Chapter 19 as it appeared
Part 3: Evolution Bites
Authors: Gabby, PCat
Acknowledgment: Based on an idea by Ian, Extra input from BD, Kulko and Tarrok
Chapter 19: Cops and Babies
Malton +77
"You have horrendous music taste. Just ghastly," Fox commented, sending a jet of flame over Cat and Gabby's heads as they ducked into the tiny bedroom.
"Cat, get the window open. I'll hold him off."
"Will you fuck, c'mon, move!" Cat snapped, slamming the door behind them.
"That'll be effective," Gabby remarked. He opened the window. The street was filled with flashing lights - normal police and fire engines.
"You first, darling," he insisted, glancing back as Fox Moldering blasted open the door. A swoop appeared in front of them; Global Police - crack troops. Gabby followed Cat out of the window and onto the fire escape, crouching down. The Police opened fire. Moldering bellowed, and as he peeked back in, Gabby caught a glimpse of Fox launching himself up through the ceiling.
"He's gone," Gabby reported.
Cat sighed in relief. "C'mon, let's get this out of your shoulder. What is it, anyway?"
"It's the headstock of one of my guitars. The spiky, aggressive one," Gabby said miserably.
"Told you that was a bad idea."
"Quiet, woman," Gabby sighed. In the distance, he saw a figure leaping across rooftops.
Malton +78
"It is without doubt that the slew of killings across the Southern United States are the work of notorious incurable immortal Fox Moldering. His actions bring into doubt the very sanity of former incurables and so, if I were elected to power, I would be bringing a bill before the world government that such immortals be held under house arrest and forced to submit to regular checks by Malton Relief, a charity set up to provide help and support to former Malton residents."
Bryn cut the feed in disgust.
"He won't win," said BD.
"I can't believe Simon's playing an anti-immortal card, it's bound to backfire." Bryn realised she was shaking.
"He's desperate, and he won't win, even with the anti-immortal lobby behind him."
Bryn snorted and helped herself to a beer from the fridge. "He'd better not. The man's a louse. Jeff and Wesley both dead in the past month and he's making political capital out of it."
Malton +79
"One minute, let me just put you on the big - ah." Gabby took one glance at the magazine Cat was clutching in her fists and fell silent, awaiting the storm. Her white knuckles obscured the name, but it didn't matter. The story had been on every one of the gossip rags. And there were a surprising variety of photos - obviously, his security hadn't done very well when they had confiscated all cameras in the backstage area.
"What the bloody hell is this, Gabby?" she hissed, shoving the photo against the screen.
"Looks pretty much like your bog-standard Dionysian rock'n'roll backstage party," Gabby said calmly, taking a cursory glance at the various groupies, most of them topless at the very least, surrounding Gabby, who had his arms around two of them, and his eyes on another two out of shot.
"We had a deal, Gabby! You promised you wouldn't start sleeping around!" Cat said shrilly, throwing the magazine aside and clenching her fists.
"And who says I did?" Gabby snapped.
"I've seen all of the pictures, including the ones that were `too graphic to print', OK? Don't try and lie your way out of this, alright Gabby? I'm not an idiot, and I won't let you hurt me!"
"Fuck's sake, Cat, look at those pictures again. They will show me never going past..." Gabby trailed off, and Cat could tell he was deep in thought. "Third base with a groupie. I've been on tour for what? Six months? With one `conjugal visit' four months ago since you wanted to save money. And since I left, I haven't been past third base with another woman - and that's only when my resistances are low!"
"When you're drunk out of your mind, you mean?"
"Yes. Fucking hell, Cat, you were there seventy years ago, you know what I'm famous for. I'm the eternal rockstar, the `bad boy' of music. I tried to sober up and grow up, didn't I? You saw how the `mature' albums flopped. They don't want Gabriel the musician - they want Gabby the bad boy. So I do have to keep up appearances, or we can kiss goodbye to earning all that money you and Officer Scalia keep spending chasing Fox Moldering dead ends!"
"So this is all a sacrifice?" Cat said dryly. Gabby smirked at the camera, and was rewarded with a small eye-roll on the screen. "Hell Gabby!" she said. "Third base!"
"Look, I've got sound-check, OK? I'll call you after the gig."
"After? No parties?" Cat said hopefully.
"I'll plead a headache or something. Just watch my reputation crash and burn now, Cat!" Gabby moaned.
"We had a deal. I suppose you're... sort of... sticking to it." Gabby saw Cat wince. "I'll consider letting you off this time."
"No cardigans?" Gabby said warily. Cat winked and switched off the camera, leaving Gabby staring in horror at the blank screen.
Almost the moment she'd disconnected from Gabby a second icon flashed up on Cat's screen, Simon. She shouldn't really have been surprised. He had a lot of resources and she was no longer so paranoid and careful about concealing her media trail. Warily she connected.
"Just talking to Gabby?" he asked.
Cat cursed. She was going to have to start being a lot more careful again. "And if I was?"
"Let me guess what it was about." An image flashed up on her screen. One of the pictures that was `too graphic to print'. Cat was actually glad the young lady in question had so thoughtfully sent it to her the day before - complete with a rather aggressively worded message about getting her `Cat's claws' out of Gabby. At least it meant she managed to keep a relatively calm face.
"It's not what you think," she said.
"That's what you used to tell everyone about us, isn't it? You may not have any bruises but I know when you're hurting Kate."
"Does this conversation have a point?"
"I've been seeing a shrink. You've had your run on the wild side. We can sort our marriage out."
Cat disconnected.
Three more icons winked at her. One was a well-known tabloid journalist, one was Gabby's publicist, she didn't know who spankmekitty was and was fairly certain she didn't want to find out. She disconnected the media centre from the network. She considered throwing it out of the window but she'd got a bit beyond smashing things when she was upset.
