’Neath Quicksilver’s Moon by Jaye Michael
Chapter One ― Death Moon

 

¿Hasta cuándo, oh simples, amarán la simpleza, Y los burladores se deleitarán en hacer burla, Y los necios aborrecerán el conocimiento?

— Proverbios 1:22

How long, O simpletons, will you love being simple-minded, and you tricksters delight in trickery, and you fools hate the truth?

—Proverbs 1:22

 

 

 

 

The woman did not even need to break the glowbulb in front of her quarry’s door; it had been broken for her by one of the roving gangs. After straightening her clothes, she hesitated just long enough to take a deep breath and then tentatively knocked on the door.

Jackie checked the view plate to see who was knocking on the door to her cubic and once again cursed the building management for refusing to provide the legally required weapon sensors so she could see more than a dim outline. “Who’s there?”

“It’s Margaret Hsuan. If your name is Jackie Chen, I’ve come about your mother.”

“My mother’s dead. Go away.”

“I know your mother has passed away. I’m from the attorney’s office handling the probate on her will.”

“She’s been dead five years. Everything has been taken care of. Go away.”

“That’s what we thought...” The shape darted furtive glances to the left. There was some kind of noise coming from that direction. “Please, can we talk inside? You know the halls of these apartment buildings aren’t safe for solitary women.”

“I never let strangers into my cubic. Vid me tomorrow.”

“I can’t. There is a time issue. If I don’t get your signature and notarize it before midnight tonight the codicil is invalid and you lose the insurance money.”

The noise again, a bit louder this time, and the woman outside the door jumped a bit. Jackie was not certain, but it seemed as if the woman in the hallway flinched and that her eyes grew wide with fear. Did she see something or was Jackie projecting her own fears onto the woman?

“Never mind,” the woman’s voice broke as she clutched her bag even closer to herself. “I’ll just tell them you couldn’t be found.” Another glance to the side and she started edging in the other direction, toward the elevators. At least the management kept the glowbulbs working there.

“Wait.” There were several “snicks” as locks opened. The door opened several inches and suddenly a light flashed brightly in the face of the women in the hall. It showed a slightly chunky Asian woman with her straight black hair in a simple but neat pageboy. She wore an unadorned gray skirt suit like most of the office drones. The suit was worn but neat and clean, suggesting she was not well paid—probably a secretary as she claimed. She appeared to be in her early sixties, about ten years older than Jackie and slightly heavier. She was carrying a briefcase clutched to her bosom as if it was valuable, more valuable than the purse dangling from her shoulder.

Hearing another sound from the hall, louder and closer still, Jackie decided to risk letting her in. She opened the door and quickly pulled the woman into the cubic, almost closing the woman’s purse in the door as she slammed it behind her. Turning her back on the woman, Jackie slapped the locks back in place. When she turned back, the woman was holding a rather deadly looking neurolizer just inches from her neck.

“The one time I let someone I don’t know into my apartment and this happens,” she sighed fatalistically. “Take whatever you want. Just leave me be, please.”

“¡Silencio! I mean ‘Quiet.’ Hold your wrists together in front of you. NOW!”

Jackie fearfully complied, not even considering the incongruity of an Asian woman speaking Spanish. Without blinking, glancing away, or allowing the neurolizer to waver even the slightest bit the intruder slowly put the briefcase down on the kitchenette counter and reached in to take out a roll of duct tape. In moments, the frightened woman’s wrists were taped tightly together.

“Sit!”

Jackie sat.

“Hold your feet out and together.”

Tape quickly encircled Jackie’s feet.

“Sit!”

Jackie sat in the single chair and was quickly taped to it with multiple loops of duct tape. With this done, the intruder breathed a deep sigh. Still not looking away from her captive, the woman took two steps back from Jackie and sat on the cot at the other end of the cubic. Like everything else in the room, the bed was neatly made with pink sheets and a pink flowered coverlet.

