[New Voices] The Saga of Erotika Jones 01
24 hours to solve a mystery - while she's in someone else's body. A good-looking someone. Murder, mayhem, malicious intent - sleuthing is such fun...
The body disappeared, the witnesses forgot their stories. And I had 24 hours to solve the mystery before all the evidence vanished.
I had no memory of how this all started. Only that I was brought in to solve a mystery in just that time or sooner – before I had to move to my next assignment. Because I'm a time-jumper. And I go where I'm sent.
Because I'm damned good at figuring things out. You don't have to have a string of degrees behind your name to figure out things.
The trick is, I "borrow" someone else's body while I'm on the job, for the time I'm here.
All I know on this job had a missing corpse already. And it happened when no one was around to see, on a government naval base in the heart of New York. Where sub-contractors came and went constantly.
I just had to solve it faster than the witnesses either "forgot" or "disappeared."
Like I said, I had only 24 hours.
I
I DIDN’T WANT TO GET out of bed for this new case. I felt tired, the bed was warm, and there was this hunk beside me. Broad shoulders, firm bum, sculptured abs – everything a gal could want.
Still, the phone was vibrating, it’s staccato tempo on the side table persistent and annoying.
I had my job to do. And that finite clock was ticking, as usual, to see if I could solve this one. I sighed.
So I picked that annoyance up and saw the texts that had come in for me. It wasn't my host's. Finn must have left it while I slept – while my host slept.
That was the trick – I “borrowed” someone’s body and ID for the cases that came in. How they did it, the nuts-and-bolts, I didn’t really know. Nor did I know my own past – any more. Too many of these jumps had kinda swiss-cheesed my memories.
The texts were all from “Finn”, as he sometimes referred to himself. He was my partner, my bar-buddy, and somehow was connected to the reason I still did this. Still, he made it interesting, and cheered me up when things got too solid and graphic.
This morning he’d texted me on my C.E.L phone (Communications and Emergency Logistics device) that the body was already missing, already cleaned. Said I needed to get there quick, since we both knew the reasons – the witnesses would be “forgetting” what they saw nearly as quick.
I was still getting used to this gizmo. Right “now” was somewhere in the late 1970’s and no one around me had these devices. Closest thing was these over-sized medical “beepers” – but Finn just said to get used to it, that he’d get me an updated device when he could.
Finn had a theory, and it was closer to true than not. Some organization of bad guys was out there committing these murders. Beyond that, he either didn’t know or didn’t say. But I’d grown to trust him, and had to – because I kept waking up in yet another female body every day, with another mystery with less than two dozen hours to solve. That dead human bodies kept showing up and disappearing were just collateral evidence of larger plan I didn’t know. Not that I didn’t “need to know”, more that this process somehow gave me amnesia about earlier lives – including my own.
Having a working theory, anyway, was better than having none. And Finn was a nice enough guy. At least he never tried to make a pass at me.
My feet on the floor now, I bent to scoop up my underthings and I slipped on a too-short cotton bathrobe that was laying tangled in them. This body I was borrowing today was in good shape, an athlete in her school days, no doubt.
There were a couple of pair of pants on the floor, also tangled. Another quick bend and I snagged them both as well, all enroute to my bathroom. Looked like some ID were in them, so I could get some details about who I was and where.
- - - -
ONCE IN THE BATHROOM, with the door shut, I could flick the light on.
In the mirror, I looked into my own dark brown eyes and just as dark hair. Trimmed just down beyond my shoulders. Straight, mostly. Nice. A gal could do a lot with those basics. Looking over the rest of me showed a nice rack, good sized, firm. A narrow waist and nice six-pack abs molded there. Hips not too much or too little. Small wonder I had that hunk in there. Like attracts like.
I felt my thighs and they were firm. This girl knew how to work out – or traveled miles every day to keep them that way.
When I fished out the ID’s, I had my answer. She was a financial inspector at the Brooklyn Naval Yards. Up and down gangways for a living, seeing that contractors were doing what they were supposed to. Ducking through hatches and climbing near-vertical ladders to get between the decks – just to get her job done. The sturdy watch I found in “my” pocket had a wide nylon strap that secured a military diver’s watch. Black on black. A smallish version and flat, slim. So it wouldn’t snag on anything. Scarred from many scrapes where it had, no doubt.
