Chapter 11: Questions in a Cubicle
In which many people are concerned with Mister Sanders’ well-being and Detective Masey has some questions.
“I was looking for Miss True,” Strephon explained, trying to assume a coolness he did not feel. “I came across her and this gentleman here lying unconscious and -- are you certain that’s safe?”
Detective Masey didn’t seem to be listening to him. He strode briskly into the room and unplugged the game device on the desk of the cubicle. “Safer than risking possible electrocution,” Masey said grimly. With the power disconnected, he cautiously removed the headset from the other man and began checking him for signs of injury. “Sir? Sir? Can you hear me?”
“He’s Byron Sanders, a programmer,” Cassandra said. “He was afraid and wanted to tell me something about Melchior Dusk. He took me into the virtual reality game so that we wouldn’t be overheard.”
Masey looked up. “He’s not responding. Mister Bellman, could you…” His eyes fell on Strephon’s wheelchair. He turned to Cassandra. “Miss True, could you help me get him to the floor. I want to perform CPR.”
Strephon’s cheeks burned. He detested feeling useless. But what could he do? He tried reading the young man’s aura, but it was difficult with the detective crouching over him violently stimulating his cardiovascular system and Cassandra nearby, following his instruction so she could take over for Masey when he needed relief. The lad was still alive, Strephon could tell that, but his mind seemed to be teetering between the Mortal Realm and death. He hadn’t even noticed the young man when he entered the cubicle; he had been focused entirely on Cassandra. Should he try to enter his mind, as he had with Cassandra the night of the wolf attack? But then he had only entered her dream; this would mean crossing into that Undiscovered Country whence mortals rarely returned and the fae never went at all. That gave him pause.
As he wavered, the detective looked over his shoulder at him and barked, “Bellman! Call an ambulance, quickly!” And make yourself useful, Strephon added to himself bitterly. He backed his chair out to look for a phone in one of the other cubicles, but at that moment, Mechior entered the room.
“No need,” Melchior said. “My assistant has already called. The ambulance should be here shortly.” The detective gave Melchior a suspicious glance over his shoulder. No doubt he was wondering how the devil Melchior had shown up so quickly. “She saw something was wrong on one of our security monitors,” Melchior added. Well, that almost sounded plausible. Perhaps the detective even believed it; but if he didn’t he was too preoccupied to address the matter.
Inanna slid up behind Melchior with a smile like that of a cat brushing feathers from her whiskers. Then her smile folded away as she looked down at Strephon’s dinner jacket and noticed the smudge of rogue on his shoulder where Cassandra had hugged him.
Things were happening too quickly. He wanted to talk to Cassandra, but now Inanna insinuated herself into the cubicle and Strephon found himself forced to back up further. He tried to get Cassandra’s attention, but just then the paramedics arrived and took over the situation forcing everybody out. That was impossible. The ambulance could not possibly have arrived so quickly. It would have taken longer for the ambulance drivers to ascend in the lift. But of course these weren’t real paramedics. Strephon easily identified them as faerie minions of Melchior’s playing at being medical technicians. They swarmed over the unconscious lad performing a mockery of emergency care.
“Phlogiston levels falling.”
“Black bile at twenty-seven percent and rising.”
”Give me fifty cc’s of placebo, stat!”
They removed the front of the lad’s tuxedo and opened his shirt. One of the technicians placed the pads of a defibrillator on his chest -- or what Strephon assumed was supposed to be a defibrillator -- and shouted “Clear!” The young man’s body spasmed briefly and rainbow sparkles shimmered around his body. Good Lord, were they even trying for verisimilitude here? But the detective watched them soberly as if there were nothing particularly odd about the procedure. They must be using their glamours to keep anyone from questioning what was going on.
Strephon tried to watch the proceedings from the back of the scrum, but he found it difficult to follow. He heard the young man utter a feeble moan. “Am I in hell?”
