//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 // Story: You Can't Have It All // by totallynotabrony //------------------------------// When I left the dorm the next morning, I kept my eyes moving. I didn’t see the pony I’d busted at the newspaper office, or anyone who looked like his replacement. I hoped that meant whoever was tracking me had gotten smart and stopped having people follow me. Several times, I reached for my phone until I remembered that I didn’t have it. I was hoping Font Courier would call me. When I got back to the dorm after classes, I didn’t figure there was any harm in turning on the phone. If they had been tracking me with it, then they already knew where I lived. What if that tracking also involved listening in? Was that possible to set up remotely, or would they actually need to get a hold of my phone? I decided to take the chance. The phone displayed two voicemails. I listened to them. The first was from Transmitter asking if I would like to come see the HSS office. He gave me the address. I was surprised that they had an office, much less one off campus. The other message was from Font Courier. She said that she hadn’t managed to find out who the pony in the picture was, but she had some details from the break in at Dealmaker’s office that weren’t printed in the paper. The only things taken were a few files of campaign donation records. As I listened, a few things seemed to fall into place. If Dealmaker was receiving funds from the mysterious stallion he met in the parking garage, he might stage a break in to wipe out his campaign records so he would have an excuse if someone took a look at his numbers and found that they didn’t add up. If the mare who worked there had been involved in setting up the break in, and I strongly suspected that she was, then giving her my phone number had been a huge mistake. From the number, they had been able to find me and learn who I was. So, they knew my name and where I lived, and probably had a good idea of what I was after. I could disable the phone, but by now they knew what my truck looked like so I couldn’t come and go as I pleased. I also stuck out in a crowd. This had gone from bad to worse. I decided to call Transmitter back. The HSS office could be a good hangout for me, as there was little chance that Dealmaker’s goons knew about it. Getting involved with HSS was starting to look like a better idea. I drove most of the way there, carefully watching my mirror for signs of pursuit. I didn’t see any, but I parked a few blocks away and took a roundabout route, walking quickly. The building was new, although not in a high rent district. Hickory greeted me at the door and showed me inside. The office consisted of a front room and a back room. It was sparsely furnished, but nice enough for two—or three—people to work. “When you mentioned operating expenses, I didn’t think that included rent,” I said. Hickory shrugged. “We have a niche audience and advertisers flock to that. Even still, we just barely break even.” Transmitter, who appeared to be the more computer literate of the two, showed me how to log into the website as an admin and make changes. “You’re in the system,” he said, “although we haven’t changed anything on the public pages to show it yet. I suggest you work on a short introductory note that we’ll post as your introduction.” I told him I’d work on it. The two of them then invited me to an investigation they’d scheduled for the next day. “It’s a weird house,” explained Transmitter. “That’s what we’ve taken to calling those places where the owner reports any number of strange little things happening.” “How often do you find those?” I asked. “A couple of times a month. Remember, almost all of our tips come from the website. Someone tells us about this stuff.” “How often do you actually find evidence that something supernatural is going on?” “Less than half.” “I like those odds. Okay, I’ll go with you.” We organized a few details and then I left. Without giving it much thought, I took a back entrance to the dorm in case anyone was watching the front. It was strange how the security measures I was taking were quickly becoming routine. In the room, Cherub surprised me with a sample of cloth. It was a teal and gold floral print. She held it up to compare with various parts of my body. “I think it’s a good match to your coloring and eyes,” she said. “We’ll add a couple of accessories and it’ll look great.” I was happy that she had such confidence. I didn’t. I didn’t want to disappoint her by using the excuse that I couldn’t work the show into my schedule. Much as I didn’t want to walk the runway, I was stuck with it. The next day, I got a message from Font Courier. She’d somehow matched my picture to a pony. His name was Dockside, and he had connections to crime. Her tone seemed to indicate that she was now more receptive to my theories about Dealmaker’s activities. I did a search for Dockside. There were a few links that seemed relevant. One, however, made me sit up and take notice. There had been a property deal that went through. Dealmaker had been in charge of a city project to create a new park. It was to be made from a couple of old