csyphrett

2 Omes returned to the carriage. He looked up at the blue coats with a faint smile. “The trail leads that way,” Omes said. He pointed down the street. “The messenger was riding a wheeled horse. I’m going to follow that as much as I can. Just go around the block and follow me.” “Time,” said Griggs. “I know, but until I pick out a clear trail, we have to walk,” said Omes. “Just go around and meet me.” He started down the street. His head was down as if examining the road as he walked. “Go ahead,” said Griggs. “I think he already has something we can use.” “Our messenger drove a motorhorse.” The other blue coat made a noise. He told the carriage to drive forward while he looked for a place to turn ahead. “Not many messengers out there do that.” “That leaves us with the option that the messenger was the kidnaper,” said Griggs. “This could be a one man show.” “The girl might already be dead,” said the blue coat. “We can’t worry about that right now,” said Griggs. “First, we have to find her, no matter what condition she is in. Then we can find the man. Once we do that, we run him through the court with whatever evidence we gather along the way.” “We’ll find the man first, if he was the messenger,” I said. “Omes will have a good idea where he is going in a few minutes.” “Are you sure,” said the blue coat. “It’s his expertise,” I said. “I’m a gifted doctor with years of practice in taking things out of the body and making sure it works. Omes is a gifted tracker. Even if he loses the trail, he’ll find some other way to hunt the man down. It’s what he does.” The carriage rolled to a stop as Omes came to the corner and looked in all four directions. He smiled. “Let’s go down the river toward the Industrial Quarter,” Omes said. “I have a feeling he crossed the river somewhere.” “Do you think he went into the Quarter?,” asked the blue coat. “I don’t know, Constable,” said Omes. He boarded the carriage. “He seems to be running in a straight line that way, so it won’t hurt us to go look. He might have swung north to head up into the Annex. The girl’s hand would have to be treated if he wanted to keep her alive.” “He might not want to keep her alive once he knows he tried to demand a ransom from the wrong person,” said the constable. “Then we’ll turn him in for the rope,” said Omes. “We’re going to find him. Just think positive and let me work.” “What if he heads south?,” asked Griggs. “Then he has an unknown amount of time to ride the river to the locks, then the ocean,” said Omes. “You’ll have to get us a boat.” “I don’t know if I can get a boat,” said Griggs. “I might be able to borrow something from the navy if I’m lucky.” “If he makes it out to the ocean, then a ship is what’s going to be needed to trail him,” said Omes. “Don’t worry about that just yet. Just keep going straight until you reach the cross waterway.” The Tam came in from the north and split into two branches. One continued south pass the Industrial Quarter. It was heavily polluted and contained animals trapped in a scientific undeath brought on by chemistry. The other turned east into East Canaan and was rendered clean by a heavy duty filtering system at the source of the branch off. Sometimes the polluted part of the Tam breached the filtering system. The residents and city workers cleaned the water as fast as they could, and got rid of the contaminants. Someone usually died when they didn’t get the done fast enough. Sometimes they didn’t and spent the rest of their shortened lives as scientific curiosities. The carriage pulled to a stop beside the wall that marked the filtering unit across the East Tam branch of the river. Omes descended from the carriage and looked around. He paused at the wall and hunkered down to examine it more closely. “He went north toward the Annex,” he reported. “Witsend and I will keep on the trail. You two take the carriage and circle around. You should be able to catch up with us in a few minutes.” “Take the carriage around, Bob,” Griggs said. She climbed down to the ground. “One of us has to be there when we find the girl.” “Where do you want to meet?,” said Constable Bob. “We’re going to be going straight for a bit,” said Omes. “Just come back to this street on the other side of the wall, and go straight along.” “All right,” said Bob. He backed up and turned around. He headed back the way we came to reach a bridge and then drive back to the filtering unit. “Let’s go,” Omes said. He stepped on the filtering wall and marched across. I noted black spots on the top of the wall as I followed him. A crosshatch marking a tire appeared in a couple of spots. That was all the proof we needed that the motor horse had come this way. “Any indication whom the kidnaper thought the resident he was delivering his threat to was?,” asked Omes. “Someone named Landon,” said Griggs. “We did a record search of the house. A couple named Landon lived there years ago. They moved out five years ago, and the current occupant moved in.” “Did the Landons have children?,” asked Omes. “Two boys,” said Griggs. “Both are grown men now. One went into the Army and is stationed at the Point. The other set himself up as a shopkeeper at the Cliffs right at the Channel Bridge.” “So not only did he threaten the wrong person, he grabbed a child that didn’t fit the profile,” said Omes. “It suggests some lost time going on.” “Or dementia,” I said. “He might have jumbled his memory and acted on what he thought was true.” “The why doesn’t matter yet,” said Griggs. “The where is more important if we want to find the victim. She still might be alive.” “If he has a reason to keep her alive, then she is,” Omes said. “If he did worse than cut off her finger, there’s nothing we can do about that. The only thing we can do is keep on the trail until we find him, or her.” “And we will find them,” I said. “The girl is close by now.” “How do you know that?,” asked Griggs. “A trace of her DNA is in the air,” I said. “Only a trace. It’s like she touched something and left part of her self.” “The bike is still running parallel to the Tam,” said Omes. He pointed at the oil spots on the road. “He might have crossed over to the Quarter somewhere.” “Maybe,” I said. “The amount of trace isn’t increasing. Maybe this is something left from traveling with the finger on his motor horse.” “I see a bike over there,” Omes said. “It doesn’t look like the one we want.” “It might belong to an accomplice,” said Griggs. “It doesn’t matter unless they see us and guess we’re closing in on them,” Omes said. “Let’s continue until we find a bridge we can use.” “There’s the Winter up ahead,” Griggs said. “He might have crossed there.” “The Winter throws down snow, doesn’t it?” said Omes. “I don’t think I have tried to cross it.” “Neither have I,” I admitted. “I have,” said Griggs. “Conditions on the bridge are close to a blizzard toward the center.” “If he went over that, he must have been ready for it,” Omes said. “Let’s go. He might still be on the bridge if we’re lucky.” “We’re not that lucky,” I said. On the other hand, if he was frozen, we could follow his trail without worrying about him coming home to catch us in the pantry looking for cookies. We walked down to the Winter Bridge. It crossed over the polluted Tam, joining the eastern side with the western. A path on the other side led to a checkpoint heading into the Quarter. Snow fell on the bridge. None of the white stuff fell over the sides. I looked up at the gray cloud hovering over the white stone. What kind of idiot would make something like this. “I’ll go across first,” said Omes. “You two follow me.” “What about Bob?,” said Griggs. “He’ll have to go around,” said Omes. “Get ready. As soon as I get across, you two come ahead. It might not be that bad at all.” I looked at him. Thunder Bridge caused lightning to drop down out of the sky and attack anyone trying to cross. How could he expect this bridge to be any better? “Here I go,” said Omes. He started on the bridge. He held his hand up as he ran. I noticed that some of the clouds stopped dropping snow on the bridge as he moved forward. “Go ahead, Griggs,” I said. “I think Omes stopped part of the snow from falling.” “All right,” she said. She jogged across the bridge. She wound up with a light dusting on the shoulders of her coat. I followed as quickly as I could. I didn’t like the cold in contact with my paws, nor the wet rain on my back. I bounded off the bridge on the other side. Omes pointed his gauntlet at the cloud. The snow returned to falling in its usual density. He straightened his coat and hat. “That was okay,” said Omes. “Let’s talk to the checkpoint people. Then we can head into the Quarter.” “Why do you think he came here?,” Griggs fell in with us as we walked over to the wall that was supposed to keep people like us out of the heavily mechanized part of the city. “Don’t know,” said Omes. “I think maybe as additional security against outsiders.” “We’ll see how that works for him,” said Griggs.

In the name of Harry Dresden, Parkour!

