Chapter 19, Answers, Part 3

As Cain walked down the hallway to Jill's chamber he saw that there were two guards standing outside the door. He smirked to himself, realizing that the Queen did not waste any time after their chat. He also briefly wondered if Jill had any idea that there were now two guards at her door.

As he approached, the guards visibly stiffened. They were two young military cadets who had probably drawn the short straws when it came to the duty assignments. He was ready to knock on the door when the one shifted to his right and partially blocked the door. "Sir, how long will you be in Miss Wilkins' chamber?"

Cain's eyes turned ice-blue and he coldly replied, "As long as it takes."

The young cadet faltered under Cain's stare and moved back to his original position. The other young cadet took a quick sideways glance at both him and his fellow guard but said nothing.

Cain knocked on Jill's chamber door and said in a loud voice, "Jill! It's me Cain."

"It's open!", her familiar voice cried out.

Cain entered the room and shut the door behind him. It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dim room. The only light came from the fire in the fireplace since she had the rest of the lights turned off. The heavy curtains were drawn for the evening so not even the full moon casted its light inside. Towards the far wall she was sitting next to the radio. He could tell that it was a program with live actors but nothing else.

"Mind if I sit down?" he asked as he walked over to her.

"No. Go right ahead." She paused and then added, "I see that Frick and Frack let you by."

"Huh?"

Jill grinned, "It's just an expression. When Elsie came in to check on me I opened the door and found them standing there. They didn't tell me much other than that it was a last minute assignment."

She watched him take his long duster and hat and drape them over the back of the chair. Before he sat down he placed the small package that he also brought along underneath the table. The chairs that they were sitting in were simple high back chairs that one might find in a grandmother's formal living room.

Jill reached over and turned the radio off. She crossed her arms across her chest. "I might as well come out with it. I'm in a shit load of trouble aren't I?"

Cain raised his eyebrow.

Jill added, "Why else would the Queen want to talk to you right after dinner and then post two guards outside my door?"

Cain was silent for a moment. "She's not too happy with your behavior…. Nor am I."

Jill took off her glasses and rubbed the side of her nose. Her glasses were slightly bent and by the end of the day the pressure from the nose piece had gotten to her. She placed them down on the table. In a tired voice she replied, "I already said that I was sorry for going to the Armory. I profusely apologized to Elsie tonight for making a mess of things. Do you want me to go to the Queen and apologize to her as well?"

"No. But she is holding me personally responsible for your behavior," he sternly replied.

"Oh," was the only response that Jill could muster.

He went on, "She wants me to take you to General Turnbaugh tomorrow morning to be interrogated."

A look of shock and confusion crossed Jill's face. "Interrogated?"

"Yes, interrogated. We both know that a secretary doesn't have to have a background in general sciences. She thinks that you're hiding something," he paused, "And so do I."

Jill closed her eyes and rubbed her nose and then her forehead.

Cain's face and voice softened. "Jill, I know that I haven't been able to protect you as well as I should. But if I'm going to be able to help you then you're going to have to trust me… Whatever you did, or happened to you in your world, I need to know."

Trust? Protect? She suddenly felt very hot and her hands were sweaty. She took off her wool shawl. She took a few deep breaths and then forced herself to get started. "I graduated from high school but I dropped out of MIT and a few other colleges or as you call them, secondary schools."

"Why?" he asked with a puzzled expression on his face.

She shrugged. "Because I got bored. I barely finished high school. It was too easy so I didn't care if I went or not. And if I did go, I was picked on anyway. Surely when you went to school you had the class nerd who knew all the answers," she said sarcastically. Cain remained silent. "I never wanted to call attention to myself; to how easy things came to me. But I was able to get in to college because I aced the…" She was going to say SAT's but then realized that Cain would not have a clue as to what she was talking about. She restarted, "Because I aced the entrance exams. I took all sorts of science and math classes. You name it, I probably took it."

She squinted to look at Cain and then gave up and put her glasses back on. He just sat there with his legs crossed and his arm resting on the table.

"My parents always got so pissed at me," she lightly sneered as she recalled the typical kitchen table discussion. "Mom would always ask why I couldn't complete something for once in my life. Then Dad would chime in and tell me how much I was like his brother; how he couldn't complete school either."

Cain interrupted by asking, "What do you mean by that?"

"I never knew Dad's brother, my Uncle Bill. From what he told me, their parents wanted him to be an engineer. He told me that he went to a couple of colleges too but he never graduated from any of them. Then he went out to the mid-west and worked odd jobs out there. But then they never heard from him again. He just up and disappeared. That all happened before I was born though."

Jill stopped, took in a deep breath and continued. "I've always had odd jobs… I guess I really am like my Uncle Bill." She stopped again and tried to smile but it was a half-hearted attempt. "The secretary job is… ,well, was just a job to pay the monthly bills. Craig's life insurance policy paid off the major ones like the mortgage on the house."

"Craig?" he asked softly.

"I'm a widow. He was killed in a car accident eight months ago." Jill answered just as softly.

"I'm sorry Jill. I didn't know."

