The Queen of Keystrokes
The flabbergasted officers turned to the back of the room to see a beautiful jaguar with a mischievously warm smile close the rear glass door. She began walking with measured grace toward the table. The brilliant red dress hugging her curvaceous golden-spotted body had a long cut boat neck that wrapped around her shoulders, revealing the creamy fur of her neck leading to the barely visible rounded tops of her femininity. A simple but chunky chain of white gold hung at the near perfect half point from chin to dress top, lightly emphasized by her stud earrings of a simple solitaire round diamond. Her hazel eyes sparkled with the fierce intelligence contained inside, though her devious grin helped soften her visage. She delicately slipped a small electronic device inside her matching handbag, slowly bringing her eyes back up to meet first Judy's curious, then Nick's irritated eyes. Her long, lithe tail was poised directly behind her, curling delicately at the tip, every detail a picture of effortless perfection.
"Ah, there you are. Perfect timing, my dear. Though I doubt she needs an introduction, but for the sake of propriety, this is Heather Cielo, the queen of intelligence and computer wizardry herself." The near reverence George spoke her simple introduction made both officers share a quick glance. As he rose politely, George's smile was several degrees warmer than office decorum would have strictly called for, even among friends, returned by Heather with a moment of eye contact, followed by a demure drop of her eyes. She made her way purposefully around the table to join George by his side, opposite the officers, her paw clasping the chic purse. George pulled out a chair beside his own, helping her sit while he gestured subtly across the table, "Though I'm certain you are aware, these are Officers Hopps and Wilde. And I'd say we had a spectacular success. Excellent idea, as usual, Heather."
Before she could respond to a proper introduction, Nick cut in, irritation still exceedingly present. "Ok, I feel like I'm the butt of a terrible joke. What gives Georgy?" A slightly indignant huff followed. "And I ask again, how the hell did you know who texted me, let alone the content? And a successful what, exactly?"He crossed his paws with a scowl. "I hate being in the dark." he muttered under his breath.
While Nick blustered, Judy's full attention was on the newly arrived feline. This was a female in charge of her life, and comfortable in her fur. She knew what she wanted, and how she planned to get it. And woe be unto whomever was unlucky enough to get in her way, or be under her spell. Judy might not keep up with the latest in fashion, but confidence and grace were always in style, and she had an excess of both. Her smile never faded in the least, taking all of Nick's rant and gripe, giving light answers in an almost silky voice. So engrossed in her impromptu study, she didn't immediately register much of the exchange between fox and feline. She was glad she'd left the dress matching gloves at the apartment, they felt almost like too much. Especially after seeing Heather in her red dress without a pair.
"We thought there might be an informant working press outside the Note. A narc for the police, feeding information about mammals coming and going. They are hard to pinpoint, even with the tech we have. Using a bit of deductive logic and a smidgen of luck, we figured out our mark. A few reference points and a triangulation program told us all we needed to know. He was a bit sloppy, using an online messenger instead of a more secure carrier based text, but I doubt he has the Chief's personal number. Ironic since he was using our WiFi, a courtesy for the press, but he really should have read the terms of agreement." Her grin was flat malicious, though she quickly resumed her tale. "Anyway, after his message left, a minor tracer program lead a quick line to Bogo. After that...well, the technical side is rather involved and, frankly onerous. It happened. That's the how. As for why it was a success, a little bait went pretty far in his discovery, and a known informant is practically useless." Heather's words were concise, her total business air leaving her vocalizations focused, though her tone was calm and collected.
Judy was pulled from her reverie at the use of the word bait. Her mind quickly processed what had transpired, coming to an unwanted conclusion. "You mean us. Two minor celebrity cops were bound to be noticed by someone. Especially someone with an interest in the ZPD." She sounded less than pleased. "Well congratulations Nick, we helped eliminate a friendly contact simply by our presence." She grasped her water, giving a mocking toast to her partner.
As the increased sound of the band playing outside enveloped the private room, all the mammals turned toward the opening glass door, the pressure built from the last verbal exchange enough to give the waitress pause in the doorway. Spotting Heather next to George, she smiled a bit nervously and brought in the wine and a basket of warm rolls. Humming the chords to the song currently being performed to herself, she arranged four glasses and filled them efficiently, handing them to the females, then Nick before giving the last glass to George. All mammals maintained a polite silence while the young waitress went about her work, though Nick had a dark edge to his normally jovial eyes. "Has everyone had a chance to select their dining option? Or do you need a moment and some wine to decide?" Ms. Hartly seemed much more proper and dignified since recognizing Heather in the room. And nervous. She was still bubbly, but there was a bit of a fearful edge to her actions, Nick observed quietly. She looked expectantly at Judy and Nick, waiting for a response. Hoping for a response.