“You may scream if you wish, but you know that no one in these tenements will care or come.” The woman carefully undid her fitted suit jacket and placed it on the counter by her briefcase. Propping the cubic door open she disappeared into the hallway for a brief moment. Before Jackie could even think about reacting, she was back, holding a small audio recorder. Sounds of a scuffle were abruptly cut off as the women turned the device off and placed it in her briefcase.

“Wh... What do you want from me?”

“Your blood; I vant your blood.” The woman said with a bad Transylvanian accent and put her fingers to the sides of her mouth as if they were fangs before grinning impishly at her captive. “Actually, I do want a small sample of your blood. I also need about three days of your life. If everything goes as planned, you can have your life back Monday evening.” The woman stepped out of her work shoes, undid the fastening on the side of her skirt and stepped out of it. Each item was neatly folded and placed by the jacket.

“I do...don’t understand. Why are you undressing? Are you some kind of ‘vert or something?” Jackie asked as she began to squirm and struggle with her bonds; fearful she was about to be raped or worse.

“Relax. As long as you cooperate, I’m not going to harm you beyond that blood sample I mentioned.” Jackie’s confused expression changed back to fear again. “And no, before you ask, I’m not here to harvest your organs or sell you to a cyborg supply house.”

The woman was now standing in nothing more than a bra and slip. She walked over and reached for Jackie who jerked away, almost knocking her chair to the floor.

“If you struggle, you are more likely to be injured. I don’t want to hurt you more than I have to, but it will happen if you do something foolish,” the woman calmly noted as she grabbed Jackie’s hair and tugged, using it to pull the slumping woman upright in the chair. The tug was painful and Jackie struggled to get free. When the grip on her hair suddenly disappeared, Jackie fell to the side while still in her chair, bumping her head against the closet wall. Dazed, she sat there rubbing at her neck and head with the side of her still taped hands while the woman sighed and moved back to the bed before Jackie could recover enough to struggle back upright in her seat. Regardless of her words, expecting mercy from this bizarre woman who had bound her was not going to be an option as far as Jackie could tell.

“What’s your favorite color?” Back in her chair, Jackie sullenly glared at the woman, refusing to answer her ridiculous questions.

“I said, ‘What’s your favorite color?’” The neurolizer moved to aim at her foot. “Don’t make me repeat myself. You won’t like it.”

“P...pink,” Jackie barely squeaked out the answer.

“Very good.” The neurolizer moved back to its waiting lap. “Now, what is your mother’s full name?”

“Leeann. Leeann Wong Chen.”

“Wrong. Try again.” The gun was again pointing at her foot.

“I should know my mother’s name, Jackie insisted indignantly, gathering enough courage to glare at her attacker. “It is Leeann Wong Chen. What do you want from me?”

“Your mother’s name was Leeann Wong Shuwei. When she married your father, George Lei Chen, she became Leeann Wong Chen. She died five years ago, two years after your father.”

“If you know already, why are you asking?” Jackie was crying now. She had fought while she thought she was just the victim of a random crazy, but this person knew her, had studied her. This was planned. Somehow, that made it seem even scarier, if that was possible.

Instead of answering, the woman stood and looked around the cubic. It was much like the hundreds of thousands of others built just under a century before. It was roughly eight feet by ten feet, actual size, but with much less floor space after accounting for the closet wall to the left and the kitchenette and refresher on the right. Personal effects were few, a full length mirror on the closet wall door, a couple of pink flowered dishes on the kitchenette counter, and two pictures on the wall above the bed bracketing the ubiquitous flat screen wall viewer. One showed a family with a man, a woman and two young children. The other showed a young woman in cap and gown.

“This is your family.” It was a statement, not a question. The woman pointed to the older woman in the picture. “Your mother?”

Jackie nodded.

“Your father?” The finger moved to the man.

Jackie nodded again.

“And your younger sister?”

Jackie nodded once again.

