“I don’t know if she’s going to be OK,” Doctor Imogen told Aggie. The detective had brought in the young tribeswoman to the clinic, and Imogen was almost certainly breaking a number of HIPPA regulations by giving the private detective medical information with Nola unconscious and unable to consent. Chief Veregge, though…well he hadn’t ordered personnel to work with Aggie, but he had made a strongly worded suggestion. Imogen didn’t know how federal laws applied to her clinic, anyway, and she really didn’t care. The people who made those laws were the same as those who had herded her ancestors onto a small patch of land, so she considered the clinic her own sovereign nation. Fuck ’em.
The clinic’s newest resident was one Nola Strong, a young woman who had disappeared from tribal lands more than a few months ago. Most of the young people seemed to do that these days, and despite Nola’s reddish, fuzzy hair and light skin, the doctor suspected she had as much luck as the rest of them did. Now she was here, back home and poisoned.
With the same protectiveness she felt towards all dying breeds, Imogen said, “I don’t think she’ll be able to answer any questions, Ms. McPherson.”
The diminutive detective shrugged in her charcoal suit. With her black hair and somber expression, she could have passed for a child pallbearer. “It’s just Aggie. Or McPherson.
“Anyway, she answered my questions on the way here. I wanted to know if I was right about the diagnosis.” Imogen questioned if Aggie’s story about having just met Nolaa few hours ago was true. Most people didn’t appear this sad over a stranger.
Imogen thought about Nola under the oxygen tent and decided that, either way, the detective deserved answers for having brought her this far. “It looks that way. Heavy metal poisoning, damage to respiratory and capillary systems. It’s hard to tell the extent of the damage just yet.”
Aggie turned to the doctor. The detective didn’t so much sweep her gaze as lock her eyes on one thing, then another, taking each into account before moving onto the next. Imogen found this to be uncomfortable as the full attention of her visitor landed on her. Under the focused gazed, she pushed a loose lock of her own dark hair behind an ear, suddenly and irrationally concerned that she hadn’t had time to wash this morning.
To cover up her sudden discomfort, she wondered aloud, “She seems like the type who would have better options than dangerous work. I wonder why she did it.”
Without hesitation Aggie answered, “He made her feel special.”
“Who made her feel special?”
“I’m gonna find out real soon,” Aggie said with a certainty that Imogen wasn’t sure she liked. While it might be a too frequent an occurrence, she didn’t like violence around the clinic.
Aggie’s tone shifted back into its softer dynamic as she continued, “She should be safe to move to another facility soon. If you need to do that.”
Imogen wasn’t sure why Nola needed the sanctuary of her peoples’ reservation, but she thought of Chief Veregge and decided not to ask. Instead she said, “That’s good. We don’t have the equipment or expertise to treat her here.”
Aggie nodded and spun her diminutive carriage towards the exit, blazer flapping as if she were executing an about-face. At a slow gait, she headed towards the exit, throwing back a “See you around doc.”
The SUV that drove into the clinic parking lot was designed to look like trouble. Big and black, even the bumper and trim were matted into a mute darkness that absorbed light. Watching it from his taxi, Rafi pulled his cap low, slid down into his seat like he was taking a nap, and waited to see if it was enough trouble to warn his boss. Without realizing it, he smiled. This is what he loved about working for McPherson. You never knew what was going to happen.
Three white dudes got out of the SUV. They were all dressed in the same style, clothes as black as the car they arrived in, bulging jackets and dark turtlenecks protecting them from the cold that blew off the river.
Rafi had to hand it to them – they looked so serious that they went all the way around and came out the other side of silly. With their uniform dress, they almost appeared like a military unit, but one was so fat and the other so tall and thin that they could have been Laurel and Hardy. Rafi decided he could wait on warning his boss.
The man in front though, though, Rafi kept an eye on. He was fit and chewing on gum like he was practicing for the biting Olympics. When his gaze settled on Rafi’s taxi, its intensity felt like he was trying to melt it with heat vision.
Aggie’s knock on the window startled him enough that his hat fell back on his head. What he hated about working with McPherson was her penchant for sneaking up on him. He didn’t care for it.
He straightened up in his seat and rolled down the window, its perfect electric purr reminding him of where he got the money from to keep his car well-maintained. Aggie already had her eyes on the three men, but asked Rafi anyway, “Anything interesting happening out here?”
Rafi pulled his hat back on, tipping it towards the trio. “Well, that fine group of gora just arrived.”
“They hassle you yet?”
“They’re thinking about it a lot.” Rafi paused as the trio formed into the world’s smallest phalanx and began heading towards the taxi. “And here they come now.”
Aggie watched the approach before saying, “I guess I’d better go say hello.”
Rafi smiled to himself and, despite the stiff wind coming off the river, rolled his window all the way down. He wanted to be able to hear everything.
Rafi had wrestled for a long time, first for fun with his family in Pakistan, then in the labor camps for money. Since coming to the States he had fallen out of practice. He still knew enough to admire the way his boss managed to look casual walking over to the three men, but with her small feet balanced carefully along the ice of the parking lot, leveraged against any possible attack.
Aggie launched the first salvo. “Hello, brave Legionnaires!”