"I think we're all having the special dish, vegetarian for Ms. Hopps, with garden fresh salads, Ms. Hartly. And an extra bottle of wine with dinner please, a Chardonnay will do nicely." George's polite but firm voice broke the momentary spell of silence as he expertly swirled his wine inside the glass to aerate the purplish brew. He didn't exactly tell her to leave, but the intent was clear. No one else spoke, giving a round of accenting nods a moment later, so the young caribou smiled and retreated out the door silently, closing the portal firmly behind her.
As the seconds ticked by, the tension built along side Nick's ire. After taking a healthy swallow from his glass, George nodded to Heather, who deftly retrieved her device, swiping and clicking quickly. George reached behind him, and shut the partially open window, instantly drawing the room to an eerie silence. While Heather worked, the room brightened slightly as the windows visibly darkened, a strange contrast to the dimly lit main dining hall. After a moment, the tablet chirped, and Heather nodded to George. "We're clean George." Her voice contained a new hint of iron, a curious contrast to the silk it had been just moments before.
After a moment of silent contemplation, George closed his eyes and nodded to himself, coming to a conclusion. Reopening his eyes, he studied the officers across the table from him, noting the irritation mixed with curiosity in the green eyes of the fox and prey caution fusing with a purple brand of intrigue from the rabbit. He took another swallow of wine, contentment filling his muzzle, gesturing for them to follow suit. After everyone had at least sampled his favorite wine, he cleared his throat. "Alright Nicholas, you're still wondering how we knew about the text. I can tell you a few things, but first I want you to understand something. Something I had to learn that cost me more than I would wish on any mammal. You've heard the phrase 'Knowledge is power', yes?" After a confirming nod, George also nodded. "Well, like any power dynamic, there is a dark side to that torch of enlightenment. Knowledge is a powerful tool, useful to create kings and topple dictators. But, knowledge by itself is almost useless. Think of a book with all the answers to life. All the wisdom one could ask for. But if no one picks up that book, its powerless. Useless. Worse than useless, like it might have been better to not ever have existed, since it had so much potential, but lies, discarded and unused." After a quick swallow of wine, George continues, his audience rapt and alert. "I guess my rambling point is be sure you want to know the answer to the question before you ask. There might be much more insight beyond chapter one, but the deeper you go, the stranger and more hazardous it may become. You might get all you asked for and more. Think of the implications possible, and mitigate them." Wine swirled, moments of pure silence pressed on the room. "Like the informant." He stated it so casual as he inspected the glass in paw, without a care or worry aside from his dinner and delicious wine. George's cold blue met irate green, the sparks nearly setting the table ablaze.
Nick could not hold back the threatening snarl as his ears mated to his skull, his tone deathly quiet. "Was that a veiled warning or something? Is that all you wanted? To toy with us before eliminating us for some petty scorecard or something? Do you even have Gazelle? Or do you two work for the ZIA and Mr. Card is a bit of fiction, set to let shadow agents move freely to eliminate normal citizens who are deemed a 'problem'? Are we a problem? A target or a mark?" Nick's tail twitched unconsciously, dangerously, as did Judy's nose as she followed the possible train of Nick's thoughts out. She again let Nick take the lead, his years of dealing in the not strictly legal underbelly of Zootopia giving him a sixth sense about danger and underhanded dealings that had proven accurate to date. Her ears were up and rapt, waiting for the response, her wine glass in her paw, barely touched, poised and ready for anything, instinct screaming for flight, her leg muscles taunt.
The snarl hung in the air, a challenge as yet unanswered in the small room, the moment of held breathe ticking on. George and Heather looked to each other for a moment, George releasing a long suffering sigh. "Nicholas, I'm not sure in what life I offended you, but I'm saddened you always assume the worst of myself and my colleagues. We've treated you with dignity and respect, and your answer has been little short of distrusting and nasty. From your years on the street, you can at least remember what the implication of inviting someone to your table is. You are absolutely safe here." George's ironic smile lit his muzzle with a quick laugh. "Besides, if Mr. Card wanted either of you dead, do you honestly think he'd dress up a soon to be corpse in custom tailored clothing? He might be a bit odd, but wasteful and arrogant, he is not." His eyebrows rose to illustrate the absurdity of the idea, leading to a few thoughtful sighs from the ZPD side of the table. The anxiety drained away from them both, though Nick's look of suspicion remained, stained by the confusion lurking behind green eyes. Judy reached over, under the table, her purple eyes both comforting and relieved, she squeezed his paw, her own a little shaky from nerves. He didn't respond or even glance at her, but he didn't pull his paw away either. Neither understood everything that was happening, and drew comfort from the other. Judy prayed fervently it was the wine making her belly flutter, as well as the flushness of her checks and long ears.
Heather took a delicate sip of her wine, her voice back to silk. "Nick, dear. We are simple mammals, all currently under the employ of Mr. Card. George was simply being a bit melodramatic. And philosophical too, but there was no veiled threat." Her paw movements were placating.
