"We got it."
Fox came running up the interior stairs from the garage where she'd been practicing.
"You're sure?"
"I wouldn't lie to you, Fox, you know that," Stone turned his laptop to face her. Gidge's data upload displayed a host of calls made from the mobile phone of an Anthony Baker. A routine call was made to a San Diego number, judging from the area code, and the ID given the number from the cell was, simply,"F." It had only lasted ten seconds - about long enough for a quick answering machine message to play and have the person calling give up hope that the call was being screened. Feliar was not at home.
"That easy? That easy?" Fox clenched her hands into fists; her whole body shook. Abby eased around her to examine the records.
"Looks like he put in a call to the Ritz-Carlton lobby." Alyssa recognized the number from their dummy room there.
Fox stared at the entry. "Is she staying there?"
Abby frowned and shook her head, trying not to sound too pessimistic. "Probably not, but someone is."
"Leung?"
"Could be. What's the other call to the Bay area? That's a 415," Abby tapped the screen.
"Cell phone, I think," Gidge's voice sounded from the laptop speaker. "Registered to a Fiona Masters."
"Masters? That's rich," Fox growled.
"She's sending a message," Abby concluded. "I think we might have a vampire on our hands now."
"Doesn't matter. She's dead either way."
"We stick with the plan - your plan," Abby warned. "King makes nice, sees what she knows. Worse comes to worst, he shows off the tattoo and takes the chance that she doesn't know that Danica Talos is dead."
"Or," Alyssa considered, "he could say he'd been told to attend on her behalf, and didn't know where else to go when he found out they'd been dusted." Alyssa hugged herself. "It wouldn't be out of the ordinary for pets to be spared when hunters came." Abby heard the personal experience in that statement.
"We'll need records to show that King was in the hospital last week, just in case. Gidge?"
"Already on it. Should I change the name?"
"Keep it," Abby recommended, "But be sure that on the charts he's listed as having had the usual, okay?" The 'usual' meant bites with no bruising - no blood was ever lost to a bruise with a vampire - cuts, scrapes, scars, and, most importantly, a puncture wound from a syringe, explaining why King would be human when he met up with Feliar. That some of those injuries actually existed would only authenticate his cover.
She rounded on Fox. "You sure she'll buy this? If something goes sour, and he has to use this excuse, won't she be suspicious that he didn't try to contact anyone straight out?"
"She'll be suspicious," Fox grudgingly admitted, "but if he pretends to be relieved, she might buy it."
"Some pets got really scared when their masters died," Alyssa said, her mind clearly far away from the present.
"King's not that type."
"Then have him play up the sycophant. If she thinks he came up this way to find a new master, she'd definitely take him in." A fire blazed in Fox's eyes, and, not for the first time, Abby doubted her intentions. They needed information first. If Fox's revenge got in the way, they would be revealed, and any opportunity to hit the vamps with Daystar would be lost. Not to mention she could lose her partner on this, and she'd already lost enough of her old crew as was.
"Fox," Abby said, finally.
"What?"
"Remember what we're doing here."
"Oh, I remember," she clicked her tongue against her teeth, shaking her head. "You think I don't get it? I know what we're supposed to be doing. Step one," Fox held up her index finger, "gather intel. Step two-" another finger snapped up-"strategy, backup, plan, plan, plan. Step three, insert, investigate, initiate. Step four," Fox gritted her teeth, "Kill. Them. All." She whirled and punched the wall, gasping for breath and collecting herself calmly in the space of fifteen seconds while the others watched.
"There," she breathed out, "better."
"Are we going to have a problem, Fox?"
"Not from me," she swore. "But you'll forgive me if I'm a little excited."
"Save it, then," Abby softened her tone and allowed a bit of malevolent glee to creep into her expression. "You'll get your chance."
Behind them, a door opened, and King exited the bedroom, dressed, in a word, slutty. King shuffled over to them, head bowed like a scolded puppy. He wore ripped black-on-black paint-spattered jeans, with holes just above and at the knees, one below his ass but only just barely, through which you could tell he wore no underwear - he'd sooner free-ball it than wear a g-string. Black Doc Martens were lightly laced, the pants haphazardly covering them or not in places; a gun metal gray shiny shirt under the longer-than-waist-length leather jacket completed the look. The only piece of clothing that actually belonged to him was his wife-beater undershirt, which he revealed by leaving the clubby shirt unbuttoned but tucked into the front of his jeans. Showing off his tight stomach was precisely what the vampire ordered, according to Fox.
