> “At the appointed hour, they appeared. Duff was quiet and reserved, but Lorna was very outgoing and friendly. They have come a far way from the street urchins that Rita found.”
Both bags I was carrying landed with a thud on the floor, and I turned white as a ghost at seeing the specter of that man before me. It couldn’t be Doug. I had seen Beatrice shatter his body into a hundred stone pieces. And the only other bearer of that awful visage was the person standing right next to me.
Thankfully, Ty steadied my arm slightly and nudged me forward.
“Hello, Hugo,” she said. “Did you at least wait until you left the Guild Hall before you turned that thing on?”
“Oh, absolutely not,” said Hugo in that familiar and chilling voice. He pulled out the chain from underneath his bright white collared shirt and smiled. “I’ve always been fascinated with that rather forbidden branch of alchemy, and apparently you have too, so I activated up in my office right then and there.”
We joined him at the table and waited in silence until our drinks were ready. Hugo promptly withdrew a tiny flask from his suit jacket pocket and added a small nip of whatever was inside, before nearly gulping the entire cup down in one sip.
“Hoo. That’ll get me through the rest of the morning. Where was I? Oh, right. The glamour. Haven’t really turned it off since. This will be extremely helpful in my day-to-day down here.”
Ty frowned.
“I told you not to-”
“I know what you told me, but I’m my own man. I can figure these things out as I go. Besides, you are one to talk. How long did you spend as him?”
“Too long,” said Ty. “And honestly, I’m glad to be rid of him. It. There’s a danger there that will swallow you up whole if you’re not careful. Ask Jen here. She knows firsthand.”
“Oh, that’s right,” said Hugo, a grin stretching across his face that reminded too much of the maniacal look that Doug had given us just before he revealed his true self. “You have one too. Can’t say I prefer this current version of you. I liked you better with the red hair and long legs.”
“Gross,” said Ty. “Jen is the reason we’re here this morning. She needs help tracking someone down.”
“Do you now? You’ve bottomed out all leads, and so your path has led you here?”
“Not exactly,” I said. “But we don’t have much time. This woman is the key to everything.”
I pulled up a picture of Beatrice on my phone and placed it on the table.
“Now her I like,” said Hugo. “She still alive?”
“Presumably,” I said. “But we haven’t seen her in two months. And a lot’s happened since then.”
“Such as?” asked Hugo.
“Her husband served her with divorce papers. Then she took her kid, and then she promptly got arrested and hit with a restraining order. After that, we’re not sure.”
“Hmm,” said Hugo. “You’re fortunate that she escalated things. There are likely court records and maybe some hearing transcripts. If you sift through those, you’ll probably find a lead or two that will set you on the right path. Hardly the sort of thing you need my help for.”
“If this was all so easy, then why are we here?” I asked.
“Did Ty not tell you what it is I do?” asked Hugo.
“She said you were the Guild’s man in Washington.”
“Yes, that’s true, but that makes it sound so pedestrian. Everyone has their ‘man in Washington.’ Or, err, woman. And then there was that one time a defense contractor hired a 15-year-old hacker, but that didn’t go so well. What I am is something else.”
“And that is?”
“I’m the Guild’s Tracker.”
I shot a stern look at Ty.
“I thought you made up the whole damn thing about there being a ‘Guild tracker’ after me!”
Ty shrugged her shoulders.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“What gave you that impression?”
“Because you said … ugh, has anything you’ve told me been true?”
“Yes,” she said. “And no. Also, if you’d listened carefully, you’ll have noticed that he said Tracker with a capital T, whereas I did not.”
“It’s too early for that, and especially now that-”
“If you don’t mind,” said Hugo. “I didn’t trek all the way down to Southwest to listen to you two squabble like a bunch of uptight sorority sisters. Now, if you want my help, it will have to be between meetings, as I’m very busy today.”
“We don’t have time for that,” Ty said. “In less than a month-”
“Let me make one thing clear to both of you: I don’t like being played for a damn fool. Especially by someone I thought I respected. Who now doesn’t even really exist. So I will be dictating the terms of how and when I provide my assistance for whatever it is you two are trying to do, or else next month you may find that my vote is firmly with the other camp.”
“Fine,” said Ty. “I’ll move our tickets back to the 7 p.m. Acela. Are you happy?”
“Oh, I’m always happy,” said Hugo. “Now, did either of you bring your cloaks? The former redhead here I can spin as my new temp, although it would have been easier if you brought the glamour. However, you, Ms. Anzio, will need to stay hidden. Unless, of course, I decide to lend you your old disguise for a few hours.”
“No, that’s quite alright,” said Ty. “Besides, he looks better on you than he ever did on me.”