Cat rather missed her little apartment in Greece, but Gabby had always loved his London digs and had expended so much effort buying them back once the new `bad boy' album had started selling, that she hadn't had the heart to object. Cat padded around its vast expanse. She paused doubtfully in the door of the master bedroom with its vast emperor bed and silken sheets and then headed up the corridor to the guest room where she curled up on the guest bed and wrapped her arms tightly around her knees. Everything came with a price attached, she reminded herself, you just had to work out if it was worth paying.
Cat was woken up by someone climbing into the bed beside her.
"'S Okay, only me," said Gabby.
Cat blinked in the half-dark. The light was on in the hall and the door to the spare room was open. "Aren't you supposed to be in Cairo?"
"I chartered a flight back."
"You what? Have you any idea how expensive that is?"
"You weren't answering my calls. I was worried."
Guiltily Cat recalled she'd agreed to talk to him after the sound check, but had then unplugged the media centre. "Sorry! I switched off all the media screens."
"I noticed when I got in." He stroked her hair. "Cat? Why are you in the spare room? and why are you fully dressed?"
"Fell asleep by mistake. We should move I suppose."
"No rush, as long as you're not packing to leave, I can cope."
"Is that why you're here? You were worried I was leaving?"
"Well... yes.. when you didn't answer the call I didn't know what to think and then I got scared."
"Sorry darling. Don't worry. I'm not leaving."
"But you thought about it."
"Ah Gabs! I knew what I was signing up for when I got into this relationship. I just didn't count on it being quite so hard. I'm not giving up on you just yet though."
"Why is it so hard though?"
Cat shrugged. What to say? "I guess I don't like being pitied and I don't like being the `ball-and-chain' who ties you down and holds you back. I worry about what it is I don't do that means you look elsewhere. I hate it that I'm not enough. I get obsessed that I'm doing something wrong, or should be doing something more and I hate myself for caring about your opinion so much, and I'm terribly afraid that one day you'll leave me for one of those other women. All of that."
"Some of that's PR. We can do stuff about that and the rest... you don't seriously think I'd ever leave you unless you threw me out do you?"
Cat smiled to herself. "Never say never Gabs. I guess I am the only woman I know you ever turned down on the grounds she wasn't in love with you. That makes me feel special in a weird kind of way."
She felt Gabby pull her closer and nuzzle against the back of her neck. "We'll talk about it in the morning. But being with you is nothing like being with any other women. It's so completely different I don't even really consider it the same thing at all. You couldn't be more wonderful. You couldn't possibly be more right for me. You've got to believe me."
"I believe you. Will we have time in the morning? Don't you have to get back to Egypt?"
"I cancelled the next three concerts. I thought I might need the time."
Cat sat bolt upright. "You did what! Have you any idea of the penalty clauses in those contracts."
Gabby pulled her back down to the bed. "Worry about it in the morning Cat. You said this album was raking in the money. I'm sure it won't ruin us. I knew there was a reason you're not supposed to sleep with your accountant."
"I can't believe you cancelled three concerts."
"Go to sleep Cat. We'll deal with everything in the morning."
Cat nestled in his arms.
"Mind you," he murmured. "Do you think we could move back to our room and, you know, at least take our shoes off?"
Ian glanced at the clock and wondered briefly whether to stop working and fix himself something to eat. It was the early hours of the morning and he had been up most of the night dealing with various leftover bits of paperwork. It was a habit he had picked up during his various stints as President and one he found it hard to shake even now he had more time.
Dawn was just breaking and it reflected on the waters of the lake over which his home had been built. He'd considered re-purchasing his old house, as Gabby had his, but had realised he didn't have that much attachment to it and he preferred the modern style anyway. This structure hung out over the lake on minimal supports; a narrow walkway leading back to dry land. The massive glass windows on the far wall of his study gave him a panoramic view of the countryside. It was better than the Old Masters any day. He could watch the changing view for hours, and these days he had the time.
He laid down the fountain pen. The letter he was writing could wait. He poured a ginger beer, silently cursing Gabby for introducing him to the stuff on one visit many decades ago. Gabby had done it as a joke, which Ian vaguely grasped was related to obscure distinctions in the English class system, but he found he'd developed a taste for it - even though it tended to make British diplomats smile. He carried the drink out onto the terrace in front of the study and stood watching the sunrise in the cool morning air.
It was then he heard the faintest sound, behind him and up somewhere. It set long buried instincts quivering. It was the lightest sound of something landing on the roof, followed by a quiet expiration of breath that sounded like a low feeding groan.
Ian stepped back into his study swiftly and walked over to the strong-room door. Calmly he dialed in the keycode. As the large door opened he strode past the filing cabinets and lock boxes and straight for the small armoury at the end. He hesitated with his hand on a rifle, his weapon of choice, but then, regretfully, took it away and picked up a military issue automatic with a small automated clip reloader. Guaranteed to provide wide cover in short bursts and do maximum damage. If the intruder was who he thought it was, then he was going to need brute force rather than precision.
There was another slight sound, of something moving swiftly outside the room.
Ian turned, gun at the ready. The form in the doorway surprised him, even with the descriptions he had had from Gabby and Sy. The shoulders were huge and the arms artificially long, culminating in hooked claws. The front jaw jutted forwards with two large pointed teeth visible in front of Fox's face. The man was wearing a loose black tracksuit, but Ian had the distinct impression there was armour beneath it. The great jaws opened and Fox let out another groan as he barrelled down the room towards him.
Ian opened fire, one burst. Fox staggered back a pace but then continued on. Ian fired another burst but he was already diving for the floor and he slid straight between Fox's legs, even as the clawed hands grasped for him. Ian ran, hitting the alarm on his way out of the room. As exited the house he saw his security guards, dead on the walkway that joined the house to the lake shore. Ian vaulted over them. He would mourn later. Then a shot rang out, that had him rolling off the walkway and taking cover in the chill waters of the lake.