The other wallet said more about that hunk than I probably wanted to know. Carried protection, but didn’t seem to use it last night. A lucky coin from a local bar, probably. Good for one last drink if he was tapped out otherwise. Licensed to drive commercial rigs – which meant that drinking was never on the job, or he’d lose everything. And a stub for a horse race where his money should have been. By the stretch of that leather, he’d carried quite a stack in here at times.
Randy, that’s his name. Too apt, I figured. His tawny-haired smiling face on the license probably spouted more than one joke – no doubt at my expense.
Oh, and who was I this time? Nikki. Close to my real name – or the code name I was called – Erotika Jones. Meaning “gift of love” – loosely interpreted. Anyone I worked with knew I wouldn’t take any jibes about it. Period. And they each learned the hard way if they didn’t take a hint or a look. I didn’t pick the name. If there was any warped humor in Central, when they handed out code names. To me, it sounded too much like Johnie Cash’s “Boy Named Sue ” – meant for me to get tough or else.
Daylight was burning, I had to get going. What does this Nikki have to wear?
A few minutes later, I was quietly slipping out the front door, leather jacket, blue NY Yankee ball cap, a touch of makeup and some big hoop earrings. The bustier I found had more places to hide a “shiv” in addition to the numerous pockets of the jacket. Tight black jeans and sensible black leather flats with a bit of lift at the heel. Like I needed any in this frame. Had to be around 5′8″ or so. Made taking the stairs down two at a time pretty easy.
Just now heading out for today’s mystery. And I’d already burned some time over-sleeping, getting dressed, and getting ready to begin to solve it. The 24 hours never started when I said so, it started when they found the body. And ticked over every minute afterwards. By that count, I had something around 18 hours left. More or less.
II
SOON I WAS OUT ON THE hot sidewalk. Humid, smelled of fish and exhaust. New York, near the Brooklyn docks. Just a few blocks “commute” to my work.
Too soon, Finn was right next to me, dressed in a what passed as casual wear for this time period. Jeans, button-down dress shirt. Both blue. No one would notice him in any crowd or by himself. Except for that red hair.
“Good morning, Erotika Jones.” A typical opening for me. But he couldn’t resist a tease. “How’d you sleep last night? Sore?”
I glanced over at him with a frown. His head with it’s unruly dark red hair put his eyes as slightly above mine, while his green eyes twinkled like they were lit from behind – or that flask he always carried. His grin was mischievous, but the real point was to get me “feeling” the part of this very human form I had for the next 24 hours.
“Feels like she had a good workout last night, for sure. As if we have time to banter about peccadillo preferences.” And I elbowed him hard enough that he nearly stumbled. But was soon right back at my side, easily matching the long-legged pace I was setting.
“Right. OK – the guy’s body found last night was employed by a contractor who’s working on the U. S. S. Ponce, an LPD out of Norfolk. She’s set for final sea trials this week.” He handed me a folded sheaf of papers. “These are your docs to get on board, although they all know you there.”
We were nearly to the gates now, so I slipped the long-folded papers into an inside pocket and zipped the jacket half-way up.
Finn glanced down. “Of course, your assets only look more pronounced now.”
“That’s the point. Men will be men, no matter how much women try to change them. Humans haven’t changed in 10,000 years. Men only get what women let them have – and they both know who’s really in charge. How I dress just makes it worth their while to play along.”
Finn just smiled. He knew not to comment on some of my barbed statements. Might get him skewered in turn.
The guard at the gate smiled, looked me over – more than once – and passed me through when I got his eyes on my ID. And yes, I could feel his eyes looking after me as I passed.
Nobody ever saw Finn unless he wanted them to. One of the benefits of having “bendable time-space access” was the only explanation I ever got.
I was going to need his help on this one, like usual. A pretty good team overall, IMHO. Not to say we didn’t get help from Central. But communicating with them was Finn’s department. Other than the turnover at the end, I never got close to contacting anyone who worked for them. Finn was my go between. And I was the “gal on the ground.” Always been that way as long as I could remember. But my memory didn’t run long, as I wasn’t supposed to keep my identities between “lives”, and I’d somehow lost who I started out as and how I got into this gig.