That last tourist needed a little more ketchup CES

Sorry to hear that PG. I admit I like it that the camps can let you drop down to 7k if you want it. Sometimes that's all you can do. CES

The Returned Finger 1 I lay in the sun of the sun window and pawed at dust floating in the air. I was home for the day after helping my partner with his child patients. We found it expedient to put them to sleep, check them, wake them and pass them back to their parents. I had gone out of town and he had checked my patients for me. The least I could do was help him with his monsters. I noted Sergeant Griggs coming up the walk. I decided that I didn’t have to leave my place. She held a box in her hands. I didn’t like that. That meant she wanted a job done. I didn’t want a job, and I didn’t want to know what she had in the box. It signified trouble. I could do without trouble. How could I drive her away without attracting attention? I decided to use the old standby and say find someone else. Omes was out, and I was not a detective. I didn’t have to chase some faceless goon down an alley to beat him senseless for some piece of statuary that I didn’t care about. And I personally didn’t like Griggs. She had allowed a major summoning to occur instead of massaging the law enough to give us a way not to be blamed for our vigilante actions. I could do without helping her with whatever her current problem was. “Sergeant Griggs at the door,” said Addison. “She says it’s an emergency.” “Did you tell her we’re out?,” I asked. “She says she can see you in the window, Witsend,” said the brain of the house. “I think you should at least hear her out.” “Really?,” I said. “I didn’t think anyone could see into the window from outside.” “Witsend,” said Addison. “I know you like to be petty, but please talk to this woman.” “All right,” I said. “Give me a second.” I went to Omes’s desk. He had three screens hooked together. Two of those screens were running searches through the illegal Metropole connection we had procured years ago to help Omes on his cases. I froze those searches and cut the visual so Griggs couldn’t see what they were doing. “Let her in, Addison,” I said. I remained sitting in Omes’s chair. I didn’t want her sitting there with the chance she could see his notes. Sergeant Griggs stepped in the parlor, thin in the outsized blue coat she wore, helmet on her head. She carried her box under her arm. I saw something organic in the box. I waited for her to speak first. “Is Omes here?,” she asked. I waved a paw around the makeshift office we used. “I need to talk to him,” Griggs said. “I don’t think I have a lot of time.” “What’s in the carrier?,” I asked. I rubbed my ear. “A finger,” said Griggs. “Excuse me,” I said. “Did you say a finger?” I checked and noted she still had all ten of hers. “Yes, a finger,” said Griggs. “Metropole is looking for the owner. I decided that Omes should be brought in.” I looked at her and considered. I knew Omes was still trying to track down the mystery aircraft that had whisked the mystery mastermind away from the warehouse where we had been nearly machinegunned to death. “Let me see it,” I said. She brought the box to the desk and opened it. I looked down inside. It was a finger packed in ice and preservative. I estimated that it was a girl’s of maybe eight, possibly as old as twelve. The end had already suffered some necrosis. I could fix that if we found the rest of her in time. “Close the box,” I said. “There’s a chance we can reattach it if we can find the girl in time.” “It’s a girl’s finger?,” Griggs asked. “Are you sure?” “Yes,” I said. “It’s obviously a girl’s finger.” “Can I use your screen?,” she asked. I jumped in front of the two doing the search so she could use the open one. She dialed a number I was unfamiliar with, and asked to speak with Inspector Hierath. The Inspector’s broad face filled the glass a minute later. “Griggs?,” said Hierath. “Do you have anything?” “The finger belongs to a young girl,” said Griggs. “It’s possible we’re looking for someone who thought a girl lived at the residence.” “We’ll send around to the schools,” said the Inspector. “Can your people find the messenger?” “I don’t see why not,” I said as I jumped on the desk. “Omes can track anything. The problem is the girl might still lose the finger if we’re not ready to operate as soon as we find her. I’m going to send my nurse to my office to open it up. As soon as we find the girl, we’ll take her there and I’ll put the finger back on.” “All right,” said the Inspector. “What do you need from my end?” “I want you to send someone to pick her up and help get things ready,” I said. “I’m going to messenger the finger to the office so it will be there. As soon as we find the girl, that’s where we’re going.” “All right,” said Hierath. I gave him Elga’s address. And then I cut the line. I made two calls next. The first was to Elga Spangler, my nurse and personal assistant. I told her what was going on and what I needed her to do. She said she would be ready for the constable to arrive to pick her up. The second call was to a messenger service I used to send samples to the hospital. I told them I need them at the entrance to Time Village, and I needed to send the box to my office. They quoted me a price about half more of what I usually paid. I told the dispatcher that Metropole would pay double if he could get there in the next few minutes. I cut the connection on his assurances. “Omes is coming down the street,” reported Addison. “Good,” I said. “His gauntlet is just what we need right now.” Addison stopped to let Omes inside the house. He didn’t spin up again. We were going to be leaving in a few minutes. After that, he could spin the house outside space and time. “I’m home, Witsend,” said Omes. “We have a case,” I said. “Come here.” Omes stepped into the room, pushing his bowler back from his face. He glanced at Griggs, then the box on his desk. “How do you do, Sergeant?,” asked Omes. “Witsend hasn’t been assaulting mimes again, has he?” “What?,” said Griggs. “Never you mind about that,” I said. “Omes, I need you to timelock the finger in this box to buy us time.” “All right,” said Omes. Griggs opened the box and he froze the contents. The ice wouldn’t melt now. “What’s going on?” “This box arrived by messenger to a house in East Canaan,” said Griggs. “A note was attached that said if the owner of the house wanted the rest of his kid back, then he better get together a million silver.” “But he doesn’t have the money, and he doesn’t have a kid,” said Omes. “That’s where Witsend and I come in, I take it.” “The Inspector and his counterparts are combing the city for any missing children to identify the victim at least,” said Griggs. “I told him that you can track the messenger down.” “That’s a lot of faith in us,” Omes said. He looked down at me. “What do you think, Witsend?” “I will feast on my enemy’s gizzard tonight,” I told him. “Let’s go.” I led the way out of the parlor. We exited Twenty Two Bee and headed up the road to the entrance to that cut off from the city. Houses flickered in and out of existence as we walked. “There’s the messenger service,” I said. I rubbed an ear as I recognized the man in the brown uniform. “Hello, Brad.” “Hello, Doc,” said Brad Montre. “What am I delivering today?” “A finger,” I said. “Sergeant, I need you to write a note. Elga needs to know the finger is timelocked until Omes unlocks it.” “Right,” said Griggs. She pulled out a note pad and pencil. She wrote the information down in quick sharp motions of her hand. She tore the sheet off and put it in the box. “Brad, if we beat you to my office,” I said. “You will never use your kneecaps again. Understand?” “You’re pretty mean for a doctor,” Brad said. He took the box from Griggs. “Kneecaps, Brad,” I said. “This is important, and not some tissue sample that you can screw up like you did with MacGillicuddy’s cornea.” “That was not me,” said Brad. “I told you what happened.” “Be at my office, or you will be at my office,” I said. I twitched my tail. “You’re Metropole,” said Brad. “You can’t let him talk to me like that.” “If anything happens to this box,” said Griggs. “The entirety of the force will descend on you and your business. There will be nothing left. You will spend the rest of your life on Donegal Island, communing with nature.” “Are you going to threaten me too?,” Brad asked Omes. “I don’t do that, Brad,” said Omes. “Witsend is the one that rips off the arms. I will say I wouldn’t stop anywhere until you make your delivery. This is important to us and to the little girl who lost the finger. If anything happens, your company will be liable. You know what that means. Advocates have less mercy than the Crown in my experience. Just do a good job, and be careful. That’s all we want.” Brad nodded. He stored the box in a pannier on his horse. He rode off with the clumping of the horse’s shoes against the cobblestones. I watched him go. I wanted to get the box back. “Don’t worry about that,” Omes said. “We have to find the rest of the little girl. Griggs, we need to start at your residence. Then we can trace the messenger for you.” “The messenger?,” asked Griggs. “We can’t trace the little girl,” said Omes. “We have no idea where she disappeared from and where she lost the finger. So we have to start with how the box got to the residence. Then we can start moving back down the line.” “You can find him?,” asked Griggs. “Maybe,” said Omes. “Times wasting. Let’s get started.” Griggs led us to a Metropole carriage. Another bluecoat sat on the bench. He nodded, but I knew he didn’t know what to make of a black cat and a boy in white wearing a coat and bowler. “These your experts?,” he asked. “Inspector Hierath will excuse me rendering you obsolete if I can demonstrate results,” I said. “I can make it happen.” “Yes, and they’re prickly,” said Griggs. “Take us back to the Lawford house. That’s where we starting.” Omes centered himself in the back seat and watched the city go by as we headed up to East Canaan. He had shut his brain down to avoid trying to fit pieces we didn’t have into the puzzle. I sat beside Omes idly wondering how hard it would be to replace our driver after he fell in front of the carriage and was sadly ran over by the wheels. I started counting the individual broken bones as the carriage rolled down the clean branch of the river Tam into the sprawling neighborhood of the East Canaan. Each place was a colorful brick, and they were stacked around each other. Traditional houses fitted into open spaces when they could. Docks provided mooring for the river sailors. Various business dotted both sides of the street. Our driver pulled up down the street from a house with a small detachment of blue coats surrounding it. “Wait here,” said Omes. He slipped out the carriage. “I just need to get an original reading on the place. I’ll be right back.” “What’s he doing?,” asked the driver. “He’s scenting the trail,” said Griggs. “That boy is a phenomenon. I doubted him and the cat when I met them. That was a mistake I won’t repeat. And he is relentless. If he can’t find the girl, no one can.” I glowed inside. It was good to know I had made an impression. “And the cat put down a two story hellhound,” said Griggs. “Think about what he could do to you if he gets angry about it.” The driver looked at me. I smiled back at him.

