Chapter One: Where and When


Roger Smith returned to his home after an easy day of work. Nothing had gone wrong, and the negotiation was easy. A simple hostage situation was always better than something that caused Big O to make an appearance.
Roger glanced at the large black stretch limo sitting in front of his home but saw no movement inside or outside of its shiny surface, so he continued on his way. He opened the door and walked in, meeting Norman, who caught his coat as Roger shrugged it off.
"You have a guest sir." Norman said, motioning to Roger's study door that was half open.
"Who is it?" Roger asked, straightening his tie. There was absolutely no reason to look the least bit mussed in front of new clients. It would make them think his job was hard.
"A young lady, sir. She said she would only talk to you."
Roger smiled. That's what they always said. "Thank you, Norman."
He walked into the study, opening the door so that it made no noise. He wanted a chance to observe his potential client first. He glanced around and saw nobody, wondering for a fleeting moment if Norman had gone off his rocker. Then Roger stepped further into the room and saw that the doors to the balcony were open.
The wind blew the curtains into his face, and Roger pushed them aside to see a slight form sitting on the balcony rail, legs tucked beneath her petite form.
"Welcome home, Mr. Smith."
Roger smiled. She didn't turn around but she knew he was there.
"You know, only women are allowed to enter my home unconditionally. And not that I'm complaining, but I didn't even get the courtesy of your name." Roger said walking forward.
He watched as she slowly turned on the rail, placing her feet gently on the balcony before getting up. Roger was not surprised to see that she was a rather attractive woman. She was dressed in all white, a sleeveless white dress that fell below her knees with matching heels and a white feminine fedora covering her hair. The only color in her wardrobe was a red rosebud stuck in the white satin ribbon around the crown of the hat.
"My name is Charisse Triax, Mr. Smith. I'm sure you've heard the name." She stated it like a fact more than a boast.
"You're father is Darnell Triax, Paradigm City's leading producer of plastics and other useful materials. Also rumored to be thick as thieves with Alex Rosewater." Roger said, watching her for a reaction.
She nodded and walked past him and went back inside to pick up the white satin purse that sat on his desk.
Roger followed her in and closed the doors behind them, and that finally got a reaction from her.
Charisse jumped a little at the low click of the doors, but she shook it off and opened the purse. She took out a photo, a tape recorder, and a note written on embossed paper that held the mark of the Triax Corporation in the top left-hand corner, three triangles interlocked inside a circle.
"I want to hire you, Mr. Smith, to help me get my father back. I found these early yesterday morning on my father's pillow. He had been abducted the previous evening when the house had been empty. I had gone out for the night and it was a day off for all the servants."
She handed the items to Roger and he glanced at them. The photograph was of Darnell Triax, bound to a chair and blindfolded and gagged. The note typed in a standard font and was the basic "Don't call the cops, we'll call you" randsom. Roger pressed the play button on the tape recorder and listened while watching Charisse's face.
The tape started slowly, with a few scrapings and some muffled noises. Then a voice, presumably Darnell Triax, could be heard faintly as if someone was watching the abduction taking place so they could record it. Finally there was a loud scuffle and Darnell was no longer speaking.
Charisse closed her eyes and a tear slid down her slim, pale cheek. Roger frowned and handed her a black handkerchief from a pocket inside his double-breasted suit. She accepted it with white-gloved hands and wiped away the tears.
It seems that we have a standard kidnapping, Miss Triax. I would be happy to accept this case for you."
Charisse handed the handkerchief back to him, her eyes dry, and took off her hat, revealing long coppery hair swept into a tight french twist on the back of her head. A few stray curls escaped the tight bonds and fell next to her face. She turned and opened the doors to the balcony again, the wind blowing her skirt.
"I love the wind, Mr. Smith. It's so cleansing. There's no pretense to it's power. It brings what it can and it takes what it can and it never takes just to have more."
Roger stood close behind her, taking in the scent of her perfume. "I agree with you, Miss Triax. But the wind also brings strange weather, and with that comes problems."
Charisse turned and Roger realized how close they were. He looked into her olive green eyes and she stared right back, her gaze never wavering.
"Thank you Mr. Smith. My father means the world to me, and I love him dearly."
She then brushed past him, her shoulder brushing against his arm, sending tingles up Roger's arm that intrigued him. Charisse picked up her hand and put it back on, picking up her purse as well.
"The note says the kidnappers will call at 3 o'clock tomorrow. I assume you will be there. I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Smith." Charisse held out a hand to him.
Roger took it and smiled at how firm her grip was, "You can call me Roger."
A faint smile played at her crimson painted lips, "Then I guess you may call me Charisse."
He walked her to the door. Usually he let Norman show them the way out, but he couldn't help wanting to spend more time with her. Roger helped her slip on her white coat and resisted the urge to button it for her. He opened the door of the black stretch limo and she got in.
Roger held her hand to help her in and reassured her, "You've hired the best negotiator in town. You're father will be home soon."
"I hope so, Roger."
The limousine rolled down the street and turned a corner, no longer visible. Roger when back inside to his study and sat down at the desk. He began to study the three things she had given him. He was concentrating so hard that he didn't hear the door open or see Dorothy step through.
"Another job, Roger?" She asked.
"Dorothy. It is customary to knock before one enters a room." Roger said, looking up from the note.
"If it is customary, then why don't you do it?" She asked in her robotic monotone that was entirely too appropriate for an android.
"That's not the point Dorothy. . ." Roger sighed. He never won these logic battles with Dorothy.
"What is your new case?"
Roger pushed the note and the picture towards her. Dorothy picked them up and studied them silently.
"I know. It seems like a standard kidnapping. But something isn't right." Roger pressed the play button on the tape recorder and played it for Dorothy. When it was over she looked at him for an explanation.
"Someone really wants to frighten this woman. They don't just want money. They want something from her."
"What are you going to do about it, Roger?"
Roger got up and took the paper and the photograph from her, "I intend to find out exactly why someone is trying to scare the hell out of Charisse Triax. I also intend to negotiate for her father."