All I knew is that I was good at this one thing. And as long as they kept putting me into “lookers”, I had no problem with these gigs. Like eternal youth – with side benefits.
Of course, I always tried to make it up to the gal whose body I borrowed, somehow. Like that free-loading Randy. She needed to lay out some ground rules for him. Or have him hit the road. He was leeching off her government paycheck. She could do better.
“Here’s where they found the body.” Finn pointed to the ground. “By the name of Jones. A big guy.”
It looked like just another piece of pavement. “Even the chalk outline and the tapes are gone.”
“Ruled accidental. This is on a main road so they wanted it back in service quickly. Just ‘happened’ to be a street cleaner nearby. But the body never made it to the morgue. And the regular ambulance driver called in sick this morning. His ‘bus’ showed up back in the yard with a full tank and a clean back end.”
I pulled out my papers and started scanning them. “What was his connection with the Ponce?”
“Had a welding job on a reefer refit down in one of the lower decks. He was on the job down there last anyone saw him, then showed up here in the middle of the street – not a mark on him. The ‘medic’ that saw him pronounced him dead, said it was heart attack. But he was only 30 and played basketball on weekends, plus carrying his rig up and down ladders into tiny spaces.”
“Is the Ponce carrying any special gear or ordinance?”
“No ordinance will load until just before she’s OK’d to sail. Her last trials showed some fix-ups and adjustments needed on her steering. The reefer repair was already scheduled for when she returned.”
“Can you get me deck plans, and sketch out the path he’d have to take? He must have seen something or overheard something.”
“Those papers will get you in. I’ll work on those deck plans for you.” He held out a largish flat, rounded cornered slim box – and we swapped for the one I had before. “This has got the crew and officer roster loaded on it, and all the contracts you’re supposed to be inspecting. Touch it anywhere and you’ll start recording – in 3D. And it takes infrared and x-ray images.”
I took it and slipped it in with the papers, back inside my jacket. A little more bulk that held it’s opening wider. Finn didn’t even glance that way.
But he stopped and gave me a little mock salute. “Later, lieutenant…” And faded out of my sight.
I was at the end of the gangway, looking up at the quarterdeck. The duty Officer of the Deck was looking down at me, trying not to smile too broadly.
Hands on the railings, my long stride ate up that gangway quickly, but duly paused toward the fantail ensign before turning to the OOD. I then produced my ID and asked his permission to come aboard. He held the ID in line with the cleavage I was showing above the edge of my bustier. And couldn’t keep his smile down as he “read” my ID carefully. Then finally returned it to me, all business again.
Of course, that was the point. I needed to get in and out. The time he spent checking me out meant I wouldn’t have to spend time going over my papers with him.
“Doing another inspection, ma’am?”
I rolled my eyes. “As if they would ever let me just do the paperwork without it. You guys have it easy. Ask your yeomen about the papers they have to push to keep this ship running – let alone get it out of dry-dock status.”
The OOD nodded with me about that. Nothing more to add. “Very well, then. Please enjoy your time aboard.”
He nodded with that permission for me to board and I returned the nod. Then took a half step toward him. “Sailor, could you tell me the fastest way to get down to the refrigerator unit next to Hold 3?”
And he nearly melted from being so close, then pointed forward. “Ma’am, the fastest route to that reefer is by taking that forward ladder down two decks and then you’ll need to get to midships for the ladder down below that. Will you be needing an escort?”
His face was only inches from mine, but he was on duty – and I had a job to do.
I just smiled and cocked my head slightly. In a quite voice, almost a whisper, “Not that I wouldn’t mind, particularly if it were you, but I’ve been on board before. Shouldn’t take long.”
He nodded again, the smile returning. “Very well, ma’am. Hope you find what you’re looking for. Feel free to come back here if you don’t.”
My smile widened at that. “You can count on it, sailor.”
And I turned quickly to find that ladder and leave him to his duties, which were being interrupted by how long he kept looking at me – or my backside.
My own attention was onto how they got a burly welder and his rig off the ship without whoever the OOD was at the time either knowing – or caring.
