The Blue-Haired Bombshell (6 page)

Carol walked up to my car and opened my door.

‘‘Because they act like sheep, I make them think they are sheep,’’ Carol said.

We walked through the hordes of teens mentally turned to sheep and into my office. I shut the door behind us and activated the office’s defense shielding. I pointed outside.

‘‘Send them home, please,’’ I said to Carol.

‘‘On all fours?’’

‘‘Any way you want,’’ I said walking from her reception area into my main office.

There, in my office, was a shapely woman sitting with her legs crossed on my desk. She had two large goons in suits, one standing on each side of the door. There was also a rotund man slinking around behind her.

I popped my weapon into my hand and slashed the goon on the right across the face with it. He went crashing to the ground.

‘‘As you can see, I also make an excellent billy club,’’ GUS said proudly.

The thug to the left tried to grab me but Carol caught him with a telekinetic blow to his stomach, doubling him over.

‘‘Sorry, Tió,’’ she said rushing into the room. ‘‘All the teenybopper baaing must have clouded my psi senses.’’

I pointed my gun at the woman sitting on my desk.

‘‘What’s the meaning of this?’’ I growled.

The man behind her approached me slowly, keeping his hands where I could see them. He was a big man, but he was more round than muscular. He didn’t look like your standard hired muscle. I kept my gun trained on him as he approached.

‘‘Please, Mr. Johnson, this is not what you think it is,’’ he said voice crackling in fear. ‘‘Let me introduce ourselves.’’ He slowly and cautiously touched his wrist holo-communicator. The image of a business card appeared.

It read: CARLOS WOLF, PERSONAL ASSISTANT TO MARIA C. PEREZ, UNIVERSAL INSURANCE COMPANY.

‘‘You’re from my insurance company?’’

Maria nodded. ‘‘Yes,’’ she said proudly.

The word
CONFIRMED
flashed in front of my eyes. So she was who she claimed to be.

‘‘You know, I kind of think I prefer the standard h-mail telling me you’ve raised my premiums.’’

Maria pointed at me. She was an older woman but still not too hard on the eyes. ‘‘I’m sure your computer has confirmed who my assistant and I are, so you may lower your weapon.’’

‘‘I don’t know, with my premiums so high, I’m still kind of tempted to shoot you,’’ I said.

Without warning my gun jerked from my hand and flew into Maria.

‘‘What the . . . !’’ Carol said. ‘‘She’s a psi! How come I didn’t pick that up?’’

‘‘My gun won’t work for anybody but me,’’ I told Maria.

She looked at Carol. ‘‘Sit down and be quiet until I tell you to speak,’’ she ordered.

Carol obediently sat down, legs crossed, thumb in her mouth.

Maria looked at me. ‘‘I don’t need weapons, Mr. Johnson.’’

‘‘So I see.’’

‘‘She caught Carol off guard so she must be at least class I level 6,’’
HARV said to me.
‘‘Tread lightly, Zach. Killer thugs have nothing on insurance company salespeople.’’

Maria released my gun. It floated back to me. She was definitely not afraid of me.

‘‘You did a really stupid thing today, Mr. Johnson.’’

‘‘You’re going to have to be more specific.’’

‘‘How true,’’ HARV said.

‘‘You rushed into traffic to save a dog.’’

‘‘One, I didn’t know it was a dog. Two, I knew the cars were computer controlled, so the odds of me being hit were slim.’’

Maria smiled at me. ‘‘Mr. Johnson, there’s no need to be defensive. While we as your insurance provider certainly don’t condone your actions, the masses found them quite appealing.’’

‘‘Your point being?’’

‘‘We would like you to be our official spokesperson. Your catch phrase will be,
‘If they insure me, they’ll insure anybody’!’’

‘‘Catchy and true,’’ HARV laughed.

‘‘You’re kidding!’’ I told her.

Maria pointed at me. The mere gesture pushed me back and pinned me to wall. She strutted over to me. She lifted her finger up. I rose up off the ground. She dangled her finger under my nose.

‘‘Do I look like I’m fooling around?’’ she said. ‘‘Your choice is simple. Do the nice dignified ad or bark our jingle naked.’’

‘‘Hi, this is Zachary Nixon Johnson, if World Insurance insures me they’ll insure anybody,’’ I said in my peppiest voice.

Maria lowered me to the ground. ‘‘Very good.’’ She snapped her fingers. Carlos moved forward, pulling a paper-thin computer from his back pocket. He unraveled the computer to show me the contract.

