[disclaimers in part 1]
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"Often at night, drunk, he lay in wait in the streets or in houses,
to frighten me to death."

~~Rimbaud -- A Season in Hell~~
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SUNDAY, MARCH 5, 2000
SARI THOMAS' RESIDENCE, APT 303
MID AFTERNOON

FROHIKE:

While Byers is in working on the computer that his current damsel in distress has hired him to fix, I'm in the hallway outside said damsel's door, working on installing a covert surveillance camera. Ms. Thomas is helping me, holding things and handing them up the ladder to me as I ask for them. We've been talking for a while, and I'm beginning to see what Byers probably likes about her, beyond the fact that she's tasty, and a skilled chef. This woman has a brain, too, and she's not afraid to use it. I've always thought that smart was sexy, and she's definitely smart. So far, we've discussed cooking, Sanskrit etymology, anarchist political theory, and genetically engineered crops. She definitely has her ear to the ground, because she doesn't miss a trick in any of those fields, and she's way ahead of me in linguistics theory. And she gave me the recipe for her potato leek soup, which I'm going to use later this week. Apparently Byers ate most of a bowl of the stuff, along with bread, cheese and fruit. That's better than I've gotten from him in nearly two months.

"May I ask you something?" she asks me, slightly hesitant.

"You can always ask," I tell her. "I may not answer."

"Fair enough, I suppose. It's about your friend John." I guess I should have expected that. Maybe she has it for him, too.  "He nearly passed out on me before I fed him lunch today. He was in a very bad way for a while. When I asked him if he'd been ill recently, he said that he'd lost someone close to him, and that someone had tried to kill him. He didn't say much, and I guess I'm trying to sort all of that out in my head. I don't mean to pry, but John seems like such a nice person, I can't imagine how something like that could have happened to him. Perhaps you could help me understand?"

Her words worry me, particularly the part about Byers nearly passing out. I ask for a screwdriver and she hands me up one. She would ask the tough questions. I ponder for a few minutes before I answer, and she waits patiently for me to speak. I'm not sure how much I should say. For Byers to even admit that anything had happened was nothing short of miraculous, much less giving her those details. "What he said was true. It's all pretty complicated, and I'd rather not go into detail about most of it. What exactly did he tell you?"

"Something about being threatened, and a woman that he'd been in love with for a very long time leaving him once the danger was over. He told me that he didn't think he'd ever really loved her, but I saw the look on his face, and I'm not buying it. I think he's trying to rationalize it away so that her loss doesn't feel quite so painful, so that maybe he doesn't feel like he's wasted all that time loving her only to have her leave." She looks up at me, and I hand her the screwdriver back.

"That's all for this part of the installation," I say, climbing down the ladder. "Now we need to put scramblers on your phones." She nods, and I continue quietly. "You're right about him trying to rationalize the whole thing. But it's more complicated than that, really." She collects the ladder while I pick up the toolbox, and we go inside and close the door. "You see, Byers only saw this woman three times in all those years. Pretty pitiful, really. She was working on covert projects most of that time, and was kept in very secure locations. We couldn't find her after she disappeared the first time. When we saw
her again, she had to change her identity to stay safe. She asked Byers to go with her then, but he felt she would be safer if she went alone. Then came the threats, and he went to get her to make sure she was safe. He even asked her to marry him after it was over, but in the end, she decided that her safety was more important to her than his, or than whatever she might have felt for him." No names, dates, or locations. It should be safe enough to tell her that much.

"That's all very mysterious. Sounds quite cloak and dagger, really. But I think I see why he would say what he did, under those circumstances. It must have been very hard on him. It sounds like it was very hard on this woman he loves, too." I just nod. I'm not going off on a rant about Mata Hari right now, much as I might want to. Ms. Thomas's responses have been fairly analytical, and I'm wondering if maybe I was reading a little more into her interest in Byers than I should have. I mean, she seems genuinely concerned, but what she's said doesn't sound like she actually has the hots for him. She leans the ladder against her couch and points to the phone in her living room. "I guess we can start with this one. I think it will be a little crowded with three people in my office, so I imagine you'll want to wait on that one until John takes a break. There's also a
phone in my bedroom."

I nod again, and pick up her phone. But we'll have to toss Byers out of the office before I can get in there and work. There's really only enough room for two in there. And Byers, like Langly and I, tends to get caught up in the work and forgets to take breaks. "Yeah, it was hard on him. It was hard on everyone. Our partner almost got killed over it. And I'm not sure his chickadee really deserved his loyalty."