"Nice rifle, Mr. Carlyle." Fox's voice rang out. He was obviously somewhere on top of the house.
"What do you want Fox?" Ian called. It was always possible the man could be negotiated with.
"Your liver, Mr. Carlyle. Do try to keep up."
"Why though?"
"Let's call it an affectation." There was a thump. Fox appeared to have jumped down from the roof. "It adds a certain piquancy to the whole messy business of eliminating the DHPD."
"Why do you want to eliminate us? It is Simon who's to blame for your current state." Ian ducked under the walkway and swam, as silently as he could for the other side.
"Oh I know. I'm saving Simon until last. But we're abominations Ian Carlyle. You know that as well as I do. I just happen to show it a little more visibly. 515 people walked alive out of Malton. Last estimate, 476 of them were still around. Once the politicians get their register sorted out there will be more accurate figures. I've nothing against the DHPD in particular. I'm just starting with you, for old times' sake."
Listening to the voice, Ian judged that Fox was at the corner of the building. He hauled his gun onto the walkway and braced it on his hands. Then he let off a burst in Fox's direction. There was a curse.
Ian scrambled onto the walkway and ran for the shore. A second rifle shot followed him and he felt the bullet graze past his shoulder. He turned and fired back, watching Fox fall into the waters of the lake. His car was parked ahead of him.
"Override, Yoko Ono, Unlock!" Ian shouted the emergency voice command that over-rode the vehicle's security. "Engine Start."
As the car burst into life, Ian scrambled through the door. "Reverse 2 yards. Turn!" he was shouting as he struggled to shut it behind him. "Follow safe lane to main road!"
It wasn't necessarily the best time to be driving on the automatics, but he wanted his hands free for the gun. He thumbed the window control and leaned out, firing off another clip at the lumbering form even now scrambling up the lake shore.
"Accelerate!" he shouted.
He was relieved to see Fox vanishing behind him as they drove away.
Cat padded down the beach to the hammock Gabby had strung up in a palm grove. The moonlight glinted on a pile of empty beer bottles in the sand.
"Gabby?"
"Hey, babe. Everyone find their bed?"
"Little Robert only just fell asleep. Ian went out to jog off the turkey, and Sam and Vicky... well I saw them leaving house with some blankets and a bottle of wine, they probably don't intend to do much sleeping." She slipped in beside him and he put an arm loosely around her shoulders.
"We did good, eh?"
"Yeah, we throw a mean Christmas. Flying everyone out to Brasil was a great idea, Gabby, props. Isn't Rosie adorable?"
"Lovely. I just wish she would stay put for a bit. The house is hardly child-friendly, is it?"
"She did alright though. Only fell over once, and that was in the sand."
"That's because we were following her around like nutters to protect her. The amount of times I caught her toddling around the pool! She's just... titchy," Gabby muttered. Cat laid her head on his chest.
"You make a good uncle, Gabby." They lay for a while, rocking gently and looking up at the stars. "Gabby, do you ever think about having kids... on purpose?"
"What, because the dozens of so-called heirs to the Gabby throne aren't enough?" Gabby commented darkly. He was in the middle of yet another lawsuit. So far none of them had turned out to be his. Cat said the genetics were against him.
"I'm serious."
"I know, I just... worry. I mean, c'mon. I'm good at sex, music, women and zombies. I like to fall asleep at dawn and wake at midday, preferably with a pretty wimmenz next to me. Do I sound like father material to you?"
"Drop the bad-boy act, Gabby, that hasn't been you for a long time. The Gabby I know flew all his family and friends to the beach house he bought his girlfriend, having broken his back decorating it so the kids would arrive to a 'proper Christmas', then spent hours toiling in the kitchen while we all sat on the beach, because 'for one day of the year, the wimmenz should stay out of the kitchen.' Doesn't that sound like a father material to you?"
"I am pretty wonderful, aren't I?" Gabby pulled her closer. "You're forgetting how good I am with taking care of you." He kissed her.
"Judging by those moans, Gabby, Sam just beat you to the punch there."
"Cat, Cat, it's not a race you know."
Malton +80
"They're already in planning mode," said Cat, as she answered the door.
Bryn grinned. "Baby Dawn here was playing up. It took me forever to get out of the house and I wanted to feed her before I came over."
"You should have breastfed in the meeting," said Cat with an evil grin. "They wouldn't have known where to look."
"Gabby's how old now? Over ninety. He'd have coped."
"Well much as I'd have enjoyed watching Gabby watching you breastfeeding. It's probably just as well. Give her here. I'll look after her for a bit so you can concentrate on the meeting."
"You're not joining in?"
"Tactics and police legwork isn't really my forte. I leave that to Gabby."
Cat picked up Dawn as Bryn shrugged off the baby sling and then Bryn was free to go into the main room.
Gabby and Joe had their heads together over a large map. Gabby glanced up as she entered.
"Bryn? What are you doing here?"
"Cat told me you were having a planning meeting for hunting Moldering. I figured I have an interest."
Gabby looked surprised. "Aren't you busy doing Mum stuff?" he waved his hands around vaguely.
"I can actually manage to think about more than one thing at a time. What happens to Fox affects me personally. Especially if he really does have all the Biofusion research notes."
Joe shrugged. "Sy thinks so."
"So I'm in. I want to know what's going to happen to me."
"Good! Let's get back to business," said Joe. "Moldering's been quiet since that abortive attempt on Ian last year, but I got a call from New York this morning. FaMz has been missing for a week. They've got people out looking for him."
Bryn looked at the map. "Have you guys thought of looking up any of Moldering's known associates? Master of Unlockin for instance?"
"I've tried," said Joe. "She's been on the run too, ever since Malton."
"But as a cat burglar, not a serial killer. I have an idea."
"Gabby. Gabby, stop it! My brother's in the room next door!" Cat hissed. "Not tonight!" She was uncomfortably aware of the paper-thin walls.