"I feel naked," King groused, ruffling his hair. Fox had made him shave again, saying stubbled-manly wasn't the sort of wantonness Feliar would find attractive. When she'd seen the result of a shaven King, her enthusiasm for this plan skyrocketed; King, minus the beard, had rather a baby face.
"You don't have a problem being naked," Abby teased.
"True," he shrugged, "but generally it's because of something I can't control or in the pursuit of myth of the female orgasm. I don't know which to classify 'being bait,' under."
Abby smirked. "The former."
"The latter," Fox contributed.
King glanced from one to the other. "I'm fucked, aren't I?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"What are you having?"
Abby adjusted her ear piece. From the number at the Ritz, and the address listed on Fiona Masters' cell phone account, they had managed, over two grueling days, to track down the woman attached to both. Fox became increasingly, disconcertingly focused as they narrowed in on Feliar, King practiced his lost dog look, accentuating the rakish, wanton appeal of the clothes Fox picked for him, honing his skills for this night, when he'd make contact. All this work, and 'what are you having?' was the best he could do? Abby stifled a groan.
"I'm not looking for company, boy," a snide response came a second after King spoke.
"I'm flattered, but I'm just looking for a drink." There was a lengthy pause, in which Abby's imagination conjured up the dark and severe woman from their surveillance. She would be sneering, ignoring King, acting haughty, superior. He, curiously enough, would probably be doing the same.
Still, she responded to his question. "It's a Bloody Mary."
"That's a chick drink," King dismissed her. "I'll have two tequila shots and a bourbon, this much ice, this much bourbon."
"Disgusting," Feliar snipped.
"Says the woman paying ten-fifty for a V8."
"I prefer the texture to the tripe you've ordered. Much thicker, richer."
"So's semen," King riposted, a heavy sloshing sound signaling his drinks' arrival and quick consumption.
"Charming," Feliar complemented.
It was hard to get a bead on the vampire without being able to see her. Fox ruled out anyone being in the club with King. He could handle himself, truly, and someone listening too obviously, as she did now, would alarm their target. Still, seeing the woman would help her determine how well the evening was progressing.
"I've been known to have my moments."
"I think we have nothing else to say to each other," Feliar said with some finality, belied by the slightly hopeful way she ended, her voice raising almost in a question.
"There's plenty we could say. I could, for example, explain that I am, for all intents and purposes, single. Then you would say, 'What do you know, I'm a dry, withered, joyless cow who happens to be single.' 'Imagine that,' I say." King took a deep breath, held it, waited, and then, "Anytime now."
"Tell me, does this approach work on anyone?"
"You'd be surprised, and the answer to the question you're not asking is 'yes, more times than you in the past decade, grandma.'"
Abby bit her lip. It was, she supposed, part of his charm, this appalling ability to tell the most unpleasant truths and send up the ego of everyone else in the room, the better to leave his own unchallenged. Would it work on a vampire? They could be rather…testy when their personal style, manner, appearance, you name it, was called into question. King might be working the meat angle more than the bait angle without realizing it.
"It seems I am no match for your devilish wiles," Feliar said, voice dry with caustic sarcasm.
"I knew you'd see it my way. So, that just leaves the inevitable question."
"My name?"
"Your place or mine?"
"It might behoove you to know my name."
"It's not really necessary."
"Call me old-fashioned."
"Okay, well, if you're really that desperate, lay it on me."
"No."
Great, Abby thought. The evening was over before it could begin. Time for plan B? She wasn't looking forward to Plan B at all. She'd never been good at improvisation.
"Wow," King said, breathily, "you must just have men falling all over you."
"I might say the same about you."
"We are in a drag bar." God, she'd laughed herself into tears when they'd found Feliar at this place. King had been a tad less than amused.
"So you've been attempting to piss me off for stepping on your territory?"
"I'm here to pick up the straight girls who like to go to gay bars."
Abby chuckled, perfectly picturing King's no-nonsense straight face as he told Feliar this. It hadn't worked too well on Blade, his sense of humor, but with women, as he'd recounted numerous times, it opened doors and performed miracles. Which was a good thing, because he'd better start praying for one with the way this was going.
"Filia."
"Sorry?"
"My name is Filia."
"Ah, from the Italian Filomena, meaning 'frigid.'"
"You don't give up easily, do you?"
"Hey, you are always welcome to prove me wrong."