Inanna bent over him. “You’re in good hands. We’ll take good care of you,” she purred. This did not seem to reassure the lad, because he groaned again.
Strephon looked about to see what Cassandra was doing, but he couldn’t spot her. Where had she gone? But then the faux paramedics were loading the fellow onto a gurney and wheeling him out of the office, leaving him alone with the detective.
“Where is Miss True?” Strephon asked.
“I think she left with Mister Dusk, I… I didn’t see them go.” The detective frowned. Perhaps he was trying to piece together what had just happened and realized that it didn’t make a lot of sense. “I wanted to speak with her…” He gathered himself. “Perhaps you could answer some questions for me. Exactly what happened here?”
"I noted that Miss True was missing and I became worried,” Strephon replied. “I went looking for her and found her here. She and the other gentleman were sitting here unconscious and connected to that apparatus on the desk. It’s a ‘virtual reality’ game that Dusk’s company is developing.”
“Yes, yes, I know about the game.” Masey waved his hand in irritation. “Something about hot tubs, isn’t it?”
“They have other games too. I only arrived a minute or so before you did; you know about as much as I.”
“Maybe.” The detective narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You weren't exactly candid with me the other day."
Strephon glanced around the office. With all the partitions between the cubicles, it would be easy for someone hiding to overhear them. He lowered his voice. "Well, I had to be discreet, didn’t I? Miss True is not aware of the existence of werewolves. Besides, for all I know the ones who attacked me could be members of your pack."
"My pack?"
"You are a pack leader, are you not?"
Masey reddened. "Actually, Lucinda is the leader of the pack and she had nothing to do with your attack."
Strephon blinked. "That woman? The one you were with? My word." He had never heard of a female werewolf pack leader. Then again, ever since Margaret Thatcher, he supposed it was only a matter of time.
Masey's jaw also sagged. "My God, Lucinda. I forgot all about her! I didn't tell her where I was going!" He started to dash out the door, but met Melchior coming back.
"I think Ms True is feeling well enough to make a statement," Melchior said, ushering her into the room. Masey stifled a curse, but pulled out his notebook again.
"Byron wanted to show me this game he designed," Cassandra said in a distant voice, as though she was remembering something vague and foggy. "We were fighting monsters and it was like we were actually in the game. Then one of the game monsters killed Byron and I couldn't get out."
Melchior removed the disc from the console. "Nowyr 2 Run, Nowyr 2 Hyd. Reckless fool. We decided not to develop any combat games for our virtual reality platform for just this reason; they become too intense. We have safety protocols to prevent this sort of thing from happening. Ms True here could have been seriously hurt!"
"And Mister Sanders was," Masey added.
The detective asked Cassandra a few more questions, but she was able to tell him little. He then tried grilling Melchior, but the fae lord’s demeanor proved invulnerable to Masey’s inquiries. Strephon kept his own suspicions to himself.
At length, Cassandra asked if she was free to go, and Masey grudgingly consented.
As she and Strephon left the room, Cassandra frowned as if trying to remember something.
* * * * *
From his office window, Melchior watched his guests leave the building. "That was a very imprudent thing you did," he said coolly. "It could have jeopardized our whole product launch. We do not need bad publicity."
Inanna slid up behind him. "Sanders was proving unstable. He was about to talk to that reporter."
"Keeping Sanders under control was your job. Fortunately, I believe I have minimized the damage. I was able to edit Ms True's memories to place the blame on our irresponsible young programmer. We should be able to cover the matter up." Without looking at Inanna, he narrowed his eyes. "You weren't feeling a bit jealous of Ms True, were you?"
"Jealous? I?" Inanna smiled "I thought you wanted me to cultivate Mister Bellman."
"I want Mister Bellman watched. I want him influenced. I want him finessed. He could be very dangerous to us, or he could be very useful, but he will require subtlety."
A petulant frown crossed Inanna's face. "You intend to use that girl as a lever against him, don't you!"
It was Melchior's turn to smile.
NEXT: Taxicab Digressions