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Jinny's voice is careful, her eyes wide as she gazes at me and the startled and more than slightly shaken white face of the young man pressed hard against the wood of Weaver's front door. "Uh... Cooper?" However stunned she is at my actions I don't miss she's automatically braced herself and has a hand poised on the butt of her service weapon, the holster unsnapped, the Glock half drawn. "Outside." I keep my voice low so as not to alert the other guests and gesture at the door knob with my chin. She obediently opens it and the storm door and I walk him out onto the porch keeping his arm doubled up behind him and between us, wrist bent upwards at a cruel angle, my other gripping his left thumb and tugging it back towards his wrist as I steer him. "Coop~~" he tries, voice strained and I none-too-gently butt his shoulder into the door frame as we move through it, silencing him. "Shut it behind us and hit the lights," I tell Jinny, voice terse and she blinks and calmly flicks the switch down and closes the door so that the three of us are isolated now in the relative gloom of the front porch. Bif's voice is muted now, the sounds from the back yard dulled as well but the scent of the charcoal and grilled food is thick in the air, still sharp and tangy. He protests when I kick his feet apart and lean him over the white painted railing of the porch and jerk his left hand to the small of his back along with his right. He grunts in pain and tries again to turn and extricate himself. "Cooper~~" he gets out before I slap the back of his dark blonde head, sending the glasses flying to the yard below. "Shut up. Jin, got your cuffs on you?" She's puzzled still but slaps them into my open palm without comment, contenting herself with a slightly mystified grunt and a crooked tilt of the head as she shakes it at me. "You don't understand," he tells me as I fasten the cuffs around both pale wrists then begin a precursory slap of the baggy clothing as I search him. "Are you deaf?" I ask and thump the back of his head again. "Ouch," he objects. "Cooper, just listen for a second~~" "I don't think so," I respond and even Jinny winces when I kick his feet further apart and whack a hearty open palm in the general area of his crotch. He wisely closes his mouth and I move to the front pockets, feeling the objects in them from the front first and through the cloth, my touch cautious. "You got anything on you I should know about? Guns, knives, needles?" "What?" he asks, voice genuinely startled and comically shrill. "Are you kidding?" "Oh no," I assure him, pressing him bodily into the railing, frowning as I carefully withdraw the black and chrome object from his front right pocket and hand it gingerly to Jinny after a brief and disappointing visual inspection. It's not a hand gun. I'm not sure what it is, but I'm fairly sure it's not a hand gun despite the pistol grip it sports. When in doubt, ask the perp. "What is that thing?" "Oh," he sniffs. "Now I can talk?" I whack the side of his head with an open hand and lean into him to search the left side. "Politely, yes." He snorts laughter, which is so earnestly genuine I stop mid-frisk and look at Jinny uncertainly. "Tell me you don't know this guy, that he's not undercover or something." My voice is flat and more than a little plaintive. All I need, I think viciously. Just all I fucking need. "Never saw him before in my life," Jinny assures me. "He came to the front door and asked for you, said he'd been invited to the party." "Really," I drawl, anxiety and confusion beaten back slightly with this new information. I bump myself into him again, shove the cuffed hands slightly higher up his back and lean into him. "Invited, huh? By who?" "Whom," he corrects me, shoulders and entire body shaking now. I blink and ease the pressure I'm exerting thinking the movement and the muffled restrained sounds he's making are sobs of pain and I'm about to have the police brutality law suit of a traumatized B&E dude in my folder along with everything else. I glance at Jinny who shrugs, wide eyed before I allow the hands to slide down to the small of his back and clear my throat slightly. I'm searching my brain for something appropriately authoritative and yet humane to intone when I realize the sound he is frantically swallowing is not one of pain or terror but the half-hysterical note of barely contained laughter. I blink at the back of his head in consternation and jingle the cuffs and his hands coolly, pronouncing a gruff, "Hey. Cut it out." This only serves to bend him further over the railing as he is completely consumed with a violent fit of what can only be described as the giggles. "Oh shit," he howls, to no one in particular. "This is perfect! Perfect!" My eyes slide left to meet Jinny's. She puts her head to one side and lifts one shoulder noncommittally, expression bemused. "Who are you?" I growl, resisting the temptation to pop the back of his head again. There's at least two minutes of fitfully suppressed hysteria before he manages to spit a single intelligible syllable out; I've loosened my hold on him slightly, but not enough so that he can turn around completely or move away from the railing. Jinny and I send one another bewildered, raised eyebrow looks and both our heads jerk around when he finally clears his throat, roughly and says three very clear and concise words: "It's S'Phear, Huckleberry."
