Navigating Nine Chapter 6
Disclaimer: Janet owns the Plumverse. I'm not making any money off this.
Note: Hey guys! Thanks as always for all your support and encouragement, it means so much. I hope this chapter is enjoyable.
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TriBro was a cinderblock fortress, the kind of gray monotonous place known for slowly leeching the life from anyone who touched it. Rose Red in factory form, and here I was walking inside like a naïve idiot. Hell, it even had a resident monster or two. One day, just one day and it would all be over. All I had to do was stay away from or not attract the attention of Clyde Cone. How hard could it be?
"Come on, feet," I said quietly as I pasted a stage smile on and walked up the steps. Inside it was small-business tasteful, with a receptionist who was almost genuinely friendly. I introduced myself as being from RangeMan LLC, because I despised giving out my name lately. I never knew what to say- Stephanie or Alyssa? I didn't like the name Stephanie, it made me feel like I should crimp my hair and run around with people named Kiki and Candy.
A man with thinning brown hair appeared in the doorway behind the receptionist and I smiled at him. He wasn't wearing black or a Buzz Lightyear t-shirt. He was wearing Dockers and a blue button down shirt that worked for his slender build, and brown eyes.
"Mr. Cone?" I guessed.
"Andrew Cone," he said, returning my smile and ushering me into his office. It was neat, orderly, decorated with pictures of his two boys, his wife, the family dog. Depressingly normal, to my demented way of thinking, or maybe the word was 'repressively.'
"Nice to meet you," I offered my hand and he shook it with a true businessman's grip, firm enough to be strong without being threatening. They actually taught that nowadays, I'd learned it during one of my marketing courses. "I'm Stephanie Plum," I said pleasantly, managing to say the line without stuttering. Would it really be so bad to just give in and go by Moonbeam?
"How does a nice girl like you end up working bond enforcement?" Andrew asked as he took his seat and leaned back, looking at ease behind the modest desk.
"Downsizing," I said with a shrug. He nodded in understanding.
"Have you ever worked anywhere like TriBro before?"
Heh, right. Good thing this wasn't a real interview. My work experience was herding cattle and explaining to lost yuppies the mystical properties of various stones, herbs, and Celtic knots. "Nope. I'm not even sure what you make here."
Cone chuckled. "We make very specific parts for slot machines- machine tooled gears and locks. Samuel Singh was a techie. He worked in quality control, as a temp for a lady who's on maternity leave. Primarily his job consisted of measuring minutia because each part we supply must be perfect. You wouldn't be expected to know much your first day onboard, so lets see how good you are at bluffing." He had a small smile on his face and I shook my head, wondering how bored he must be to get this much amusement from sending a fake employee to work.
Everything was already set up, so he took me on out on a tour of the Troll Factory. We ended up in a huge warehouse type place that adjoined the offices and the actual factory floor. The far end was sectioned off into one long room for quality control, which was further sectioned off by cubbies with tables full of odd Inquisitorial torture devices, magnifying glasses and other oddities. There were seven tables, one person to each table, and one table empty. Joy, I had a spot in the cafeteria of doom.
Andrew left me in the tender talons of Anne Klimmer the manager, who had obviously spent a past life presiding over military prisons. She even had the moustache for it. Anne introduced me to the team, which was several women in their thirties or forties and two men.
I was lectured on procedures and then attached to Jane Locarelli, who looked like an old, slightly dead Laura Flynn Boyle. Rail thin, late forties, drained of color. She even spoke in a slurred, monotone voice as if the effort of speaking was just too much. Factory Rose Red was slowly draining her life away and she probably never even noticed.
She had worked here since she got out of high school. I had to wonder what she was like then. Was there any of that girl left in her? I looked at her closely, but I couldn't see it. All I saw was the gray skin, dull eyes, faded hair and a chill ran down my spine. My inner voices were screaming at me to run, run away and never look back.
Jane selected a gear from a huge barrel of gears and put it under the microscope, looking it over carefully for flaws. My stomach knotted as she passed the first gear and selected another. "We do two kinds of testing here," she began her next assigned speech and I zoned out, unable to bear listening to the slurred dead voice. If I survived this I would send her a quartz crystal. She could use the energy.
"Would you like to try one?" Jane asked.
"Sure." No. Don't make me touch it. Let me out of here! Help! Save me, Obi-Wan Kenobi!
Jane handed me a gear and showed me how to measure it. Hah, measuring. Now I didn't have to worry. Slide rules would never let me stay near them. "I think it's okay," I said doubtfully, staring unhappily at the silver doohickey.
"No, not quite. There's a burr on the edge there." She took the measurement thing and the doohickey back. "Maybe you should watch for a little while longer."
I watched for two more gears and couldn't take it any longer. I had to do something. I slid off my stool and looked at the next cubicle where Dolly Freedman was guzzling coffee and just generally butchering her job. She was so hyped on caffeine she was almost tweaking.
"Is anybody looking?" she asked, grabbing a handful of gears and dumping them into the finished pile.
