Crouching Buzzard, Leaping Loon

“You've finished everything you need to do at Mutant Wizards,“ Michael said, finishing the last of his morning coffee.

“Just sit on the suitcase so I can close it.“

“Here, let me do it. You've proved Rob's suspicions were right, there was something fishy going on, and you've exposed the perpetrator, not to mention solving Ted's murder. I don't see why you need to go back there.“

“I just need to pick up a few things and delegate a few things,“ I said. “It won't take more than an hour, and we've got plenty of time. You booked the three P.M. flight, right?“

“Yes, but I was hoping we could drive by and take a look at our house before we left,“ he said.

“Our house?“

“Yes… I've got the house,“ Michael said.

“House? What house? Not the one with the five-and-a-half-foot ceilings?“

“No – Ted's house. Edwina Sprocket's house. Home of the attack moose. I was going to surprise you – after you told me about going there, I put in a bid on it – and I got a message yesterday afternoon that Mrs. Sprocket's heirs accepted.“

He was grinning from ear to ear, obviously waiting for me to shout with joy. All I could think of was the long string of zeroes at the end of the sale price.

“Michael, we can't afford Mrs. Sprocket's house,“ I said. “I know what they're asking, remember?“

“I got them to knock the price down,“ he said.

“Knock the price down? Every house that's been sold in Caerphilly over the last year has gone for fifty to one hundred percent over the original asking price, and you got them to knock the price down? How?“

“I agreed to take the house as is,“ he said.

“As is?“ My jaw dropped. For some reason, I kept seeing tiles raining down from the roof, although there were probably other areas of the house equally in need of complete replacement. Like the plumbing and wiring. And possibly the supporting beams.

“Yes. Oh, and we give them ten percent of anything we make selling the contents.“

“Selling the contents? 'As is' includes taking the contents?“

“Yes – apparently they didn't want to take the trouble of having them appraised and sold.“

“Michael, were you listening when I told you what the place was like? How run-down it was? How completely packed with clutter?“

“Your dad says the family will all pitch in to help fix it up.“

Yes, I was sure they would, but I'd have a hard time thinking of any relatives I'd trust to hammer a nail in straight, much less do the kind of work Mrs. Sprocket's house would require.

“And who knows?“ Michael continued. “Maybe we'll find some valuable antiques in the clutter. Apparently, your mother knows all kinds of appraisers and antiques dealers.“

Yes, she did, though her experience with them was almost entirely connected with buying hideously expensive objects, not selling household junk.

“She says she'll come up and help.“

Come up and see if she could abscond with anything that struck her fancy, more likely. Never mind; she could have every antimacassar in the house as long as she took them away. And helped clear out the rest.

“You don't seem happy,“ Michael observed.

“I'm overwhelmed,“ I said. “It's going to be a lot of work.“

“It will still take weeks and weeks to clean up all the red tape,“ he said. “Time for us to rest up in California.“

Yes, and possibly time for me to find someone we could hire to do some of the worst of the renovations and junk removal. If we could still afford to hire anyone after buying the damned thing.

“Okay,“ I said. “I'll make it as quick as I can at Mutant Wizards, and we'll go by the house on our way to the airport.“

Actually, I wanted to talk to Rob – I felt bad about just leaving him without formally resigning.

Of course, the first person I ran into was Doc.

“Great news!“ he exclaimed when he saw me. “I've found George a place to live. It's a raptor sanctuary – they have special facilities for injured or elderly birds. He can live out his life with dignity in much more natural surroundings.“

“That's great,“ I said. “You can take him anytime.“

“Small problem,“ Doc said, looking sheepish. “He doesn't seem to like me.“

Yes, George definitely didn't like Doc. He shrieked whenever Doc tried to go near him. I couldn't blame George. I think I'd dislike anyone who tried to throw me out of a second-story window, and for that matter, George had no way of knowing that Doc wasn't responsible for the short, involuntary flight that had propelled him into Doc's arms the night before. Doc looked crushed; he obviously wasn't used to rejection by nonhumans.

“Feed him a mouse,“ I advised. “He always warms to anyone who feeds him.“

I explained where to find the mice and the microwave, and Doc loped ofFy looking hopeful.

Meanwhile, I did a turn through the office, saying good-bye and good luck to various people. Rob wasn't there, though. In fact, a lot of people were missing, probably inspired by the cooler weather to play hooky.

I left a note for Rob and headed back to the reception area.

Doc had returned with George's dinner. I could see that George was already feeling friendlier toward the vet. He started doing the hunching act when he saw his dinner.

I left them to it. Jack and Luis were arriving in the reception room, visibly exuberant about something.

“Morning,“ Jack said while Luis went over to the window.

“Yes, that's him,“ Luis said. “He'll be up in a few minutes.“

“Who?“ I asked.

Luis and Jack exchanged a grin.

