The Most Dangerous Dame

Her laugh was garbled, but it was clear she got her kicks from my discomfort. I was acutely aware of Benny’s nervous sidelong glance and the stunned silence from the back seat where Natasha sat. I tried to steer the conversation back to safer waters, because it was clear the shadow dame had the drop on me.

“Listen, Natalie. Why don’t you just cut to the chase and tell me exactly what it is you want.”

Even in silhouette, I noticed the dame stiffen at the mention of her name. That’s when I knew I had her. The voice scrambler shut down, revealing her natural tone. “So. You think you have it all figured out, do you?”

“That’s right. You obviously know me from my past. I don’t know much about all that, but I do know I was with the SS, killing folks for the righteous cause of the United Havens. Before he bought the farm, Frankie Newman let me in on the fact I had a history with a downright psycho bitch from hell. And I even saw you for a sec, courtesy of a flashback associated with a concussive blast when I wasted the New Man, Frankie’s killer synoid. So let’s drop the cloak and dagger bunk and get to why you’re going through all this trouble.”

Natalie’s figure was shock still for a few seconds. I imagined her taking it all in, weighing out her potential responses. Finally, she removed the Bogart and leaned forward. Shadows slid away from the contours of her face. It was a face I knew, if only from a single random flashback jarred from my subconscious. Her face was just as beautiful and cold as I recalled. Strawberry blonde hair fell to her shoulders in tumbles, while her eyes were cobalt ice chips that glittered with malice.

“So you know a few things. Doesn’t matter. Let’s get back to the game. Do you know what I see right now?”

“I figure it’s my handsome mug looking back at you.”

Her scornful glance made it apparent my charm had no effect. “I’m looking at someone you might know, sitting at Lambrou’s Diner with her detective boyfriend. Angela Davison, currently employed as a secretary where you work, although we both know she has a naughtier side. You call her Angel, don’t you? How ironic. Newman told me all about her in his reports. I have an agent with a telescopic sight zeroed in on her right now.”

She smiled and glanced at a console to her left. “All I have to do is give the word and her head explodes like an overripe melon. Did you enjoy your nights with her, Mick? Did you find some emotional release when you made love to her, or was it limited to just physical pleasure?”

My pressure rose at the menacing playfulness of her tone. “Listen. You leave her out of this. I’m warning you—”

Her eyes narrowed. “I warned you a long time ago, Mick. I warned you what would happen if you let your feelings get the best of you. Do you remember the first lesson I gave you? What was her name?” She snapped her black-gloved fingers. “Oh yes — Maxine. Do you remember, Mick? Do you remember what we did to her? What I made you do?”

I felt bile rise in my throat as something hit me like a hammer between the eyes. Blurry images flickered across my consciousness, damaged picture film of something so ugly I wanted to claw at my face to rid myself of it.

“Mick?” Benny’s alarmed voice seemed to come from a mile away. “Mick, are you all right?”

Natalie’s image leaned forward slightly. Her playfulness vanished as she stared from the screen, her gaze suddenly intense. “You remember something, don’t you? Looks like I’m on the right track. So let’s continue the game. You called me Natalie. That’s my agency name. A label they pinned on me when they took everything I was and transformed me into in a new person. I told you what my real name was once. If you remember it, I promise to leave your precious Angel alone. If you don’t… ” She let the threat hang in the air.

My eyes burned when I raised my head. “You forgot about the third option.” I turned the display off. Natalie’s eyes widened as the image fizzled out.

Benny’s head jerked in surprise. “What’d you do that for? You know she’s gonna kill the girl, right?”

“Can’t play the game by her rules. Maxine… ” I winced at the name. “Maxine — block all incoming calls that aren’t on the contact list.”

“As you say, Mr. Trubble.”

I tapped my holoband. “You there, Ms. Sinn?”

“I’m here, Mick. In answer to your question, the call signal can’t be traced. The Service uses ghost lines on their equipment.”

“Figures. Listen, can you cut the lights off in Lambrou’s Diner?”

She paused for a second. “It’s done.”

“Thanks. I’ll be in touch.” I slid the screen over to messages and sent one to Flask, hoping he and Angel weren’t already toasted.

YOU’RE BEING TARGETED. GET ANGEL TO SAFETY.

“Maxine — new coordinates. Head over to Hunter Valentino’s pad.”

“Redirecting.” The tires squealed as Maxine performed a one-eighty and headed toward the West Docks. Other vehicles swerved and blared their horns in disapproval of our careening driving style.