Gabby kissed her drunkenly on the neck, then whispered in her ear. "So what did you make of the American Christmas? Remind you of the good old times?"
"I'm bloody stuffed. When did I forget how to eat large American portions?"
"Speaking of small things - " His hand started undoing the buttons on her pyjama top.
"Gabby! They'll hear!" Cat was aware she spoiled the effect somewhat by giggling. She'd had quite a bit to drink as well.
"You're the one making all the noise," he whispered. "At least until the baby wakes up. Rosie has grown, eh? She's got your eyes."
"Mine and Andy's, yeah. The Clark eyes."
"She recognises me now. Calls me 'Bi'."
"Lucky you. I'm still just a garbled noise."
"Ah, you lack my natural gift with kids."
"You did get a lot of practice on all those groupies, after all."
"They're... they weren't kids! They were legal! The judge acquitted me!"
"Sh, I'm kidding. So you think you're good with kids?"
"I excel at everything I do..." Cat gasped involuntarily as his kisses drifted lower and she reached up to run her hands through his hair. "... including you," he concluded. She could hear the smirk in his voice.
"Father material?" she teased.
"I suppose... maybe."
"They adore you! Even little Cheryl loves you!" Cat wasn't really paying attention. One of Gabby's hands had found her knee and was beginning to work its way upwards.
"Takes after Vicky," he mumbled.
It occurred to Cat that maybe Gabby was serious. "You really want kids?"
"Let's start now!" Gabby said eagerly.
"I'm on the pill!" Cat protested weakly. "Fuck!" she added in response to the motion of his hand.
"That's the general idea. Practice run first!" The sofa bed creaked as Gabby moved his body and started kissing her in earnest.
The door opened and Bryn's voice rang out.
"Gabby darlin', I'm afraid you've got to move down the hall. Andy is gonna strangle you if you get your hand any further up Kate's nightdress." Bryn smiled as Cat blushed deeply and wriggled away from Gabby, who slid out of bed grumpily.
"Well, in the interests of fairness, you should come with me then."
"I'm not that kind of hostess, Gabby," Bryn retorted. Gabby put an arm around her and kissed her on the cheek. Sighing, Bryn half-carried him down the hall. "Besides, that room's a single."
"Then we'll have to snuggle up."
Cat didn't hear her answer. She banged on the wall.
"Thanks a lot, little brother. I'm over a hundred you know! I don't need a chaperone."
"Then act your age. I have a three-month old and need my sleep. I don't want to be kept awake by you fucking your drunken boyfriend on the other side of the wall. Nor does Bryn for that matter. I'm just hoping she's not too drunk either."
"Worried your next kid will be green-eyed and noisy?"
"Bryn has taste, she's not like you," Andy yawned.
"What am I supposed to do now, then?" Cat asked grumpily, thumping her pillows in frustration.
"Wank... Quietly."
Malton +81
"Gabby, do you really need that guitar room?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Well, I mean you've got the studio in Camden, and you're always dragging your gear out to the front room and making lots of noise anyway."
"Why are you trying to steal my room from me?" Gabby said suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at Cat.
"I'm pregnant, Gabby."
"Come again?"
"That attitude is what got us into this mess in the first place!"
Gabby smirked appreciatively, then frowned.
"Wait, mess? Aren't you happy? Don't you want a baby with me?" Gabby asked nervously.
"Do you want to be a dad? I mean really want it? You won't leave once I swell up and start complaining about everything that comes near me?" Gabby shook his head. "And when you have to miss out on a hot party in Camden because I'm exhausted and the baby is projectile-vomiting up the walls?" His cheeks slightly drained, Gabby shook his head again. "And you won't encourage the kid to drop out of high school for a life of sex, drugs and rock n'roll?"
"Well..." Gabby grinned. "Cat! We'll cross that bridge in sixteen years, not now. If you want to. I know I don't seem like the ideal Dad, but I'll do my best, promise."
"Then start moving those guitars." Cat hugged him. "They're in the nursery."
Annie had wedged one foot between the down-pipe and the edge of one of the plate glass windows. She had her other perched on a suction toe hold fixed to the glass. One hand was also jammed between the down-pipe and the window edge while her other cut a small hole in the glass. It wasn't the most comfortable of positions but Annie was an expect. She'd been in the breaking and entering business for over eighty years.
She reached through the small hole in the glass and slipped her hand through to open the window catch. Then she crawled through and dropped soundlessly to the floor. According to the intelligence she should be in the CEO's office. At this moment it was just a matter of removing the memory from the computer - she had contacts who could crack it open and extract the relevant development files.
She switched on her flashlight and looked about. There was a figure sitting in the CEO's chair. Annie froze, but the figure snapped its fingers and the lights came on.
Braunwyn Cleanslate was sitting in the chair, aiming a small pistol at her. "Annie! Master of Unlocking! The DHPD would like a little chat about Fox Moldering."
It was only then the pieces fell into place in Annie's mind. Dr Samuel F Lake, CEO of Hardaaker Pharmaceuticals, Dr S F Lake, aka (no doubt) Dr Snow. She'd been set up.
Ian leaned on the bell of Gabe and Cat's apartment. The building had a distinct `seen better days' look to it. Gabe had first purchased it as a glittering new build, but that had been eighty years ago. Cat let him in.
She looked tired, but then it was the third trimester so he supposed she would. She was bare-foot, wearing a shapeless brown cardigan.
"Is that chocolate spread?" he asked, nodding at the pot she was holding. It had a spoon sticking out of it.
"I'm eating for two."
"It's not as simple..." Ian shut up when he caught her expression. "Go ahead, don't mind me."
Cat waddled ahead of him into the flat.
"Gabe not here?" he asked.
"Some band thing. He's gone for the weekend."
"I thought the band were in Africa, Gabe-less tour or something."