6 We raided the house’s supply of food. We didn’t know how long things would take, and Estelle and Gill weren’t going to be eating there any time soon. Lynley left us Scott, his newest constable, as our watchdog. He didn’t want to explain how he got a child and a cat killed watching a house if he was wrong about where Sammy Crim visited first. I settled in to keep watch at the window after dinner. We didn’t know when Crim would arrive in horse country. We talked about it and I was picked to take the first watch in the night. Omes would have the center watch. Scott would have the watch early in the morning. If he arranged for an aircraft from the city, he could be in the region in hours. Depending on the aircraft, he could land anywhere on the flat land that made up the horse country. If he had to land in town, he would have to arrange for transport to reach the farm. We figured he wouldn’t be at the farm before the sun. We also didn’t want to chance a local trying to take us on in the night. That was the major reason for a watch. I wasn’t worried about any normal group of thugs. My life sense pinpointed anyone who came within range. As long as they didn’t think to use a sniper with a decent scope, we had better than even odds against a ground assault. I warned Scott and Omes about that. I made sure that no one could see me in my perch. If they could, they could see through the wall. There was nothing I could do about that. Scott barricaded the back with the dining room table and chairs. If they came at us from there, they would have to knock the furniture out of the way. A braced chair under the doorknob would slow things down until I could do what I had to do. The only problem I foresaw was how many I needed to put to sleep versus how many I was going to use my nerve disrupter on. Seeing a bunch of crooks trying to deal with imaginary flames eating them would do me good. I conceded that putting an enemy to sleep was quicker and easier in the long run. I couldn’t just think of what would amuse me with Scott and Omes sharing the house with me. One of them might be hurt if I played around instead of doing what was necessary. I settled in and napped and listened to my talent. Anything bigger than a bird brought me to full alert status. It was a trick I had learned in the Army. I turned the window over to Omes at about eleven. He settled in a chair so he could look out at the road without being seen. He made sure to use the flimsy curtains as cover. I remained in my perch, napping as the night wore on. Scott took over on time. I listened to him move around after Omes had gone to bed in Estelle’s bedroom. The constable had reported closing the shutters on that side of the house. If Crim and any of his supporters arrived, they would have to break the shutters to get in through the bedroom. That would make things so much easier for me. Scott settled to keep watch in the kitchen. He could see the front and that side of the house. The shutters should keep anyone out of the bedroom on the other side of the house. Any noise should draw everyone’s attention. I knew Omes expected Crim to arrive at the house to at least threaten us. I wondered what Crim thought about it. I decided that he would do that just to show how tough he was, and he needed somewhere to stage an assault on either Major Fibbley’s estate, or the hospital. Estelle’s house was perfect for either thing. I looked at the train of logic and decided that Omes was right. Some time in the next few days we would be fighting. I already planned to give Sammy some stomach problems to remember me by until he got someone who could help him. The sun came up and we raided the kitchen supplies again. I frowned at the dwindling supply of milk. We needed to get more. Scott and Omes split the eggs and bacon with me. I didn’t bother with the toast. I lapped at my milk until it was gone. Then I returned to my perch next to the window. A few hours later, I noted a wagon full of men turning into the private driveway leading to the house. I rubbed an ear as I watched. This could be what we were waiting to happen. “We have some company,” I reported. “Scott, watch the back. Get ready to work Omes. We want to drop them fast and silently. The more time they have, the chance of hurting us will go up.” “I’m ready,” said Omes. He slipped his gauntlet on. “How do you want to work this?” “We let them come up to the house,” I said. “I count six. When they break in the door, we take as many as we can before they enter the house. We’ll fall back to the kitchen if we can’t take them all between the two of us.” “Got it,” said Omes. “Got the plan, Constable Scott?” “I’m ready in case we have to fight,” said the constable. “They seem to be approaching the front door as a group.” “Crim will want to get inside to plan his next move,” I said. “Let’s see what we can do to stop that,” said Omes. A knock sounded on the door. I had a view of the outside of the door from where I sat. Omes was away from the door, using the couch for cover. Crim waited for a minute. He knocked on the door again. “Nobody home,” shouted Omes. “Go away.” “Open this door,” shouted Crim. “No,” said Omes. “I’m guarding the property. No visitors.” “Open it,” shouted Crim. “Or else.” “No,” shouted Omes back. “Go away.” Crim stepped back. He gestured for one of his men to hit the door. It exploded inward as the lock broke out of the frame. “Go to sleep,” I said. The door opener hit the floor. He snored as his friends looked at him. They must have thought he had knocked himself out knocking the door out of the way. The rest of the group tried to fill the room. Omes and I alternated attacks until we had a stack of thugs. Some were frozen, some were asleep. Crim looked at the pile in dismay. “You’re under arrest, sir,” said Scott. “If you don’t mind placing your hands behind your head.” “You can’t do this to me,” said Crim. He turned to run. “Go to sleep,” I said. He froze in place before he fell to the ground. “I think I have to call the Inspector,” said Scott. “You two should work for us. That was brilliant.” “I’m too young, Bill,” said Omes. “I’m a doctor, not a policeman,” I said. “It looks like this whole thing is done.” “I have to agree with that,” said Omes. “We’ll stick around until we can get these prisoners turned over. You’ll have to take the credit, Bill. Can you do that?” “I guess,” said Scott. “It doesn’t feel right.” “I know,” said Omes. “We can’t testify. You’re the only one who can make any charge stick.” “And you were the best witness for it,” I said. “They break in, trip over themselves, and knock each other out.” Scott made a face as if visualizing a report of such unlikeliness. Five men knocking each other out was the height of buffoonery. “Let me call the Inspector,” said Scott. “I have a feeling I am going to need some help to skirt all of the improper things that happened here.” “I think we should get some lunch while we wait,” I said. “I think we have abused the lady’s food enough,” said Omes. “But I could do with some more of those cookies to take on the road.” “What do I tell Inspector Lynley?,” asked Scott. “Tell him we are going home and left him all the glory,” Omes said. “It wasn’t as neat as I usually like to leave things, but now he has cause to search for a link between Gill and Crim. That should keep him busy for a while.” I didn’t mention that Omes would have to reverse the freezing. Let them stay timelocked until someone figured it out.

I switched it up Cancer. CES

I need to make three picks to catch up. I'm optioning Jonah Hex, The Rawhide Kid, and Kid Colt. That leaves me with just my monster. CES

Check your roster. Everyone should have nine picks. The last pick is wed at five pm. Psybolt Location: Tombstone Cowboys 1 Mattie Ross (True Grit) 2 Tom Sawyer (Tom Sawyer) 3 Laura Ingalls (Little House on the Prairie) 4 Hawk (The Revenant) 5 Tonto (The Lone Ranger) Monster: Pennywise (It) options 1 Little Bill Dagget (Unforgiven) 2 3 Old Man Location: Devil's Tower Cowboys 1 Mani (Brotherhood of the Wolf) 2 Brisco County Jr (adventures of Brisco County Jr) 3 The Lady (Quick and the Dead) 4 Dr King Schultz (Django Unchained) 5 Hannie Caulder (Hannie Caulder) Monster options 1 Micheala Quinn (Medicine Woman) 2 3 Pattern Ghost Location: Hell on Wheels Cowboys 1 James West (Wild Wild West) 2 Kwai Chang Caine (Kung Fu) 3 Brett Maverick (Maverick) 4 Thor Gunderson/The Swede (Hell on Wheels) 5 Captain Nemo (Mysterious Island) Monster The Thing (The Thing) options 1 Dr. Moreau 2 The Pinkertons 3 Csyphrett Location Deadwood Cowboys 1 Rowdy Yates (Rawhide) 2 The Man with No Name (A Fistful of Dollars) 3 Preacher (Pale Rider) 4 Josey Wales (The Outlaw Josey Wales) 5 Will Munny (Unforgiven) Monster options 1 Jonah Hex 2 Kid Colt 3 Rawhide Kid Doc Shadow Location: Abilene, Kansas Cowboys 1 G.W. McLintock (McLintock) 2 John T Chance (Rio Bravo) 3 Jake Cutter (The Comancheros) 4 Cole Thorton (El Dorado) 5 Nathan Brittles (She Wore A Yellow Ribbon) Monster options 1 Kirby York (Fort Apache) 2 The Ringo Kid (Stagecoach) 3 The Calvary Sociotard Location: Pueblo Village, New Mexico Cowboys 1 Liz (Brimstone) 2 Sam Jones/Chaa-duu-ba-its-iidan (The Missing) 3 4 5 Monster :He Who Walks Behind the Rows (Children of the Corn) options 1 The Ben Wade Gang (3:10 to Yuma) 2 3 Cancer Location: Fort Sumner, New Mexico Cowboys 1 Pecos Bill 2 Yosemite Sam 3 El Kabong 4 Sheriff Woody 5 Monster Judge Roy Bean options 1 Murder Steer 2 El Muerto 3 Watchman Mark IV Location San Francisco, 1855 Cowboys 1 Jim Duncan (High Plains Drifter) 2 The Sundance Kid (Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid) 3 John 'Doc' Holliday (Tombstone) 4 Fee 'the Kid'Herod (Quick and the Dead) 5 Monster options 1 2 3 Clnicholsusa Location Kansas City, Missouri Cowboys 1 Jess Haywood (Shakiest Gun in the West) 2 Jacob McCandles (Big Jake) 3 Thomas van Leek (El Diablo) 4 Slim Honeycutt (Cowboys) 5 Charlie Schwartz (Cowboys) Monster The Grand High Witch options 1 Deekin Scalesinger 2 3

Byangoma makes his living as a fortune teller, helping those in need with kind words and necessary wisdom. He has joined the rest of the heroes where his ability to divine answers and know the future has allowed him to stay one step ahead of criminal schemes. Byangoma passes himself off as a beggar, but a bird motif is always present. CES

