No Dogs in Philly (5 page)

“
We see a girl. A girl with blue
eyes and a dog that is not a dog. We know this creature—have seen
it. It is strong and it fights, fighting the UausuaU across the
universal plane. We see opportunity in this creature, yet it waits.
We believe it waits for you, for mankind, to see if
you
will
fight, if this corner of this universe is worth the
battle.”

It was day, the sun shone, the birds were back
to their annoying chirping and the chair was just as hard as ever.
ElilE sat staring at her as he had been. When he spoke his voice
was the normal tenor:

“
This girl is very important. She
is the foothold upon which this creature relies. The fraction of
similarity that allows it to exist in your universe. The feasters
serve the UausuaU though they may not know it. If they find this
girl they will kill her and destroy the margin.”

“
Well that’s fucking great,” Saru
said. She took out her jacket flask (damn her hands were shaking,
had it really just been night? Had they drugged her or hacked her
implants?) and found it was empty. She got the hip flask and downed
it. “What will you do if she dies?”

“
We will do as we have always
done.”

“
And let the world be destroyed?
Assuming I believe your hocus pocus.”

“
Not destroyed—consumed. But yes,
it is likely that all mass on Earth, at least, will disassociate
from this universe and become part of the UausuaU.”

“
Jesus Christ. And this is your
plan? To hire one detective to track down this girl? Why not put
out an APB, get the cops on it, the army, or at least get me a big
fat load of mercenaries to come along.”

“
There is…danger in that route. It
would be a great loss if the girl were to die…but it would
be…safer.”

“
What do you mean,
‘safer’?”

“
The creature that lives in her is
powerful. Our understanding of it is…incomplete. We know it battles
the UausuaU but its actions are at times unclear. It does not
understand humanity well, does not communicate. It could interpret
such pursuit as a threat and…overreact.”

“
Like, what, kill somebody?” She
was fairly certain that however this ended it was going to involve
a few body bags.

“
It would likely kill many…the
city perhaps. We do not know its power or constraint.”

Saru began to laugh, a real laugh, not some
bitter chuckle. This was
funny
. Oh man, Eugene was right, no
wonder people loved working for these guys. A mission to rescue an
alien that sure didn’t need her help, with a bonus of potentially
destroying Philadelphia? Sign me up! She imagined the parking
authority going up in flames, the rat-infested slum housing, the
banking district with its swarms of self-righteous yuppies. She was
perfect for the job—this was a pretty low-pressure consequence as
far as she was concerned. And her qualifications—

“
So basically you want me because
I’m too clumsy to be seen as a threat, and simple-minded enough to
be understood by the dumbest of aliens.”

“
You are not subtle. You think and
act directly. Yes, this could be easier for the being to
understand. And the girl has had a difficult childhood; given your
own difficult childhood, we think you two can relate.”

Ooh, bringing up her childhood. That was a
foul. She thought about giving him a light tickle with the
prod—nothing too
subtle
—and then did it. He caught the prod
lazily and locked eyes with her, unblinking. She dialed up the
power and returned his stare. His forearm shook, the blue arcs of
electricity danced up and down his arm, little flames poked up from
his hand and the scent of steak filled the air. He yanked the prod
from her grip and dropped it on the ground between them. His hand
was black and red, burned, destroyed. She felt suddenly guilty,
sympathetic almost; she hadn’t meant to hurt him, had she even hurt
him? There was that strange urge to cry again.

“
Sorry,” she said, softly. “That
was stupid.” Then a thought occurred: “Wait, won’t this creature
interpret any feasters as a threat and ‘overreact’?”

“
It may,” he said. He picked up a
clump of dirt from around the boulder and massaged it into his
wound. “When you find the girl you must gain her trust, convince
her to follow you of her own free will. We will provide
transportation to take her far from the city, far from the reach of
the feasters, where she will be safe and we can observe the being.
Do you understand?”

Away from Philadelphia, a place where she was
safe. Jeeze, take me with you.