industrial properties near Lake Haycago. Most of the properties purchased had belonged to Dockside. So what was this? “I’ll contribute to your reelection campaign if you buy some land from me?” If I had found the public record of the sale in a simple internet search, had Font? Would she talk to me about it? I decided to put it off for a day in order to collect more information. I met Transmitter and Hickory after class. We rode in Hickory’s old car. It was a little cramped, but manageable as long as I got the front seat. The owner of the supposedly haunted house met us at the door. He had submitted his place to the website, and was expecting only Transmitter and Hickory. They quickly explained that HSS was expanding and the site was a little behind in being updated. I introduced myself by my chosen penname, W. Tammy Minotaur, and explained that I would be appearing online soon. We asked him to repeat what he’d written on his post to the site. Strange things occasionally happened around the house, he said. No particular pattern, no particular things. I saw Transmitter and Hickory exchange a glance. Evidentially, they had heard that story before, although I couldn’t tell whether that was good or bad. The pony said he would leave us alone to work. Transmitter opened a satchel he was carrying and dug through it. “We’ve got magnetic anomaly detection and sound recording in one unit,” he said, pulling out two handheld devices taped together. One of them looked like a tape recorder. The other had a digital readout and looked similar to what I had seen ghost hunters on TV use. “Of course,” Transmitter went on, “the magnetic read/write on the tape interferes with the detector, so these are mostly just for show.” Hickory took the satchel from him and pulled out a few crystals with small pieces of fine chain attached. “Our expert Cloud hooked us up with these. They’re a lot better than electronics.” I wondered briefly why she wasn’t on staff, but decided not to say anything. “How do they work?” I asked. “It depends on what you’re doing. These stones are fairly versatile and can be used in many ways. For us, they just indicate when something strange is going on.” He picked one up by the chain and swung it around a bit, letting gravity settle it down until it hung straight down. Transmitter shrugged. “Nothing here.” Hickory handed me one of the crystals. It looked like a lump of quartz with half a necklace glued to it. I took it rather dubiously. “Don’t be surprised if this turns out to be a dry hole,” said Transmitter. “We get some good tips, but to be honest, our site has a way of giving ponies paranoia.” As if to spite him, the crystal dangling from my fingers began to twist slightly. I almost dropped it in surprise. It was only a faint movement, but I definitely wasn’t causing it. “Nice, you’ve got something,” said Hickory. “How come you two don’t?” I asked. Both of their magic detectors were still. “Random chance,” said Hickory, shrugging. “Sometimes it has to do with your personality or if you know what you’re looking for.” “I don’t have any idea what could be causing this.” “It could also be natural talent,” added Transmitter. “When Cloud’s with us, she comes up with results nearly every time if there’s something there.” I didn’t want to be a witch, and damned if I was going to let some little crystal tell me I was. We made a slow tour through the house. In the basement, the detector was almost completely still. Starting up the stairs to the second floor, Hickory started to get some movement too. As we approached the ladder to the attic, my crystal stopped swinging and began steadily tugging me forward. In the attic, buried under some insulation and a loose board we found a small metal box. It looked like it might be big enough to contain a baseball, and the lid had an old padlock on it. “Don’t touch it with your bare skin,” advised Transmitter. “There’s obviously something strange about it.” That seemed like wise advice. Hickory pulled a towel out of his satchel and lifted the box, wrapping it up. We took it to show the homeowner. “Never seen that before,” he said. “Where did you find it?” Hickory explained the location and Transmitter explained the method of finding it. The pony didn’t have a key for the lock, so Transmitter and Hickory promised to report back to him when they got it open. We left. They dropped me off back at the dorm. During the trip, instead of the box we had found, I had been thinking about the connection between Dealmaker and Dockside and what I wanted to do about it. I supposed it wouldn’t hurt to have a look at the property that had changed hands. Maybe I could discover if it was really worth what the city had paid for it. Thursday evening, I was picked up by Kicker. He drove an SUV, something with plenty of room to stretch out in. I had asked him to drive me around so I could take pictures of buildings for something I was working on. After that, we could have dinner together. He jumped at the chance. If my truck wasn’t so conspicuous, I wasn’t sure I would have asked him along. I supposed if we were going to move this relationship along, now was as good a time as any. I had the addresses written on a piece of