The villainess known as Polka Dot loves to lead people on a merry dance parade with her accordian. She has been known to snarl up areas for hours as her victims cavort along behind her. CES

The sixth group is the one that is causing fits in terms of origin and mission. I'm leaning towards using PROFESSOR CAVOR as the LXG in question and the team is a spacefaring one (although limited to the solar system). So far the characters are leaning towards astronauts on board a space station or spaceflight mission who later discover that the "seeds of life" were planted millions of years ago throughout various locations in the Solar System but only one has germinated (Earth, of course). The characters have now found the "seeds" and have been transformed into beings adapted to the worlds they were meant to bring life to. Some remain human others not so much although its up in the air if that is permanent. The team also dosn't have a name. The big problem I have is how are these people going to meet Cavor and how is he here in the 21st century. He is not someone you want to send into danger leading a team of parahumans who are not that happy that they have turned into something other than human by accident. All the other spacefarer types like John Carter, Gulliver Jones, and Carson Napier are more planet specific and their means of transport are a bit out there. Cavor at least has a means of travel that can be enhanced and modified through is own inventions and of course, he has the formula for "Cavorite" to get them in space in hurry. I'm looking for suggestions and/or alternatives to make this group work. I'm also looking for another acronym for LXG besides League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. You can say that Cavor found one of these seeds on the moon and it made him effectively immortal. That would cover the time difference. He might be living on the moon, studying the effect. If he is on our side of the moon, someone seeing his base might want to send someone up to talk to him. The initial crew could be the contact team. Another suggestion other than Cavor being contacted on the moon is involvement with the Rocket Defense Group and its ongoing battle against aliens. His crew could be cobbled together out of that, or out of a class he is teaching. The last would make his team a class project financed by his university, but it's an easy lead in to an adventure. Maybe someone like Elon Musk asks him to put together a team of engineers to build a habitat on other planets and his crew are the initial team of engineers for that. CES

I'll do a round up when I get home. I know that I am behind on my picks. CES

Too far in the future CES

5 Estelle and the Mad Stabber had a seat in the dining room of the house. They were manacled together and to the table. I suppose someone wasn’t taking a chance they would get up and run away with four blue coats at the doors, the Inspector and Omes sitting at the table with them and me sitting on a chair in the corner. “Who wants to get started and tell me why you killed James Frank?,” Lynley asked. “We don’t have to say anything to you, blue belly,” said the man. “Why don’t you take us in and arrange for our bond?” “I can turn you over to the cat again,” said Lynley. “I’m sure he would like to ask you some questions.” “You can’t let that fiend torture us,” said the man. “It’s not right.” “Killing someone over a race isn’t right either,” said Lynley. “You’re going to hang regardless. I would rather you tell me something so I don’t have to hang your cousin too.” “She doesn’t know about any of this,” said the man. “I wasn’t supposed to kill Frank. He just got in my way at the last minute and I had to do something. I didn’t realize he was the horse’s host line until after it faded away.” “But it didn’t matter,” said Lynley. “Getting the pooka out of the way was the real reason you were there. Killing Frank was just as good as putting the pooka somewhere it wouldn’t be found.” “Yes,” said the murderer. “But it was an accident. The plan was to take the horse and hide it. I had a spot picked out in the estate across the road. Everyone has said Conley Schwa is almost a recluse with almost nobody living on his land. I planned to hide the pooka over there. When the race was over, all I would have to do was release it to go back to its stable.” “And if anybody reported the pooka, then it would be on Mister Schwa to prove it had nothing to do with him,” said Lynley. “I commend you for some sound reasoning. Was Mr. Frank helping you with your scheme before you killed him?” “No,” said the killer. “I grabbed the horse and was leading him away. I had a cart to attach the pooka to so I didn’t have to ride him, and I didn’t have to lead him. I had a normal horse to go out there. I planned to tie the horse off to the cart and roll back behind the pooka. Frank showed up out of the blue. He was screaming at me. I stabbed him when he jumped me.” “You stabbed him with this?,” asked Lynley. He held up the knife Omes had found in the secret pocket. “Yes,” said the killer. “Are we done here?,” “One last question, Mr. Gill,” said Omes. “Who hired you to do this job?” “No one,” said Gill. “No one hired me. I was doing the job to make some money at the next race.” Now that was the first lie he told. I watched him as I rubbed my ear. Someone more threatening than the police had a grip on him. I could maybe get a name if I wanted to, but it wouldn’t be admissible. As soon as he came out of it, he could retract anything he said. “We can protect you, Mr. Gill,” Lynley said. “No one would know you were still alive after we’re done.” “Take care of Estelle,” said Gill. “That’s all I can ask.” Lynley frowned at the plea. Why was Estelle more important to him than his own life? “I will talk to the Crown Prosecutor,” said the Inspector. “We will work out a deal for you and your cousin. That’s the best I can do.” “Thank you, sir,” said Gill. “Take these two into town and place them into private custody,” said the Inspector. “No one sees either one of them without my presence. They’re going to be as safe as houses until we can turn Mr. Gill over to the Judge’s bailiffs.” “My pleasure, sir,” said Withers. “Let’s start with Estelle. We’ll take her to the carriage first. Unlock the manacles, Pike. Grab an arm, Scott.” The other constables did as they were told. Withers made sure Gill didn’t try to take advantage. He needn’t have worried. If either one of them had done anything, I would have demanded their nerves to imitate lava being poured on their skin. “Put the manacles on, Pike, and take her out to the carriage,” said Withers. “Scott, unlock Gill’s manacle from the table. Then bring his arm around. Then unlock the other manacle and bring that arm around. We’ll lock his hands together.” They accomplished the task in seconds. Gill looked glum as they led him out of the room. He glared at me as he passed. I rubbed an ear as I watched him go. “This is the end of the case if we can’t get him to talk,” said Lynley. “How long can you hold him without letting him talk to an outsider?,” said Omes. “Three days from the time he is admitted to the jail,” said Lynley. “Is it possible to lose the paperwork until after the race,” said Omes. “Maybe shuffle him around between stations instead of imprisoning him?” “It would be a violation of the regulations,” said the Inspector. “What’s on your mind?” “I thought we could call his boss and tell him that Gill needed help, and that the horse was going to run anyway,” said Omes. “You want to tell Sammy Crim that his scheme failed,” said Inspector Lynley. He turned the idea over in his mind. “You want to see what he will do.” “I don’t see why not,” said Omes. “Gill will never tell us who he works for even though the man’s number is in his cousin’s screen. The only thing we can do is try to lure him down here and hope that’s enough of a trap that the Crown can put him on Donegal Island for a good amount of time.” “We would need to convince him that Gill was hurt and lost the pooka,” said Lynley. “I think that would work some, but he would never come to horse country. He’ll send some goons.” “And since we’ll know that he told the goons to pick up our imaginary pooka, you’ll be able to arrest him at least on suspicion so you can delve into his affairs enough to get a real charge against him.” “It might work,” said Lynley. “The key will be keeping Gill from a screen, and having the right person make the call.” “I’ll make the call,” said Omes. “After all, one little kid looks like another. We’re beneath suspicion.” Lynley nodded. Omes placed his hat and coat out of the view of the screen. He ruffled up his hair with a hand. Lynley and I stood out of sight. If Sammy Crim sent some goons to finish the job, it might be enough to incriminate him. If he didn’t, we would have to settle for the little fish and have a go at Sammy some other time. Omes dialed the number attached to the contact on the screen. He waited as the bell buzzed for Sammy. The man’s bloated face showed on the screen. It had years of unhappiness pulling it down. “Who are you?,” asked the gambling king. “I’m Jesse,” said Omes. “Mr. Gill asked me to call you. He got hurt and he said to call and let you know so there wouldn’t be any problems Saturday.” “How hurt is he?,” asked Sammy. He leaned in his own screen. I wish he would sit back. His face gave me an itch. “They took him to the hospital,” said Omes. “He was kicked by a horse is what I heard, but I don’t really know what happened.” “So he gave you this number and told you to call me?,” asked Sammy. “He said you would be worried if he couldn’t do the job,” said Omes. “I just now got here to use the screen to call.” “Who else knows about this?,” asked Sammy. “I don’t know,” said Omes. “I just know that Mr. Gill was hurt and he said to call his boss. He gave me a slip of paper with the number on it.” “Do you know what hospital Mr. Gill is in,” said Sammy. “Nope,” said Omes. “I’m sure he will be at St. Agnes.” “All right,” said Sammy. “I want you to wait there. I’ll send some people up there to talk to Mr. Gill about the job. Are you at his cousin’s?” “Yes,” said Omes. “She rode along when they helped Mr. Gill.” “All right,” said Sammy. He looked furious. It was a quiet furious. I imagined when the call was over he would stand up and kick his chair to express his fury. “Just stay there until my people can get there. Then I want you to take them to the hospital.” “Will I get paid?,” Omes asked. “Mr. Gill promised some money to me.” “I’ll have the boys pay you when they get done at the hospital,” said Sammy. He cut the call. “That doesn’t sound ominous,” said Omes. “I know,” said Lynley. He keyed in a number on the screen. He waited until he got a switchboard operator. She frowned when she saw the blue coat of authority. “How can I help you, sir?,” she said. “I need to talk to whomever is in charge of admissions,” said Lynley. “This is an emergency action.” “Hold for a second,” said the operator. The screen flickered, then the bell buzzed to let us know the call had been transferred. “Hello,” said a new face. A smile full of false teeth and a shock of gray hair not quite in place was my first impression. A busted nose said the teeth had been knocked out by hand. “What can I do for you?” “Someone will be checking on an E. Gill to see if he is a patient,” said Lynley. “I need you to lie and place Gill in an empty room in the hospital.” “Hold on,” said the administrator. “I’ll do it right now.” He froze the screen so he could work on the admissions paperwork. He returned in a second. “What should I say is the injury?,” asked the admissions clerk. “Put down for a broken rib, bruised spleen and liver, and a cracked pelvis,” I broke in. “Left hand side. We want this to be a horse kicking.” “I understand,” said the man. “Let me put that down.” He went away for a bit. He returned a few seconds later with a smile. “Everything is set up and ready, sir,” he said. “How long do you think you’ll need the empty room?” “We don’t know yet,” said Lynley. “We hope to arrange things before the race at the end of the week.” “All right,” said the clerk. “Hold on.” The screen froze again. The wait was longer than the time needed to type something in. The clerk returned with a smile showing a lot of his false teeth. “Someone has called to check on your Mr. Gill,” said the clerk. “I told him the patient was resting after being kicked by a horse. He sounded less than happy about the news.” “Good job,” said Lynley. “Which room did you leave for Gill? We’re going to need to use it.” “Room three hundred and sixty five,” said the clerk. “It’s to one side in the old tower block.” “We’re on the way,” said Lynley. “If anyone shows up in person, tell them Gill is getting viewed for broken bones.” “I’ll pass it along,” said the clerk. He cut the connection. “So he was checking the story,” said Lynley. “The question is where will he go first? Here, or the hospital?” “It depends on whom he wants to talk to more,” said Omes. “And there is a question of time. How long will it take for him to get some people together and come here? Will he want to talk to Gill, Gill’s proxy which I am claiming, or go straight to Major Fibbley’s estate to see what’s going on there?” “I need more men,” said Lynley. “Witsend and I can cover this house in case he comes here,” said Omes. “If you alert Major Fibbley that he might have some trouble, he could get some of his followers to be on the look out. Then all you would need is someone to cover the hospital.” “You two are good with covering the house?,” said Lynley. “You won’t be able to testify if Sammy comes here first.” “We don’t have to if Witsend finds men breaking into a place that has been marked for no trespassing,” said Omes. “It would be our civic duty to stop them.” “I’m going to leave you Scott,” said Lynley. “We need someone who can say that criminals broke into a place.” “We’re fine with that,” said Omes. “Hurry up and make your arrangements. I have a feeling Crim will take the next train, or windjammer, he can to get here.” “Right,” said Lynley. “I also have to hide our two conspirators. Let’s get things going. As soon as I have something, I will screen you to let you know the trap worked.” “I’m sure he will want to talk to Gill more than he wants to talk to some kid who passed him a message,” said Omes. “Don’t worry about us. Witsend will rip his arms off if he shows up here.” “Right,” said Lynley. He jogged out into the yard and gave orders for his constables to get moving. “Sammy Crim is coming here, isn’t he?,” I asked. “I doubt it,” said Omes. “The only reason he would come here first is Estelle has been letting him use her house as a base here in horse country to carry out his deeds.” I gave him the stare of intimidation. Then I rubbed my ear. “Which she has,” I said. “Setting traps with yourself as bait will get you killed one day.” “Not as long as I have you.”

