I got your message. We're at the airport and you have our itinerary.

Looks like you had a moment of clarity.
Perhaps that step back Kolya suggested worked. Perhaps my suggestions helped, too.

In any case, boarding has begun, we'll be there soon.

I'm following up an important lead at the moment, Sebastian.

So my apologies, I'll be sending a guide to take you around to those who have seen Mr. Caliburn. They will use the sign/counter sign that Hannah has provided.

Is there any accomodation you'll be requiring?

Thanks for the guide, we look forward to getting to work as soon as we get set up at the hotel.
I've forwarded everything Peter and I will require to you already.
No additional requirements since that communiqué.
They just called our group to board.
Going offline.

Nemesis wrote:Mr. Caliburn is doing what he does best.

He is on the hunt.

I'm not sure that is what he does best, but it's certainly up there.

You're here now and willing to help however you can and that's what's important.

skeptic wrote:Thanks for the guide, we look forward to getting to work as soon as we get set up at the hotel.
I've forwarded everything Peter and I will require to you already.
No additional requirements since that communiqué.
They just called our group to board.
Going offline.

We've arrived and are going to get started on our investigation.
Nemesis we need you sharp and focused on your commitments here.

There's getting paid.

And then there's getting paid.

In reference to my outburst yesterday, I have the following to say.

While beleiving that Mr. Caliburn was on the run as opposed to on the hunt, I decided to put together a 'care package' for him against the time that I finally catch up to him. After conferring with Hannah, I went to his place of business.

It is there that I learned that several items were removed. As the security had not been tripped, I am certain it was Mr. Caliburn himself. This initially surprised me as it would be suicide for someone on the run to go someplace they are known to frequent. That was the moment that I realized that any running he had done was only to achieve a better tactical position.

Mr. Caliburn also took a vehicle from his garage. The area it was stored in suggests it was on the larger scale. Right now, I'm picturing him in a moving truck filled to the brim with hardware.

I've taken the liberty of scrubbing his computer hard drive to prevent the information contained therein from falling into enemy hands.

Sebastian interviewed someone who saw Sarah's body last night.

I'll leave it to him to convey the goings on of the evening. Frankly, I'm looking forward to seeing how he relates the events. I won't steal his thunder here. He may take a few days as the investigation is ongoing. Also, there are pieces of information revealed last night that I hope he handles with some delicacy. Anyone concerned about it's graphic nature should be aware that Hannah has already been informed at her own request.

There is a regrettable information lag but it is necessary. Everything I post is filtered through Hannah first. She has been far more open about this situation than I would chose to be.

P.S. Thank you for the offer, GhostSpider. But for the first time in my life I'm doing something because I choose to.

And that can matter.

No Hannah,

Only the car was still present.

That's good. I can delete some items from the care package.

If the RV still has rats, Fluffers won't be hungry.

I look forward to skeptic's information. I'm hoping to get a piece of the fucker that's responsible for this kerfuffle.

I had to do a few follow ups before getting to the details from yesterday.
I should be able to post them later today for you, however.

I await the post with bated breath.

Quite literally.

Patience.
I haven't heard back from all of those follow ups earlier in the day.
I need to hear back before I can post.

Easy for you to advise patience, Sebastian.

You know full well why I'm anxious...

... is this because of the pistol?

No. Nothing to do with the pistol.
It has everything to do with precisely what I said, however.

A lot was said last night, Sebastian.

Too much, perhaps.

I'm waiting for a response to some follow up questions that I had before posting about the investigation.
That's what I'm talking about.
I'm not really sure what Nemesis is talking about, however.

Update: response arrived, I'll start sharing the investigation now.

I was outside smoking my pipe waiting for my guide when someone that could only be the guide approached. We exchanged the appropriate signals and challenge and password. She rolled up on me and hit me with a thick Bronx accent, "you Sebastian?"

"Who wants to know?" I responded.

She was chomping a wad of gum such that her mouth was opening with each bite. She explained, "Mister Nemesis sent me along with regrets. Says he's got to be someplace else right now but I can show you to where ya need to be." She patted her purse, "Brought what you asked for, too."

"Great," I exhaled some smoke, "then I'm Sebastian", I said grinning with just the left side of my mouth, since the right was gripping the pipe. "Do you mind if my associate tags along?" I took a few more tokes from my pipe and noted, "you're going to bite your tongue off one day, chomping like that."

"No problems, sugar," she grinned showing some rather immaculate teeth. "Mister Nemesis said to expect a threesome." And she shrugged somewhat indifferently. "I ain't never bit off more than I could chew, sugar."