After watching Nick shake his head, and drain his wine glass, George rose and expertly refilled both Nick's wine glass and his own. "No, Nicholas, we will bring no harm to you or your lovely partner. And let me assure you, nothing untoward happened to the informant either. We now know who he is and can prevent him from doing his work around us. As a side note, he is a convicted felon, forced underaged prostitution, and was probably looking to reduce some of his probation time with the DA's office. He's no disinterested saint." A momentary look of disgust crossed all present muzzles as George continued. "He could have just as easily called a goon squad, looking to take out two hero cops." After a quick head shake, "Sometimes I forget myself, reading a bit too much philosophy, and it leaks into my day to day life unwittingly. I just wanted you to be aware that knowledge can be expensive, and it might be more than you are willing to pay. And not all costs are monetary." George stared off for a moment, his tail embracing him on the left side, the fluffy appendage giving comforting familiarly as the tip twitched slightly. Handing back Nick's glass, George smiled politely, if a bit sadly, and retrieved his seat. Heather had been tapping furiously on her device as a white projector screen dropped behind her back. "On a better note, this can at least clear up the largest and most important question posed by Nicholas. Heather?"
Nick's expression had shifted from ire to mild curiosity, and his muzzle had split to ask what was going on when the lights dimmed slightly as an image appeared on the screen. His paw was still distractingly full of a small fluffy gray paw. "Sorry about the poor image quality, this is our oldest projector, barely able to uplink to the system. Perhaps after all the excitement cools off, we'll finally replace it." Heather's cool voice filled the dining room. She had both officers full attention. On the image, numbers in the corners denoted time and date, with a noted location in the upper left side, letters forming 'Safe House #3'. The screen showed what looked to be a basic basement apartment living room, which happened to be empty.
Both officers took a quick sip of wine, waiting for enlightenment. But the empty screen remained unchanged for half a minute. Nick's impatience was starting to reignite his smoldering anger, his muzzle twitching with a snarky remark waiting on the edge of his sharpened tongue. Judy glanced at him, and recognized his expression. Not wanting more fuel to be added to a potentially explosive situation, she spoke first. "What are we looking at? And where is it located? And why is it important?" She asked, smoothly, squeezing his paw subtly for Nick to calm down. She whispered to her partner, "We can have answers, if we are polite and play the game they want. I know it's not your strong point, but patience." He huffed, but nodded once, sipping the blueberry sweetened wine, his paw now the greatest focus of his fox mind since one of her soft digits was running small laps around the side of it. He was grateful for the wine, his mouth had gone dry. Nick hadn't been this nervous since his first kiss in junior high. Perhaps not even then.
Before their host could reply, a door opened and a very much alive Gazelle stepped onto the screen, followed by one of her tiger backup dancers the gossip magazines were convinced she was interested in, moving aside to allow a pair of Black Fang guards in professional attire to enter. Judy's quick intake of breath gave away her obvious interest, both her paws covering her muzzle in surprise and relief. "If there is anything you can count on, it's Mr. Card's word, and mine." George spoke, with the air of confidence and ability they'd been lead by all day. His voice had a small note of satisfaction, not for some obscure victory, but seeing a plan's fruition bear the desired fruit. He drank deeply of his wine, and refilled his glass quickly. "This is privileged information, though if Bogo asks directly, you may let him in on the secret. He knows how to be discreet." Heather finished a handful of swipes and commands on her tablet, then the screen went blank. "She is safe and content. Mr. Card will uphold his end of the bargain, just have some patience. Since this is your first foray into our world, I'll try to be as forthcoming as I can. I promise." George wore his customary smile, thought it had a predatory tint in the limited light of the room. Nick and Judy looked at each other, a small dose of worry running away from their muzzles. Proof Gazelle was safe settled at least one fear from this impromptu mission. Both their phones buzzed, indicating a received image, their paws leaving the other to retrieve phones. Quick glances showing an edited and sharpened shot of Gazelle, very much alive and safe with a timestamp in the corner. Nick forwarded his to Bogo, but it loaded for several seconds before hitting some kind of firewall. While he was trying to figure it out, neither officer noticed Heather look questioningly to George, who only nodded discreetly. Nick retried sending the failed message, this time having success.
George quietly asked Heather about her kittens while Nick looked across the table, his itch of unease in the presence of George diminished slightly. After sending his message, he was deep in thought, his paws were resting in his lap. Puzzling out the enigma of all the street knowledge of Mr. Jonathan Card and his consigliere, George Coldart, this seemed so civilized, so urban and cultured. Nothing like the kneecap busting brute they'd all been lead to believe in. He seemed honestly interested in an associate's kittens, as well as two ZPD officers comfort. Strange for someone that powerful to...his musings were cut short by an intruding soft paw gently clutching his own. His surprise turned to an easy smile with a quick glance at the owner of the encroaching paw, a shy smile hiding traces of fear behind purple eyes. Turning his paw to expose the pad, he held her paw firmly, his enjoyment growing by the minute as his built up anxiety ebbed. With his free paw, he sampled the wine, and found himself content with the knowledge that, no matter what might be thrown at them, he and Judy would face it together. How together, that remained to be discovered.