Cat shrugged. "That's what he said anyway. Might be some studio work." She sat down and started spooning chocolate spread from the pot. "What brings you here?"
Ian sighed and pulled out his papers. "Simon's up to something. I don't know what exactly but he's talking to family lawyers and I have some nasty suspicions."
"This is stupid. I haven't had any contact with the man for eighty years."
Bryn didn't seem amused. "Well officially he's been incurable that whole time, so I wouldn't expect you to. But you were having an affair with him in Malton and betrayed us to him multiple times."
"I was twenty. Now I'm over a hundred. Give me a break. You really think I've been holding a torch the whole time?" Annie noticed Bryn blush and she felt a pang. "Well, I'm not BD, I'm afraid."
Officer Scalia had been standing behind Bryn the whole time, leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette. Now he dropped it to the floor and ground it under his heel. "Come on doll, I'm a police officer. You can do better than that and you know it. Whatever happens you're up in front of the DA, soon as we finish talking to you, so you might as well give me a reason to put in a good word."
Annie sighed. "His family had some kind of business in New Mexico. They left it in trust for him even though he was incurable."
"How do you know this?"
"Well I tried to claim it, didn't I? Said we'd gotten married in Malton."
"I guess they didn't believe you."
"Not a word and I thought I'd got my story pretty good. Anyway, maybe you can get someone to look into it. That's all I know."
Bryn shook her head. "We've never heard that Moldering had any connections." She glanced up at Officer Scalia.
"Nope, nothing on the police databases. Fox Moldering, no living relatives."
Annie actually laughed. "You don't know his real name do you?"
"Fox Moldering isn't his real name?" Officer Scalia stood up straight.
"Give me a break! What did you think the X-Files was? A tribute show?"
Bryn waved a hand impatiently. "So what's his real name?"
"Mick Harris, the family business is Harris Plastics Inc. Jesus, I can't believe you guys didn't know that. Fox must have covered his trail well when he got out of Malton."
Officer Scalia grunted. "Never could track his identity before Malton. Did wonder of it was a cover but the records were so old by the time I started looking I never thought to check hard."
Bryn leaned back. "Not your fault Bio. He's had us all running in circles for years."
"What are you doing out here?" BD asked in surprise as he walked into the hospital waiting room.
"Panicking, what does it look like?"
"Shouldn't you be panicking in the delivery room with my sister."
"She sounded really angry when she phoned me. I don't want to get shouted at. How did I get myself into this mess?"
"At your age and with your reputation Gabby, if you don't know already I'm not telling you."
"Could you go in first and find out how she's doing?"
"Oh no! No way. I've been through this three times with Bryn. You are definitely going in first."
"Where is Bryn? Maybe we should send her in ahead of us."
"She's on her way but believe me, she'll be no keener to get in there ahead of you than I will!"
"Get your hands off me!"
Gabby mentally cringed as he stepped into the Delivery room.
"Kate, you know you're going to need help to stand during contractions." Gabby recognised the voice.
"I'm fine, it's early days yet. Besides there are nurses here. I can hold onto them."
Gabby was already barging into the room, spurred into action by the familiar voice. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked Simon.
Simon smirked and nodded at a suited man beside him.
"As the husband, Mr. Brankin feels he has the right to be present at the birth of his child," said the suit. "He will also be claiming custody as soon as the boy is born."
"No shit?" asked Gabby.
"Gabs, did you bring the paperwork?" Cat asked anxiously.
"Yeah! Give me a minute. I didn't think we'd be needing it just yet."
"What the fuck?" shouted BD, coming through the door behind Gabby.
"Legal shit," said Gabby. "Rights of the husband yadda, yadda, default assumption of paternity, am I right?" he glanced at Simon.
"Fucking hell? Can he do that?" asked BD.
"I assure you I can Mr. Clark. My government was most concerned to uphold the sanctity of marriage and to protect the rights of fathers."
"No world government now," murmured Cat. She looked pale and was gripping on the edge of the bed.
"The law remains in place nevertheless," said the suit. Simon smirked again.
Gabby hauled the briefcase he'd brought with him onto the hospital bed and opened it up. "Actually the law has been substantially altered in a number of countries including Bosnia where, coincidentally, we happen to be."
"Even in Bosnia the default assumption stands," insisted the lawyer. "The boy is Mr Brankin's unless and until you can prove paternity."
"That's true. However Bosnia now has a subsidiary clause, allowing the mother to testify to an adulterous relationship provided the testimony is backed up by an impartial witness of standing and a paternity test is conducted as soon as is feasible after birth. Until that point the child remains with her."
The lawyer blinked. "Where are you proposing to find an impartial witness of standing. I don't see any in this room."
Gabby placed four pieces of paper on the end of the bed one after another. "This is Cat's testimony that she has been in a sexual relationship with me for the past twenty years. This is the testimony of Ian Carlyle, an impartial witness of standing, I'm sure you'll agree, confirming the fact, albeit in a rather disapproving fashion. This is an injunction against one Simon Brankin to maintain a distance of at least 500 yards from his wife at all times, following provision of evidence of domestic abuse. Good job we kept those photos of her injuries. This last is a similar injunction that he remain at a similar distance from her child, given justifiable concern about the child's welfare should he come into contact with it." Gabby paused to grin at Simon. "BD, could you remove Mr. Brankin from this room. I believe he is violating the terms of these injunctions."
"My pleasure," growled BD.
Malton +82
"Officer Scalia, how can I help you?" Mrs Maddison was all helpful smiles but Joe had dealt with this kind of lawyer so many times in his career that he wasn't fooled. The woman was employed by rich people to keep their lives smooth. Officers of the law almost never made things smooth.
"It's good of you to see me. I have a question about a family your firm represented some years ago."
Maddison's brow furrowed. "A cold case?"