III
AS I CAME BACK INTO the control room, Carol looked up and smiled at me. One that always made my heart lighten and brought a smile to my own.
“Well, Finn, how’s she doing?”
“She’s got her briefing and is on-board now. We should have some data soon – that will fill out the reports our computer could glean.”
“I noticed she’s quite a looker.”
I smiled. “That’s one mystery I’ve never had time to sort out – how she always looks like a million bucks, no matter what body she’s assigned. Still, she’s all business beneath that veneer.”
I noticed Carol had been continuing her studies. Several thick manuals were open for cross-referencing, while she held another in her arm with a finger between pages, holding her place. “How’s the research coming?”
“It comes back to your needing to set up a meeting with us two.”
I paused at that, considering how we could. “That’s tricky. As I said, we have to be touching all the time or she won’t be able to see me.”
“But you will.”
“Sure.”
“So I can walk into where she is and observe for myself?”
“Sure.” I pulled open a drawer below on the console’s end, below the last CRT and closest to the door. “Here, this will allow you to track her inside there.”
“Because I’d get lost in that world?”
“No, you’ll aways see the door out of it. But you can spend hours tracking her down if you don’t use this. It’s just as big a world inside as outside – well, beyond our little control room, the one you came from.” I frowned at the reminder.
Carol came forward and took my arm with her free hand. “Ease up there, sailor. We’ll all get out of this and you’ll be back out there soon enough. Right now, we’ve got a few more of these ‘days’ to rescue your sister in there.”
I had to smile at Carol. Her touch held magic for me.
“OK – find anything out?”
“I think I’ve got to find out more about this artificial intelligence these science boys worked up. That is what’s getting the background data for us every time she shifts, right?”
“And also picking out where she needs to shift to. It’s got access to all the military and civilian crime reports. Plus a few other databases out there. Plus, it’s learning all the time.”
“Just what I figured. These manuals only describe the ‘as-built’ scenarios. But that AI has been learning for half a century in our time, even if it’s only on 24 hours in any day of ours.”
I had to pause at that. “Carol, it might be running all the time, somehow. It’s getting data from the moment you came from, some decades from now, and picking the exact moment and the exact crime to solve. And I’ve been too busy helping Erika with her sleuthing so much that I haven’t had time to figure out how it knows what it does. The best estimation I’ve had is that it is somehow getting real-time data outside the power limits we and Erika have.”
“All the more reason for me to ‘talk’ with it.”
I turned to a monitor and opened up a new terminal instance for her. The cursor was simply blinking, waiting for input. “Here, start typing. It has a cursory command of human manners, but I’m sure you both will get along great.”
A buzz on my C.E.L phone interrupted. “Oops. Erika needs me. Gotta go.”
I leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
Carol turned a bit pink and leaned against me, her arm moving around my waist.
After too short a time, she leaned back. In a low voice, “Finn, you’ve got to go. I’ll be here when you get back. You’ve got work to do, and I have an AI to talk to.”
I had to smile. We made a nice team.
Then read the text she’d sent me again. Moving over to the lockers, I pulled out some items from one of them that she’d asked for.
As I opened that narrow door besides the observation window, I glanced back at Carol. She was already deep into concentrated typing.
Guess I’d get an update soon enough.
The door then closed behind me and Erika’s world became mine again.
IV
THE REEFER WELDING was unfinished. The gray bulkhead paint was scorched, and the chipping after the last weld was left incomplete, let alone grinding it to any smooth finish. Any welding rig he’d used was gone. Some rubber tire marks showed where it had been dragged away.
Taking an x-ray photo showed what he was supposed to be repairing, but what Jones was doing would have corrected it. Fixing a shelf bracket. Too simple. So what else was around here? I took the camera and panned around, taking video, but pausing and clicking like I was taking single shots. Just in case anyone was watching my actions.
Even this deep and surrounded by metal, I got a vibrating buzz that told me Finn had sent me the deck plans. It showed a dotted line for the most probable trail a person with a welding rig would take to get down here or leave. It led to a service elevator that wound up inside the galley, but could be stopped on any deck in between.
There – an office showed on the deck plans near one of the elevator doors. One deck up from the I was on.