“So, do you want to know what's in store for Roger?“ Jack said.

“Something mildly unpleasant, I hope,“ I said.

“What do you have against this Roger guy?“ Michael asked.

“Wait and see,“ I said.

“More than mildly unpleasant, if you ask me,“ Jack said. “And I doubt if the legal authorities will allow us to avail ourselves of Roger's talents for much longer.“

“I assume you've got something on him for the porn operation,“ I said. “Since he had nothing to do with the murder.“

“Since Ted was blackmailing him, too, it's not completely unrelated to the murder,“ Jack said. “But yes, it's about the porn site.“

“It would have taken us half the time to figure out what he was up to if we'd been working together,“ Luis grumbled.

“Less than half,“ Jack said. “Not only did we each have to do all the same steps to figure out what Roger was up to, we also had to eliminate each other as suspects when we figured out someone else was trying to hack the same site.“

“Sorry, but when I asked, I hadn't exactly eliminated either of you as suspects. In the murder.“

“True,“ Jack said. “Okay… Roger has definitely been running a number of porn sites.“

“Can we have him arrested?“

“Not for the sites, no,“ Jack said. “Pornography isn't actually illegal, you know.“

“Unless it's child pornography,“ Luis put in.

“Yes, if we'd found any child pornography, we could have the FBI all over him,“ Jack agreed.

“But apparently even Roger has some standards,“ Luis said.

“Or maybe just a well-developed sense of self-preservation,“ Michael suggested.

“Any chance he's just hidden the illegal stuff better and you'd find it if you kept looking?“ I asked.

“We've looked,“ Jack said.

“Brother, have we looked,“ Luis said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, come on,“ I said. “It wasn't that unpleasant, was it?“

They exchanged a glance.

“Oddly enough, it was,“ Jack said.

“After the first few thousand pictures… ,“ Luis said, and shrugged.

“Do you feel a strange compulsion to go watch one of those period movies where everyone gets all hot and bothered when the heroine unbuttons her glove?“ Michael asked.

“Yeah,“ Jack said, laughing. “Right now, that's about my speed.“

“Maybe I should try that,“ Luis said. “I couldn't even get into Disney cartoons last night. Cinderella's got this whole foot fetish thing going, and the Little Mermaid's costume shows way too much skin.“

“Are you telling me that Roger's site is so perverse you're both considering vows of celibacy and there's nothing we can do about it?“

“Not the pornography,“ Jack said. “But he is using hardware, bandwidth, and IP addresses that belong to Mutant Wizards.“

“That's illegal, right?“

“Very illegal,“ Jack said. “He's history as soon as Chief Burke shows up to arrest him, which should be – “

“Right about now,“ I said as the office door opened to reveal the chief, followed by several uniformed officers.

“Glad to see you, Chief,“ Jack said, holding out his hand.

“A lot more glad than you were yesterday, I expect,“ the chief said, shaking die offered hand. “So where's this evidence you want to show me?“

“Right this way,“ Jack said, leading the chief out of the reception area.

“So we show Chief Burke the evidence, and he arrests Roger?“ I said.

“I think he's going to get fired before he's arrested,“ Luis said.

“Fired? Who's going to do that?“ The last several times Mutant Wizards had fired anyone, I recalled, they'd dumped the job on Liz, due to Rob's complete inability to say a harsh word to anyone.

“Some people thought maybe you could do it,“ Luis said. “But Rob says the chairman of the board will take care of it.“

“The chairman of the board?“ I repeated.

Luis nodded.

“I'd better go see if they need me,“ he said, and ducked out of the room.

“Who's the chairman of the board?“ Michael asked.

“Mother, of course,“ I said. “She came up this morning, armed with all her decorating supplies. Lucky for us last night's excitement has distracted her from measuring the Cave for drapes.“

“Your mother's going to fire Roger?“ he mused. “That should be worth seeing. Not that we're going to stay to see it.“

“Of course not,“ I said.

“Come take a look,“ Luis said, sticking his head back into the room. “Roger found out what we did to his site.“

“You mean you didn't just shut it down,“ Michael asked.

“That would be too easy,“ Luis said.

“So what did you do?“ Michael asked.

“It was Meg's idea.“

“My idea?“ I exclaimed. “You mean you really did that?“

“Did what?“ Michael asked.

“We took down his site this morning,“ Luis said. “After backing up everything to turn over to the cops, of course – and replaced all the pictures.“

“With screen shots from Nude Lawyers from Hell,“ I explained. “I suspect that after the initial surprise, traffic on his site is going to drop way off pretty soon. Did you get his backup CDs?“

“Oh, we got everything,“ Luis said, chuckling.

We followed Luis out into Cubeville. Roger was standing in an open space in the middle, holding a CD in each hand. A dozen or so CDs were lying on the floor around his feet.