"Something like that. The name turned up in an investigation and I'm trying to work out what happened to the family fortune. Name of Harris of Harris Plastics."
"Let me check the database." Maddison's face was bland but Joe reckoned her reaction was off. If he'd been a betting man, which he wasn't, he'd have placed a small sum on Maddison knowing the name. The database lookup was a distraction while Maddison gathered her thoughts.
Joe considered pressing the issue and keeping Maddison on the wrong foot, but this was the best lead he had and if Maddison decided to close him out for being rude he'd be back to square one.
"Southern family," Joe elaborated, "last heir died about eighty years ago according to all the records. I'm wondering what happened to the money then."
"Ah ha! Yes we still have records. Looks like the money all got donated to a charity."
"Can you tell me which charity?"
"I'm afraid not. That's not recorded on the database. It was taken out of our hands at that point."
"That's a little unusual isn't it Ma'am? Surely you were obliged to check out the charity?"
Maddison shrugged. "Before my time Officer."
"Can I have a print out of your records?"
"Sorry Officer, client confidentiality. You'll need a warrant for that."
Joe nodded. "Well thank you for being helpful."
They shook hands and Joe left the office. He walked past the pretty secretary and along the hall where he paused for a minute and then returned. He walked back into the office. "I just have one more question," he said to the secretary as he walked past. She was already on her feet to stop him as he opened the door. Inside the office, Maddison was on the phone. Joe grinned to himself.
"Sorry! Didn't realise you'd be busy. I'll come back tomorrow," he said and left. It could be anything of course but Joe thought Maddison had just contacted Fox Moldering. He was going to need to watch Maddison's moves somehow and see if he could get Cat to watch the money.
Three weeks tracking Maddison hadn't got Joe very far. She was almost impossible to stake out properly since his main help came from Gabby and Bryn, neither of whom were naturally inconspicuous. Joe was reduced to making educated guess about when things might happen and a lot of patience.
It was a late Friday evening and Joe was about to call it a day. All her lights were out and she'd probably gone to sleep. Then suddenly the garage light came on and out drove her car. Joe slipped his aging electrocar into gear and typed her registration number into the police tracking service. Then he let the GPS guide him, following at enough of distance that he only glimpsed her a couple of time. The car drove to an industrial estate and Joe was certain he'd hit the jackpot. She'd parked behind one of the units. As he rounded the the corner he could see she was meeting someone. Someone very large.
Joe was already scrambling out of his car as the figure lunged forwards and he saw jagged spikes emerge from the woman's back.
"Fox Moldering! Stop there! I'm armed!" Joe shouted, pulling his automatic out from under the front seat.
There was a low laugh and then the figure turned and ran into the warehouse behind it. Joe leaned into his car and triggered an emergency call, linked to the location. Then he set off after Moldering.
"Officer..." whispered a voice.
He skidded to a halt by Maddison's body. He was amazed she was still alive. He was briefly torn between pursuing Fox or seeing if there was anything his limited knowledge of first aid could achieve. He swore silently and knelt next to her. There was a lot of blood.
"You'd better keep still," he said. "Emergency services are on the way."
"Harper Industries," she whispered.
"What?"
"Harper Industries."
Joe could already hear sirens, but he doubted there was going to be much the paramedics could do.
Maddison didn't speak again.
"Am I the best-looking century-old person in existence or what?" Gabby said brightly, peering into Cat's make-up mirror.
"Thanks, Gabby. And put that back!"
"Sorry. Cat, where are we going? I told you I didn't want anything over the top - it's just another year, you know?"
"I said that too - didn't stop you whisking me away to Paris for a dinner on the Eiffel Tower, did it?" Cat said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.
Gabby made a modest gesture, and then pushed her back, pointing at the road.
"Keep your eyes on the road - if you crash this car, I will never forgive you - was my first Ferrari."
"I think your present might just buy me a `get out of jail free' card for... well, you'll see," Cat said mysteriously, turning away from him and focusing on the car ahead.
"Oh, go on, tell me," Gabby pleaded.
"We've arrived, anyway. It's in there," Cat said quietly, nodding at a bar. A banner had been hung across the door - "A Century of Gabby!"
"You coming?" Gabby said as he opened the car-door.
"No, I think this is a present I can't share."
Gabby craned his neck to see through the window. The bar was packed with attractive young women, and Gabby was having trouble finding one that wasn't a definite.
"Cat, what's going on?"
"I thought you would like them - I hand-picked them, definites only. Enjoy."
"But... the deal... what happened?"
Cat laughed harshly. "What deal? `Look, don't touch' went out of the window a few years back and `only on tour' didn't last much longer. I can't keep you tied down. You clearly crave variety. Mind you, this won't be a regular thing - or I'll break out the cardigan, understand? Now get out there. I'll pick you up tomorrow morning, OK?"
Gabby nodded uncertainly and stepped out of the car. He looked back at Cat. "Cat, I never wanted you to get hurt."
"Not now Gabby. Not on your birthday. Go enjoy yourself."
The bar door swung open, and a young brunette emerged, wearing a bikini top and tight, very short shorts. Gabby smirked at her, but did not step away from the car. She beckoned him to come in. Cat leaned over.
"Gabby, you're going to have to move, or I might break your arm when I drive away."
"Not if you learn to drive you won't, bloody wimmenz," Gabby muttered, slipping back into the passenger seat.
"What? Gabby, I'm going home - you go into the bar."
"Nah, they weren't that great. You've got bad taste in women, Cat."
"You've dated a couple of them. I've seen the magazine covers, don't pretend you haven't! And I caught you ogling that brunette's billboards!"
"Don't much like brunettes anymore - recently, I've acquired a taste for blondes," Gabby said quietly, running his hand through Cat's long blonde hair.
"There were blondes too - one was an underwear model for Christ's sake! If that's not a definite, what is?"
"You," Gabby said simply, shrugging. "Now, there's a brilliant place a few streets away. Shall I drive?"