‘‘Trust me, it’s fair,’’ Maria said. ‘‘Just give us your DNA print.’’

I touched the screen with my thumb.

Carlos turned the paper computer over, looked at it, and smiled.

‘‘Very good,’’ Maria said. She glanced over at the two guys Carol and I had clobbered. ‘‘Wake up!’’ she ordered.

The two guys started to move. ‘‘Follow me out on your knees.’’

Maria gave me a polite wave. She left, followed by Carlos, followed by the men crawling behind her. The woman had style. As she walked by Carol she gave her a pat on the head. ‘‘Back to normal, little one.’’

Carol stood up and shook her head. ‘‘That was annoying . . .’’

‘‘Welcome to my world, my dear. Welcome to my world.’’

‘‘Hmm,’’ HARV said. ‘‘You have a call coming in.’’

‘‘Who is it?’’ I asked.

‘‘Sexy.’’

‘‘Sprockets?’’

‘‘Do you know anybody else named Sexy?’’

‘‘Take a message, buddy.’’

‘‘She says she needs to see you urgently.’’

I squeezed my nose with my thumb and index finger. ‘‘She’s probably just jealous that I saved Madrid’s dog.’’

‘‘That would match her MO,’’ HARV agreed. ‘‘I also screened over one hundred messages for you.’’

‘‘Why so many?’’

‘‘Check your wallscreen.’’

I looked at the images scrolling across my wallscreen. Most of them were of me, diving to catch the little poodle. I was the flavor of the nano all right. I needed a break. I couldn’t handle much more of today, today.

‘‘HARV, can you bury my home address?’’

‘‘Of course,’’ HARV said.

‘‘I want to go home and make sure I’m not mobbed by the press or fans . . .’’

‘‘Don’t worry Zach, as is par for the course, I’m already many steps ahead of you.’’

‘‘You are?’’

‘‘I removed your home address from all databases the nano you caught that puppy.’’

‘‘I don’t care what I say about you, you’re all right, HARV.’’

‘‘Yes, I am well aware of that.’’

I went to grab my coat and hat. I realized I hadn’t even had time to take them off. I couldn’t have HARV scramble the address of my office. After all, I’m a P.I. I need clients to be able to find me. Now my house,
that
was off limits. In the old days, they used to have unlisted telephone numbers; thanks to HARV, I would have an unlisted address. I liked it that way. I figured that anybody who I’d want to see me already knew where I lived.

I looked out the one-way windows of my office. Another swarm of girls was gathering. I peeked over at Carol. She had her head on her desk and was moaning. Carol was much more used to being the disher not the dishee. In the long run, this little slice of humble pie would do her well; but like economists like to say, in the long run, we’re all dead. For the short run, Carol wouldn’t be much good to help me get by this crowd.

I needed to be stealthy. One of the advantages of having HARV drilled into my brain is I have a built-in holo-projector. HARV can use the lens in my eye that bonds us to project holograms. I needed a cover. Somebody that the teenage girls and the press would want nothing to do with. . . .

It hit me. ‘‘Make me look like Krazy Karl, the used-hover salesman.’’

HARV appeared before me and smirked. ‘‘Yes, I imagine that would get the job done.’’

Even when hovercrafts were at their peak of popularity, used ones weren’t all that popular. These days when items can be made so quickly nobody wants somebody else’s throwaways. To further lower his appeal, Karzy Karl was more round than tall and had a cheesy-looking handlebar mustache. To bottom it all out, he had what might possibly be the worst slogan ever: Our used hovers are so cheap we’re practically paying you to take them.

The hover disguise washed over me, making me feel a bit dirty. I surmised that meant it was working.

Opening my office door, I could feel the rush of anticipation from the crowd. They clamored, ‘‘Here he comes!’’

They saw me, well, the
holo
-me. There was a collective groan from the crowd. They parted for me to pass through. Many of them shielded their eyes.

I walked over to my car. Most of the crowd had turned away from me and were back to concentrating on my office. I got in my car. I started it up.

I overheard somebody say, ‘‘Wow, he must have sold his fancy old car to Krazy Karl. Gross . . .’’

With that, I drove off.

Chapter 5

Pulling up to my modest home, I was pleased to see it wasn’t surrounded by press or fly-by-the-moment fans. Yep, that’s one of the big advantages of today’s paperless, computer-driven society. If it’s not in a computer, nobody knows it exists. Better yet, if you have a computer to manipulate the system, there’s a lot you can get away with.