The FBI has seized Mike Cohen's paperwork. The guy approving the paperwork was McCabe's temporary replacement selected by Sessions. CES

4 We tramped until we found a road. I took a look around. I felt Fibbley’s house had rolled behind us and to the left. We were turning more right. I thought we were approaching the back end of Conley Schwa’s estate. The road seemed to go toward town from the feel of it. I spotted a herd of kelpies in the distance. They were playing in a lake, diving and swimming with abandon. If they noticed us, they made no sign. “I think we should go this way for a bit,” said Omes. “If we find our man, we can turn the rest over to Inspector Lynley.” We walked until we came to a farm. Omes inspected the gate before walking down the trail toward the house. Livestock flourished everywhere from what I could see. I noted the presence of fiery cows in a field a few hundred yards away. A wire fence marked for electricity formed a barrier to keep them in their home field. I doubted the fence would do much if they stampeded. Omes looked the yard over before walking to the farm house in the middle of things. He knocked on the door and waited for a response. “Someone is inside,” I said. I could see the blur of life moving around. “Knock harder.” Omes knocked with his gauntlet. The metal knuckles thumped against the wooden panel. He stepped back to wait for the door to open. The blur became a woman on the other side of the door. She opened it and frowned at us. She looked around for someone else to be in the yard. She looked down at us. “What do you want?,” she asked. She wore blue work pants and a man’s plaid shirt. Her graying hair had been tied up by a bandana. The frown seemed her natural expression from the way her mouth moved. “Hello,” said Omes. “I’m Murdock Omes. This is my associate, Dr. Witsend. We’re looking for Major Fibbley’s pooka. I was wondering if we could ask you some questions.” “I’ve already talked to the blues,” said the woman. “Go talk to them.” “We have,” said Omes. “They said their prime suspect is a man living on this farm. Since they discovered Jesse Frank’s body, they will be arriving soon to arrest the man. I just want to know why he killed Jesse Frank.” “What are you talking about?,” said the woman. Her frown deepened and told me that she knew what we were talking about and didn’t like it. “Jesse Frank’s body has turned up,” said Omes. “The police took it in to get it examined by a doctor. When they are done, they will be here to take you and your husband away for murder.” “I’m not married,” said the woman. “Who’s the man staying here?,” asked Omes. “I know that he’s here. I followed his trail all the way from the body.” The woman looked over her shoulder. I rubbed an ear. Maybe she wasn’t married, but someone else was there. “Go to sleep,” I told her. Then her brain fell out of active use and she collapsed to the floor. “Hello,” said Omes. “We know you’re in there. Why don’t you save us some trouble and come out.” A man wearing a suit stepped into view. He glanced at the woman sleeping on the floor. I noted that the flower in his lapel needed to be replaced. “Who are you?,” he asked. “What have you done to Estelle?” “I’m a detective searching for the man who killed the trainer from the horse ranch down the way,” said Omes. “This is my associate and a good doctor. You’re the murderer. Now we all know who we are. What do you want to do about it?” “Killing you won’t be much of a challenge after killing Frank,” said the man. “I don’t know how you tracked me down, but that was the last move you’ll ever make.” “Face on fire,” I said back. He staggered back. His hands clutched at his face. I suppose putting him to sleep would have been more merciful, but I was all out of that. Omes raised his gauntlet and froze the man in mid-shriek. He pushed the statue over as he considered what to do. “Well, that admission of guilt would be great, but I can’t testify.” Omes rubbed his face with his hand. “I can testify, but what would I be testifying to?,” I said. “If you can’t go to court, claiming he threatened you won’t mean much.” “Good point,” said Omes. “Let’s look around. Maybe we can find something useful to hang them.” We started our search in the front of the house. After a few minutes, it became apparent that the woman and man were related and he was from the city. His baggage contained two suits and a flier for the upcoming race. Omes searched him and found a knife hidden in the seams of his coat. He shook his head as he took the weapon and put it out of reach. Omes rubbed his chin as he thought. “We know he did it, but there’s nothing here to take to court,” he said. “Maybe we could match the knife to the wound if we were careful. The Inspector would still have to explain how he found it to a court.” “He certainly won’t be able to say he found it while searching the suspect since we’ve done that for him,” I said. “Maybe we can get this man together with Lynley and see what happens,” Omes said. “I don’t know how that would work.” “Maybe we can use a screen and call his office,” I suggested. I walked to the screen in the parlor of the house. Omes opened the screen by typing in the security code. He waited for it to boot up. He decided to check the contacts for the house before he called the Inspector. He rubbed his chin as he looked at the numbers. “Maybe we should let the Inspector check these numbers before we taint the evidence,” said Omes. “This one is a head of a gambling gang back in the city.” “So we should get him before we call him?,” I said. “These two will wait until we come back since you froze one.” “I know,” Omes said. “Let me freeze the other one. Then we can go back and see if they are done with Frank’s body.” “They probably already took him back to Fibbley’s estate,” I said. “I wonder if we could use someone else’s screen,” Omes said. “We’re behind Conley Schwa’s estate. Let’s talk to him.” “Do you think he’ll be happy to see us?,” I asked. “He’ll be happy as long as he isn’t in trouble,” Omes said back. He pointed the gauntlet at the woman and froze her. We dragged the two statues out of the way. Then we closed the door and stepped out into the yard. “That woman is the first person around with no horses on the property,” said Omes. “I wonder why.” “Maybe she doesn’t like horses.” Just because everyone around you adored a certain type of animal, you didn’t have to do that. “You’re right,” Omes said. He walked out on the road. “Which way do you think Conley’s place is?” “It’s that way,” I said. I pointed with a paw. “We’ll have to cross some forests and fields to get to his house.” “The faster we get this done, the better I’ll like it,” said Omes. “As long as no one shows up to pick up our mystery man, we should be all right.” “We’ve lost if that happens, haven’t we?,” I asked. “I wouldn’t say lost,” said Omes. “We would have to track him down again, and he will be harder to follow if he leaves the horse country.” I led the way through a wooden fence and down into a small forest of trees. We made excellent time across Schwa’s property in my opinion. The manor house appeared after about twenty minutes of walking. We circled around to the front door. Omes knocked on the door with his gauntlet. We waited patiently. The butler opened the door and looked astonished to see such a raggedy pair at his threshold. “How can I help you, gentleman?,” said the butler. There was a small trace of scorn on his lips. “Would you tell Mr. Schwa that Murdock Omes and Dr. Witsend would like to use his screen for a moment to call Metropole?,” said Omes. “Tell him this is not about a summoning, or any immediate danger to him, or you.” “Is that a threat?” The butler glared down on us. “Go to sleep,” I said. He fell over. I stepped over his body and walked inside the house. “Schwa! It’s Dr. Witsend! We need to ask a favor!” “That’s not a way to curry favor,” said Omes. He followed behind me, hat pushed back on his brow. “I considered giving him a stroke.” I looked around. Schwa was in his parlor. “The next time he’ll know to jump instead of getting in the way.” “Dr. Witsend?,” Conley Schwa’s thin form presented itself. “What are you doing here?” “Putting your butler to sleep,” said Omes. “Still cranky?,” said Schwa. “It’s a pleasure to see both of you again. I assume this is about a case.” “We’re investigating Major Fibbley’s missing pooka, Conley,” Omes said. “We need to call over to the Fibbley estate and talk to the local inspector.” “I don’t have a problem with that,” said Schwa. “I recommended you to the Major. He’s a gruff old man, but my father and he were on good terms until the day he died.” “He’s a bit pushy,” I said. I rubbed an ear. “Really?,” said Schwa. “I suppose he is.” “We have most everything locked down, Conley,” Omes said. “I’m just trying to clear up one loose end.” “I moved the screen out of Father’s office,” said Schwa. “I bricked the door and wall over and opened the room out to the elements.” Schwa led us to his parlor. A screen had been set in the wall over the fireplace. He reached up and dialed the Fibbley screen with a thin hand. “Did you kill Harmon, Doctor?,” Schwa asked. “He’s taking a nap.” I settled on the couch and pulled myself into a ball. “He’ll wake up eventually.” The screen lit up. The face was new, but it lit up when it saw Schwa in his parlor. “Hello, Mr. Schwa,” said the woman. “How are you doing today?” “Hello, Margaret,” said Schwa. “Is your father around, or a constable?” “They just brought Jesse back,” Margaret Fibbley said. “Is that the detective from the city?” “Yes, ma’m,” said Omes. “Could you get one of the policemen for me? I have something I need to tell them.” “I’ll get one,” said Margaret. “Excuse me.” She went away from the screen. “Takes after her mother, doesn’t she?,” Omes asked. “Yes,” said Schwa. He smiled slightly. Inspector Lynley appeared on the screen. He nodded to Schwa and Omes. “What do you have, gentlemen?,” asked the Inspector. “We tracked your murderer down to a property behind Mr. Schwa’s estate,” said Omes. “We took him and the woman he was boarding with but it is up to you to fabricate a reason to do a search. It seems like he is connected to one of the big rings from the city.” “I can say we are acting on a tip,” said Lynley. “Why can’t I say you found the man?” “I can’t testify in court,” said Omes. “Witsend can, but he would have to prove he could track your murderer in the rain after two days. I don’t think he can.” “I understand,” said Lynley. “I will send a squad around to look at things.” Omes gave him the address of the farm, and directions from the murder scene. “I left them frozen in place,” said Omes. “It took us a while to cross through Mr. Schwa’s property to call you. If someone was coming to pick him up, he might already be there moving their bodies.” “I’ll tell the boys to hurry,” said Lynley. “We’re going back to meet them,” said Omes. “Thanks for the help, Inspector.” He reached up and pushed the call cut button. “Thanks for you help, Conley,” said Omes. “We have to go if we want to beat the Metro people over to that farm.” “Take care of yourselves,” said Schwa. “Come back and tell me what this was all about when it’s over.” “We will,” said Omes. He walked to the front door. I followed with a jump from the couch. “Please wake up Harmon, Doctor,” said Schwa. “I use him to read my mail.” “Yes,” I said. We walked out of the mansion. I told the butler to wake up as we passed. He snorted and tried to sit up. Omes waved at him as we circled the mansion and headed back to where we had left our captives. Omes glanced at the space where Schwa’s father’s office used to be as we passed. He nodded to himself. Finding the killer drowned in the polluted waters of the Tam had extinguished any fear that he would keep trying to kill Conley with his letters. That had been a job well done in my opinion. We retraced our steps back through the woods to the other farm. Once Lynley had his murderer in hand, the job would be over. We reached the farm after the Metropole. They had our murderer and the owner leaning against the wall in their frozen state. The door was open and Pike was on guard outside of it. “Could you unlock them please?,” he asked. “The Inspector wants to ask them some questions.” Omes smiled.

