TEN

Two years ago there was a man prowling the streets, the worst kind of predator. He would pick up prostitutes and take them to a nearby motel, rape them and savagely beat them, sometimes leaving them with lasting scars. The working girls back then were all worried, rumors being what they were in their profession. The police dismissed the first few complaints from the girls as nothing to be overly concerned about. Some Johns smacked them up a little, some too drunk to care what they did, some taking out the frustrations of their day on the girls. Whether the tired looking desk sergeant had seen too much of this sorta thing, or whether it was because the crimes themselves were against prostitutes, they were allowed to continue, until one girl was beaten so severely that she was in a coma for three weeks and sustained lasting brain damage. The press got wind of the case and it was splashed all over the front pages. The police department could do nothing but act in the face of the surprisingly vocal public outcry, but it was too late; the girls who were questioned said nothing in protest, even when they were threatened with jail. The tenuous trust between the girls and the police had been broken.

That's when detective David North approached me. He asked if I could hit the streets; get the girls to see sense, as he put it. He didn't want the situation to worsen if this shadow of a man started killing the girls. When I agreed and set out to get whatever information I could, I found them to be trusting of me, as if they accepted me as one of their fellow downtrodden. After whispered rumors and half truths, I was able to get a partial number plate, make and model of his car and a good description of him. I tracked him down and what I found was a neurotic little man who resembled a friar or something, surrounded by books about birds in an apartment that looked almost exactly like mine. After receiving some of what he dished out to the girls, he spilled the whole story from his mouth in a torrent. I dragged his sorry ass to the police station just so I didn't have to hear his self righteous pseudo religious tripe. The police got their confession, the papers got off their backs and the working girls could continue doing what they could to survive.

In the two years since, I have made some strong contacts with the girls. If any street rumors are doing the rounds then the older ones will come to me before they ever set foot in the police station. Some of the older ladies will let me take them for a walk, and for the price of a muffin and coffee, they gladly tell me their life story. Now, I needed one of the younger girls to help me out. I just hoped my reputation preceded me.

I found Honey at the mouth of an alleyway, posing herself provocatively at the passing traffic. She was just far back enough to avoid being seen by a casual walker emerging from nearby restaurants, but near enough to be noticed by a passing car. I crossed the street and walked up to her. She was dangerously thin, her straw colored hair falling over her shoulders. Her face was pale and childlike. I'd be surprised if she turned out to be over sixteen. She sauntered up to me, her hands on her hips. "What would you like?" She asked in what she thought was an alluring tone.

I shook my head. "My name is Logan. I thought you'd like some coffee and a bite."

Realization dawned in her eyes, chasing away the glazed look there. "Logan, like the guy in Kwannon's letter?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. The girls have told me about you. They said you helped 'em out a coupla years ago."

"So what about it, Honey? A coffee and a few minutes of your time."

She looked around indecisively. "Look, I have to make a living here. Could it wait?"

I pulled out a wad of bills and peeled some off. I held them up for her to see. "I'll make it worth your time."

The girl stirred her coffee in silence and looked idly out of the window, refusing to meet my eyes. I decided to wait her out, see if she was going to speak in her own good time. "Kwannon was nice to me," She said in a small voice. "When I first came to the city, I was so stupid. I didn't know how everything worked, and I thought I could make some fast money. After being slapped around by some of the girls for wandering into their territory, I soon learned. Kwannon showed me the ropes, so to speak, and she let me stay in her room when I had nowhere else to go." She shook her head and looked at me. Her eyes were rimmed with red and she was shaking with the effort to hold back her tears. "I didn't know what she was doing to make more money, if that's what you're thinking. None of us knew. She was kinda exotic and the guys liked her because she looked like some Japanese princess."

I sipped my coffee, which tasted like dust. "When did she tell you about her other job?"

She sighed and hugged herself, staring down at her half eaten muffin, and looked for all the world like the frightened teenager she was. The only person who ever gave a damn about her was dead, and she was suddenly alone. She wasn't going to give up her knowledge easily.