A double negative. I let it slide. I came back, "Are you here to fuck me or show me around The Blight to investigate Caliburn's situation?" I looked thoughtfully at my pipe, "or you're just trying to play the role?" Clearly, I don't do the ambiguity thing.

She sniffed, somewhat indignant. "Look here buddy, I'm here as yer guide, alright? You wanna fuck? That'll cost more and will have to be later. After Mister Nemesis' business is complete."

"Want to? Sure. Pay for it? Those days are over. Let me call my associate, he's has punctuality issues after he's been flying or walking come to think of it."

"Sure Mack." She again adopted an air of indifference. "I get paid by the hour anyway. Just like a head doctor."

I ignored the possible insult and called while refilling his pipe. Peter answered and I asked him, "are you coming outside or not?" Turning to my guide, "what's your name today?"

She grinned at me and blew a bubble. After popping it she said, "What do you want it to be, sugar?"

I let a puff of smoke go and said into the phone, "great, get down here, we're ready to roll," and I hung up the phone and sighed at the girl, "just pick, please." But I had no intention of calling her that, for some reason. I justified hurrying up by saying, "we need to get a move on."

"Yer no fun." She pouted at me for only a moment. "Ya can call me Steph."

Actually, I think I'm fun, but whatever. "Fine, I'm over here," I said, pointing to the grey Maxima I had rented. I puffed again, "Or we're on foot from here?"

"We'll have ta drive a little deeper inta the city. Then it's all on foot." Steph looked the car over. "I can make arrangements so that you got hubcaps and tires when we park it."

I looked at my pipe and looked at Steph. "That's ok," puff, "it's a rental."

Finally, Peter came out the door, staring at his shoes.

"We-e-e-e-e-e-elllll, it's about fucking time, mate," I said to Peter.

"Peter," I said with renewed volume, "this is...our guide," and pushed Peter towards Steph.

Peter stumbled a bit and introduced himself. "I'm Peter," and offered his hand without raising his head. Steph studied him closely as he approached and took his hand lightly, probably checking the strength of Peter's shake. She then crouched down a bit so she could look at Peter's eyes, "you bashful, sugar?"

Peter shook her hand and kept shaking as if he was looking for an answer (but he would tell you it's called psychometry) and finally replied "no, sorry, just a little off balance from the flight. What's your name again?" He was still shaking her hand, and looking rather thoughtful.

"You can call me Steph, sugar. Don't worry none, I don't bite." Then she winked while disengaging from the handshake. "Unless you pay extra."

"You're too much about money and everything is extra," I observed, holding my pipe in such a way to accentuate the point.

Peter nodded quickly, "ok, then".

A dark cloud momentarily covered Steph's face. "Maybe we shouldn't talk about money at the moment. Let's go."

"There, the Maxima," I pointed. "You're riding shotgun," Peter. And I said to Steph, and "that means you're the backseat driver, but try not to be." I hate backseat drivers.

"Money is a sensitive topic for some. Not me." Steph said as she tumbled into the back seat and placed herself so she has an elbow on each of the front seats. "Money is what it is. People do what they gotta to survive. I'm the last person to judge." There were some metallic clanging coming from her backpack that looked like a military surplus pack.

I disagreed. "We all have to make judgments, like it or not." I reloaded the pipe before starting out. "Where are we going?" Then I reached back and added, "my piece, would you?" I said out one side of my mouth as the other was holding my pipe. She reached into her purse and produced the ugliest pistol I believe I've ever seen. It was a chrome plated, pearl handled .45 Colt, unloaded and cleared. She passed up a half dozen magazines, two of them having a different load but I didn't ask. As I loaded the pistol and slid it into my shoulder holster she quipped, "Mister Nemesis said he picked out this one special for you. I think it's pretty. Do you think it's pretty?"

I really didn't think so. In a moment of frankness, I replied, "Nemesis hates me, I knew it."

She grinned at Peter. "And does Petey, Petey pumpkin eater want a pretty pistol, too?"

Peter replied quickly and without moving a muscle, "No, thank you."

"Peter," I explained, "doesn't handle guns. It's safer if he doesn't have one."

She shrugged and blew another bubble. "Your funeral. Okay, we gotta go up that way about ten blocks."

"May I see the pistol though? I never seen a stylised one like that," Peter asked me.

"Certainly, mate," I said, releasing the wheel for a moment just long enough to unload the weapon and hand it over to Peter (to do what he would describe as psychometry). Turning to Steph, "who's our first batter?"

Peter handed the piece back. "Nice," he said, but I knew he was lying.

She replied, "I think maybe Becky." She grinned, aware of her quirk. "I think she'll like you."

"Whores tend to."

"Do you know what Becky looks like?" I asked Steph.

