Mrs. Carson looked over the application. As the cover letter warned her, there were some serious gaps in the personal information. But they were actually not that significant at the moment. He'd realized he couldn't hide the city, so he'd just listed the school district for the school. She had to admit that for anybody going to a public school that was usually all that was really needed short of actual transcripts.

The info on his powers was woefully inadequate. But what he'd given was good enough to justify checking things out if it was true. And that "retainer" justified a fair bit of risk, especially given that he had stated in the cover letter that he was willing to find things for the school, as long as doing so wouldn't get him into any sort of trouble.

The way he'd put that was interesting. He seemed to have a fair bit of sense to go with a decently developed sense of paranoia. Let's see "no legal, ethical, physical or spiritual risks, as well as the right to decline jobs for other reasons" essentially, if the school thought it was a risk or if he felt there was a problem. Not bad for a teenager.

Hmm, he suggested a percentage of value for things he located for the school and offered a percentage of things he found on his own while at school.

He wanted to become an emancipated minor. And help recovering/keeping his personal possessions if his mother was difficult about it. Plus help with storage or transportation of his things.

Hmm. He noted there was another possible legal problem he couldn't discuss until things were settled. Civil, not criminal. He just noted that it involved something he wanted that couldn't be discussed until then because it'd give away his identity.

Well, they'd have to see what that was about before she could offer anything.

On the whole what he'd revealed about schooling was adequate. If his talent checked out, he was quite correct that he'd be at a lot of risk if the wrong people found out.

Re-reading his contact details, she had to admit that he was being fairly careful. She'd leave him a short voice mail, as requested and marked the time she'd given him to call her back on her appointment book.

***

Meanwhile George had been working out how to best deal with getting operating cash and some gear.

He first went over the "questionable" money. First step was a standard one he'd been too busy to bother with the night before. He "looked" for counterfeit. He wasn't surprised to get a few. Those went in the burn bag with the other things he needed to dispose of.

Next he tried for anything with serial numbers being looked for by the authorities. He didn't care if those were stolen, or if they were being used to trace drug buys or something. He didn't dare spend them. They got tossed in a small box to be dealt with later. He figured that if he got into Whateley, he could pay them with those without any trouble. But until then, they were a liability.

He still had plenty of money left. Good.

Not enough for a car, even if he had a license. His bike was OK for local stuff, and a scooter wouldn't help. Fortunately he'd been moving most of the stuff he cared about into the fort for months. There was still stuff he hadn't moved. A lot of clothes that weren't important and some stuff that he figured mom would notice.

He was glad that even though mom's ideas about his property rights (and privacy rights) were mostly that he didn't have any, she didn't believe in maliciously destroying his stuff. That at least made her better than some parents he'd read about on-line.

On the other hand, that didn't mean that she wasn't likely to just give away or throw out his stuff if she thought he'd taken off.

"Enough wool gathering... I need to get some food."

The energy bar and coke that'd been breakfast had been a while ago. And he had other stuff to do as well. He stuck some money in his wallet and grabbed his pack along with the bag with the jewelry and coins he'd accumulated recently.

He stuffed the bag in the pack and locked things up. Then he walked up the stairs from the lower bit of the back yard and quietly checked the back door of the house.

Drat. Still locked. He snuck back to the fort and unlocked his bike. He decided that with the house still locked up, it'd be a bad idea to risk getting his mother's attention by taking it through the yard. So he went downslope a bit to the shelf on the hillside and rode along that. It was almost as good as a road. Heck, John had used it as one to haul the heavier stuff for the fort.

In few minutes, he was at a point where the shelf was more or less even with the top of the slope. there was a gap between houses there and George rode through it to the street.

Some time later he locked his bike to a rack in front of a storefront that proclaimed they bought gold and jewelry. Entering the shop, he waved at the owner.

"Good morning Mr. Katchurian."

"Ah, if it isn't young Mr. Kelly. I take you've found more rare treasures for me?" joked the older man.

"Well, hopefully rare and precious."

"One can only hope, young sir."

With that George opened his pack and took out the bag. Mr. Katchurian spread the contents on a cloth under a light and magnifier.

In a short time, the two were haggling over the worth of the pieces. It was a friendly exchange. The old man rarely had the pleasure of a good haggle. So few Americans understood how to haggle. And not only had the boy picked it up quickly, he was a worthy opponent.

Besides, nothing he'd ever brought in had ever turned up on the stolen property list the police circulated to pawn shops and others who dealt in small valuables. That alone would have been worth giving the lad a better deal. But being able to actually haggle...

After the jewelry and a couple of watches, George brought out a few old coins.

"I'm sorry, but I think you'd do better with a coin dealer. Especially for that double eagle."