paper and a camera. I asked Kicker to drive slowly and took a couple of shots of each building, making sure to take them from different angles. Hopefully, I could find someone who knew about construction and find out what they might be worth. I saw lights on the second floor of one of the buildings and asked Kicker to stop. It was one of the few that had windows on the second floor, although they were mostly covered over by translucent plastic sheeting. The lights could be on for security, but it was still unusual to see in a building that should be abandoned and ready to be torn down. “I want to take a look in there,” I said, indicating the building. “Isn’t that trespassing?” asked Kicker. I said nothing, but slipped out of the car, camera in hand. We might have to skip that dinner, I thought. It was already late enough for the sun to be down. Behind me, I heard Kicker get out. “What are you doing?” he asked, catching up to me. “I want to know what’s in that building.” “All the windows on the ground floor are covered. The doors are probably locked, too.” That was true. The ground floor windows had been covered with plywood and metal, probably for security. The upper windows, though, were merely protected with sheets of plastic. Looking at it, I got an idea. “Come here,” I climbed on top of a few empty metal barrels placed conveniently beside the building. I gave Kicker a hand to help him up. “Now give me a boost.” Kicker seemed bewildered, but took a stance and let me stand on his back. Our combined heights plus the barrels let me just barely reach the tape holding down the plastic sheeting covering a window. After I peeled the one corner of the tape back, I hooked my hands on the window ledge and pulled myself up, scrambling against the side of the building. “Tammy! I don’t think this is a good idea!” said Kicker. A little late for that, I thought. At least he kept his voice down. I got my elbows over the edge of the window and hauled myself inside through the gap I’d opened. I checked to make sure my tail had made it through and then turned to have a look around. In the part of the second floor where I had ended up, there were a few industrial machines installed. I couldn’t tell by looking what they might be used for. All of them looked like they hadn’t been in operation for a while. I checked the camera to make sure I hadn’t damaged it, and then crept along the wall towards the other end of the building where the light was coming from. There were a couple of new-looking filing cabinets against the wall, completely at odds with everything else in the building. I took a slow look around before crossing the floor to them. None of the cabinet drawers were marked. I opened a few quietly, snapping pictures of the contents. A few files were marked, many weren’t. I hoped the click of the camera’s shutter wasn’t too much noise. Near the bottom of the second cabinet I searched, I found a folder at odds with the rest. The printing on it was much neater than the rough scrawl on many of the others, and it had a small sticker of the Seal of the City of Haycago. I quickly opened it. It was the missing donation records from Dealmaker’s office. I spread the papers out and quickly began taking pictures of all of them. When I was done, I shuffled them back into the folder and reached farther back into the drawer to see if there was anything else interesting. I had to pull the drawer out further to reach the back. I accidentally pulled it out too far and it pulled out of the track it sat in. It hit the floor with a clunk. Muttering under my breath, I tried to slip it back in, rattling it a little to get it to fit. I heard something and stopped to listen. It sounded like an exchange of voices from the floor below. I went back to trying to put the drawer in as quickly and quietly as possible. My heart jumped as I heard someone start up the stairs to the second floor. Luckily, the drawer caught the tracks just then, and I closed it silently. In a split second, I had a decision to make. Should I go back across the floor and head for the window, or hide behind the row of filing cabinets? It would be quicker to hide right away, but if whoever was coming up the stairs checked the other side of the cabinets, I was in trouble. I decided to risk being seen as I crossed the floor again because at least that way I had a head start on my escape. I heard the hoofsteps level out at the top of the stairs just as I reached the first piece of equipment. I ducked down behind it and crouched motionlessly. The steps stopped for a moment, and then began again as if the pony was searching around the cabinets. I took the opportunity to edge closer to the window using the sound of the steps to cover my own movement. The hoofsteps continued, as if checking the cabinets themselves. I was almost to the window. I hoped the movement of the plastic wouldn’t be noticed and I peeked out. Kicker was still standing there. I motioned quickly for him to be quiet, and then dropped the camera for him to catch. Behind me, it sounded like the footsteps were getting closer, as if checking between machines. I realized I was running out of time. I rose up from my crouch and slipped