In her ear, Abby heard Fox sniggering. She was observing the club from the south entrance, tapped into the same feed from the microphone secreted in King's necklace. Abby clicked over to her mike, feeding it solely to Fox.
"Something funny, Fox?"
"He's good, girl. If you ever get tired of his mouth, I can find some uses for it."
"Cleaning your toilet, I hope," Abby grated, bristling. She switched off the communication channel to Fox and caught up with King and Feliar. When the channel opened, Feliar was laughing, though it did not sound at all pleasant.
"Aren't you going to tell me your name now?"
"I don't remember agreeing to that."
"It's traditional."
"You would know. You were probably there when they started it."
"Perhaps I should just go grab my walker and crawl back to my lace doilies and late show. Too much excitement, not good for the heart."
"You said it, not me." There was an audible scraping noise, even above the din of the club, as from a bar stool being shoved backwards with great force. "Say hi to Letterman for me," King toasted her.
"Surely you wouldn't let an old lady like me wander off into the night on my own?"
"I'm no boy scout."
"I rather didn't think you were. An escort, though, would be lovely."
"Does that mean you're going to pay me for this, too?"
"Consider yourself lucky to get 'this' at all."
"Funny, I was thinking the same thing."
"Coming?" Came a frustrated - angry? - sigh.
Another screeching, dragging noise, this one quicker, sharper, as though the person sitting literally leapt off the stool and it got caught in the inertia; that would be King, playing up phony eagerness. The music from the stage grew louder then softer suddenly, and Abby spied the pair stepping out onto the street from the bench she lay on. Feliar cast suspicious glances all around. Splayed out on the bench, Abby raised the thin, white, papery stick to her mouth and sucked on one tapered end. The smoke she exhaled and the goofy smile she gave to a passerby reassured Feliar - just another punk kid toking up in public because she was too high to know better.
They crossed the street, standing right by her on the corner to hail a cab. Abby reached out an arm towards them.
"You got a quarter, man? I left my bus fare on the," she giggled, "th-the bus."
"Take a cab on me," King flipped a coin at her, which she grabbed at and missed by a mile.
"An angel of mercy," Feliar said, disapprovingly. "You should not encourage such bottom feeders. A cab arrived, and she climbed in. "The Ritz-Carlton."
"Hang on a second," King retreated, walking back towards her on the bench, and retrieving the coin. He placed it in her open palm.
"Hey, thanks," Abby giggled genuinely when King's mouth ticked up in the corner.
"Coming, playboy?" Feliar called from the open door to the cab.
"Just wanted to get what I paid for," King called over his shoulder. To Abby, he said, "Watch. Now you see it," he held up his open palm with a quarter in it, closed his fist, opened it empty. "Now you don't."
"I feel you," Abby nodded, seriously, reaching out to touch his palm. "Weird. It was like right there" She maintained intense absorption with his hand, then her own, pretending not to notice the waggling eyebrow King directed towards his date as he slipped the joint easily from her fingers.
"Keep fighting the good fight," King patted her on the back and got in the cab. "May I interest you in a-" Feliar cut off his words by yanking hard enough on his undershirt to rip the collar. The cabbie sped off in a hurry, savvy enough to know that if his fare didn't get going in a hurry, a number of possibly illegal things would take place in his backseat.
Didn't matter, really. The switch had been made. Inside the joint was a replacement battery for King's communication devices. Abby lay back down on the bench, listening to the mike and looking at the quarter in her hands.
"That was fast," Fox's voice came first.
"You said she'd like him."
"She's going to love him. Or kill him. I haven't decided."
"I wouldn't worry about it. Follow the cab."
"Stone's on it. You keep monitoring audio, I'm going to see who left the bar right after and what they're up to."
"Should we move on her tonight? It might tip them off to our presence."
"No, leave it to your partner for now. If he can get an invitation to the conference as her toy, we're in."
"We have five days until it starts."
"All the more reason to let nature take its course."
"And if she tries to kill him instead?"
"Plan B."
"Right. Happy hunting," Abby signed off, and picked up the conversation in the cab. Mostly, the transmission consisted of heavy breathing, noisy rustling of clothes, and, here and there, a low, distinctly female growling. She shifted, uncomfortably, on her bench, wondering who had it worse, King for being pawed at by a vampire - again - or her for having to listen. He was keeping up the ruse pretty well, regardless.
"My, what sharp teeth you have, grandma."