“
Surprisingly, I do,” she said.
“So now the real question: what does all this pay? Keep in mind the
imminent destruction of the universe and my uniquely moronic
qualifications—I don’t know if you’ve seen the feeds lately, but
I’m a celebrity too.”

“
We are prepared to offer you the
same contract we offered Dr. Friar. Ten million American dollars
upon successful closure. Five hundred thousand to be paid up front
for necessary expenses.”

“
Holy shit!” Saru yelled. “Why
didn’t you just spit that out at the beginning instead of all this
mumbo jumbo bullshit? Holy shit!”

She jumped up and half jogged to the glass box
of the elevator, then jogged back to grab her prod and then jogged
back again. Holy shit, holy shit, ten million dollars! She had to
find this bitch. ElilE was jogging after her; he was saying things
and yadda yadda yadda. Holy shit! Ten million dollars!

Chapter 5

“
Are you surprised? They bought
your building after all.”

“My God, I’m going to be rich. I am rich! I
have five hundred thousand dollars in my account right now, I
checked, oh my God!”

“
You need to settle down, Saru,
you haven’t done anything yet. Don’t think they’ll let you keep
that money if you fail.”

“
I don’t need to listen to you
anymore! I’m rich!”

She grabbed Eugene's $900 bottle of Baron Foran
scotch and tore out the cork. She took a deep, long swig, so long
Eugene tried to grab the bottle away, but she pressed a stiletto
heel into his thigh and he doubled over. Right after the briefing
with ElilE she’d raced back to her apartment and thrown on the best
clothes she had—she looked pretty good, she thought. Now she sat on
the corner of Eugene’s desk, heels on his thighs, skirt flirting
open and closed in front of him as she swayed her knees back and
forth—damn, she couldn’t seem to keep them still, another swig’d do
the trick. It touched and annoyed her that Eugene refused to look
up her skirt, tilting his head uncomfortably in any direction but
right in front of him.

“
Jesus, what’s gotten into you?”
he said. “You’ve got to get to work.”

“
Work?” she said. This annoyed
her. She kicked Eugene’s chair, pushing it back so it banged into
the copper radiator behind it. She clamped her knees together. Fine
then.

“
I don’t need to work, Yoo Jeen,
because I, am rich.”

Eugene sighed. He held out his hand for her to
hand him the scotch. She held up a finger and took another long
swig before handing it to him. He started to reach for a glass and
then gave up and drank right from the bottle. It was like their
lips were touching through scotch. Rich people scotch. How much
money did Eugene have? Was he ten-million-dollars rich?

“
Look, I’m thrilled you got this
contract but it is serious business. I’m looking at this brief and
you do not have a lot to go on.”

That annoyed her more. She found herself hating
Eugene suddenly, lecturing her on work and responsibility. What did
he know? All he did was shuffle papers around and take
bribes.

“
Don’t you mean ‘we’?
We
don’t have a lot to go on. You’re my partner after all,” she
said.

“
I’m your lawyer—that’s not quite
the same thing.”

“
Huh, I dunno, I thought you’d be
a bit more supportive of me.”

He slapped his knees and threw his hands up in
exasperation.

“
No, I don’t know. What do you
want? What do you want from me?”

Isn’t it obvious? she wanted to scream. I’m
going to die out there you idiot and I just want one good screw
before they cut my tits off! She just growled at him and the growl
ended in a scream. She flipped herself backwards over the desk and
landed in a pile. She picked herself up, grinning through her
tangled hair, and threw a bunch of hundreds in the air.

“
Sorry to interrupt,” she said.
“Here’s for your trouble,
sir
.”

He put his head in his hand. Sissy came in,
glaring daggers. Saru grabbed her by the waist and planted a sloppy
kiss on her mouth, then pushed her away and stormed down the
hallway, knocking over all the tables and ornaments she passed. She
got to the street and puked on the sidewalk.