That lift was no quiet beast, I clanged the metal grate door from overhead down to the deck before punching the red lift button. The heavy electric winches started up far above with their whine. I could smell the sour taste of sauerkraut and sausage set to become the crew’s lunch. It was wafting down from above where it was cooking in those huge steam-heated kettles of theirs.
Stopping at deck between the hold and galley, I waited. And listened.
Nothing.
I tried to raise the metal grate door as quietly as I could, but it rattled a bit regardless. The passageway outside was unusually dim. Only tiny red emergency lights were on. For a ship getting ready for inspection, this was odd. The standard is to replace all light bulbs regardless of time in service for a re-fit. And inspectors had to count every bulb to make sure they weren’t double-counted by the contractors.
The light from the elevator was streaming into that passageway. So I reached up and unscrewed the bulb just inside the open elevator doorway. One blessing of small, feminine hands. And the low wattage bulb was running on DC, so didn’t burn my fingers – much.
In the dark, I pulled out the camera and shot through the wall of the elevator into the office next to it. There was the welding rig. And a 55-gallon drum. Since the cabin was only large enough for a desk, filing cabinet and two chairs, all that extra equipment made it too crowded to sit.
Scanning the halls with the x-ray camera showed no one in sight or coming. The office was my next target, then…
- - - -
IT TOOK ME ONLY A FEW minutes to jimmy that lock and get into the office. Only room enough to open the file cabinet drawer once the door was shut. I took off my jacket and pushed it down against the crack beneath the door, then turned on the light.
Next thing was to get that lock working again, so I wasn’t interrupted.
The infrared camera showed me what had been opened recently, and then what files inside there had been touched.
Pulling out those files, I quickly photographed them. This wasn’t standard issue. Someone had some code-named contraband on board. That welder Jones must have gotten too close to a conversation, regardless of whether he heard anything or not.
Replacing the files, I did another scan and found that drum had been opened recently as well. The lid was actually loose, not secured. Something about this was hasty. Like – put it here until we can figure something else out.
I pulled at the top. It came off easily. And I held my breath at what I saw.
A person’s body had been folded into that drum. I checked for a pulse. He was still alive – barely.
I texted Finn: “Found Body in a Drum. Get Here Fast. Bring EMT Bag.”
Finn replied: “On My Way.”
I had to trust that Finn would find me by the special locater beacon in that phone, like my last one.
The trick was that this guy was too big to pull out of that drum in this tiny office. I needed to get the drum out to the passageway and away from here. I checked for ID, but found nothing, He was wearing shipboard dungarees and chambray shirt, but the fabric above the left breast pocket was cut away. Just where a stenciled name should be. At least I pulled his arms out and pushed his head back to make his breathing easier.
But footsteps sounded in the hall, coming toward me.
Switching out the light, I picked up my jacket and quietly slipped back into it. My ears heard steps that walked toward the office, stopped in front of it, then moved on. I could see darker shadows underneath the door from the emergency lighting. And then, as the person walked away, there was a quiet mumble of someone talking into a cellphone.
That reminded me to take out my own camera and see what he was up to.
He’d stopped in front of the open elevator. Wasn’t moving. Two hands in front of him, texting something. Then he turned to come back – only a few steps.
And I could next hear the doorknob slowly turn. But the lock held. I could hear patting pockets for keys. So I hid in the only place left.
V
ANOTHER GUY CAME IN, right after the first one. Probably on the other end of those texts. They looked over the office, using only the ambient light from the emergency lighting in the hallway. They saw the open drum and folded the guy back into the it with the lid again just laid on. One mentioning it looked like he must have pushed the lid off somehow. The other mumbled something about the elevator door being open and the light turned out in it. Then they left.
I couldn’t get to my camera, since I was using both hands, arms, legs and feet to hold myself in the space between the overhead beams above. I felt blessed to have an in-shape body this time – one with decent upper body strength.
With quiet grace, I let myself down again, making no sound.
Now the x-ray camera said no one was around at all.
A text came through: “Outside. Ready when you are.”
I flipped the lock lever, and turned the knob slowly, creeping the door open.
No one was there.
Then Finn appeared, a smile on his face. And I relaxed for the first time in what seemed like hours, but had been only minutes.
