BEST SERVED COLD
CHAPTER 4: CONNECTIONS
"You've had this comin' for a long time, Drake, an' now you're gonna get it."
"Just shut up and take your best shot, Logan."
"You asked for it, bub." With a quiet snick, two eight-inch long, razor-edged adamantium claws flicked out of Logan's left hand.
Placing a steady palm on the smooth green felt, Logan set the cue between the blades and took careful aim. The chalked tip slid back and forth a few times. Just as Logan pulled back to shoot, the phone in the corner of the lounge rang, shattering in the tense silence. Logan started in surprise, and the last claw on his left hand leapt out. The stick went in at the wrong angle and connected to the cue ball with a SNAP! The ball rolled and spun wildly around the table before finally falling into a corner pocket, failing to touch any other ball on the table. Logan snarled in the telephone's direction.
"Scratch on the eight ball, Logan. My game." Bobby pretended to wipe his fingernails on his leather jacket, inspected them casually, and blew gently across the tips. Apparently satisfied, Bobby extended his hand to Logan, palm up. "That'll be ten bucks, Mr. CuisinArt." Snick. The three claws on Logan's right hand came out. Bobby yanked his hand back.
"I want a rematch, kid. Answer the damn phone." Bobby fairly danced away to get out of Logan's reach and picked up the squalling receiver. Logan snapped the cue over one knee.
"Xavier Institute, Bobby Drake speaking," Bobby said cheerfully, as Logan glowered.
"Ah…good morning, Mr. Drake. My name is Katherine Wister; I own a private sport-fishing business off the Manhattan waterfront." The voice on the other end was polite, but the seriousness in her tone could not be ignored.
"What can I do for you, Ms. Wister?"
"I'm calling on behalf of a friend of mine, about two things," Ms. Wister paused on the other end. "First, her daughter's a mutant. I am too, if you want to know. My friend wants to know if you can help Tracy at your Institute. She's sixteen years old, and almost has a college degree through an accredited online correspondence course."
"Wow! I doubt there's much we'll be able to do to top that academically, but we might be able to teach her a few things about using her powers." Bobby's eyebrows furrowed for a second. "Say, what are, err, what did you say her name was? Tracy? What's her mutation, exactly?"
There was another pause on the line as Wister did some thinking.
"Well, she was born an albino." Wister teased.
"Uhh, that's not quite what I meant." Wister laughed at the wryness in Bobby's voice. She chuckled, and explained.
"I know. Tracy makes cold. No, wait, scratch that. I think she absorbs heat; her whole body is like a living heat sink. I think the more heat she absorbs, the colder the area around her becomes. Ice forms on stuff when it gets cold enough. I know, because I saw her do it firsthand. Coached her into it, as a matter of fact! She covered my basement floor with six inches of solid ice in a few seconds. Damn near covered me too." Katherine Wister waited on the other end of the telephone line while Bobby Drake pumped his fist and grinned like an idiot.
YESSS! Finally! Someone with powers like mine! I'll actually be able to teach someone something useful, for a change!
"How long ago did she first manifest her powers?" Bobby asked when he'd regained his composure.
"I'm not certain, actually. I think she's been doing it for longer than anyone guessed. At first, she was doing it subconsciously; she absorbed the ambient heat from anywhere she went, and it got colder. Later, whenever she touched somebody, they'd get a real deep chill. Last night was the first time she'd done it on purpose."
"If you don't mind my asking, what are your abilities, Ms. Wister?" He could almost hear her slow grin.
"Come out here into the water and I'll show you," she said amiably. "And call me Kathy."
"Only if you call me Bobby." Bobby felt quite at ease talking to this woman, like two kindred spirits recognizing each other for the first time.
"Alright, Bobby. There's just one other thing. Last night, when Tracy froze all the water underneath my house, she absorbed a lot of heat from the ground. I—I have a special relationship with water. Blood is water, Bobby. I know that her body was well below the temperature needed to freeze a human's blood solid. But—she just—changed. I could see right through her! I—I think she became some kind of gas or vapor." Bobby considered this for a moment.
"It's possible—likely, as a matter of fact. You can get gases to way lower temperatures than water. It's probably her body's way of staying so cold without freezing solid. Y'know, like living nitrogen."
"Aren't you just the expert? And what exactly is your power?" Bobby's grin came back.
"I'll give you a hint: My friends call me 'Iceman'." Kathy gave a (facetious) groan of exasperation while Bobby laughed. When he finished, he felt ready to get the conversation over with so he could meet these women.
"You said earlier that there were two things you wanted to talk to me about. I think we've gone over the first pretty thoroughly; what's the second?" Bobby asked, then he felt sorry he had. All the laughter drained out of Kathy's voice. She was quiet for a moment.
"I know no one's tapped my phones, but what about yours? Is it safe to talk on this line?" Kathy's voice, now low, had a cautious, calculating edge to it. Bobby caught on immediately.
"Yes, it's safe. Are you having problems with the government?"
"Not yet. Listen Bobby, this woman's been my closest friend since college. Now she's gotten herself on the wrong side of harm's way. She's—she's an FBI informant working inside McKannen Industries. The Feds asked her to dig up some dirt on the new CEO; they think he's up to something."
"Whoa. THE McKannen Industries? The guys who hire mutants right on the spot? Were they right?"
"You don't know the half of it. Look, Bobby, I don't want to talk about this any more over the phone, here, let me give you my address, you can come over here, then we can talk." Bobby snatched up a pencil and tore a piece of paper off the scorecard he and Logan had been using. He started to scribble madly as Kathy dictated the address, and the directions how to get there.
"I'm afraid of what might happen if Sarah's been discovered; there's no telling what McKannen would do. I'm also afraid of what might happen if they find out that Sarah came here. I can get away no problem, but Tracy's little 'episode' last night pretty much left her out of it. They'd get her for sure." Worry had crept into Kathy's voice. Bobby could tell that she was more accustomed to being confident and in control. "And then, there's the disk that Sarah wanted me to hide—Gunny? Gunny, what are you barking at? HEY GUNNY! You stop that right—!" Click. Silence slammed down on the line.
"Kathy? Hello, Kathy?" Oh shit. "LOGAN! We gotta get moving, now!"