She watches me as I work "I'm sorry. I hope he's all right now.  But I wouldn't condemn her for trying to save her own life. It's not like that isn't a concern of my own at the moment."

"Yeah, he's doing better. But you're not running and hiding, and you're not deserting anybody to do it."

"I had to leave Barry. And I might remind you that I did move three times before I decided I wasn't going to live like that anymore. John doesn't strike me as the sort who gives his loyalty or his love to anyone very easily. After our conversation yesterday, I would say that he's very shy and reserved by nature. People like that often have a hard time reaching out to others and risking their feelings."

"Yeah, for the most part. In your case, you were leaving the person who was hurting you. It's not the same with her. Byers never did anything but try to help her, even when it seemed insane to do so. And he's not quite as reserved as you'd think when it comes to pretty ladies. He doesn't keep his head very well when his hormones kick in on him."

She laughs. "Like anyone does? I'd love to meet this hypothetical hormonal logician of yours, even just to stare at him. There would have to be a government study of the anomaly, of course. And I'd suspect genetic engineering, myself." The thought makes me chuckle, even though I've seen too much to discount what she's tossing off as a humorous pseudo-theory. Langly's certainly in a hormonal haze of his own right now. Hope Byers survives this one.

The rest of the afternoon passes fairly quietly. I finish the security installations and show Ms. Thomas how to work everything. True to form, I had to toss Byers out of the office in order to get in and work on the phone. He's still got a ton of stuff to do here, but I'm done with my part of the deal until Byers gets home when he's done here today. After that, it's time for the three of us to put our heads together and come up with a frame for Barry Guertzen. I think fraud on a federal level would do the trick. He was an accountant, and it's not unreasonable to think that he was involved in some skimming and cooking the books at one point or another as he got deeper into his head trips. Ms. Thomas said that he was pickling himself pretty regularly too, so that probably had some effect on both his actions and his troubles with the law and his employers. I think the boys and I can put together a very convincing package, with a minimum of funky poaching. After the foundry, I'm still willing to give that particular recreational activity a rest for a while.

"I'll probably be in late," Byers says as I'm getting ready to leave.

"If that happens, be sure you at least try and get some dinner before you get back," I insist.

"Nobody escapes from my place without being fed at the appropriate hours," Ms. Thomas says firmly. "Thank you very much for all your help, Mr. Frohike. I feel a little more secure here already." She shakes my hand, and I raise it to my lips and kiss the back of it briefly. I've come to the conclusion that she definitely deserves the treatment due a lady. I was right, Byers could have done much worse than to fall for this one.

SARI THOMAS' RESIDENCE
8:20 PM

BYERS:

I've got a good deal of work done when Sari comes in and informs me that it's time for dinner. "I'm not really very..." She gives me a disapproving look.

"Oh, hey, none of that crap! You're eating something, because I won't have you passing out on me again, and I promised your friend I'd get you to eat. Besides, there's a nice little Ethiopian place just down the street about eight blocks. I could use a walk, and I'm having a killer craving for injera."

I don't want to disappoint her. "I'll bring along my laptop. We can take the time while we're at dinner to scan your floppies for the virus the hacker hit you with. It's been pretty complicated, and I'm not entirely sure it was all from one source." I hand her the stack of discs from her desk.

She looks mildly distressed at the idea of working over her meal, but it's just a matter of sticking in a disc, hitting a couple of keys, and letting the virus scanner do the work. "Ok," she says, "I suppose I can tolerate that much while I'm trying to enjoy my evening." She gives me a little half-smile, picks up her backpack and deposits the discs, and we depart.

Being early March and long after dark, it's cold and crisp outside. Our breath forms clouds as we move along the sidewalk. We're not far from the restaurant when Sari freezes and grabs my arm, looking down the street. "Oh shit."

"What's wrong?"

"It's Barry," she whispers, her voice tight and tense. She points him out without drawing attention to the fact that she's doing so. I can see why she's scared of this guy. Hell, I'm scared of him. He's huge. I'm guessing that he's got a good six inches on me, and at least 60 pounds. He looks like a steroidally enhanced nightmare version of some middle-aged Hitler Youth; blonde, buff, and Aryan. It's like he's Schwartzenegger's evil twin. Sari starts to drag me off the street into a doorway, but it's obvious that he's seen her, and he's closing in on us fast. In a few seconds, he's right on top of us, and even bigger than I thought. He's shouting obscenities and reaching for her.