"I know you haven't done anything wrong, Honey," I said reassuringly. 'You have to see things from my point of view for a moment. Kwannon tried to kill me, and I let her live. Maybe if I had done something else, taken her to the police station, dragged her kicking and screaming to a hostel or something, maybe she would have had the protection she needed." I severely doubted it, but I wanted her to see my frustration and my sorrow.

Something sparked in her eyes then, and she picked up her mug, wrapping her bony fingers around its warmth. "She told me after she tried to make the hit on you. She told me she made a big mistake, but she didn't tell me what that was. She sat me down on her floor and showed me her file, told me all about you and what you did. She gave me the letter and told me to take it to the pigs if she wasn't seen for a few days. She scared me, the way she was speaking. It was like she already knew she was going to die. At first I thought she was joking. I thought she was high or something…"

"Honey, what did she say about this hit? She showed you her file, showed you what she was asked to do, but did she talk about who hired her?"

She frowned in concentration. "In the letter, she said his name was Barrington," She said slowly.

"What did she say to you?"

She shrugged. "Just that she thought he was military or something. She could smell it on him, she said. He was real high up or something, because of the way he spoke. He had another man with him when he came to her and put the deal forward. Never did find out who that guy was, but she said he was bald and wiry looking."

I wondered if this bald guy was in a wheelchair. "He gave her the file on me," I said. She nodded. I sat back and smiled to myself, then looked up at Honey. "She knew she was being set up."

Honey looked puzzled. "She needed the money. She was a really nice person otherwise. She told me to tell you it was nothing personal."

I reached across the table and patted her shoulder. "You got somewhere to stay tonight, Honey?"

She withdrew from me a little. "You want me, you pay like the rest."

I shook my head and smiled. "I didn't mean that. Stop being so difficult."

She was bristling at my attitude. "Look, just 'cause you bought me a coffee and some cake…"

I held up a hand. "If you'd rather stay on the street tonight and freeze, then go right ahead. You were the last person to see Kwannon alive, and I'm willing to bet good money that whoever killed her would know that pretty soon too. As I said, if you wanna walk outta here, go back out onto the streets, I ain't gonna play the hero and run after you."

I stood up and grabbed my coat. "Thanks for the information." I began to walk away when I heard her quickly scramble to her feet behind me. I turned to see her standing, her tiny jacket in her hands and a look of fear on her face. I held the door open for her and we walked out onto the street.

"No, Logan." Marie crossed her arms over her chest and fixed me with a glare. "She can't stay with me!"

"Where else would she go?" It was almost closing time at Harry's and Marie was clearing tables vigorously. "I wouldn't normally ask, but this is a very complicated case."

She stopped wiping the grimy surface of a table and looked over at Honey, who sat huddled in one of the booths near the door. "She's a prostitute!"

"She's also a little girl. And her best friend has been murdered. I think that they might come after her unless I get her off the streets now."

Marie walked to the bar and placed empty beer glasses on it, me following in her wake. We were keeping our voices as low as possible, even though music was still playing on the jukebox. "Why can't she stay with you?"

Marie asked, pushing her hair from her face and throwing a towel at me. "You may as well help out if you're gonna stand there and gawk at me."

"The same people who killed her friend are probably going to come after me next," I started wiping the bar top as I spoke. "I don't want her caught up in this."

Marie stopped what she was doing and then looked at me for a few moments. "You really think she's in danger?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I thought otherwise."

She let out a long sigh. "Alright, Logan. But you owe me so big. Ah will see if ah can get her a job with Harry. There's no point her freeloadin' if she's gonna be staying with me."

I smiled broadly. "Thanks, kiddo. You don't know how much I appreciate it."

"You can start showin' it by taking out the trash." She pointed to a huge metal bin overflowing with the refuse of a busy night. "And that's just for starters, Sugah."

I knew I would have to tell North what Honey told me, and sooner or later I would, but first I needed to take another look at Xavier's case. Something told me that Xavier's father was not a man of principles as his son was, and it seemed to me the answer to who stole his files was in his work, whatever that was. I made a beeline for a public telephone and feed it some coins. On the third ring Edmund picked up.