Finn had the EMT bag in his hand and we both squeezed into that office and shut the door. Giving the drum-guy some oxygen and some pulse and heartbeat measuring told us he was stable. But wouldn’t be if they came back.
I looked at Finn and raised an eyebrow. He whispered back, “Hand dolly in the elevator.”
We both smiled.
- - - -
IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG to get the guy in the drum back down below to the reefer and stretched out. Nothing broken. Nasty welt on the back of his head, though. We left the oxygen on him. No other injuries other than some scrapes from getting him into that drum. What he needed next was the ship’s doctor.
Finn took off to find him and bring him back.
I looked around the otherwise mostly empty refrigerator compartment.
For some reason Finn had insisted on bringing the welding rig as well. So it was sitting in one corner. More like it might seem that some other partner of theirs (a cleaner, maybe) had come while they were gone. Regardless, it would give them more to think about, confusing them and slowing them down. I hoped.
Anyone who’s watched any number of horror movies will tell you never to hide in a refrigerator. Because locking the door from the outside is obvious. This particular reefer had two doors. My next action was to remove the locking pins and get them into one of my jacket pockets. Then I took off the drum-guy’s shirt, tore it in pieces to wad into the latches as well as the hinges. Lastly, and not too logically, I pulled both doors shut, even though they wouldn’t latch right now. And turned out the light.
Then I waited, sitting against one of the bulkheads, with this guy on the floor. And thought out my options. In that pitch black darkness.
- - - -
FINN HELD THAT THERE were good and bad forces out there. Just as we are some of the good guys, there were those that embraced the dark aspects. This was true of all spirits, same as humans. Good and bad in all of us, among all of us. And for all the advanced gizmo’s Finn was able to access, it was certain that those bad guys had access to more.
What I’d seen was some very weird stuff going on. Bodies disappearing and people becoming forgetful or disoriented for no physical reason. Just enough that the murder – if there actually was one – couldn’t be proved.
And too often this was only the tip of the iceberg, as something else was being stolen or transported illegally, or even someone kidnapped. They never seemed to just be involved in any simple human crime.
I pulled out my phone to look over those photos I’d taken. They looked like simple requisition forms and shipping manifests. But they dealt with very live ammunition and particularly dangerous high-explosives. Nothing a simple landing platform dock should be carrying. And the upcoming sea trial was a good cover to to transport such weapons or explosives off the ship, and onto some other beach – where they could be recovered later.
Why these goons would get involved in illegal arms trade probably went to the core of their beliefs – because they could do whatever they wanted. Somehow, they were moving in and out of spaces that normal humans couldn’t. It either meant they had some sort of advanced technology, or had some other weirder explanation that was more into the science fiction magazines Finn liked to read.
Of course, Finn too often told me a lot of this over a long line of empty glasses in front of him. And the Irish in him led to a little exaggeration of truth (“blarney” his people called it). But what I’d seen and dealt with from working many jobs with Finn tended to hold up his theories as more factual than not. All regardless of whether I believed them to be 100 percent true.
A sound in the passageway outside made me blank the device screen and put the cel-phone away.
A couple of people walked up and started arguing outside the reefer door. I couldn’t follow all of it, but it seemed they were both accusing the other of screwing up the project. And their language wasn’t all in English, nor any other human speech I was familiar with. Certainly not Arabic or Russian. Something older, much older.
The bits and pieces that made sense told of a chain of command. One that wasn’t going to be happy with either of them. And as much as they disappeared stuff without a trace, they didn’t like it happening to their own selves.
I made my way in the darkness over to where the guy we’d rescued was laying. He was still breathing fine. But we needed to get him into proper care. Might have had a concussion or worse.
Where was that Finn and the ship’s doctor?
About then, the conversation quit, and I could hear one of the doors move.
Then a piercing flashlight beam shone right on me and my patient, blinding me.
VI
“DOC, THAT’S THE GUY we were telling you about.” Finn’s voice rang out and echoed in the empty metal refrigerated compartment. The overhead lights came on and I saw my red-headed Finn at the switch, now dressed in working blues like the guy on the deck. An officer in uniform with his own medical kit and stethoscope was crouched over our rescued victim, checking pulse and his eye response. Then felt the size of that lump on the back of his head.