"You goddamn slut! You can't even keep your whoring in private anymore! Who the hell is the scrawny geek? You're my bitch, Sari, and I'm gonna kill you." He stinks of alcohol, and his shouting is starting to attract attention on the street. People are giving us a wide berth; some are hurrying away, and others are starting to stare.

"Barry, it's not like that! He's fixing my computer. I got hacked the other day." Sari is backing away, and I put myself between them.

He's getting angrier, and tries to reach past me to grab her. "I bet he's fixing more than your motherboard, cunt." I'm trying to block his arm, but I'm not having much success. He advances a few steps and suddenly Sari's back is against the wall and I'm nose to collarbone with the incredible Hulk.

"I'm doing nothing of the sort, and you can't treat her like this," I insist, trying to push him away from her with both hands on his chest. He looks down at me. I think I've made a tactical error here. He grabs me by one shoulder and pulls me out toward the middle of the sidewalk, away from Sari. I try to get in a sucker punch before he hits me, but he's got those abs of steel that I keep seeing infomercials for, and doesn't even flinch.

"You're pathetic, little man," he growls at me. The next thing I know, there's a ham sized hand around my throat and he slams me into the brick wall of the building that Sari's been backed up against. It knocks the wind out of me, and when he lets me go, I can't help but slide to the ground. Suddenly, I know how Frohike feels in a bar fight.

I'm struggling to my feet when she moves. There's something in her hand, and when it hits him, I smell ozone and hear a sharp crack. Must be a shock stick of some sort. Smart. It doesn't stop him, though. He grabs her arm, twisting it to force her to the ground. She yelps in pain and I'm on my feet again. I can't let this happen to her. I told her we'd keep her safe. This is not what I had in mind. He sees me get up, and with a jerk and a twist, he tosses Sari into the wall. I hear a sickening snapping sound, and she screams.

I don't have any weapons as Barry turns to take me on again. I swing my laptop case, the only thing I have, taking him hard on the side of the head. I cringe as I do it, but laptops can be replaced. People can't. It stuns him, but only for a second, and he's on me before I can swing the laptop again. This time he hits me hard. I manage to duck the blow enough that he doesn't break my nose, but my whole head feels like it just exploded. I'm dizzy and seeing flashes of light, but at least I don't black out or hit the ground. I wobble a little and go at him again with the laptop. I feel it connect, and he curses. He must have actually felt that one. I guess I hit him somewhere other than his head. I'm not about to let up if I have any choice in the matter. If it were just me, I'd run, but I can't leave Sari here to face this guy by herself. He's threatened to kill her. So I hit him again, and out of the corner of my eye I see Sari move.

She strikes out with the shock stick in her left hand this time, and I think she's turned up the gain, because this time Barry is the one who screams. He lashes out with his arms as he spasms, and I get knocked to the sidewalk beside Sari. She hits him again and by this time, I hear sirens in the distance. So does he, apparently, and he starts to run. He shouts back at me,"I'll remember you, nerdboy, and next time I see you, you are dead meat! Nobody touches my woman but me! You're dead, pal." No one stops him, of course.

There's a young African woman kneeling on the sidewalk beside Sari now, though. "I've called the police and an ambulance," she says. "Let me take a look at you." At a guess, I'd say she's a med student.

I try to sit up and look at Sari myself, but the pain and dizziness from that punch he landed keeps me flat on the sidewalk. The flashing lights in my eyes haven't stopped. I can see she has tears running down her face though, and her teeth are clenched against the pain. "Sari, how bad are you hurt?" I ask. I reach out and take her hand. She's panting hard, shaking violently, and she grips my hand tightly.

"No injera... tonight..." she says sadly.

"Looks like a nasty broken right arm," the young woman says after a short examination. "The bone didn't break the skin though. That's lucky, at least." She helps Sari sit upright against the wall and adjust her arm to a slightly more manageable position, then turns her attention to me. "Can you follow my finger?" She's moving it slowly in front of my face, and though it's blurry, I track it with my eyes. "That's good, now let's get a look at your pupil response." She pulls a penlight out of her purse and shines it in my eyes a moment. "Looks like you may have a concussion." The sirens come screaming up, and
then there are red and blue lights everywhere. Sari gives my hand a squeeze. God, my head hurts.

Frohike's going to kill me. He'll probably be waiting for me at the hospital to do it, too.

end part 7