But Peter for some reason replied. "No."

I chuckled. "Wasn't asking you, mate."

"Oh. My bad," Peter said, he was blushing a little.

Becky was one of the smaller working girls, pretty, long blonde hair, bright blue eyes--almost certainly a wig and coloured contacts--and drug addled, I could tell by how skinny she was. I recalled some of the girls I had known in Vietnam. But even whores are more legs and pussies, they're people, too. So that's how I treated Becky.

"Peter," I said, "wait in the car, alright?"

Overwhelmed by it all, "gladly," he said and returned to the Maxima.

I didn't waste any time. "Are you Becky?" I asked her.

Her response was typical, "if you want."

I ignored it and asked if she minded if I asked her some questions about Arthur. She looked at Steph and asked, "this is the guy then?"

Steph nodded, "this is the guy Mister Nemesis wants you to talk to." She continued smiling, "you'll be paid, just like before."

Then Becky asked, "what do you want with Artie anyway?"

"With? Nothing, really. I'm trying to put the puzzle together and get who's responsible for this atrocity," I explained. And then looked at Steph to respond about being paid, "I think that goes without saying," and stuck my pipe in my mouth with a wry grin and started recording notes in my PDA.

"Okay, so what do you want to know?" Becky asked me.

I replied with complete frankness, "everything that you know, ideally." And then added, "then we can talk about the multiple sightings of Arthur around The Blight."

"Well I've known Artie for a few years now . . . he's helped me and a few of the girls out . . . I've helped him a few times in return." She shifted a little bit. "He's a different kind of man. Doesn't ask for anything, just offers what he can." And then continued by asking, "The woman . . . she was his, wasn't she?"

"Well I would not be here helping if he was a shitbag," I explained. And went on to answer her question. "I believe she was. I'm mostly here to see what people know."

"Mister Nemesis told me they was living together." Steph put in helpfully.

"Shame, that explains a bit. I guess she was pretty, kinda hard to tell the way she was cut up", Becky explained.

"Did you count the wounds yourself?" I asked.

"Lots . . . though they were pretty deliberate. Whoever did it wanted her to be a mess."

"Pieces cut out or just stabs?" I asked.

"Reminded me of a girl that one of the Pimps had decided would never work again. Guy cut up her face so nobody would ever look at her again. Peeled parts of it." She shifted again as she remembered. "Arthur fixed that guy real good for us though, and run the rest of the pimps out of the neighbourhood for good measure."

"So what about the body Arthur showed you?" I tried to stay on subject.

"The guy that did Artie's woman . . . he was after more than that. He sliced up her hands and her mouth too. Hacked up her boobs really nasty, one of them was hanging off to the side by a piece of skin. The freak also stabbed her in the gut a few times and the crotch of her pants was just a mess of blood and torn cloth."

I refilled my pipe and toked it a couple of times. "Oh." I looked at Steph, "do we know whether she was pregnant," and turned to Becky, "that's for you to answer, too."

"Artie asked me to try to sense what happened . . . I don't know what was there but it was too fresh . . . I couldn't stand it," Becky explained.

Steph arched an eyebrow. "News to me if she was." She swallowed. "Mister Nemesis didn't say nothing about it."

A double negative but I let is slide. Again.

Becky shook her head in response to my question. "I don't know . . . the place was too . . . anything I could have found out, I wasn't able to."

I nodded and asked, "can you remember anything else at all, like what you said to Arthur or what Arthur said to you that would be helpful? Anything at all, what you were thinking, feeling, anything?"

"Whoever did this . . . he was telling Arthur something . . . Arthur seemed to know the reason why she'd been cut up like that . . . he only wanted to know who. I've known Artie for a while . . . I know things about him he doesn't know I do. I know that he recognized something about what happened there. Something about the way she was cut meant something." Becky explained.

"Did he say anything to you?" I asked.

"Mister Nemesis thought it was some sort of message," Steph commented.

"A message to whom?" I asked Steph.

"Artie recognised it," Becky said.

I looked at Becky intensely holding my pipe in my hand.

"It was for Mister... for Artie," Steph replied.

"I know his other name too - he just doesn't know it." Becky said.

"What name?" I asked.

"It's not his real name, but he thinks of himself as Ron," Becky said.

"Do you know how many aliases the man has?" I asked. Becky answered my question, "He's got a lot of them, I'm sure."

Steph pulled out a phone and started texting away.

Becky continued, "I get things from people . . . sometimes things they don't even know."

I replied, "In your line of work, I have no doubts about that." And then pondered for a moment, getting back to the investigation. "Did Ron mention anything about where he was going or who did it or how he knew who it was?"