I entered my house and plopped down on my couch. It was just lunchtime and already I had had a very full day. DOS, the ‘‘adventures’’ I had today were enough to fill up the average joe’s event meter for a lifetime. But for me, of course, the events of today were just another slightly busy Tuesday.

I kicked my feet up on the ottoman. It rolled over toward me. I leaned back in the couch.

‘‘Ceiling screen on,’’ I said.

‘‘You’ll get a kink in your neck,’’ HARV warned.

‘‘Just do it,’’ I ordered.

My ceiling lit up with pictures and information. Unfortunately, most of it was about me. At least twelve channels were rerunning my catch of the dog. The ART channel was giving my life story. The cooking channel had a special, ‘‘Zach Johnson’s Favorite Meals.’’ In between shows my commercial for World Insurance ran.

HARV appeared on the couch next to me.

‘‘Don’t worry, between the public’s limited attention span, your annoying commercial, and the fact that the public thinks Krazy Karl bought your car, you can’t last as the flavor of the nano much longer.’’

‘‘I hope not,’’ I said. ‘‘I truly hope not.’’

I heard a knock on my door. Actually, it was more of a banging, a rapid banging. That couldn’t be good. I reached under a coach cushion and drew my good old-fashioned Colt .44 I keep there just in case. The .44 may not have nearly the firepower of the 2062 but it looked like a gun and therefore carried more intimidation factor.

‘‘Who’s at the door?’’ I asked HARV.

‘‘You’re not going to believe it.’’

‘‘Try me.’’

‘‘It’s Sexy Sprockets and her bodyguards.’’

‘‘What?’’

‘‘IT’S SEXY SPROCKETS AND HER BODYGUARDS,’’ HARV shouted.

I popped my old gun back into my ankle holster. I stood up and headed to the door. There stood Sexy Sprockets in all her glory. Behind Sexy was her personal bodyguard, Shannon Cannon. Behind them were at least five people in black battle armor.

‘‘Zach, thank Gates you’re home,’’ Sexy said walking into my house. Shannon Cannon followed her in then secured the door behind her.

‘‘Sexy, how did you find me? My house is unlisted.’’

Sexy smiled at me. ‘‘Remember, you brought me here once during my rock star days.’’

‘‘I remember. I’m just shocked you could find the place.’’

‘‘I’m not half as dumb as people think I am.’’ Sexy walked into my living room and sat down on my couch. She looked up at me and smiled. ‘‘I am so glad that I saw that insurance ad you’re in. That reminded me that you are probably the one person I know who can help.’’

‘‘Sexy, you’re being more confusing than normal.’’

Shannon walked over and placed her hand on Sexy’s shoulder. It was the first time I noticed Shannon had dyed her hair blue. That meant she was a Moon supporter—a Moonie. Shannon glared at me.

‘‘Can’t you see Sexy is scared?’’

I had to admit Sexy did look more unnerved than I had ever seen her. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what the DOS could scare Sexy. After all, she was an ex-teen-pop-rock-star. She had seen a lot. This is the girl who once bungee jumped naked off the Golden Gate Bridge on a dare. This was the girl who remastered the Elvis song ‘‘In the Ghetto’’ as a techno-pop-dance-love song. This was the girl who traveled with a mutant superpowered bodyguard and many other heavily-armed protectors.

‘‘What the DOS are you scared of, Sexy?’’ I asked, despite my better judgment.

She looked up at me, barely holding back her nerves. ‘‘Threa Thompson,’’ she shuddered.

Now that was something I wasn’t expecting. Threa is one of the three remaining Thompson Quads. She and her sisters Ona and Twoa may be the most physically and mentally powerful beings on Earth. Ona was a wealthy businesswoman. Twoa was a superhero. (No, I’m not making that up.) Threa called herself a fairy princess, and who claimed to live in a magical realm. I helped the three of them stop their sister Foraa (who, believe it or not, had been crazier than all of them put together) from destroying the world.

If Threa really was angry with Sexy, I understood Sexy being scared. The Thompson sisters were not to be taken lightly. I once saw Ona reduce her board of directors to helpless doorstops with a glance. Twoa has been known to overpower ninja death squads simply by removing her shoes. The thing is, Threa had always been the most easygoing of the sisters. Sure she threatened to rearrange my molecular structure once when I killed one of her trolls (not as unusual as you may think). But for the most part she was as level-headed as a superwoman who professes to be a fairy princess can be.