George shrugged, he'd half-expected to be told that, but sometimes the old man would want something for himself. He collected the money after doing the expected amount of complaining about having been robbed.

George smiled as he biked off to the coin shop that Mr. Katchurian had recommended shortly after he'd started selling things to him.

The coin shop bought a few of the coins and said the others weren't worth anything special. They even offered a decent price for the gold coin, but between the way they looked at him and the papers he had to sign, he knew that it'd be a bad idea to try selling any of the other coins from the hoard to them.

He ducked into the restroom at the burger place and slipped most of the cash from the jewelry and coins into his shorts. Uncomfortable, but the best he could do in a hurry.

He got a chicken burger and rings for lunch. He read some while he ate.

Once he was a mile or so farther down the street, he turned on the "clean" cell phone.

Huh. He had voice mail already. He listened to the message from Mrs Carson and noted that there was a callback number attached. He turned off the phone and put it away.

He got back on the bike and rode another mile before stopping at a park to pull out a map. He was glad he'd read up on cell phones. Knowing how the system worked, he looked for cell coverage for the clean phone. A bunch of triangles appeared.

The ones downtown and near the malls were way too small. They'd be able to locate him within a few yards, even on a phone without GPS. There were some big cells near the edge of town he lived on, but he wanted to avoid that.

Hmm. Come to think of it, if he never called from around there, that'd be a flag too. This was messier than he'd thought. Not like the "use once and destroy the phone" bit he normally did for tips.

Let's see, he'd done the courier bit yesterday from NE of town. There were good spots NW of town. but the hills would be a pain. West wasn't so bad....

He finally marked eight spots on the map and flipped a coin three times to pick one. It was going to take almost an hour to get there. But he could make it with some time to spare he thought.

He made it with time to spare and hunted around for a comfortable spot with some cover. Once he found one, he sat down dug out his book again. He did take the precaution of setting his alarm.

It seemed almost no time before the alarm went off. He crossed his fingers and called the number.

A short time later he turned off the phone and looked at the notes he'd written. A lawyer's name and contact info. And the bones of what looked to be a fairly decent agreement with this Whateley place.

With a sigh he turned the phone back on and called the lawyer. The secretary wasn't very interested until he mentioned Mrs. Carson. All of a sudden there was an appointment slot for him. After hours no less.

Oh well, it gave him time to take care of a few things.

***

Back at the fort, he put away some groceries. Then he dug out the "burn bag" and went into the workroom. He switched on the exhaust fan for the small forge/furnace. Then he turned on the propane and hit the igniter.

Once it was going OK, he adjusted it so there was a hot flame. Then he took a medium sized crucible and emptied the bag into it paper first, then the phones he needed to destroy. He topped it off with some scrap copper, chunks of limestone and pieces of coke.

He got out a heavy leather apron and a safety shield for his face. Then he pulled on some heavy gloves. Using tongs he lowered the crucible into the furnace.

Before it could smoke much he took an odd sort of pipe with a valve and stuck the end in the crucible. When he cracked the valve, the contents of the crucible flared up. As he increased the flow of oxygen it burned with a glaring white, smokeless flame.

After a couple minutes, he turned off the oxygen and used the tongs to add more coke. Then he covered the crucible and waited patiently When he lifted the cover the crucible was half-full of glowing liquid.

He set the cover down on some firebrick to cool. Then he shut down the furnace. He'd take the crucible out later when everything was cool.

He straightened things up and put what he could away. Then it was back into the main room. He undressed and used a sponge and the sink to clean up as best he could. He dried off with a towel and got dressed in the best looking clothes he had handy.

Not that they were that great. A button up shirt and slacks instead of jeans. A sweater and matching jacket finished it off. Pretty much what he'd worn for his last school photo.

He checked the time and figured he'd need to leave in about an hour and a half.

"Guess it's time to do some homework..."

His talent wasn't that great with homework. If he needed a fact in the book, he could find the right page. But he could remember that sort of thing before he'd started finding stuff. And it wasn't like he needed it that much for facts. His memory was a lot better these days.

Best it could do with other stuff was let him figure out which section of a book (or which book for some classes) he needed to go over.

He still had to work out things himself, but it definitely helped to be able find what would let him figure out the answers.

***

All too soon the alarm went off. He checked the workroom and the furnace was cold. He still used the tongs to lift out the crucible and place it on the firebricks. He tilted it on its side and gave it a couple of sharp raps with a chunk of wood. After the second a slug of metal and slag popped out.

He carefully reached for it. It was barely warm. Good enough. He set it aside with some others. He'd remove the slag and melt them into an ingot when he had some more. Copper didn't bring much, but it still sold.

And it made a good way to get rid of stuff he didn't want to just throw in the trash.

He put away the crucible and cover and grabbed an overgrown messenger bag he'd packed earlier. After locking up he was off on the bike again.