She dry swallowed two Claritol, and then two
more—she’d grabbed about ten pounds of them from the Gaespora
pharmacy. The familiar effervescent tingle washed over her brain, a
bit more intense than usual, and all the fog and the joy and the
delusion rolled out. All that was left was the terror. It wasn’t
something she was used to—sure, fear, that was normal, that was the
once-in-a-while, kick-in-the-pants, get-you-moving sensation that
was just part of the job, part of life. But this was something
else; this was fear even when there was nothing to be afraid of, no
men with guns or hungry elzi or torture fetishist around the
corner. It was stupid to be afraid of things that weren’t right in
front of you, but she couldn't help it.

It was those damn Gaespora. That trick ElilE
had pulled with the night and the Dracula voice. Way to go brother,
way to psych out your star player before the big game. She’d always
been able to trust her eyes, or at least some other sense. No
matter how strong the drugs or how sophisticated the hack, there
was always that nagging knowledge that something was amiss, that
she was being played. But up there on the roof—that was
real
. It was night, everything felt
right
, but it
wasn’t true. That was new. She was dealing with aliens, maybe, or
people that thought they were aliens, which was just as bad in her
book—especially if they could pull a trick like that. That was the
problem—she didn’t know what she was up against. She needed to
inject some logic and flush that doubt.

In the classifieds he was listed as Dr. Morgan
Friar, Private Investigator, Wekba specialist. Huh, so everyone
knew he was a doctor but her. She called him up on her brand-new
player, which was a goddamn necessary expense for sure. He answered
on the first ring.

“
Hello, Saru,” he said. He was in
what must have been his office, or maybe laboratory was a better
word. She saw what looked like a missile in the background. “I was
expecting your call.”

“
Really?” she said, dumbly.
Tiramisu.

“
Yes. You’re the best in your
field of course; it’s natural they should ask you after
me.”

“
I guess you know the word
then.”

“
Guess is correct, but I should
have warned you—the Gaespora are very persuasive.”

“
Yep. Well I took the
case.”

“
Ah,” he said. He looked sad, and
that look was enough to bring back the terror. The reception wasn’t
perfect, the image was a little choppy, but for the first time she
realized how old he was.

“
Are you going to tell me how
stupid I am?”

“
No, no. But I would advise you to
reconsider.”

“
I don’t think that’s an
option.”

“
No, maybe not. I hope you won’t
take this as a critique of your professionalism, but perhaps you
would allow me to offer some advice? Some information that may be
of use?”

“
That’s actually why I called.
You’re the expert.”

“
It would be better if we met in
person. When are you free?”

“
Now, if you like.”

“
Very good, here is my
address.”

He sent her the address and she hailed a cab.
No walking for this rich bitch. She tipped the cabby a
hundred—there you go bud, buy yourself a toothbrush—and he dropped
her in front of a nondescript brownstone. There was no plaque
announcing who lived there; even the number was tiny and hard to
read. That was just like Friar—attention to detail, subtlety,
discretion; he was like her polar opposite.

She knocked softly, noticing the door was not
wood, as it appeared, but some sort of hard alloy. She guessed it
was bullet proof and fire and acid resistant. She looked at the
stone and wondered what was beneath—reinforced concrete? Steel
micromesh? This wasn’t a house; it was a fortress. She wondered who
the neighbors were. No neighbors of course, he would own the other
two houses and they would be just as tricked. Interesting. Not a
lot of crime in this part of the city, so what was he expecting?
Enemies? Old scores? The apocalypse?

The door swung open and he was there,
tit-height and grave-faced.

“
Come in please,” he said,
ushering her in with his hand. He wore the same tweed jacket that
she now suspected was more than just tweed. She stepped inside.
Yes, it was like she expected—the house of an old bachelor
professor, a little dusty, full of knick-knacks and relics,
artwork, carved wood furniture, globes, and other gilded trash. She
would buy it all when she solved the case and cram it into her
foyer so you’d have to shuffle sideways to get through the
maze.