"They looked good to me," I said with a shrug. I tried to remember, what was I doing here? Looking for clues about Singh. But I didn't need clues about Singh. Singh was in Vegas, and he was getting hunted by the Insane Cone Posse. There was going to be some guy named Howie at a McDonalds who was gonna get a McBullet.
So why was I here again?
Oh yeah, cause I wasn't supposed to know all that yet. I was here to pretend to find it out. Ugh. I was going mad. I was losing brain cells. I decided to stand and watch Dolly tweak. Not like I was going to get fired anyway. Alas. Woe is me.
It was almost lunch time when a guy in a black suit stormed in. For a split second I was hopeful Ranger had sent one of the Merry Men to relieve me, but it was dashed as I got a better look, my eyes unglazing from the hours of horrific boredom. The guy looked a little like Andrew Cone, but with darker, less plentiful hair.
"Who are you?" He demanded. I glanced at Jane who had once again been showing me the ropes of how to stare at little metal things. Jane was staring at Blackie. I smiled and put out my hand, trying to look charming. Time to dust off the bubbly blond routine.
"Hi, I'm Stephanie Plum. Mr. Cone just hired me and it's my first day. Jane's just showing me how to do stuff…" I kept my voice perky and my smile slightly vapid.
"Which Mr. Cone?" he asked, shaking my hand out of reflex more than actual desire to greet me.
"Umm… Andrew," I said, looking puzzled. "Is there more than one?" I could almost see Blackie dismissing me mentally. Maybe if I acted dumb enough he'd fire me on the spot. Good. It was fun to play ditzy fluff bunnies.
"He did," Bart muttered, his gaze darkening. "Come with me, Ms. Plum."
I widened my eyes and looked startled as he turned and stalked away. I smiled at Jane and hightailed it after him.
Bart stomped into his office and punched some numbers on the phone. "You hired a new employee without consulting me! This is my department, Drew…"
"Calm down, Bart, she's only—" Andrew's voice was cool and collected.
"I don't give a damn what she is. I didn't sign off on hiring her."
"She's not hired," Andrew sounded vaguely annoyed now.
Bart blinked at the news. "What the hell is she doing in my shop then?"
"I'm with the bonds company for Samuel Singh. We're investigating his disappearance," I interrupted. "It was arranged for me to be a fake employee for a day to see if I could turn up anything new from his co-workers."
His eyes narrowed even further and the scowl he was laying on me could have shriveled small plants. "I don't care. They can send someone else in. You get out of my factory."
I stared at him for a beat. Ranger would be pissed that I hadn't stayed all day, but I already had the information I came for. I'd had it before we even got here. I could say now that I just worked fast or something. Did I really want to lose any more of my life to Rose Red? Jane the dead Lara Flynn Boyle flashed across my mind's eye.
"Fine, Mr. Cone. I've already gotten enough information anyway." I shrugged and gave him my professional courtesy smile. "Thank you for your cooperation. We'll be in touch."
I turned and hurried out the door before he could change his mind and send me back to the Hellmouth. I was so busy concentrating on my escape I never even heard the other person rounding the corner and we ran straight into one another.
I bounced off a slightly tubby front and took a quick step back to regain my balance, blinking away the surprise.
"Oh, gee, I'm sorry, I never look where I'm going. Are you all right?" asked a solicitous voice. I looked in horror at the slightly chubby front, which was wearing a Buzz Lightyear t-shirt that had seen many, many better days. I looked up from the ghostly faded image of Buzz to a chubby boyish face with big round glasses and tousled brown hair. My heart was trying to burst through my ribcage. I could feel my hands shaking.
I took a deep breath and smiled at Clyde Cone.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just leaving…" I said, side stepping to get around him and practically jogging down the hall. Still I wasn't fast enough.
"Hey, wait a second!" he called. I froze and turned around, fighting every instinct of my body.
"Yeah?" I asked.
"You look familiar," Clyde said, hurrying toward me. "Do I know you?"
"Nope, 'fraid not."
"Well, okay," he frowned, looking doubtful.
"It was nice to meet you, Mr. Cone."
"Just Clyde. What was your name again?"
"Stephanie Plum." Oh shit. Oh hell. Oh damnation. Why did I say that? I hate you Janet.
His face brightened and my stomach dropped. "You were in the paper or something… you killed that one guy- the boxer?"
Hm, now it's a funny story, you aren't going to believe it… or maybe you would, since you have your own twisted reality… Was it a sick sad commentary that I was considering spilling my insane story to the sociopath who would soon probably try to stalk and kill me?
"Benito Ramirez," I said, nodding. "Please, I really don't like to talk about it," I added, doing my very best distressed maiden look.
"Right. Sorry… but you are a bounty hunter… wow, what are you doing here? Are you looking for a criminal?"
"Looking for Samuel Singh."
"Do you have a gun and everything? I bet when you find somebody you take 'em down, like nothing, right?"
Wow, he was an even better actor than I was. If I hadn't read the book I would have totally bought the harmless puppy act. "Sometimes, if I'm lucky. Look, I'm sorry, but I have to run," I smiled apologetically.
"Aw, that bites. Hey, maybe we could go get lunch sometime?"
"Maybe." If I decide to give up on mercenaries and date full-out sociopaths.