“Dammit!“ he yelled, shaking the CDs over his head. “I want my files!“

Smothered laughter rippled through the room, and then, from behind him, a CD arrived, rolling on its edge like a hoop, until it hit his foot and plinked to the ground with the others. Roger whirled as if attacked.

“I want my files!“ he bellowed again.

“Roger, dear, we need to talk to you.“

Roger whirled again to face Mother, who had come up behind him, a bland smile on her face. Roger froze, like a mouse that suddenly spots a snake. If it had been anyone but Roger, I'd have felt sorry for him. Mother gestured, and Roger followed her into the conference room. I could see through the room's glass walls that Rob, the chief financial officer, the human resources person, Jack, and Chief Burke were already waiting inside.

“I'd better see if they need me,“ Luis said. “You want to get in on this?“

“You'll manage without me,“ I said, and he scurried off.

“Meg?“

I turned to see Doc peering out from the reception room.

“Do you want to say good-bye?“ he asked.

“Oh, right,“ I said, grabbing his hand and shaking it. “It's been great meeting you.“

“Thanks,“ he said. “Actually, I mean to George and Spike. I'm ready to leave now.“

“Spike?“ Michael said. “You're giving him Spike?“

“Not giving,“ I said. “He's going to take Spike for training.“

“Aggression-reduction therapy,“ Doc added.

“I cleared it with your mother,“ I said. “She was very pleased to learn that Spike would be spending a rejuvenating few weeks in the Caerphilly Canine Rest Spa.“

“I really owe you one for that name, by the way,“ Doc said. “That's going to double my business; I can tell already.“

We followed Doc to the reception area and bade farewell to George and Spike. Neither of them seemed upset at the idea of parting from us, and unlike Michael and me, they weren't particularly good at faking it.

“Here, let me help,“ Michael said, taking Spike's leash so Doc would have both hands to hold George's cage.

“I'll meet you down at the car in a minute,“ I said. “I just need to get a few things from the reception desk.“

“You're not going to take all that to California?“ Michael said, looking dubiously at the copier-paper box I was packing.

“No, but I don't want to have to come in here to get any of it when we get back in town,“ I said. “Way too dangerous – before you know it, I'd agree to help out just for a little while.“

“Good thinking,“ he said. “See you down at the car.“

As I was finishing up my packing, Chief Burke strolled up.

“I guess I have to thank you,“ he said, offering his hand. “Not that we wouldn't have figured out who the Ninja really was sooner or later.“

“Might have taken you a while,“ I said. “Up until she pulled a gun on us, I thought she was the Iron Maiden.“

“Oh, no,“ he said, chuckling. “You were the Iron Maiden. We found several earlier versions of that blackmail file on his hard drive, and the first time the Iron Maiden appeared was a day or two after you came on board here.“

“That's the last mystery solved, then,“ I said. “I can leave with a clear conscience.“

“You're leaving?“ he said.

“Not leaving Caerphilly, except for a vacation,“ I said. “But yes, my days at Mutant Wizards are over, thank God.“

“That's a pity,“ he said. “I guess you won't get to work on that new game your brother talked me into helping him with.“

“Let me guess: he's doing Cops from Hell.“

“Please,“ the chief said with a frown. “Police from Hell.“

“Sounds like a winner,“ I said. “Good luck with it.“

“Ah,“ he said. “Here they are.“

Several uniformed officers appeared, escorting Roger. The chief watched with satisfaction as they herded him out the door, then tipped his hat and followed them out of the office.

“So you're leaving us.“

I turned to see Jack Ransom leaning against the entrance wall.

“I've done what I set out to do,“ I said. “And running an office really isn't my line.“

“That's a pity,“ he said. “You're good at it. Only a couple of weeks, and already things are light-years better.“

“That's because all the real problem cases have been killed off or arrested,“ I said.

“And just when I thought things were going better for me, too,“ he said. “Did you hear about my promotion?“

“No – what to?“

“Head of all development,“ Jack said. “Apparently Rob was waffling on who to choose – wasn't sure I had the necessary daring and creativity, he said. But when he found out I was responsible for the Nude Lawyers from Hell version, that clinched it.“

“So all's well that ends well,“ I said.

“Almost all,“ Jack said. “I was hoping the absent boyfriend would turn out to be… well…“

“Permanently absent?“ I suggested.

“Or maybe a myth to scare away people like Roger,“ he said.

“Sorry,“ I said.

