Crossover Earth '98
Afternoon Coffee Break Steve Stackhouse
Marianne's cheek twitched involuntarilly as the seventh police siren in the past five minutes shot through her hoped-for quiet contemplation, drowning out the chiming of the bell as another customer entered the restaurant. She had taken the window table because the weather was so beautiful, especially for New York in the middle of February. Now she abandoned the sunlit warmth for a more private, and hopefully quiet, booth in the back corner.
The cafe was nice enough, a little hole in the wall with tile floors and antique vinyl booths. Not one of those trendy coffee houses - the Lousy Cup of Joe specialized in its name, providing scalding hot black coffee in a mug large enough to make your kidneys scream in pain and horror. The flourescent lighting was a bit dim and flickery, but that only added to the ambiance. They even had those mini-jukeboxes in the booths, though they didn't work anymore.
Her notebook and pen clattered down onto the table, followed by the thunk of her thermos-sized coffee mug. She had just taken her seat when she felt a hand come down on her shoulder, causing her to nearly jump right back up again.
"Cattle mutilations are on the rise."
Marianne let out a slow breath as she turned to face the slight brunette woman standing behind her. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack or something?" She automatically reached up, took the proferred computer disk and slipped it into her purse, then gestured at the seat across from her. "Take a load off, Tahi. That yours outside?"
Tahira dropped into the seat with a the-cats-here-where's-the-canary? grin. A quick glance around confirmed no one else paying attention and she nodded. "Yeah, mine. There's the information you needed to follow up on Omega for me."
"You aren't going anywhere? With the police all over the place?" Marianne's concern was apparent, and her eyes immediately became shifty as she suddenly felt as though everyone in the room was staring at them. The old man slurping soup loudly in the corner. The young couple chatting about what movie they were going to see. The matronly woman behind the counter who chose exactly that moment to walk over and place a mug and coffeepot in front of Tahira.
Tahira took a long sip out of the mug, waiting for the woman to walk out of hearing range. "Why? Where are they going to look? And what are they looking for?"
"You?"
"You know me better than that. It'll take them hours before they even get to looking for someone who doesn't fit their description. And by then they'll be staking out the wrong places entirely."
Marianne sighed, "Maybe you better start from the beginning. All this cloak and dagger stuff is a lot more up your alley than mine. I'm just a reporter, remember?"
Tahira let out a soft giggle of exactly the sort you don't expect from wanted criminals with police running about all over the area, hiding it behind her hand before bringing the mug up and taking a long swallow of the dark brew. "Wow this stuff is strong. Anyway. I needed a bit of cash, you know how it is."
"Yeah, you can't exactly make a ... well ... let me correct that. You don't keep a bank account."
A tiny smile peeked out from behind the coffee mug. "... and I needed to make a withdrawl. It's so annoying that they try to insist you have an account first."
Marianne shook her head slowly in mild disapproval, "I can imagine that's a difficulty."
"You just have to be a bit more creative is all. In this case, creativity meant dropping subsonic screamers into the trash baskets around the bank."
"Subsonic whats?" The pen tapped against the pad, an old nervous tic that Marianne had picked up, she always did it when she was digging for information.
"Screamers. Nasty little things. I came up with the design when I was remembering some research work I did a few years back. Hit the right subsonic pitch and you can send anything into a panic, especially people." The coffee mug hit the table with a thump and Tahira gave a weak sort of shrug, "I think I overdid it this time. Even with my protection I've still got a ringing headache from the blasted things."
Marianne let out a low "mmmm-hmmmm" and picked up her own mug. Her energy level seemed to boost itself simply through osmosis, letting the warm ceramic rest in her hands and the smell float up into her nose.
"Anyway, with all that going off in the middle of the lunch-hour you can imagine the chaos. Everyone was there depositing paychecks, after all. And of course the Brinks truck had arrived for the day's pickup and delivery. The poor guy carrying the bag was right next to one of the screamers when they went off, too. I had to pull him off of the bag and take away his pistol just so he wouldn't hurt anyone by accident."
"Or on purpose?"
"That too. I was able to get the bag easilly enough and slipped it into the gymbag I was carrying according to plan, but you recall Rule #7 don't you?"
Marianne's lips pursed in concentration, then she recited the line with only a hint of confusion, "Hero is a four-letter word?"
"Exactly, and walking into this perfect setup was hero-boy." Tahira shook her head in mild amusement as Marianne took on a confused look again, "No, no superheros. No off-duty police officers. Just some guy who had been in line earlier." The giggle crept out again, "The first thing I thought was that I had been grabbed by David Bowie and Rod Stewart's love child, of all things."
"He grabbed you?" Not the first question to spring to Marianne's mind, but trying to work out the seemingly random connections Tahira sometimes made was beyond her. Then again, that was beyond just about anyone. She had interviewed some people who knew her before she vanished from public view, and it seems Tahira had always been that way. But what do you expect from someone whose favorite cartoon character was Wile E. Coyote?
"Yeah. He was your kind of guy too. All muscle. I don't know why he wasn't as affected as everyone else in the room. Maybe he really was a superhero." A tinkle of bright laughter drew the attention of the old man in the corner, who then turned back to his soup immediately at Tahira's friendly wave. "Nah... what are the odds, even in New York? Though he was carrying one of those martial arts bags with him. Probably a wanna-be from one of the schools around here."
Marianne gave a curt nod of understanding and took another long swallow of coffee, glancing around the cafe once more to make sure that no one was paying any attention. The last thing her reputation needed was to be caught with a wanted felon, but with Tahira the risk was pretty minimal.
Tahira continued on, "Well he grabbed my arm and asked me what I thought I was doing. Well, you know me, I can't let bad lines from cop movies go unpunished. So I shoved a roll of twenties into his belt and told him to help himself. He didn't take it well, so I had to taser him. You know, come to think of it..." She paused in thought, "... maybe he really was a super. Because the taser only really had a minor effect on him. Got him to let go, but the kind of charge I use puts most people out on a single shot."
"That and a buck fifty will get you a cup of coffee. He obviously didn't catch you. Besides, this is New York, also known as Tokyo West. The super-athletes are on every corner around here. That's why the Inquisitor office is here, after all."
Tahira shrugged and leaned back in her seat, setting the emptied mug down on the table. "True. At that point I got a little lucky and the screamers finally had an effect on him. I dropped a couple smoke grenades and got the heck out. Didn't even have anyone following me this time."
"You're sure?"
"Hey, I always make sure. Curiosity kills the cat, paranoia keeps it alive. They won't even find the car for a couple of days. And speaking of which..." Tahira's eyes wandered up to the clock on the wall and she dropped a five-spot onto the counter. "It's time for me to get going. Let me know if you find anything."
Marianne nodded and rose herself, angling back towards the bathroom. When she came out several police officers were there, showing around a video camera photograph of a woman who looked nothing at all like Tahira. Some people never learn.