“If you say so,” said Hugo. “Then, if you wouldn’t mind suiting up, we can be on our way.”
----------------------------------------
“And that’s why this one change here will really streamline the allocation of some much needed funds for retired renaissance fair knights in need,” said the real Hugo Clouser. Compared to Gilbert, Hugo lacked any sort of menace, other than the constant feeling I had that he wanted to sleep with me.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the 20 minutes of bullshit I had just heard, but we were seated three across in a tiny booth in the lobby of a Marriott near MetroCenter, and that didn’t leave much room for anything.
“I’ll see what I can do,” said the tall woman with mousy hair and tortoiseshell glasses opposite the booth from us. She was the junior staffer for a Senator on the Special Committee on Aging, and by the looks of her, it was fairly obvious how she had got her position.
“Much appreciated,” said Hugo. “My new assistant Jen here can give you a copy of the proposed changes.”
Taking my cue, I pulled the twenty printed sheets of paper out of the portfolio folder Hugo had given me before we arrived and slid them across the table, careful not to accidentally elbow the now-invisible Ty, who was uncomfortably wedged in between two of us.
“Thanks,” said the staffer. “Same time next week?”
“You can count on it,” said Hugo. “I’ll bring the gin.”
The staffer slid out of the booth, only for her heel to knock into Ty’s ankle, causing her to yelp uncontrollably.
“I’m so sorry!” I said. “Didn’t mean to…”
“It’s fine,” said the woman. “Honestly, Hugo, if you didn’t make us sit in this cramped booth in tourist central all the time. Do you know Jack buys me dinner at CP at least twice a quarter? Not to mention-”
“There’s a lot I could mention,” said Hugo, smiling, as the staffer turned beet red. “But unlike some of my other colleagues, I prefer the discretion that this fine establishment provides. And plus, where else do they let you bring in your booze without anyone batting an eye?”
We all waited in silence for a few minutes until Ms. Long Legs was out of sight, and then Ty de-cloaked on the opposite side of the booth.
“Would you mind telling me why we spent the last three hours trudging from one boring meeting to the next?” asked Ty, who bent down to rub her ankle again. “These Hill creatures all seem utterly uninterested in what you’re selling, even if you are sleeping with them.”
“As they should be,” said Hugo. “I find a lack of engagement with the subject matter the key to my success. If I came in here and at the meeting at Kramers, and during the chat in the Dupont Underground with all the bells and whistles, do you think they all would have agreed to allocate $100 million in funding for a dozen different public works, studies, research grants, and investigations? All of which are funneled back into the Guild’s coffers?”
“What are you talking about?” I said. “You didn’t do any of that!”
“Yes, I did. Through various subcommittees, bureaus, and the like, funds will be allocated, task forces will be created, ad hoc planning commissions will materialize, all with a singular purpose that they’re not even aware of. Look, it’s all a bit technical,” said Hugo. “But the important thing is that the Guild’s financial future in the above world is secure for another ten years and I can finally leave this cesspool.”
“You did all that today?” I asked. “Three coffees and an afternoon tea and now Dalia is swimming in lucre until 2030?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve been working on this for the entire session. And all of the session before that. And the one before that. Tracking down opportunities to stuff money where no one will find it, tracking down backwater agencies of our delightfully bloated federal bureaucracy where no one will miss a dollar or two million. Getting shit done is hard and slow work, ladies. Which is why I’m not too keen on what J.P. is selling. Speaking of, did you know he was following you?”
I craned my neck over the top of the booth, but the Texan’s stupid cowboy hat was nowhere in sight.
“That’s news to me,” said Ty. “Are you sure he’s not following you?”
“Also a possibility,” said Hugo, pulling out his pocket watch. “He thinks I’m firmly in your camp. And knows I’ll have the inside track on where the votes stand. So before he sidles in here on his charm offensive, I’ll get you started on your side quest. Now, let’s see it.”
“See what?” I asked. “I already showed you her picture.”
“Yes, and I’m already thinking about whether you should pass along my number when you find her. I love a fresh divorcee every now and again.”
“Is he always this gross?” I said to Ty, and she nodded.
“Anyway, my tracking requires some physical piece of her. A hair, skin follicles, eyelashes, or a finger if you have one. Then I can get to work and you can get on with whatever it is you need her for.”
“I … I don’t have any of that. Like I said, she’s long gone, and I already looked for any trace of her at her last known whereabouts.”
“I see,” said Hugo. “Well, even my talents have a limit. I can’t track a ghost, I’m afraid, so unless you’ve got an envelope from a letter she sent you or-”
“Wait, that’s it,” I said. “I do have something of hers.”
“Excellent,” said Hugo. “What is it?”
“Her memories.”