frame at the back of the camper. I don’t say anything, just pull my little coat tightly around me, hop off the seat and hurry out as the man steps away from the door. There are no steps down to the ground so I have to jump about two and a half feet when I leave the camper, landing on my feet at first but stumbling forward, falling but catching myself on my hands. Straightening up, I look around as my eyes adjust to the dark.

We’re parked on a grassy strip of land between the edge of the woods and a large lake. There’s a dock and boat about hundred feet away, the ground dropping sharply towards the water. The gravel path we came in on snakes back into the woods, fading in the deepening gloom. The trees are full of leaves but it’s too cold to be summer, though the sky is cloudy. The man, whoever he is, is inside the camper and I hear banging and thumping coming from inside. He steps out of the back door and jumps to the ground.

“Come here, girl” he says gruffly. I approach him slowly. “Hurry up!” he adds.

“Yes, Daddy.”

My father, well not MY father but her father, Patricia’s father, though apparently her real name is Jenny Jo. And she’s afraid of him. I’m scared, very scared, actually shaking, though from fear or the cold I can’t tell. When I reach him, I see he’s actually slightly below average height, maybe five eight, one eighty, though it’s hard to tell because he’s wearing baggy bib overalls and a denim jacket. He easily picks me up and tosses me into the camper. I land on the seat, which has been folded out into a bed. He climbs in after me, carefully locking the door.

He stands up, next to the edge of the bed, slightly crouching to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling of the camper.

He shrugs off the denim jacket, tossing it in the corner of the camper on his right, then reaches up, unhooking one of the straps of his bib overall.

“It’s time, Jenny Jo. Your momma told me that you need to go on the rag, that you’ve been bleeding regular for four months now. I waited till you got old enough, took long enough, had those tits of yours over a year.”

I scurry to the head of the bed, as far away from him as I can get, sitting on my bottom, legs pulled up to my chest, arms wrapped around my legs.

“No, Daddy. That’s not pussy blood, that’s … that’s … uhh, from gym class. I got hurt and …”

He lunged at me, grabbing my left arm, dragging me towards him as I try to grab something to keep me from sliding on the bed, but couldn’t find anything. He grabs my shoulders and pulls me to my knees, squeezing until my eyes start to water from the pain.

“Don’t be lyin’ to me girl! Your momma knows. Tell me the truth!”

“It’s gym class” I sob.

He lets go of my shoulder and back hands me across the face with his right hand. I see stars, then the pain comes rushing in.

“The truth, you ungrateful bitch!”

“It was gym …” Another smack, open palm this time, rattling my teeth and brain. His hands are back on my shoulders, shaking me.

“Don’t lie to me again, girl! What kinda blood?!”

I’m crying, can’t catch my breath.

“It’s … it’s … it’s …” He lets go of my shoulder, reaching back with his hand, ready to hit me again. “… it’s … pussy … blood.” He pushes me away, I fall onto my back, legs splayed, still crying. He unbuttons the second strap, letting the overalls fall to the ground.

He’s not wearing any underwear. His dick is hard and red, pointing right at me. He steps out of the overalls.

“I’d hoped this first time would have been easier … but you’ll grow to like it. I know I will. Before I’m done, you’ll know every trick in the book, maybe invent a few of our own. Until then …” He grabs my left leg, pulling me closer to his cock. I can’t take my eyes off it, bobbing in front of me. Quickly flipping me onto my stomach, he puts a hand in the middle of my back, pushing me into the thin mattress while the other hand pushes my skirt up over my bottom and grabs my panties, tearing them off.

Momma had given me an old, worn pair of panties to wear today. I told her they were too bad but she insisted. I was thankful I didn’t have gym today. Now I know why she did it. She knew.

Daddy falls onto my back, trapping me on the bed. I try to squirm away but can’t move, my legs spread wide underneath him. He props himself up on his elbows on either side of me, giving him some space to move but keeping most of his weight on me, controlling me. I can feel his hips moving, his dick searching for my vagina. I try again to twist away but end up pushing right into his cock.

“Ahhh, you want it, don’t ya’ Jenny Jo?” He pushes forward, just entering me.

“No! ... NO! … NOOO … I don’t want … AAAAGGHH!!”

It hurts, it burns, burns like a hot pan on a stove. I’ve never felt pain like this, stretching, tearing my tender flesh. I’d been stabbed, I’d been shot, but this was worse. Those other injuries were sudden, shocking, but over with immediately. There was always the residual pain, sometimes a lot of it, but you knew what had happened and you could deal with it. Here, each new thrust was a new assault, a different part of my body suffering damage as Daddy pushed further in, plus repeated attacks on the already ravaged parts of my young vagina.

I feel his balls finally hit my bottom. He chuckles, pulls back a few inches, then drives forward, grunting. The pain only gets worse. I start to scream.

“Scream all you want, Jenny Jo, ain’t nobody out there to hear. We’re miles from anybody.”

I continue to cry and scream as he starts thrusting harder and faster.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

Her door is locked!

It’s never been this bad before and now I can’t get in. It’s a simple push button lock. Running down the stairs, taking two at a time, I hit the landing, stumble, grab the railing and swing towards my bedroom. I let go and bounce off the furniture and walls, skidding to a stop at the bedroom door. I charge in, throw the closet door open, searching for an empty wire hanger. Finding one, I tear back to and up the stairs, straightening the hook of the hanger as I go. I almost overrun the door but manage to brake myself by grabbing the door handle. Immediately inserting the straightened wire into the hole in the center of the door handle, I poke and probe, trying to hit the release button.

“Come on. Come on. Idiot! A child can do this! Come …” the lock clicks open! I throw the door open and turn on the lights.

Patricia is wrapped in her sheets, flailing and turning, screaming as if being tortured. Why the neighbors haven’t called the police is beyond me. I try to grab her arm but she pulls it from my grasp. Setting on the bed next to her, I lay me upper body against hers, trying to stop her violent thrashing. I put a hand on each side of her head, stilling it.

“Patricia! Wake up, wake up! You’re fine! You’re safe! Wake up, Honey! Please … wake up! Come on, Baby, please wake up.”

Suddenly, she stops, gasps loudly, opens her eyes widely. She appears to be out of it, confused. She’s still breathing hard, a little panicked.

“Mom? Is that you?”

“Yes, Baby, it’s me. You’re safe, you’re safe Baby.”

“Where am I?”

I slide off her, freeing her body, though she’s still wrapped in her sheet.

“You’re at home, in your bedroom, honey.” I help her sit up and free her arms.

“My bedroom?”

“Yes Honey, your bedroom. Safe at home.” I lean in closer to her. “What happened, Patricia?”

She throws her arms around my neck, pulling me tight, laying her head on my chest and cries.

“I’m not a virgin” she sobs, between the tears.