Jill shrugged her shoulders again. "It's okay… I mean, you didn't know 'cause I never told you." She sighed. "The investigators never did find out what caused his accident. His car left the road for 'undetermined causes'. Anyway, I met Craig at one of the colleges. He was the only one who ever accepted me for just being me."

Cain looked at Jill again. It was hard for him to stay angry. He started to say something but then she abruptly changed the subject. "What were the things that Sergeant Costello sent over to the Royal Academy to have examined?"

He reached in to the pocket of his duster and pulled out a block of a gray putty-like substance that was speckled with metal flakes. He put the block on the table and then reached back in to the pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. He read from it, "Do the letters RDX mean anything to you?"

Jill picked up the piece of putty. "How long have you been carrying this around?"

"Since this mornin'. Why?"

"Idiot," she replied very matter-of-factly as she continued to hold it up to what little light there was in the room.

"What did you just call me?," he asked incredulously.

"You heard me. I just called you an idiot," Jill smirked as she said it. "It's a good thing you didn't catch yourself on fire or get struck by lightning today."

Cain had had enough, "Out with it Jill."

"RDX is royal… demolition… explosion. That's the common name for cyclotrimethylene-trinitramine." She held the block of putty up closer to her face. "The thing is, I don't know what these little metal flakes are."

Cain turned white. "Do you mean to tell me that I've carried a pocket full of explosive all day?"

"Oh, don't worry about it… it's fairly stable." Jill said as she continued to study the putty. The metal flakes glistened in the faint light. "The other name for the stuff is C4. I'm sure if you said that to DG she'd turn as white as a sheet too." She glanced over at him and saw that he was making every attempt to regain his composure. "You need some sort of electric charge and probably a detonator to set it off. That's why I said that you were lucky that you weren't struck by lightning. I don't know if that would be enough to set it off or not."

By now Cain regained his self-control. "Yeah, but what about the fire part?"

"Oh that? It'll burn slow if you just hold a match to it. I'm not exactly sure what would happen if you would throw a bunch into a bonfire. It would probably set it off in the end." And with that Jill pulled the putty apart in to pieces.

Cain watched her. "How much of that stuff would you need to blow up downtown?"

Jill rolled three of the pieces in to balls. "Enough to blow up a city block or so? That's a good question. A little over a pound can take out a truck. Like I said though, I don't know what these metal flakes are. They're too small for shrapnel. I don't know if they have any additional effect or not."

Jill took the last piece of putty and formed it into the shape of a square. Then she stacked the three balls and put the square piece on top.

She propped up her sculpture on the table. "One C4 Frosty the Snowman."

"That's sick."

"Really? I think that he's kind-of cute." She snickered. "Besides, it proves my point that you can mold this in to any shape you want."

Cain furled his brow. "So we have a highly explosive material that you can make look like anything."

Jill said solemnly, "And now you know why it's the ideal explosive for terrorists back home. And now it has found its way here."

For a moment neither said anything; the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire.

"Where did you find this?" Jill finally asked.

"This morning.., in Detective Spencer's apartment."

"And he is?..."

"He was stationed at the 9th Street Precinct and he committed suicide yesterday. Sergeant Costello and I went to his apartment to try to find out why."

Jill said quietly, "I'm so sorry."

"Detective Spencer, Sergeant Costello, and I all went to the Academy together," he paused, "There was a photo on his dresser of all of us. On the back of the photo he left us a picture. It was the Wolfsangel symbol."

Jill gasped.

"That symbol still doesn't ring a bell with you?"

Jill shook her head no. "I wish I could remember where I saw it, but I can't." She paused and then asked hesitantly, "Does this mean we're going down there tonight?"

He already knew that it was going to be useless to try to get her to stay in her room if he decided that he was going to go to the Wolfsangel Tavern. He needed her help. He needed her insight to see what was usual but unusual. But it made him feel ill, like he was taking the lamb to slaughter. He reached underneath the table and grabbed the small package. He opened it up, pulled out a shoulder holster and a small handgun. He laid them on the table and then pushed them in her direction.

"Oh how sweet Cain. Most men bring me flowers on the first date." Jill said sarcastically as she picked up the handgun.

"You're only allowed to use it if things get hot in there." He sternly replied. He stopped, looking for her reaction. "Are you sure you're up to it?" He did not know if he was making the right decision or not by giving her a gun. If he did not, he was sure she would try to get one on her own. He did not have to remind himself what happened this afternoon. But now, by giving it to her, he felt like he was encouraging it. But either way he knew he was damning her.

The handgun, though small, was still a little heavy and cold in her hand. Saying and doing are always two different things aren't they?

"You can wait here and listen to the radio while I change in the bathroom," she finally replied.

As she got up to leave, Cain said to her, "Don't make yourself look like an outworlder."

She turned to look at him, "Do you think that they want me here because of what I might possibly know? How I might know how to use it?"

Cain looked back at her, "Maybe, maybe not." He tried to sound optimistic, but it was a half-hearted attempt; like when she tried to smile earlier. Glitch had the gift of optimism; not him.

Jill said nothing and continued getting ready.