“When did they die?” The intruder’s voice was soft and gentle; it sounded like she actually cared.

“Thirty-one years ago. A week after I graduated from high school. The others died immediately, but Mother lingered on as an amnesic quadriplegic until just five years ago.”

“I’m truly sorry. Life hasn’t been a lot of fun for you, has it?”

“All the money from the settlement went to care for mother and that ran out fifteen years ago. Even now, five years after her death, half my salary goes to pay off her bills.”

“Oh, yeah. And you work for?” The woman ran a hand through her hair. It seemed longer somehow, almost as long as Jackie’s shoulder length black hair.

“Martin Luther Jackson.”

“The World Senator? I’m impressed.”

“Senator Jackson takes good care of his staff. You know he’ll make sure the police find you. Why don’t you let me go now and I won’t even tell him?” Jackie held out her hands hoping against hope that the woman would remove the tape and leave.

“I’m sorry but that’s not possible. What do you do for the Senator?”

“I’m his personal assistant,” Jackie said, sitting up proudly.

“No es verdad. No, you’re not. Try again.”

Jackie’s shoulders slumped.

“All right, I’m on the cleaning crew.” Jackie pounded her feet on the floor in frustration. “Let me go, please. Why are you doing this to me?”

“Who is your boss?” The woman waited until Jackie’s sobs settled into tears and sniffles with an occasional shudder and repeated the question. “Who is your immediate supervisor?”

“Claude Jackson.”

“Isn’t he the Senator’s Chief of Security?”

“Yes. He's also the Senator’s son.”

“And who do you work with?”

“I work alone.”

“And who do you work with?”

“Audrey Kozlowski.”

“And what is your nickname for Claude?”

“We call him ‘Pol Pot.’ You know, after the Cambodian mass murderer.” The woman looked confused so Jackie explained. “Like Genghis Khan, Stalin, Hitler, Diaz? There was a movie of the week about Pol Pot just two days ago.”

“Never mind; just tell me why you call him that?”

“Because he’s such a horrible man. Nothing is good enough for him. He’s rude, unreasonable, demanding and regularly threatens to kill us if we mess up.”

“That’s not what the public thinks about him. They think he’s a generous, lovable man; his father’s heir to the World Senate.”

“That’s what he’s like when there are strangers about. When we’re alone he’s a mean, evil brute of a man.”

The woman stood up and walked to the refresher. Just before entering, she turned toward Jackie and smiled. “This will take several days. If you’re hungry or would like to use the refresher please let me know.”

It was a rather perverse thought under the circumstances, but Jackie wondered if the woman was a bit thinner than she had originally thought.

“Good morning Jackie.” The guard beckoned her through the detector and she placed her purse on the counter and walked through.

“Anything I should know about in your purse?”

“No, but you’re going to check anyway aren’t you? Mr. Claude would be upset if you didn’t.” Jackie smiled conspiratorially as he frowned at their boss’ name. She waited patiently while he thoroughly examined her purse.

“Talcum powder?” the guard asked, holding up a small whisky-shaped flask.

“It’s for chafing.”

“Why not use the boss man’s powder? It’s cheaper.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that. Is Pol Pot making you test me again?”

“No. You know this is just the normal increase in security for when the Senator is going to be at home. He should be here for dinner tonight. Besides, Pol Pot would have probably just ordered me to kill you without bothering to test you?” The guard laughed and waved her on without bothering to run a sample of the power through the chemical testing unit. Grabbing her purse, Jackie went to her locker to change into her work clothes.

The day went uneventfully until lunchtime. Jackie and her cleaning partner, Audrey, spent their time polishing the brass and dusting downstairs. They ate lunch quickly in the pantry with their coworkers and then, palming the empty plastic bag that had held her sandwich, Jackie excused herself to go to the bathroom after first stopping off at her locker to grab the powder from her purse.