"No, no, I can... I don't get it, Gabby. You've never managed to stay with one woman for any stretch of time without cheating, you lasted a while with me but the last couple of years... You said it drives you mental. I thought if I let you get it all out of your system every few years, you wouldn't have to cheat behind my back. I don't want to end up like you and Vicky."
"It was a good idea. And it worked way better than you thought it ever could have done. I don't want to ever touch another woman again - no-one else would have done what you just did. I've found my final definite, I suppose."
"The great Gabby is really truly settling down?"
"Fucking weird, innit?"
Cat was silent a moment. "I love you, Gabby."
"Yeah, yeah. Are you going to drive or what? I'm hungry, and this place is a bitch to get a table at after eight."
"We could just get dinner at home. Bryn's got the baby until morning," Cat suggested with a small smile. Gabby smirked and kissed her.
"Suits me - now drive."
Malton +83
Private investigators, Joe hated them on principle. He decided not to knock before entering.
"Can I help you?"
The woman sitting behind the desk was elegant. Her hair was sculptured into the most current style, a gentle wave falling delicately over one eye.
"I'm looking for K. Jackson."
"I'd say you'd found her." The woman pouted, bright red lips forming a silent kiss.
"Why have you been taking money from Harper Industries?"
The woman made light tutting noises and waved a finger at him. She stood up and walked round the desk and perched on the edge. This showed off the elegant lines of her legs inside the black body suit she was wearing. It looked like it had been sprayed on. "Why don't you tell me who's asking?"
Joe flicked open his ID. "Officer Scalia, Santa Teresa PD."
She raised one elegantly arched eyebrow. "You're a little out of your area aren't you?"
"I'm persistent."
"And I'm paranoid. What's the interest?"
"Confidential."
She shrugged eloquently. "I'm a detective. People pay me to detect stuff and keep my mouth shut afterwards. Make this worth my while."
Joe took a step closer. She smelled of roses and woodsmoke. He recognised the perfume. Hookers wore it a lot, it had an undertone of pheromones. He guessed you worked with the assets you had in her business. She clearly knew what her assets were. From where he stood he was getting a very good view of some of them.
"What did you have in mind?" he asked.
One hand rested lightly on the lapels of his coat. "I'm sure you'll think of something."
"Somehow, you don't strike me as the type to hand out information that easily. Sure you're not planning to pump me for information instead?"
Her smile was all challenge. "So what if I do?"
"Maybe I just need to remind you what happened to Alice Maddison."
"Maddison panicked. I may be paranoid but I don't scare easy."
"If you know the Maddison connection, then you know who you're working for."
She smiled wolfishly. "I know about you and your obsession. That's all. Convince me Harper Industries is connected."
"Convince me that those payments you've been taking from them every other year or so aren't payment for background information on an immortal who winds up dead a couple of weeks later."
Her eyes widened slightly at that. "Clie..." she started but Joe had got tired of the game. He caught hold of the hand on his chest and twisted it behind her back, pulling her in close. She didn't fight him, but stood there looking up into his face. He couldn't read her expression, but it didn't seem unfriendly. Moldering was a bad client, maybe she was looking for a route out.
"Don't give me that bull... Are you checking up on us for Moldering or not?"
"Get a subpoena and I'll happily open all my files for you."
"I don't have time lady. Another payment went out yesterday. I want to know who the target is."
"Why should I cooperate?"
"You can be difficult and I'll make sure Fox knows I was here. What is more, if someone dies in the next couple of days and I can in any way link it back to you. You'll be up on trial for multiple counts of accessory. Play nice and I'm sure there will be a nice little retainer for you to help us keep track of him. Now don't try my patience. Who do I need to warn?"
Al Allan sighed inwardly as he stepped out of the lift to the underground car park. The automatic lights conspicuously failed to come on, hardly an unusual occurrence. He fished about in his pocket and produced the small torch he kept there for these occasions. He'd been working late, a busy day of wall-to-wall meetings culminating in a final emergency budget meeting that had had to be scheduled to start after hours. Some days he wished he was still on the ground, working with the small militias that supplemented the local police force, but he suspected he did more good at City Hall even if he was forced to wear a suit.
He swung the narrow beam of the torch around the carpark. Only a few vehicles remained and his was clearly visible at the far side. He set off in its direction. He was halfway there when he heard a low growl, almost a sigh. It seemed to come from directly above him.
Without pausing for further thought, Al threw himself to one side, reaching for his holstered side arm as he did so. He rolled on the floor and came up shooting, five carefully aimed shots, three into his opponent's torso and, when that didn't seem to be making much of a dent, a further two into his head.
"You're not going to stop me with that pea-shooter," came sharply clipped English tones.
"Open! Code! OmegaBravo!" Al shouted the keywords for the emergency release on his briefcase.
Fox Moldering chuckled as he advanced. "Are you planning to hold me back with paperwork?"
"Not exactly." Al produced the shotgun he'd stowed in his briefcase that morning. He'd taken the precaution of loading it already. He thumbed off the safety and emptied all eight shots in Fox's direction, alternating between torso and head.
Fox staggered backwards with the force of the impacts. Al noticed he was gesturing as if activating switches or sensors and suddenly the car park filled with a thick choking smoke. Al dropped to the floor and rolled sideways, feeding more shells into the gun as he did so. Then he stopped quiet and listened.
The sudden screech of tires told him that Officer Scalia had finally arrived, after a day of frantic messaging in which Joe had urged him to retreat to a sealed bunker somewhere and shut the door. There was a sudden thump and the sound of swearing. Al squinted through the smoke, hoping to get a clear shot at Fox that wouldn't risk hitting Joe. But all he could see were the glare of headlights. Then Joe's form appeared walking across the car park. He reached down and pulled Al up.
"Stupid fool, nearly got yourself killed."