3 “I need you to get my pooka back,” said Fibbley. “Ash Eater is the fastest of my herd. Everyone knows him. He can outrun anything.” “What about the trainer?,” asked Omes. “What about him?,” said Fibbley. “I don’t care about him as long as I can get my racer back.” “We would like to talk to him, Master Omes,” said the Inspector. “Inspector?,” said Omes. “Luther Lynley,” said the blue coat. “What do you need from us?” “I just need to look around,” said Omes. “Eventually I’ll cut a trail and then I’ll see how far that takes me.” “So you will get my racer back?,” said Fibbley. “I can’t promise that,” said Omes. “I’m just going to look around. When I’m done, I’ll have a better idea of what happened. The pooka might already be out of the country by now.” “That’s unacceptable,” said Fibbley. “I demand results.” “Excuse me,” said Omes. He said it in a way that said he was getting ready to walk away from this problem. An overnight flight here and an overnight flight home was the cost of doing business. He would write the time off if he didn’t feel the urge to find out what had happened to Frank. “You will find my racer or I will ruin you,” said Fibbley. He loomed over Omes. “Face on fire,” I said. I reached in and activated all the nerves in his face with that command. He went down screaming in pain. “Mute.” He tried to scream but nothing came out. “Stop burning.” The blue coats looked at me like I was a monster. I admit that the Army had used up a lot of my consideration for anyone who thought they gave orders. And no one threatened my boy. I would rip their arms off first. “We aren’t your servants,” I said. “The next time you think you’re giving orders, you remember I was in the Sky Wolves. And you remember what our war cry was because I can make it happen.” “Withers,” said the Inspector. “Take the Major up to the house. We’ll call him when we need him.” I turned the major’s voice back on as he was led away. The whimpering went with him as I twitched my tail and rubbed my ear. “Meanest doctor ever,” whispered Pike. “Don’t you forget it either,” I said. “You better be in my office next week, or I’ll come back and give you something to regret.” The Inspector made a coughing noise. He looked at me. I looked back. “Was that necessary?,” Lynley asked. “You threaten my ward, I’ll rip your arm off,” I said. “Everything else is negotiable.” “What is the war cry of the Sky Wolves?,” Pike asked. “Up yours,” I answered. “I can see that,” said Pike. Omes adjusted his bowler. He looked at the pookas in the corral. He looked at the stable. He frowned as he inspected the building. He turned and started walking away from the building. I followed behind him. He paused every few minutes to look around. Pookas didn’t give me anything to grab. At least his talent was working. He stopped in a clear patch of ground an hour away from the stable. He looked around. He stooped to study the ground. He shook his head. “What’s wrong?,” asked Lynley. I had forgotten his presence. He looked over the area, but he didn’t see what Omes did. “One of us is going to have to tell Fibbley that his racer is gone for good,” said Omes. “And there’s blood here in the grass.” I walked over and looked at the spot he indicated. It was blood, but it was faded and dead. It had been out in the open for a while. “Looks like it’s at least two days old,” I said. “I can’t see anything living left.” “Frank?,” asked Lynley. “That would be my guess, unless he killed someone with the pooka,” said Omes. “You might want to get some help, Inspector.” Lynley nodded. He turned and headed back to the house. “So the pooka is dead?,” I asked. “How do you kill a ghost horse?” “I don’t know,” Omes said. “Major Fibbley isn’t going to like the news, but I don’t see how that’s my problem.” “So where’s Frank?,” I asked. I knew Omes knew where Frank had gone. He just didn’t want to say. “Over in that direction for a few more yards,” said Omes. He pointed at the distance. “When Lynley gets back, you’ll see.” “Are we giving up?,” I asked. “No,” said Omes. “We know what happened to Ash Eater and Frank. When Lynley comes back with help, it will be up to him if he wants to try to track the rest of this down. For my part, I think we have satisfied the Major and can put in for our pay.” “He’s going to want evidence that Ash Eater is really gone,” I said. “He’s not going to take your word for it.” “I don’t have any to give him other than my observations,” said Omes. “I can safely say that Ash Eater burned away at this spot.” I rubbed my ear as I considered. Omes was never wrong in this type of tracking. If he said the Pooka was gone, then it was gone. Fibbley would not like to hear that. That meant his chances for the race was over before it got started. And it narrowed the suspects to everyone who wanted Ash Eater to lose in the upcoming race. How many people could that be? How did we find out? Maybe Lynley had some clue we could use to crack this thing wide open. We waited in silence for the Inspector to return. Clouds carrying rain rushed to the south of us. I watched a spark of lightning dance through the sky. It was prime windjammer weather. The unicorns pulled the police carriage up where we waited. A fourth policeman accompanied the three we already knew. The Major rode with them. He stayed on the other side of the carriage from where I stood. It was still within my range if I wanted to grab his nervous system again. “Where is my pooka?,” asked the Major. “Gone,” said Omes. “You’re not seeing it again.” “Frank?,” asked the Inspector. “Over there,” said Omes. He walked over to where he had pointed. He paused and gestured at the ground. “Right here.” The Inspector nodded to his minions. They climbed down from the carriage and pulled folding shovels from a locker under the bench. They started on the turf. Within seconds, they had found a hand. Lynley hunkered down. He cleared some of the grassy chunks away with his hands. Jesse Frank looked up from his grave. “We’re going to have to roll the body up and take it with us,” said Lynley. He felt the chest of the corpse. “It looks like he was stabbed.” “Who stabbed him?,” said Fibbley. “What happened to Ash Eater?” “It’s obvious what happened to your pooka, sir,” said the fourth blue coat. “It was linked to Frank, and when he died, that severed the link.” “That’s not possible,” said Fibbley. “It’s the only explanation,” said the blue coat. “Pookas follow family lines until the lines die out. Frank might not have known about this. Maybe the pooka came after him to warn him. Either way, when he was stabbed, that broke the connection and the pooka went back to where they come from in the first place.” “What he’s saying,” said Withers. “We have a murder and a killing done by one man.” “And we have to find that man,” said the Inspector. Omes adjusted his bowler. He started off across the grass. I followed him, glad he wasn’t running. Cats weren’t built for an extended jog in the middle of nowhere with no reason to do it. “So we’re following the second man,” I asked after a few minutes of walking and silence. “Just walking,” said Omes. “The Inspector and his men will be able to handle the rest of this business. I expect a suspect will present himself before long.” “You don’t think that,” I said. “You want to find the man yourself.” “I’ll be able to search faster on my own,” said Omes. “And they will have to go back to town to turn in the body.” “What do you think is behind this?,” I asked. “I think a theft to fix the race,” said Omes. “I expect the thief didn’t realize that killing Frank would kill the horse. The Inspector probably has a handful of suspects to investigate on the subject.” “So we’re narrowing those suspects down,” I said. I twitched my tail as we walked. “What do you plan to do when we locate the killer.” “Nothing,” said Omes. “I doubt I can do more than say this is the man. We don’t have any proof that he committed a crime until Frank’s body and clothes are gone over for evidence.” That was not like Omes at all. His natural tendency was to go full bore at something unless an easier path presented itself. His brain said he had put it rest while he scanned the land in front of us with his eyes. I wonder if he would try some kind of bluff based on the knowledge he had gained on chasing Frank across the meadow. That was in line with his usual practice. If he did that, I would have to act as the muscle. That was how most of our cases ended whether I could actually hurt the villain, or not.