awkwardly out the window. It was easier getting in than getting out. I hung from the ledge until I felt Kicker take my hooves. I gradually eased my grip until I was sure he had me. Then I patted the tape back down and signaled for him to lower me. We climbed down off the barrels and snuck back to his SUV. I felt excited, for some reason. It was a little thrilling getting away with something like this without being spotted. I quickly reminded myself not to make these things a habit. When we were both back in the vehicle and belted in, Kicker and I let out a simultaneous sigh of relief. “How about that dinner?” he said. Kicker took me to a Neightalian restaurant that, for some reason, was still open at that time of night. It was great food, and I was grateful to him for faithfully sticking around while I infiltrated Dockside’s building, but I really wanted to get back to my computer so I could review the pictures I took. Fortunately, I realized how selfish that sounded, and willed myself to take an interest in the conversation. Something about having to force myself to do that seemed wrong, and a faint trace of doubt showed itself in the back of my mind. Kicker was polite, charming, but if I really liked him, then why did I put him second priority to everything else in my life? I was still contemplating that when he dropped me off at the dorm. “Dinner tomorrow?” he asked. “I don’t usually eat before Daring Kwon Do club.” “Can I escort you there, then?” He was really trying hard to fit into my schedule, and I felt that I had to make some concessions. “Okay.” I told him my room number and when I would be leaving. He drove away. I went up to my room and sorted through the pictures. They had turned out all right, but I didn’t know what to look for in the campaign records. Maybe Font Courier knew an accountant who could make sense of it. I sent the pictures to her. I left them hi-res, so it took a couple e-mails to send them all. Cherub wasn’t there. With a jolt, I remembered that the fashion show was fast approaching. Well, the only way to deal with that was to get it over with. I went to bed. On Friday, I attended all my classes, but my mind wasn’t in it. Between thinking about my next move to get at Dealmaker, wondering what was in the box HSS had discovered, and worrying about the fashion show, I had enough things to think about. After class, I dug around in my photo archive and found the picture of the list of employees at Dealmaker’s campaign headquarters. There were two female names. I did an online search and found the phone number for the campaign headquarters. I put the battery back in my phone and dialed. “Hello. Campaign for Reelection of Dealmaker.” I was in luck. It sounded like the mare I had talked to. Given a choice between the two names listed, I picked the younger sounding one. “Fresh Face?” “Yes?” she said, sounding confused. “This is Tungsten Tammy.” I paused to let her think about it. “You need to listen to me.” “How do you know my name?” She actually sounded a little scared. I pressed on. “That’s not all.” I read from her information on the employee listing. “I have your address. I have your home phone number and your cell. I know what car you drive, and what you look like.” “Are you stalking me?” Her voice came out like a squeak. I hoped she was the only one in the office. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t. I’m being stalked.” “I’m not doing it!” “But you know who is.” “I…” She seemed to be in shock and unable to come up with anything to say. “Let me put it this way. Do you remember when we first met? I told you that Dealmaker was going down. Tell me everything you know.” “No, I can’t!” “Don’t forget that I know how to find you. I’m not going to stop until everyone knows what Dealmaker is up to, and it’s your decision whether you want to help me or go down with him.” There was silence for several seconds and then the phone was hung up. Well, I wasn’t sure what I had accomplished, but it felt like I was on the offensive for once. I decided to wait one day for her to call me. After that, I wasn’t sure what would happen. I already had a lot to do. I checked my e-mail and found a reply from Font. She said it would take time to figure out what all the records meant. She also said she didn’t want to know how I had found the missing records. Just then, there was a knock on the door. I got up to answer it. Kicker had arrived early. “Sorry,” I said. “I’m not quite ready yet. I’ll get changed.” I thought about asking him in, before I realized he’d have to stand in the closet or something to let me have privacy. I ended up awkwardly shutting the door in his face. I put on my uniform and practice shoes. I hadn’t yet disassembled my phone and put it away, so I took time to do that before going back out to where Kicker was waiting. Like a gentlecolt, he accompanied me to the gym. “I’ll be here,” he said, grabbing a basketball. And he was, when I came out later. He didn’t ask me to play ball this time. “What’s your schedule look like tomorrow?” he asked as we walked back. “I think I’ll be available in the afternoon.” “I’ll call you, then.” He gave me that trademark smile of his and left me at the dorm.