"Nearly had him though. If I'd gone to ground he wouldn't have come out in the open."
Joe coughed and waved away the smoke. "We could have used more time to set it up though. He's always got a contingency, like this smoke. We need to be more than half a step ahead of him next time."
"You reckon your contact will tip you off again?"
"Maybe. I'm certainly hoping to come to a mutually beneficial arrangement with her."
Malton +84
When Cat walked into the flat Gabby was lying on the sofa, eyes closed. Guns 'n Roses was blaring out of the speakers. That wasn't, of itself, unusual. When she turned the music down, however, he hardly twitched. She wandered over and leaned in for a kiss. A sudden wave of euphoria hit her like a physical blow. She dropped to her knees beside him, her head falling onto his chest.
She felt his hands stroke her hair. "Good eh?" he murmured.
"What is it?" she whispered.
"Dunno, some kind of signal... thing... read about it. Look!"
Cautiously Cat opened her eyes. Colours danced across her vision in time to the music.
"We've been dancing with, Mr Brownstone," sang Axl Rose.
Gradually she made out Gabby waving his hand in front of her holding some sort of device. She closed her eyes again. Too many sensations.
"He's been knocking. He won't leave me alone!"
Somehow she managed to climb onto the sofa next to Gabby, feeling his arm wrap around her, pulling her into his sphere of warmth and well-being. Rivulets of pleasure continued to run through her body. "Purple Haze, all in my brain!". The drum beat echoed through her. She murmured something, but even she wasn't sure what it was. Then she fell into a guitar solo Gabby had played to her a hundred times, only this time the music turned her round and lifted her up and threw her into into an ecstasy of sound.
Some time later she thought maybe she should do something else. She opened her eyes and watched the colours dance for a bit as the music rolled round again. "Bring me champagne when I'm thirsty, bring me a reefer when I wanna get high." Gabby was still holding the whatever it was, just in front of her, clutched to his chest. She'd been going to do something with it so she reached up and took it from his unresisting fingers, frowning at its smooth lines and the large black switch. "Give me a woman when I get lonely, lay down by my baby's side". The black switch was probably important. She stared at it and concentrated and then very carefully pushed it to the off position.
Instantaneously her ability to concentrate returned.
"Awww!" complained Gabby.
Cat sat up and turned the device over in her hands. "What is this?" she asked.
"Not sure exactly, something else cooked up in the Necrotech plants apparently. Someone got hold of the blueprints. Guaranteed high for anyone with nanites. Cool eh! I've been trying to get this sort of high for the past eighty years."
Cat scowled. "Of all the things they could do with the nanite API they picked a `get high' switch?"
"Black Ops," said Gabby. "No one's going to be doing much if they get hit by that signal. Pretty effective as a weapon against us I would think. The getting high bit is just a beneficial side effect."
Cat's scowl darkened. "I wonder what the signal is?"
"Oi! No!" Gabby snatched the device from her and held it above his head, out of her reach.
"What?"
"You are not going to take this apart to see how it works. You'll end up breaking it."
"I won't break it."
"I know you Cat. I give you this, it'll be in pieces all over the living room floor before I can say `what's for supper?'. You want one, buy your own."
Malton +85
"Still working as a small town cop?" Danny grinned as he got off the train.
"Santa Teresa's hardly a small town and I'm pretty much Sheriff."
"Only pretty much?"
Joe shrugged. "Anti-immortal laws. If I got Sheriff I might hold it forever or some such. That your bag?" He gestured to the holdall on the ground.
"Yep. I'm travelling light."
"Just as well. My car may run on solar power, but it isn't great. It's in the car park round the back."
Danny hauled up the bag. "It's good of you to put me up like this."
"No problem. I'd only be spending Christmas on my own otherwise. I may be stuck in one place but being immortal doesn't make it easy to keep friends."
"What happened to that Private Eye of yours?"
"She has family."
"And you're not invited?"
"Neither of us wants strings."
They walked around the back of the train station and towards Joe's car, standing alone in the deserted lot. Just as they approached a gaggle of figures emerged out of the shadows.
"Go home lads!" said Joe. "I'm Deputy Sheriff Scalia." He flipped open his ID.
"Deputy Sheriff! Woo hoo!" said a voice sarcastically.
Joe sighed.
"Who are they?" asked Danny.
"New gang. Make a lot of noise, not big time though."
"I resent that!" The leader stepped forward. He had a bandanna round his head and tattoos down one side of his face. Suddenly a knife glinted in his hands.
"I am armed," said Joe. "Go home! I'm not interested tonight."
The leader ran at him. Joe side-stepped and drew his gun. He fired a warning shot near the guy's feet.
"You are under arrest for assaulting a Police Officer. Drop the knife. I'm serious. I am armed and I will protect myself."
"Go on then!" The young man turned slowly and began to approach, tossing the knife from hand to hand.
Joe pointed the gun directly at his chest. "Final warning. Drop the knife or I shoot."
The man laughed and broke into a run once more. Joe fired and watched him drop. Then he turned to face the rest of the group. To his surprise they glanced at each other and then, as one, charged towards them.
"What's got into them?" muttered Danny, and he lashed out with a foot.
"Beats me," muttered Joe. He fired again at a big youth in the lead, who was holding some kind of chain.
"I've got into them."
Joe and Danny whirled. The leader was on his feet once more.
"My mummy was a Philosophe Knight and my daddy was Gore Corp. You're not the only immortal around here."
The young man leaped at Joe once more, dagger in his hands.
Instinctively Joe's arm shot forward. With surprise he watched his finger elongate. His nails protruding forwards into sharp points. They impaled the young man in the chest. Joe ripped upwards, folding his hand around the boys brain and shredding it.
There was silence as the body fell to the floor, then the sound of the rest of the gang running away.
"You done that before?" asked Danny.
"Nope."
"Can't be good."
"That one of your British understatements?"