I drop the cuffed wrists as if they burn me and take three dazed and shaken steps backwards. "What?" I hiss and he clears his throat again as he shoves himself upright, then hesitates, face turned to me in profile only. The street light limns it silver and I see the rather long, pale lashes flutter briefly, watch the throat work as he swallows. "If I turn around you're not going to shoot me, are you?" I look at Jinny helplessly and she blinks at me, wide-eyed. "Well, you're not, right?" she demands finally and I shake my head, staring at him as he turns slowly to face me, head ducked slightly into his chest as if expecting a blow to the face. I stare at the white face and the slightly befuddled and myopic hazel eyes, my heart pounding furiously. And when the door behind me opens I spin and have the SIG half out before I realize it's Avery with Weaver less than a half step behind. "Whoa, whoa... A simple privacy request will do, Cowboy," Avery says, hands lifted, voice mild but curious, peering past me at the rather befuddled and anxious looking male in cuffs. She brightens immediately, and grins at me, happily. "Oooooh! Are we arresting somebody? Can I do that Miranda thing to him?' "Arresting someone?" I can see the top of Dr. CIA's head as she attempts to see over Avery's shoulder, feel the laser beams zero in on me at point blank range. "Cooper? Should I get you back up?" "He looks pretty docile to me," Avery puts in, sliding past me as if I don't exist and putting her head to one side as she studies the person in question. "And she's got Officer Angsty and Tormented out here already." "Excuse me?" Jinny repeats, eyes narrowing, voice disconcertingly low. "Officer what?" "Ignore her," I mutter, then grab Avery's shoulder and pull her back slightly. "He's being detained. I need to question~~" "Detained," Avery drawls delightedly, shaking my hand off. "Detained for questioning, even. My oh my. He looks kinda scared about it, don't you think? Cute, but terrified. Did you hit him or something, Cowboy?" "No," I hiss in exasperation and look at Jinny for help but she's glaring at Avery with both hands on her hips, expression ominous. "Actually, she leaves that to me... you know, Officer 'Angsty and Tormented,'" she spits out and I groan. "Nobody's hitting anybody," I announce emphatically and manage to insinuate myself between Avery and the suspect who is blinking at her in a puzzled mix of rapture and shyness. "I need to question him~~" "I want to question him too," Avery puts in, grinning. "Like for instance, what's your phone number? Do you like Thai food?" "Do you think this is the person who tried to break in?" Weaver demands, suddenly looming up white faced and intent at my elbow. "Should I get Murphy, see if he recognizes the scent~~" I have a sudden mental image of the five of us pin wheeling our arms and trying to stay upright in an ocean of Murphy drool~ "No," I assure her. "Not necessary." "Let's me and you have a little discussion about the 'angsty and tormented' thing, shall we?" Jinny growls from my left, arms crossed over her chest as she glares at Avery who is bemusedly toying with the dark blonde forelock over the suddenly rosy and blushing face of my suspect, who is gazing at me as if entreating me to aid his escape. "This is not the face of a man who has to break in," Avery says, ignoring Jinny pointedly, the smile in her voice evident even with her face turned from me. Weaver lifts a brow over a an eye rolling at warp speed and advances on the hapless blushing and cuffed suspect. "Stand up straight," she barks and instantly he does so, eyes wide as they slide sideways and attempt to meet mine. "You can't think that was me here last night," he says incredulously. "Cooper?" He sounds as if he couldn't possibly be any older than twelve and I sigh and close my eyes for a moment, wondering how the hell I have managed to lose control of the scene and my suspect so quickly. "Well," Weaver says, voice terse, as she steps away and looks at me. "I should probably go get Marguerite to make a positive ID but he's certainly the right size." "I agree," Avery puts in affably, "I like 'em shorter than me so I can remind them who's boss. You know," she adds, with a carefully blank glance at Jinny, "without having to resort to a bunch of snarling and glowering and huffing through my nose. That's just so unladylike. Don't you think?" she asks the helpless male in front of her and I shake my head and take a step closer to the four of them. "Don't answer that," I warn him, deciding to ignore the bizarre alternate universe