"Edmund, its Logan."

"Ah, Logan. I was wondering when you would again intrude upon my life. What can I do for you?"

"I need some more information about Xavier."

"You read the files, Logan. That's all I know."

"I'm looking at further back. Doctor Brian Xavier."

"His father?"

"Do you know anything about his research?"

There was a brief pause on the line. "Logan, I think you need to come here, to the library."

"Can't you just tell me?"

"If you want the information you come here."

The line went dead. I stared at the receiver for a few moments, trying to figure what had got Edmund so worked up. I replaced the receiver and started walking towards the library.

Edmund poured some tea for us both and sat down in his old leather chair, making a steeple with his fingers under his chin. "Forgive me for my rudeness earlier," He said gruffly. "Why did you want to know about Brian Xavier?"

"This case I'm working on, its for his son Charles."

"Yes, yes." He flapped his hand irritably. "I already knew that."

"Well, Xavier has me investigating the theft of some of his father's files. Most of Xavier's other documents were left untouched, and that got me thinking. Why would someone want to steal thirty five year old research papers full of outdated and obsolete data?"

"Obviously someone who doesn't want it lying around to be discovered." Edmund sniffed and reached for his tea cup.

"I wondered if there was anything about Brian Xavier's work that might be considered….Sensitive." I slurped my too-hot tea and placed the saucer back on Edmund's desk. "Something worth stealing even today."

Edmund grunted and leaned forward. "Brian Xavier, along with several other luminaries of medical science, was recruited by the government near the beginning of the cold war to begin extensive human testing of biological agents, experimental medical procedures, and advanced weapons development. Back then the threat of nuclear was very real, at least in the eyes of those in power." He was gesturing with his hands now, lost in his narrative. "I worked as a student under his tutelage before heading to Egypt. It wasn't a long assignment, just a few months, but the pay was more than I was used to and I was enthusiastic about the work. They were doing truly innovative stuff in there, you know. A lot of what they achieved has yet to see the light of day.

"Dr Xavier was a truly brilliant man; single minded about his goals, willing to do anything to achieve them. I think he threw his whole life into his work, because he hardly ever left the compound. In the end, people started to think he was going insane….But I get ahead of myself. Some of Dr. Xavier's experiments were considered too dangerous even for the military. You see, he had spearheaded a program through which soldiers were experimented on, tested in ways that were unimaginable. But these were great leaps forward."

"Like what?"

He looked at me with heavily lidded eyes. "He was working with hypnotists, for instance, trying to break down the mind of a rational man and replace it so that the conscience would no longer be troubled by the thought of killing. He was working on healing agents, even anti-ageing regimes. Dr. Xavier and his team were working to create living weapons."

"Surely he couldn't have kept files from back then."

"I would have assumed they would have destroyed all remaining files after the project was folded back. Brian Xavier would have tried to hold onto part of it, because he saw this as his life's work. He couldn't have walked away with only memories. His wife left him, his son was abroad. He was an old man left with nothing. Perhaps he saw them as his pension plan; sell them to the highest bidder just to piss of Uncle Sam…" He erupted in peals of laughed, which turned into a hacking cough. "You see," He said when he had regained composure. "When you reach the end of you life, you tend to get contemplative, reflective. You wonder if your time on this earth will be remembered. If it had been all worth it." He looked around him, at his books, and then back at me, his eyes watering. "Me, I have my corner of a dusty old library, collecting newspaper cuttings, reading and cataloguing everything that comes down here. This is my material legacy when I die, Logan. My life's work was the pursuit of knowledge, and this is testament to it." He shrugged and sipped his tea. "Sometimes I wish I had been a man of action, like you." He hoisted himself out of the chair and began to usher me out. "I've told you more about my time in that horrid place of war than I have told anyone. Its probably still classified information, but I doubt they care what an old man says in his ramblings. You just be sure you know what you're doing."

And with that, he shoved me into the elevator and pulled the grate closed.