“I think I know this guy. Seen him around. He’s regular Navy, not a contractor.” The doctor unclipped a walkie-talkie from his waist and talked into it, apparently to corpsman on the other end. They were bringing a stretcher and their ETA was a few minutes from now.
I stood and went over to Finn while the doctor continued to check the rest of our unconscious guy. “Finn, did you hear or see anyone when you came up?”
Finn shook his head no. “I could tell someone had been there, but we didn’t see or hear anyone around when we got here. I did have my suspicions that some hoo-jum had just been used, but nothing tangible.”
I pulled out my phone and showed him the photos. He almost tore it out of my hand when he saw what I had. With quick motions, he sent copies of these to some secure storage and then tried to give the phone back to me.
I just held up my hand. “No, you better keep it. At least you can disappear and keep the evidence safe. I can be searched. Look, the Doc’s got this under control. Let’s get up to the well deck and check out a hunch of mine.”
We made our way up to the cavernous interior space, where several landing craft were moored in the dry well, while several trucks and trailers had been parked and tied down into the various deck-slot moorings – secured on the upper, non-flooding deck area.
It didn’t take us long to find one truck that had a full load in it. To my own eyes it looked empty, even though the tires and suspension showed it weighted down. Finn made a simple gesture, and stacks of crates labeled “Danger: High Explosive” appeared. Hidden just out of plain sight – to humans.
I went over to a couple of seamen in their working-blue denim and chambray, who were busy securing another trailer to the deck. I flashed my ID and told them I needed to see their Master Chief right away. One sprinted up the deck to the intercom and rang him up. A short time later, the chief appeared in his khaki uniform. I showed him the ordinance in the back of the truck. His face went a few shades paler for a second. Then he barked orders to the two seamen, who in turn sprinted through hatches in opposite directions.
Masters at Arms personnel with side arms appeared and had me step away from the truck so they could guard it. The Chief Boatswain’s Mate showed up with a clipboard, along with a small crew of men. They proceeded to climb into the back and start inventorying what they’d found. That Master Chief stood back and supervised everyone’s work.
- - - -
I LEFT WITH FINN TO check out that office below decks. Of course, no one could see Finn except me. He didn’t exactly have “clearance” to be on board.
When we got to the office, the door was open, and everything was spotless, ship-shape. That file drawer was now completely empty, as were the others. There was no record of what had happened.
Finn just shook his head, wrinkled his nose. “Typical. You can almost smell their work.”
I nodded at him. “Looks like our trail’s gone cold.”
VII
A TALK TO THE DUTY Officer of the Deck showed no one out of the ordinary had come or left since I’d come aboard myself. I checked his logs, and it was all right on the money.
Finn had to point out the footprint traces the goons had left on the gangway, ones only he could see. He said they looked to be carrying a heavy load to leave that wide an imprint.
I just nodded as I listened to him. Because the OOD and his assistant could only see and hear me.
“Will there be anything else, ma’am?” The OOD was more attentive to me this time. Apparently the news of what I’d uncovered in the well deck had gotten around. I also saw another Master-at-arms crewman with holstered side arm posted nearby, scrutinizing everyone – even the OOD and his actions. More than likely such would be on duty here until the investigation of that surprise weapons cache was complete.
Our job was done as far as we could take it. “No, but thanks. That was all I needed. Permission to go ashore?”
He nodded and repressed a salute. I nodded in return, then faced the fantail ensign for a moment before disembarking down the gangway back to the dock.
- - - -
Finn was standing near the end of the gangway. As we walked off, he offered me a sip out of his flask in celebration, but I took a rain-check on it.
Because I still had other work to do.
VIII
RANDY SHOWED UP AT “my” apartment that night. I met him in the hallway outside the door. He hugged me, kissed me and tried to grab me where he shouldn’t. I pushed him away and showed him the wallet I’d slipped out of his hip pocket.
He reached for it, but I only slapped his hand away. Randy was smiling, like this was just some light teasing before the foreplay began.
I wasn’t smiling, though. All business. I still wore my NY Yankee ball cap and leather jacket.