I have found myself in where Dr. CIA is pronouncing phrases such as, 'positive ID' and Avery is deliberately taunting and baiting Jinny while exerting the full force of femininity on what very well may actually be one of America's Most Wanted Cyber Criminals . "You're maybe three seconds away from a cat fight and you're in restraints. Whatever you say, it's going to be ugly." "Help," he squeaks rather pitifully and I snort and turn to Jinny, brows lifted in question. "Would he come here?" Jinny demands, only minutely lessening the force of the glare turned on Avery. I don't miss that both of us have been careful to not pronounce his name now that Weaver and Avery have joined us. I shrug. "I don't know. Maybe." "There was that last bit of communication," she reminds me. Closer than you think. "Yeah, but he could also be someone hired to pretend to be him, if they'd hacked into my laptop or something." The only male on the porch sniffs and blinks at me reproachfully. "Like that could happen with the anti hacker software I had included on that Latitude." Jinny arches a brow at me and lays her head to one side. "Anyone could know that, "I respond. I take three steps nearer and he blinks at me with the wide-eyed intentness of an owl, expression solemn and unflinching even as his Adam's apple bobs nervously in his throat. "Aww, now, Cowboy," Avery admonishes me, "Look how the poor boy has gone all dry mouthed and everything. You're doing that big bad scary cop thing and it's so unattractive." "I learned it from Officer Angsty and Tortmented over here," I say easily, then wink at Jinny who has instantly bridled. "Tell me what that is," I say and gesture at the thing she is aiming rather hostilely at either myself or Avery. "And convince me. And you know what I mean." "It's a handheld, ergonomically designed to be both portable and rugged with a color TFT screen and a full alpha-numeric keyboard..." he drifts off before licking his lips and looking at me hopefully. "Go on," I say and he hitches in a little breath and looks pleadingly at, of all people, Jinny. "I'd go on, dude," she advises him and he clears his throat and blushes furiously as Avery traces a long finger gently down the side of his face. "I love a man that can talk Geek," she tells him, face perfectly serious, voice husky and I roll my eyes before sliding them to Weaver's. She's almost squirming in her frenzy. "I still think I should get Murphy," she announces and I ponder the logistics of there being one less overly intense female in the area for a good thirty seconds and then nod, thoughtfully. She literally lays rubber down with her crutch tip as she spins to enter the house and I get a look from the two remaining females that lets me know neither of them are fooled~~ or going anywhere. "Hey," I tell them both. "Give me a break. She's three seconds away from pulling a Bosco so let's give her something to sink her teeth into." I nod at the white face in front of me, then swat Avery's hand away from his lips, frowning at her threateningly. "I'm running out of patience, here. And in about two minutes we're all going to need scuba equipment, so speed it up." "Magnesium housing," he says helplessly, "three emulation overlay options on the keyboard, external antenna with wireless capabilities, a resistive touch screen, RS-232, USB irDA~~ "Yeah, yeah, blah blah blah," I say and rotate one of my hands in a circle while crossing my eyes. "Geek, geekier,geekiest; I get you're good at it. But convince me. And don't look at me like that; he'd know what I meant. He can practically read my mind." He makes a sound of derision in the back of his throat and looks at Avery pie-eyed and sulky. "She's way more intense in person," he offers and she clucks compassionately and nods. "I think I liked you better drunk," he adds, this directly to me and I lift my hands, nodding. "Yeah. Don't we all. C'mon. If you were him you'd know something to convince me. So hurry up about it or shut up completely and I'll let Avery read you your Miranda." "You should just hush right now and I'll find you an attorney, honey," Avery coos at him, fingering curls out of his eyes tenderly. "She's in one of those nasty cop mode moods~~ it's PMS with Monadnock tendancies." "Christ," Jinny spits, glaring at me, "Did you have to teach her to speak the language too?" "I didn't~~"I protest and Avery cuts me off, voice smooth as honey which instantly puts my hackles up and starts the Hink Meter pinging frantically. "She didn't have to. I took a self defense course offered by SFPD three months ago. I'd be happy