2 We used the elevator to get from the mooring gate to the ground floor of the terminal. Omes directed us to a small restaurant opening up for business. My stomach agreed with his assessment. We ordered food as soon as we were allowed in. I realized the waitress knew us from other business we had conducted in the horse country. I checked my memory. The last case in the region we had was Conley Schwa and the murder of his father, and grandfather. That had turned into a disaster that had led to a gigantic hellhound rampaging in East Canaan. Some vets and I fed the animal bags of salt to kill it and save that part of the city. We chitchatted with the waitress as we wolfed down our food. The local gossip had already keyed in to one of the pookas being missing, as well as the trainer. Omes asked about the man, but the waitress only knew his reputation as a hard worker for Major Fibbley. We finished our breakfast. Omes tipped well for the conversation. Now he had some idea of why he was called other than for getting the pooka back. Major Fibbley must not have been able to find the missing trainer. “What do you think, Witsend?,” Omes asked as we left the little diner. “The trainer took the pooka,” I said back. “It seems obvious.” “Then why call me?,” Omes asked. “A simple bulletin from Metropole should cover the country. And pookas aren’t useful for much. This almost seems like an attempt to fix the race.” “Aren’t there easier ways of doing that?,” I said. “I have no idea,” said Omes. “It looks like we have a police escort coming.” Two blue coats worked their way through the crowd around the terminal. They seemed to be looking for someone. I sat and rubbed an ear as I watched them. Their blood pressure was way too high, and one needed to lose some weight along with the droop in his eye. Omes slipped his gauntlet on as he watched them. If there was any kind of trouble, he would leave them frozen in the street. “Omes?,” called one of the blue coats. He scanned the crowd for someone to look his way. “I’m Omes,” said Omes. He adjusted his bowler. “How can I help you?” “The Inspector asked us to escort you to Major Fibbley’s estate,” said the constable. His eyes were clear and he seemed to be fine. His blood pressure dropped when he was sure he had the right person to escort. “I will be glad to go,” Omes said. “Carriage?” “Yes, sir,” said the constable. “I’m Bill Withers. This is Marlin Pike.” “This is my associate, Dr. Witsend,” said Omes. He gestured at my sitting form. “I can fix that eye for you, Pike,” I said. “I’d need some things, and a nurse, but the lid wouldn’t cut off your vision after I was done.” I made the offer because he was staring at me. The combination of his mismatched eyes bothered me. A few minutes with a knife could even things out. “That’s all right, Doctor,” said Pike. “I’m waiting for my retirement money.” “I have an office in Eribia,” I said. “Whenever you need it fixed, call and I will set up a day for you.” “I take it the Inspector is out at the Major’s estate,” said Omes. He seemed amused that I was offering a service when I usually saw my patients in spats of days so I could take as much time as I wanted off. “Yes,” said Withers. “The carriage is around the corner. We didn’t actually know when you were coming in, but we decided to check the first flight in just in case.” “Let’s go,” said Omes. “The rain will be coming, and I want to look at the scene before it arrives.” “This way,” Withers said. He turned and started down the street to a Metro carriage pulled by two black with white spots unicorns. The animals glared at Omes and me as we approached. “Don’t touch them. They’ll bite your hand off.” “Thanks for the warning,” said Omes. He climbed into the back of the carriage. I hopped up beside him. He shut the door with a pull of his hand. Withers and Pike climbed up on the bench behind the animals. The left one tried to turn to bite the bigger constable but he avoided the sharp looking teeth with a twist of his body. Withers picked up the reins and released the brake. He whipped the reins to get the unicorns moving in the direction he wanted. “Has anything new been found?,” Omes asked. “No,” said Withers. “Bulletins have been screened across the country. No one has come forward to report the pooka, or James Frank, the trainer. They vanished off the Earth from the looks of things.” “Do you know Frank?,” asked Omes. “Not really,” said Withers. “We haven’t had to go out to the Major’s estate for anything, and he seems to have avoided trouble in town.” “He used to be a good jockey,” said Pike. “He won a ton of races for a few of the stables around. Fibbley made him a trainer after his last championship run. The word around the track was that horses loved him. He had a knack, and they ran harder when he was in the saddle.” “So if he did take the pooka, the pooka would have gone willingly with him?,” Omes asked. “I think so,” said Pike. “He’s been with Fibbley since the stable started winning races. I find it hard to believe that he took it in his head to do something when he was in line for the purse next week.” “I don’t understand,” said Omes. He looked at me. I rubbed my ear. I knew less than him about horse racing. “As the trainer, if his horse won, he would have been awarded a quarter of the purse. The jockey would have gotten a quarter. And the owner would have gotten half,” said Pike. “That’s not counting if they had any bets on the horse to win and those paid off.” “If he bet on the horse to lose?,” asked Omes. “If he won a bet like that, the gaming commission would want to know about it,” said Withers. “Fixing a race would cost Frank ten years in prison, a fine of thirty thousand silver, and a goat,” said Pike. “I don’t know why a goat is part of the punishment, and it is mostly waived these days.” “So if he were caught fixing the race to win a bet, his life would be over,” said Omes. “Essentially,” said Withers. “There’s not many jobs that allow for that big of a fine. He would be working for the authorities, whichever board pressed him, for a long time and never see any of what he was earning.” Omes settled back in his chair. I could see his brain spinning around until he willed it to be silent. You could mark the change as he put his thoughts in an inner box to be looked at later and watched the countryside going by. “Can you really fix my eye?,” Pike asked. “It’s a common thing,” I said. “A five minute operation would push the lid out of the way. Naturally I couldn’t do it here without the right equipment, but I don’t see why it couldn’t be fixed. You could stand to lose some weight also. It’s affecting your blood pressure.” “I told you,” said Withers. “You need to lay off the pastries.” “I love them,” said Pike. “They love you too,” I said. “They love you so much they’re jamming up your arteries and trying to stop the blood from reaching your brain. They’re giving you a death hug.” “A death hug?,” asked Withers. “I’ll demonstrate,” I said. I reached in and ran Pike’s blood pressure up for a few seconds. He felt the danger signals after things started going back to normal. “The feeling you just felt was what it would feel like if you had to chase someone for longer than a minute. Lay off the pastries.” “You have to be the meanest doctor I have ever met,” said Pike. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Withers smiled and looked the other way. “I’m a doctor, not a hand holder,” I said. “You come to my office next week, and I will fix your eye and put you on a program to lose that gut.” “Sounds like a good idea to me,” said Withers. “Nobody asked you,” said Pike. “Just drive the carriage.” The unicorns made some sounds. I assume they were talking to each other about their passengers. One of them tossed his head almost like he was laughing at the other’s sounds. We rode the rest of the way to the estate in silence. We passed the marker for Conley Schwa’s estate. I hoped he was doing well. It was hard going when a half brother you didn’t know you had tried to feed you to a beast from the netherworld. Major Fibbley’s stable was marked with an arched gate that said WHITE HORSE in metal stanchions on the top. The road led up to a large stable, a corral of wooden boards, and a barn. A manor of plain stone sat a few hundred yards away from the primary buildings. A dozen white horses roamed in the corral. Their manes seemed to be made of white fire, and a set of chains hung around their bodies, dragging along the ground. They glared at us as they walked inside the circle marked out for them. Omes opened the carriage door for us and dropped down to the ground. I hopped out after him. The horses, pookas, paused to look at him. I didn’t like that. Pookas were not known for their kinder nature. Two men approached from the house. One wore a blue coat and I concluded that the other man in tweeds was the good major. Neither man looked happy. I found that I didn’t care how they felt. “Murdock Omes?,” said the man in tweeds. “That’s right,” said Omes. “I was expecting someone older,” said the Major. “Everyone does,” said Omes. He smiled slightly.