Opening his wallet, I took out the plastic-covered “protection” and held it in front of him at eye level. “You need to start using this. Don’t expect to earn a girl’s respect for you otherwise.”
He snatched that thin pouch out of my hand, frowning.
Inside his wallet, he was flush with cash again, plus a check for his recent driving services. I took half of the cash and stuffed it into an inside pocket of my jacket. “That’s for the food and rent you haven’t been paying.”
Then I took out his lucky token and held it up under his nose. I could smell the drinks on his breath. “You won’t be needing this anymore. Because you’re going on the wagon.” He reached for it, but I was faster. That token seemed to disappear into thin air, with a little slight-of-hand Finn had taught me.
Randy took that moment to snatch his wallet back, out of my hand. His face now serious, somber.
Last, I pulled the key chain from his waist clip. Sorting through them, I found the one to my apartment and removed it. Randy’s face went really dark, angry. “No, you won’t be needing this any more. Oh, and here…” I reached into one of my outside jacket pockets to pull out a toothbrush, then shoved it and his key ring at his chest. He fumbled for them both.
“Take a hike, bud. Don’t bother calling me. Get yourself straightened up before you have an accident – or another one. I’m not the life you’re looking for.”
With that, I turned and slipped back through my open apartment door. Then locked it loudly, even put the chain on. The last I saw of him through the peephole was a shocked, speechless face. Then he turned and went down the hall. I could hear his hollow footfalls through the thin, worn carpet.
Then I got ready for bed. What needed to be hung up, was. The rest went into a hamper. I shrugged on an over-sized, long white all-cotton t-shirt that was emblazoned “I Love New York” across my chest.
The thick comforter over cotton sheets, and a over-large bed all to myself felt great.
This “Nikki” was going to wake up on her usual schedule tomorrow morning, running things for herself as usual. Just one day borrowed that she wouldn’t remember clearly. Somewhat like a dream. Only there was an official commendation headed her way, plus a very grateful seaman who’s life she saved. And that loser Randy was out of her life. Hopefully, she’d keep him at arm’s length or further.
On top of interrupting a secret illegal weapons trade, Nikki was now getting a better life.
Me, I was going to wake up somewhere else as the code-named Erotika Jones – in someone else’s body, with a new assignment.
That’s why I went to bed early.
A gal’s gotta get her beauty sleep when she can.
IX
CAROL AND I WATCHED Erika until she turned out the lights in her “room” beyond the observation window.
“Another successful mission.”
Carol took my hand. “Due to your help and guidance.”
I looked over and smiled at her. She returned it – and we enjoyed the moment.
I glanced at the clock read out. A few minutes left to Erika’s “day”.
“Find out anything interesting while I was helping Erika?”
“That AI was very helpful. I’ve got more questions to ask, but he’s a bit like a guy I know that lives in a hillside monastery. You have to ask specific questions to get the answers you really need.”
I just nodded. Some scientists I knew were like that.
She held up her green pendant. “I got a new set of data from my friends again. Between what they sent me and my conversations with that AI, it looks like we have a lot to do before Erika wakes up again.”
I had to smile. “As long as it’s consensual, spending time with you overnight is worth the world to me.”
Carol blushed. “And now you exposed that the double entendre is another hidden skill you’ve mastered.”
She melted into my arms and we stayed that way for awhile.
Over her head, I saw the clock turn to 00:00:00.
According to my calculations, Erika had 7 more days – including the one she just started – where we could figure out how to save her from impending death. It was up to us to spend those days wisely.
Through the observation window, I could see a dark form laying on a dark bed in another dark room. It would be hours before my sister woke to find out who her new identity was. Meanwhile, the AI had started scrolling data on the console’s row of CRT screens.
Another day had started for all of us.
Book Universes Notes
The prequel to the Erotika Jones series is "The Case of the Time Bent Beau". This is where Finn appears for the first time, and Erika.
The original story was revised to align to that prequel, and was slightly edited to include it into this anthology.
As noted, Erika's assignment in this story is set in the 1970's. The Brooklyn Naval Yards still existed as a naval refit dockyards at that time. The U.S.S. Ponce was in service then (and still exists at the time of this writing, but no longer part of any U.S. fleet).
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