to show you some of the compliance holds I learned." "Uh oh," the white faced male says, looking frantically between the two of them before focusing on me, eyes widened apprehensively. "Nobody's hitting anybody and nobody's going to demonstrate compliance holds." I make my voice stern as if addressing kindergartners and clear my throat until Jinny actually looks at me. "Enough already," I say to the three of them, then glare at the chalky features of the only male and flick a hand at him. "Convince me, dude. We're running out of time here." "I don't know what you want," he practically wails. "In-unit charging, 2800 mAh Li-Ion battery pack, 2.4GHz DSSS~~ Huckleberry, c'mon!" "Any Geek could babble that shit in their sleep," I announce firmly and rotate a finger in mid air indicating him to turn around. "Assume the position and if you're nice I'll let Avery finish the pat down." "I'll be gentle," she assures him, although she gives me a darkly annoyed look. "It's me," he insists, frowning at me for the first time as if realizing I might actually be about to turn him over to detectives inside. "You give me to them and I can't help you." "Convince me," I repeat and the four of us blink at the rather strained way my voice breaks on the words, strained and hoarse. I reach for the thing Jinny is holding and shake it gently. "What is this?" He gazes at me wordless, face blank and expressionless and I nod at Jinny. "Go ahead with the Miranda so they don't kick it out over his rights being violated. I'll get one of those guys who was out here on the call." "You have the right to remain~~" I hear her start and I ignore the pleading looks turned on me by both he and Avery, shouldering the storm door aside and looking at the piece of electronic equipment in the light from the front room as I shove the wooden door open. Weaver's less than ten feet away attempting to tug Murphy in our direction. He's profoundly more interested in whatever's piled on the platter McCafferty is holding aloft as the two of them speak quietly. McCafferty glances at me, frowning and I can see the thoughts racing through her head as clearly as if her forehead held a marquee with flashing neon bulbs. That look and the niggling suspicion of doubt make me hesitate, looking back at the figure standing slumped shoulder and resigned, face turned away from me as Jinny recites the ritual in a tight lipped voice no doubt more due to Avery than the situation itself. "Last chance," I interrupt her and he turns half towards me, showing me his profile as he waits. "Convince me. Tell me something he would. It can't be that hard; we've known each other for years now. I know what he wants on his headstone, even. Convince me." Even I have to acknowledge I sound rather desperate. I want it to be S'Phear, I realize. That's the deal. I want it to be him because I want to know that I matter enough to him to risk this, coming here, abandoning the anonymity of IM's and chats and emails and the blue nowhere. I want it to be him because I want to know he'd do that for me; find me in a bar, take care of me when sick, see me safely to McCafferty's house, risk everything just to see this through for me. And of course because I'm me I can't believe anyone would possibly do that hence my suspicion and distrust. "Convince me," I repeat, sounding frantic and shrill. Avery and Jinny glance at one another blankly but I ignore them and ignore the presence at my side I know is Weaver without turning my head. "He knows what I want on my headstone," I say desperately, thinking, Please, please, get it. If it's you~~ please get it. I see when it clicks; he visibly straightens, shoulders coming up and back and his face takes on a watchful, cautiously optimistic tilt of the head. I see his throat work as he swallows, see him lick his lips slightly as he turns to face me, expression subdued but alert as he blinks. "What is this?" I demand, holding it out towards him and feel the relief go all through me so that I sag back against the door way and Weaver when he answers, voice low and confident and laced with a half smile. "It's my brain radio, that's all," he half sings, voice haphazardly off key and rough. I know I'm grinning like the Cheshire Cat but have no inclination whatsoever to hide it as I beam at him. "'Bout damn time," I chortle as I move forward to take the cuffs off. "And you're supposed to be a genius?"
END OF SEVENTY THREE
Note: The phrase 'It's my brain radio, that's all' is a lyric from a song by the Canadian band the Headstones.
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