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The White Stallion 1 I arrived home to Twenty Two Bee as Addison spun the house into reality one board at a time. It was done so fast that it looked like the house slid into place. The door opened and Omes stepped out on the porch. He smiled when he saw me. “I have a case out of town,” said Omes. “I’m going down to catch a windjammer to horse country right now.” “Now?,” I asked. “I need you to open the refrigerator so I can get dinner.” “You’re going to have to call out for something,” said Omes. “Someone stole a pooka and I have been asked to get it back.” “Someone stole a pooka?,” I said. “Someone stole a ghost horse?” “Yep, and I have a week to get it back,” said Omes. He straightened his bowler on his head. “I’m going down to look the ground over so I can get it done before the deadline.” “Let’s go,” I said. “I can eat on the windjammer.” “Are you sure?,” asked Omes. “Don’t you still have work tomorrow?” “Tomorrow is a lazy day,” I said. “Elga has some training to do, so I have a free day.” “Let’s go,” Omes said. “We’ll be back as soon as we can, Addison.” “Happy hunting,” said Addison. His voice boomed from his house. As soon as we were clear, he spun it out of existence again. “I didn’t think it was possible to steal a pooka,” I said. Omes led the way to the edge of Time Village. I followed with an eye on the blinking houses around us. One wrong step could lead to a house appearing on top, around, inside of you. What was left over was a dog’s breakfast. We reached the entrance to the Village and paused on the street. Omes waved at a cab being pulled by a clanker. The mechanical horse stomped to a halt in front of us. “How can I help you, master,” said the cab man. He leaned down from the bench of the cab. “We need to get to the windjammer terminal, please,” said Omes. He made sure to check the company of the cab before climbing into the coach. Our faceless enemy employed one service in particular in carrying out its plans. I jumped in the cab. Omes pulled the door shut behind me and settled into his bench to relax. I wondered if he knew where the pooka had been taken. Keeping the solution a secret until he could grab some glory was something he would do. “What do you know about this?,” I asked. It was better to be direct, and not leave any wiggle room. I could tell when he was lying by the way his brain lit up, but not if he was omitting something. Different parts did different things and some things were undecipherable even when you could see the motion of the neurons as they went about their business. “Just what I told you,” Omes said. “I was called about a missing pooka who is supposed to run the race next week. I don’t have any details yet.” “So you’re taking the next windjammer out to horse country to find out?,” I said. “And you weren’t going to wait for me?” “I didn’t think you would want to come along,” said Omes. “This will probably be a boring case brought on by pranksters.” “Pranksters?,” I rubbed an ear as the carriage carried us toward the edge of the Industrial Quarter. “Do you really think that?” “Who knows?” said Omes. “We’ll find out when we reach the scene of the crime.” “Is that why you agreed to go by windjammer?,” I asked. “The client is paying for it, so I couldn’t turn it down,” said Omes. We both knew that wasn’t strictly true. If Omes didn’t like the client, or the mystery wasn’t deep enough, he would turn down free passage to anywhere. There were plenty of mysteries in the city that turning one down in the country wasn’t that much of a problem. The cab pulled into the lane provided for its kind that led to the massive glass doors of the windjammer terminal. We descended to the walk. Omes paid the driver before we went into the terminal. A windjammer was moored to the top of the terminal. We wouldn’t have to wait to board. We just needed to get our tickets so we could. Omes went to the booth. He bought two tickets for a private berth so we could fly to the horse country without worrying about sharing our space with someone we had to get along with for the trip. I approved since it prevented me from ripping someone’s arm off. “Come along, Witsend,” said Omes. He waved at me to follow as he led the way to the elevators leading to the boarding gate to the windjammer outside. We rode up in silence. I turned over the question of the stolen ghost horse in my mind. I couldn’t remember a case that sounded anything like that. Why would you want a ghost horse in the first place? We got off the elevator and headed for the gate. A woman in a uniform of blouse, vest, and skirt stood beside a screen beside the entrance of the gate. She took our tickets with a professional smile on her face. “Your seats are at the top of the aircraft,” said the ticket lady. “Just board and climb until you are on deck two. If you mess up, the crew will guide you where you need to go.” “Thanks,” said Omes. He led the way through the gate, down the boarding ramp, and into the deck at the other end. Two crewmen were there to point out which way we should go to get to our berths. The windjammer was built on a jelly fish design. Decks were arranged from the top of the body to where the ‘tendrils’ extended behind the body. Our berth was in a wall so we could look out windows while we were flying. It was close enough to the front that we could see where we were going if we wanted. The bridge was somewhere above and in front of us. Engineering was behind us and below for easy access to the tendrils. The rest of the ship was devoted to berths, public seating, galleys, and wash rooms. “We should be leaving in a few minutes,” Omes said. He stowed his bag in the drawer under his bed. He sat down on the bed. “We’ll be able to get something to eat when we land.” I perched in the window sill. I looked out at the city spread out under us. The Industrial Quarter threw clouds over its towers, obscuring the top of its walls. East Canaan was on the other side of the jelly fish. The windjammer blocked the colorful houses and boats on the clean branch of the river from view. The Annex lay to the north at the edge of the Quarter. A lot of the screen businesses and medical offices were there and surrounding the hospital where I worked on patients I couldn’t deal with at my office. Horse country was on the other side of the Quarter and a distance out of the city. It was where most of the horses in the country were raised and trained. If someone wanted a kelpie to pull a riversled, the horse country was the place to go to get one. “So what happens if we can’t find the horse?,” I asked. “I don’t know,” Omes said. “I plan to find it and return it in time for the race. If I can’t do that, the horse’s owner stands to lose some money from the event. I don’t know how much.” Omes was a great tracker of things. His talent would be well used on this. My ability to sense and manipulate organic chemistry wouldn’t be much use. Pookas didn’t leave anything that I could track with my sense. Omes usually made his own arrangements to get anywhere. The client must be desperate to have my friend start if he wanted us on the first aircraft leaving the city. The windjammer’s tendrils spread to catch the air. I could see them snaking out in the air from my window since they reached beyond the eclipsing body of the thing. I looked around, but couldn’t see any life through the walls of our cabin. “This is the captain speaking,” said the speaker in a corner near the roof of the cabin. “We’re getting ready to severe our mooring. There will be some minor turbulence as we use the thunderstorm from behind us to carry us to our destination.” The windjammer shook. I kept my balance in the window sill and resettled. The city moved as we watched from our platform. Omes settled into his berth. His brain settled and I knew he was sleeping to conserve his energy. I did the same. The sky was clear in my window. The stars and other things moved in the night. If something attacked the windjammer, there was nothing we could do about it. If we survived the crash, I could help with any survivors. The sun came up and woke me. I looked around. Omes still slept in his bed. Green covered the ground below. Lakes poked holes in the landscape. My stomach said feed me. I told it to wait. We would break our fast on the ground. The terminal approached, but passed out of view because the bulk of the jelly fish was in the way. We should be mooring up in a few minutes. I woke Omes up. He didn’t like it, but in a minute he was moving around and getting ready to disembark. “Let’s see what this case brings us,” he said after washing his face.

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