He arrived at the lawyer's office with 15 minutes to spare. He locked up the bike and went to the door.

He took a couple of deep breaths and reminded himself that his talent had started him on this path. He had to trust that. Then he opened the door.

"Mr. Kelly?" asked the receptionist.

"Um, yes..."

"Mr. Dixon will be with you shortly. If you'd like to take a seat?"

George sat down a bit nervously.

It was only a few minutes before a man in a suit came out.

"Mr. Kelly? I'm Morgan Dixon. I hope I can help you."

"Um, George, George Kelly. Just call me George, please?"

"Certainly."

Dixon led George to an office. He waved George to a chair in front of the desk as he sat behind the desk.

"OK, I'm told that you are in a bad home situation and want to be emancipated. Mrs. Carson said it would appear that you can support yourself. There are other points, but those will do for a start."

George swallowed. "Y-yes. Things are not good at home. I'd rather get a few other things settled before we go into details. And yes, I can support myself if I am allowed to deal with money as if I'm an adult. It's rather hard doing so if you have to worry about someone deciding you aren't allowed to have the money."

Dixon nodded. "Yes, that can be a problem. My first question is if you are breaking the law to get money. If you are, I won't turn you in, but I can't help you either."

"No. At worst, I owe the state some taxes. At least as far as I know.."

George paused. "I know that it's going to cost money if you can help me. And while I sent Whateley something that I assume they are paying you out of, I'd rather pay you directly."

"We can do that if you'd like. And it would avoid even the appearance of a conflict of interest."

George opened the bag sitting next to his chair and reached in.

"Which would you prefer? Cash or gold?"

So saying placed a rubber banded bundle of bills on the desk and then took a paper wrapped cylinder out and set it next to it. He unfolded the end of the roll and shook some gold coins onto the desktop. He slid seven of the coins over next to the bills.

"That's five thousand cash. The double eagles are worth around $800 each for just the gold content as of yesterday."

Dixon's eyebrows tried to disappear into his hairline.

"You got this legally?"

George sighed. "Yes, given that you know about Whateley, you must know I'm a mutant or something. I 'find' things. I stick to stuff that's been lost or that doesn't have an owner."

George looked around the office.

"There's some change under that table." He pointed.

"And there's something in that file cabinet over there..."

George squinted a bit and moved sideways a little.

"... I think it's some papers or something that fell behind a drawer. Looks like papers or a file folder, but it's at the back and a bit under the bottom drawer."

Dixon looked startled. He gave George a speculative look, then he went over to the cabinet and with some effort managed to get the drawer out. He fumbled around and drew out a dusty file folder from inside the cabinet.

After looking at it and checking the inside, he sat back at the desk.

"Well, that was definitely a lost item. I think it's something that's been there since one of the senior partners died."

Dixon sat back and thought for a minute.

"Some lost items may not actually be legal for you to keep if you find them, but that gets fairly technical. For now, I think I can accept your money, as long as you aren't digging in people's yards or something."

"Uh, no sir."

There ensued a discussion of George's home situation. With the bills and gold sitting on the desk untouched all through it.

***

"No, no!" George objected. "I can't risk you not being able to get me out. It's bad now, but endurable. If we try and fail, mom will take it out on me. That'd be a lot worse."

"Well, there are ways of doing that, but it'll take a lot longer. It might be months."

"I can handle that as long as I know I'm getting out."

More discussion ensued. Much more discussion.

"OK, let me get this straight. You'd like to find a way to actually own this 'fort' of yours?"

"Yeah, and the land it's on. Being able to add some stuff to it as well would be good. I've got a lot of good memories of it, and I'd like to keep it if I can."

Dixon looked thoughtful.

"Well, that's not my area, but I can think of a couple of folks to check into it. "

George sighed. Oh well, he hadn't expected it to be easy.

"How about the agreement with Whateley?"

"They faxed me something this afternoon, I assume it was after your call. I've worked up a contract of sorts. Until we get you emancipated, you can't legally sign it. But as a dodge, I'll hire you as an office assistant. I think we can get your mother to sign that."

George nodded. "Yeah, as long as she thinks it's not much money she won't care."

They finally agreed that for now he'd be listed as an employee, but he'd have a "company" card that would tie back to the "retainer" he'd sent Whateley. And ID so he could say he was buying it for "the boss".

"Once we get you emancipated, we'll set up a company of your own and move things over. It'll make taxes and things easier on everyone. Meanwhile, we should have the card and ID for you in a couple of days."

He handed George a form. "Get your mother to sign this and that'll cover the legalities for now."

"OK, it may be a few days."

"As long as it's before the end of the month, things should be fine."

They covered a few more things and Dixon showed George to the door.

George had a lot to think about on the way home.