Rafi noticed this made no one happy. All three men stopped, Laurel and Hardy looking around as if they’d been spotted by a sniper. The one in front, if it were possible, intensified his glare. Rather than just stand there and look like an idiot, though, he at least had the good sense to close the remaining distance to Aggie. “You’re that stupid Jew who got Cordell in trouble,” was his charming introduction.
Aggie actually laugh, which wasn’t something Rafi heard often. “I’m a lot of things,” she replied, “but I’m not Abrahamic. In anyway.”
“Fine, mongrel-lover. Have it your way. What are you doing here?”
There was a pause, as if Aggie were actually considering the question. Then, “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“You’re here on Legion business, which makes it my business.”
Aggie responded with a slowness that suggested she had forgotten something. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”
The man in front of Laurel and Hardy raised himself up, putting his full height against the diminutive detective. “You know who I am.”
Aggie took time with her response, leaving the honesty of it an open question. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”
The man crossed his arms as he reevaluated Aggie. “I’m Randal Wayne. And I’m here to collect the rod Haddo hired you to find.”
“Well, Mr. Wayne, I’m not working for Haddo.” Rafi wished he could see Aggie’s face. He didn’t know from direct experience, but he bet she was a hell of a poker player.
“Don’t bullshit me,” was Randal’s reply. “He told me that he hired you.”
Rafi didn’t have to strain to hear Aggie’s reply, even over the wind. “No he didn’t. You’re lying.”
The man stepped closer, towering over Aggie. “What did you just say?”
Behind his sunglasses, Randal’s surprise showed when the detective took a step closer to him. “I said you’re lying. Haddo didn’t tell you that. In fact, he didn’t tell you the rod was missing.” Aggie shifted her gaze from Randal, round to the other two, then back to the lead gora. “I’m not working for Haddo. So I know you’re lying about that. Which brings up all sorts of interesting questions, doesn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, use your imagination Randal. Why would you think Haddo hired me? Why would you think I have the rod you’re talking about?” Aggie clucked in a manner that was unmistakeable in its condescension. “Would Haddo be interested in you being here, looking for said rod?”
The last question actually made Randal angrier, shoulders bunching, arms uncrossing so his hands had the freedom to curl into fists. Aggie might be able to handle herself, but Rafi found himself reaching for the door handle. If things were about to get violent, three against one odds weren’t anyones’ friend.
Randal raised a fist, finger pointed towards Aggie, when she cut off any impending threat with, “You really want to do that, Randal? Start a fight, get arrested on tribal land? You think three white supremacists are going to do well in the custody of local law enforcement?” Rafi could practically see the glow of Aggie’s smile reflect off the man’s sunglasses. “I’m sure Chief Veregge would order all three of you to get special attention.”
Randal may not look too bright, but Rafi figured he must have a few brain cells firing in his skull. At Aggie’s words his pointed finger slowly curled back into his fist and his mouth closed. Aggie continued, “If you don’t want to be arrested on tribal land, do you want to know what happens next?”
Rafi could see the Wayne clench his jaw, but couldn’t hear whatever response he muttered through clenched teeth. Aggie responded, “If you don’t want Haddo to find out about our little encounter here and start asking questions, you’re going to leave Nola Strong alone. And you’re going to stay out of my way.”
“In fact, I think the Slakterquay PD may start turning up clues on who committed those unexplained robberies for the last few months. Call it a hunch.
“Seems like there’s all sorts of trouble headed your way.” The smile reflected in Randal’s sunglasses increased a few candelas. “I’d disappear if I were you.”
Randal stepped forward, nearly bumping his chest into Aggie who was unmoved by the impotent act. His mouth worked around whatever threats he wanted to spit at the detective. Then Laurel stepped forward and a hand zipped out of Aggie’s pocket to touch him on his chest and the thin man collapsed. Randal cursed at him as Hardy went to pick him up, then stepped back from Aggie, muttering a threat so watered down it couldn’t reach Rafi. The trio headed back to the SUV, Hardy helping a wheezing and limping Laurel, Randal stomping across the ice. As they went, Aggie waved at them as if she were giving a bon voyage to a departing vessel. “Enjoy Idaho boys!”
Rafi had his window rolled up by the time Aggie got back into the car. “Idaho?”
“Inside joke. But don’t ever go to Idaho.”
“OK,” Rafi started the car, not sure if he cared to know what that meant. “Where to?”
“Hill District. The only person I trust with the rod is Rodriguez. After that, back to the office. Even with Randal and his little hit squad out of the way, I don’t think this is over yet.”
Rafi sighed as he watched the trio get back into the black SUV. The trip to the Bundhaus, now this run in with Wayne, who was, in addition to being a raging asshole, a white supremacist and a dangerous, potentially violent criminal. Getting mixed up with the Legionnaires wasn’t something he was sure he wanted.
Rafi was so deep in these thoughts that he nearly swatted at his shoulder when he felt a light touch, prepared to assassinate whatever spider or bug had alighted there. Instead, he found himself staring at his boss’s pale hand, a sizable fold of bills between the carefully manicured fingers. He chuckled to himself and took it.
Aggie patted him on the shoulder then indicated the seatbelt. “Safety first.”
Rafi smiled, put on his seatbelt, and pointed the car back towards Slakterquay.
See the author’s published work here.
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