"It was more the way he said things than what he said. I know he's gonna get the guy and he's got a couple of guesses because of the way it happened - like a signature of some kind." Becky said. "He just didn't know which and wanted my help to figure it out."

"Signature? But no such murders have been reported recently, as far as I'm aware." I then turned to Steph, "You?"

Steph just shrugged and pocketed the phone.

"Anyting else at all about the murder?" I asked Becky.

"Nothing I can think of." Becky said.

"Alright. Have you been seeing Ron around since the murder?" I asked.

"I saw something that looked like him, but it wasn't." Becky said.

"You mean 'someone'?" I asked.

At this Steph perked up with interest, "explain, please?"

"No, something. The reason Ar . . Ron works with me so much is that I can tell what's human and what's not. It may have looked like him, but it really wasn't him, or anyone." Becky said.

"What was it?" I started thinking about the drugs coursing the whore's veins causing hallucinations or at least an unreliable witness.

"I don't know, never seen anything like it before. It didn't feell like it was really there." Becky said.

"Mister Nemesis said something about there being an imposter." Steph snapped a bubble. "Ain't run into him yet himself."

"You were on drugs?" I asked Becky.

"It don't matter . . . I ain't the type that sees things. Just helps me get through the long shifts." Becky replied to me.

I suffered through the bullshit. "Alright, just tell me everything you saw, then, when and where, too. Multiple times, etc. As much as you can, please," I said, not revealing my skepticism which I'm quite good at as it's my job to be.

Becky had only one sighting and gave as many details as she could. I listened and took diligent notes. "Any of your," toked the pipe, "colleagues see this 'thing'?" I asked.

"Yeah, Jenny did."

"Aha," and I turned to Steph, "you know Jenny?"

Steph pulled her phone out as it started to buzz. She read the screen and started to type a something quickly. "Mister Nemesis says that it's possible that the lady was pregnant but the daughter don't know for sure." Then she blinked. "Jenny? I'm new around here. I ain't met all the girls yet." She smiled at Becky. "Can you help us find her?"

"Nope . . . she didn't make it last night."

I cringed under the ambiguity. "Didn't make it where?"

And Steph again returned her attention to her phone and quipped, "That Mister Nemesis. Worse than a pimp. Whatta control freak."

"Home . . . something ripped her throat out." Becky answered my question.

"We'll need her address." I turned to Steph and still not ever having called her Steph, "Get somebody on that address, can you, hm?"

Steph nodded. "Working on it. Can only type so fast you know."

"Try using your voice?" I said to Steph, offering a faster alternative.

"She gets around . . . most of us do. We have a few places where we keep our stuff, get a sleep in." Becky explained.

"We'll need all those addresses then." I said to Becky.

Becky and I exchanged some contact information and Steph defended herself by throwing Nemesis under the bus. "I'm not texting," she said calmly, "I'm working over a site. It's a complicated arrangement. Mister Nemesis prefers it that way."

I called Peter up, demonstrating the utility of voice, "how we doin, mate?" Peter responded and I said, "alright then, I think we're about done here." Peter started to say something but I had already hung up the phone. Efficiency at its finest.

And then Steph blurted, "holy mother fuck." The Bronx accent was noticeably missing. I turned sharply to face Steph. "Well?" I asked, clearly impatient.

Steph cleared her throat. "Mister Nemesis says it was a punishment for unfaithful wives. Apparently it was to make them useless to any man. So good a threat, it never got used. Until now."

The ambiguity was impossible to bear. But I remained patient, although didn't try to hide the pain. "What was a punishment?" I called Peter back, "standby, mate." I hung up before he could reply.

Steph was texting away again and didn't answer my question until she got her reply. "The way Sarah was cut. It was the prescribed punishment for unfaithful wives back at the compound her cult was based out of."

Still unclear what was what, I asked for clarification. "Does the punishment INCLUDE MURDER?"

"Well." Steph sniffed. "Apparently not directly. But they were supposed to be unable to cook, do chores, wifely duties... it might as well be a death sentence where everyone has to pull their weight. Maybe he was just in a hurry to get to the end result?"

I straightened my back. "We need to investigate the sightings of Ron some more, I guess."

Steph's phone buzzed again. She opened it up. "We got anymore questions about the compound or such?" And added, "and while I'm thinking about it, Mister Nemesis that if ya want access to the information network he's setting up to help with this investigation, you gotta put "WWVLD?" in white, in your Lazlo Society dot org account." And then she shrugged. "Guess it's code or something. Got some techie working on it and it's how they know who ta trust."

"Anyone missing from the compound, as in left to go on a mission or any money transfers to pay somebody to do this? That sort of thing."