In the bathroom, Jackie turned the glowbulb on and locked the door. She produced the plastic bag she had palmed and laid it carefully on the toilet seat. Opening the can labeled talcum powder; she sprinkled a fine white powder into the plastic bag, filling it about half way.

Next, she went to the medicine cabinet and almost panicked when she failed to find any petroleum jelly. Frantically searching the bathroom, she finally found it behind some hand cream on a shelf above the toilet. Muttering to herself that she should have looked there first, she scooped an equal amount of jelly into the bag and sealed it shut.

Jackie again placed the bag on the toilet seat and washed her hands before carefully kneading the bag until the powder and the jelly, thoroughly mixing the two into a suspension. Dropping the bag into one of the large pockets of her maid’s uniform, she returned to the pantry just as Audrey was cleaning up from her lunch.

“Are you all right?”

“Sure, Audrey, just taking care of some personal needs. We better get back to work before Pol Pot starts looking for us.”

“That man is one royal pain isn’t he?” Audrey laughed as they headed upstairs to dust.

The third room was the Senator’s office. He used it for all his broadcasts and most of the adult population of Earth recognized the famous room with its ornately decorated mahogany desk, devoid of any personal effects except the huge leather-bound bible the Senator was so fond of referring to as he spoke to visitors. They also recognized the life size portrait of Aloysius Todd, father of the world nation, behind the desk. This was the room where, almost twenty years ago, the world had watched candidate Jackson pull a neurolizer from inside that same bible and kill the man who tried to assassinate him during a campaign speech. That incident, more than any other, had been attributed as the cause of the then political newcomer’s near landslide election to the World Senate.

Finishing their dusting, they moved on to the next room. Two rooms later complaining of cramps, Jackie excused herself to go to the bathroom, but instead returned to Senator Jackson’s office. Moving to the desk, she opened the bible and removed the neurolizer. Placing it in her pocket, she pulled out the plastic bag and gently placed it in the cutaway where the gun had rested. Closing the bible, she quickly returned to Audrey and her dusting. When Audrey was not looking, the neurolizer went into the garbage.

The remainder of the day went uneventfully. Claude Jackson must have been too busy with arrangements for his father’s return, as he never did show up to harangue them about their work. In fact, the only other person they saw was the same security officer who had searched Jackie when she arrived. It was a pleasant surprise for both when he came by to tell them both to go home an hour early in honor of the Senator’s return.

After making it back out through security, the two women made small talk as they walked to the transit tube station together. Jackie waved as Audrey’s tube train pulled out of the station and then turned, as if to go to her tube train, but instead continued past it and left the station; walking two blocks to a cheap motel.

Entering the room she had rented earlier, she immediately turned on the vid screen and set it to the news. Then, taking a travel bag from the closet and setting it on the dresser, she opened it and removed a fresh set of clothes. Undressing, she lay on the bed and concentrated as hard as she could. Within an hour, a tall, emaciated man, covered in sweat and panting from exertion, was lying on the bed instead of the housekeeper. About five minutes before the transformation was completed there was a news flash. Senator Jackson had died in an explosion in his office and his son, the Senator’s Chief of Security, was in critical condition at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital. The Senator’s son was not expected to survive the night.

Dressing, the man closed the bag and headed back to the tube station. On the way, he stopped off to make an “eyes off” vid call to the police and leave them an anonymous message to check Jackie Chen’s apartment.

Smiling, the man continued on his way to the tube station, stopping one more time to drop an envelope with Jackie’s address in the post box. She would need that money. It would also serve as repayment for the use of her identity without permission. When he arrived at the station, his tube train was on time and he even found a seat. Another “problem” had been solved and there was yet another victim of the “Burlador,” the “Trickster.”

Copyright © 1993, 2010, 2011 by Jeffrey M. Mahr

All rights reserved.

 

DEDICATION:

To my loving wife, Betty. She completes me.

 

 

Note: Although currently incomplete, this story will be finished as expeditiously as possible.