And I was. Sorry, that is. Not that it changed anything. But with Michael waiting for me in the next room, I felt safe admitting, at least to myself, that the chemistry worked both ways. I was attracted to Jack, and if things had been different, it would have been fun finding out if it was more than a passing fancy. And he was right – I was good at this office stuff. Not managing the switchboard, but organizing things, keeping them moving. Running things, so Rob and the programmers and artists could do their job. All the stuff I'd been doing the past few weeks – and all the stuff Liz had been doing, too. Rob needed someone to do all that. If I didn't have my blacksmithing career, I might find I could be very happy working at Mutant Wizards, and if I didn't have Michael…

I allowed myself, just for a moment, to imagine that there was another Meg. A Meg who, instead of falling in love with wrought iron at twenty was still, in her thirties, looking for her place in life. A Meg who hadn't ever walked into a dressmaker's shop to be fitted for a bridesmaid's gown and met the most drop-dead gorgeous man she'd ever seen. I could see that other Meg very clearly. I could see her staying on at Mutant Wizards, gradually taking over the practical side of running things, getting to know Jack better. It wasn't a bad life she'd lead. Maybe even a better one in some ways. Or maybe it only seemed better because I didn't know the complications it would bring, while I knew all too well the complications of the life I had – the financial instability of blacksmithing, the chaotic juggling act that would probably always be part of Michael's and my life together. Yes, probably a good life. But it wasn't my life. Not the life I'd chosen and was choosing again.

“If I had two lives,“ I said aloud. “I could see spending one of them here. But I don't; and I need to get back to my real life.“

Jack nodded with a wry smile, saluted me, and strolled out of the reception room.

I wrote my name on the box, left it by the reception desk where, surely, someone would eventually remember to pick it up and drop it off at the Cave, and headed for the parking lot.

So now I knew where everybody had gone.

To my left, I saw Dr. Lorelei and the burly anger-management therapist talking intensely with Keisha and Rico. I drifted over to where I could eavesdrop.

“I love it!“ Rico was saying. “Shrinks from Hell!“

“It could be a very important therapeutic tool,“ Dr. Lorelei said.

“Yes,“ Keisha said, nodding. “It's got to be authentic and genuine.“

“And a hell of a lot of fun,“ the burly therapist said. “That's more important, if you ask me. Make it fun, so people will want to play.“

Wonder of wonders, I thought. The Hatfield therapists and the McCoy programmers were learning to coexist.

In another corner, I saw Dr. Brown talking to two programmers. They seemed to be discussing an Affirmation Bear that one of the programmers was holding. Oh, dear, I thought. I hoped my allowing the guys to play with the bears wasn't still causing trouble.

As I strolled over to intervene and take the blame, I saw the programmer put the bear down on the asphalt. Surprisingly, it stood up, instead of flopping over the way the bears usually did. Then the programmer took out a small gizmo, like a television remote, and began pressing buttons.

I heard a loud “urp!“ and saw, to my surprise, that the bear's mouth moved when it belched.

“Excuse me,“ the bear said, and then giggled. He didn't sound particularly penitent to me, but maybe there were limits to how much emotion you could expect from a plush toy.

The programmer pushed a few more buttons, and the bear began walking toward the therapist.

“Oh, my goodness!“ she exclaimed as the bear reached out and hugged her ankle.

“Hiya, babe! How's tricks?“ the bear said. And winked.

“Oh, that's wonderful!“ Dr. Brown exclaimed, jumping up and down and clapping her hands. “That's absolutely wonderful!“

“How about another brewski?“ the bear asked.

I didn't stay to see if they'd taught him how to drink.

I could see that most of the parking lot was filled with people doing some sort of vigorous leaping exercise. I strolled up to where Michael was watching them, with a bemused expression on his face.

“So what are they doing now?“ I asked as two programmers and a therapist passed by, doing an involved step that looked as if they were trying to pedal miniature tricycles.

“Don't you recognize it?“ Michael asked. The dancers had changed to some leaps that Baryshnikov might have executed, if he'd been born with more than the usual number of left feet.

“Am I supposed to?“ I asked.

“Your father said you'd taught him this kata,“ Michael said.

“Kata?“

Most of the crowd in the parking lot now appeared to be imitating a gorilla lifting barbells while ridding itself of a hairball. As I watched, they returned to pedaling tiny tricycles while flapping their arms up and down as if they hoped to achieve liftoff.

“It's called The Buzzard Celebrates, according to your Dad,“ Michael said.

Rob whirled by, doing a step obviously inspired by the cancan, and waved cheerfully.

“It's certainly aerobic,“ I said.

“I told Rob we were taking off now,“ Michael added. “He said thanks, and see you in a few weeks.“

We watched for a few more minutes as the programmers and therapists leaped and cavorted together – if not in unison, then certainly in unprecedented harmony.

“Ready to take off?“ Michael asked.

“Way past ready,“ I said, heading for the car.

As we drove carefully through the throng of Celebrating Buzzards to the road, I caught sight of Dad, whirling by with the rest, executing a particularly ridiculous maneuver that seemed to combine a standing broad jump with the hokey-pokey. He paused for a moment, winked at us, and then threw himself back into the fray.

“I think Dad's got everything under control,“ I said. “Step on it. We have a plane to catch.“