Steph raised a brow at me. "That may take awhile to gather that data. You want something more general, maybe we can get that to you sooner."

"So . . . you want anything else . . . you've paid for the time." Becky said.

Steph grinned at me. "I'm sure Mister Nemesis won't mind covering your entertainment expenses."

"Nemesis has complained like a little bitch about money far too much. Seriously, I mean, how much can one person bitch about something? Wew!" I tried to look genuinely befuddled, and rocking my pipe in my hand in rhythm, "non-stop bitch bitch bitch bitch."

Steph turned to Becky with a smile. The canary eating kind. "Mister Nemesis really will cover expenses. I think he's gay but I'm sure you can prove me wrong."

"Sexual identity is a curious thing. Nemesis isn't sure, you say? It shows."

"Well introduce me to the big man and we'll see what lasts longer, him or his bank account."

I couldn't hide my amusement, but had real work to do. I've had my fill of whores. Hell, I've probably had enough to cover everybody who reads this. So I changed the subject back to the investigation. "But we're here to help solve a murder,"

Steph stuttered for a moment. "I meant him." She jerked a thumb at me. "Aw screw it. Let's just get this over with." She paused for a split second. "THE INVESTIGATION!"

"Now you got your head on straight," I said with a knowing wink as I put my pipe in my mouth, but not before smiling myself. The drug dealer kind of smile.

But the sparring was over.

Steph cleared her throat. "Anyone else see this thing? And where did Jenny see it?" she asked Becky.

"We saw it a few blocks from here. It was looking around for something. Didn't pay us any attention . . . Art . . . Ron will at least talk to us when he sees us." Becky answered.

"Something on the ground?" I asked.

"Can you tell us where, exactly?" The Bronx accent had been dropped completely.

"Yeah, I can show you." Becky said.

We walked.

"He was checking out that place over there." She gestured at a boarded up shop. "After a few minutes he moved on." Becky said.

It looked like the shop had been boarded up for quite some time. In fact, it no longer looked like a shop, but instead a canvas for the street punks.

"Did he enter it? Where did he go?" I asked.

"He walked around it, was like he was lost and looking for a landmark." Becky said.

"When?" I asked.

"A couple days ago." Becky answered. "Was odd, I never see these things out in daylight."

I compared the dates of the sighting and murder. The sightings were after the murder.

"What things?" Steph became more alert to the surroundings. She clutched her purse.

"The stuff that isn't right" Becky answered Steph.

"You said Ron chased off the pimps and what not. What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Well Ron's good to us, I think he knows a bit more about the folks just barely survivng out here, He can't stand the folks who treat us like property, so he rushed them out of the neighbourhood." Becky said.

"Are we done here, then?" I asked.

Steph looked thoughtful. "I think this may be as far as Becky here can help us tonight."

"Let's move on, then." I agreed.

Before we left Steph gave Becky a wad of cash and said, "thank you. You've been a big help."

Becky took the money and stashed it. "Look if Art - Ron is in trouble, let him know the folks out here still have his back."

Steph and I chatted for a few minutes about various things, not all of it related to the investigation. And then she said, "I can take you around to the other street people who have had sightings. So far though, Becky has been the most helpful." She looked around. "But I think we may have done enough for one night. We can resume later."

I agreed. And so did my stomach. "We," meaning Peter and I, "haven't eaten all day, I think I'm gonna try out the hotel restaurant." I looked at my pipe with nothing left to smoke, should have brought some more tobacco with me.

Steph looked at my pipe, too. "That shit will kill you, you know?"

I responded with a little scientific fact. "Breathing kills you, oxygen is just too reactive."

"Huh. You do have a sense of humor. I think I liked you better when you didn't." But she smiled.

"Oh? I wasn't trying to be funny."

This is what transpired the other night when I was investigating.
I'll update here as I gain more information appropriate to share.

So? You made my guide, then. You're very perceptive, Sebastian.

But my identity wasn't revealed so she gets to live, I guess.

I'm releived. She's a pretty girl. I'd hate to have to shoot her in the face.

Don't you agree, Sebastian?

Nemesis wrote:So? You made my guide, then. You're very perceptive, Sebastian.

It was as if she wanted to be made.

Nemesis wrote:She's a pretty girl. I'd hate to have to shoot her in the face.

My thoughts precisely, when she approached me at the hotel entrance.

Hannah wrote:What are you two talking about?

As you can see now, Hannah, the whole story is unveiled.

I was just concerned that my little guide may have revealed more than I wanted.

That doesn't appear to be the case.

So no one has to be shot in the face.

Hey, I'm poet!

And I didn't know it!