I knew I couldn’t run for much longer. Those Zumba classes had paid off, and I silently thanked my parents for sending me to circus class throughout Catholic school (it helped me burn of the rage from bitchy girls scowling at me because I wasn’t as fashionable of a girl as them). Both were making it much easier for me to practice parkour all down the East Side of Manhattan which, I have to confess, is a lot bigger than I had ever realized, but running out of breath and stamina will bring that kind of thing to the fore, you know?

I had a plan: I could lose Veruca Stiletto if I took a sharp turn and cut across the island. I had a destination where I was sure I would be safe—the Russian Vodka Room, all the way on the West end of the West Side. Well, I was almost sure. The letter from the New York Public Library must have been exaggeration or hyperbole. It explained that my “crimes against libraries” had put be on the United Coalition of Libraries Most Wanted list. Could they have been joking? Maybe. At least, I had thought so. But then, there was the part in the letter about Veruca, the bounty hunter hired by the UCL, which I had thought was most definitely embroidery, until she showed up at my office. 

I had seen her on the security screen when she asked to be let up to my floor. She wore a sleek jumpsuit, her jet-black hair tied back in a tight bun, her eyes blazing with self-assured smugness beneath her chrome-rimmed aviators. She gave her name, her voice like butter and velvet, all calm and unhurried, and let me know that she was coming up to get me. I asked what she was getting me for and she explained that she was going to bring me to a tribunal where I might get to live if I could manage to work off my—ahem—embarrassingly large debt through some sort of interlibrary community service that would probably only take a few years to complete, if I was very diligent and efficient.

So, I did what any self-respecting researcher-turned-industry-wonk would do in this situation: I called the superintendent and asked if he could unlock the stairwell to the roof; unfortunately it was separate from the one for the rest of the building. He responded faster than any super I’d ever known, so I was clearly having a lucky day, and he let me in to the stairwell. He didn’t even ask me why, and I kind of wonder about that. The hem of my white lab coat fluttered behind me as my Reeboks clanged on the metal steps through the dark and musty stairwell that smelled of rust and Clorox. I jiggled the door to the roof until it squealed open. The daylight made me squint.

And I ran.

I jumped from rooftop to rooftop, my instincts guiding me. Surely this Veruca Stiletto was still stuck in the maze of elevators and corridors in the building and would have no idea which way I went. I could lose her quickly, I thought, and then figure out what to do about the fact that she knew where I worked. Get a new job? Without giving my current one as a reference? Flee to another country? I would figure that out later.

But as I sprinted across rooftops, I turned briefly to glance back behind me and there she was: like something out of a fetish photography site, encased in that black PVC jumpsuit, and a chrome-handled riding crop  dangling from a utility belt, she moved like mercury—her boots must have been spring-loaded or something.

By the time I got all the way down from East 93rd to East 50th, I was ready to collapse, but I knew I had to keep going, because I couldn’t give up years of my hard-earned career to do community service over something as petty as a few library fines.

Well…it was more than a few. University libraries just don’t always have what you need. I started college at 16 (which was pretty impressive in 1979) at NYU, finished by 19, spent five years in the biochemistry PhD program at Harvard, then another three doing a drug discovery postdoc at Pfizer in Boulder. I got really busy with my research and didn’t always return my books on time. Grad student stipends have never been great, so I eventually dropped the books off but sort of didn’t pay the fines. And…it wasn’t just one library. It was maybe 40? In three different cities.

In any case, I decided it was time to seek some cover, so I shimmied down a drainpipe into an alleyway in which to catch my breath. I was sure Veruca hadn’t seen me slip into it. After a few minutes, I got moving again, but this time west instead of south. My friends at the Russian Vodka Room could protect me. I was pretty sure they could. After all the scrapes I’d helped them out of, they certainly owed me.

It turned out the fellas who own the place got mixed up with the Cimino crime family, because of—can you believe this?—a clerical error. You see, a message was conveyed through multiple (underground, black market) entities which suggested that this nice friendly drinking establishment and restaurant of fine Russian fare was in fact a front for the Russian Mafia, but that was only because of an incorrect transcription on someone’s Signal message: It should have said Russ’s Vodka of Doom (which was the actual front for the Russian Mafia).

I’d been drinking at the Russian Vodka Room since I was an undergrad, and so they all knew me. I’d even helped perfect their famous infusions, since they were not too far off from my biochemistry research. And when the whole clerical error of death happened, I was able to straighten things out because my girlfriend at the time was the half-sister of the boyfriend of an Ancient Studies Professor at Rutgers, whose mom had been an inactive member of the Cimino crime family.

I was getting thirsty from all this reminiscing. And from the unintended urban marathon. I kept glancing back as I cartwheeled from parking meter to parking meter, swung from closing garage door to street lamp, and for what seemed like an eternity all the way across the city, I still didn’t notice Veruca. Had I actually lost her? I ducked onto a very seedy side street strewn with trash and syringes street near 60th and Columbus to catch my breath again, and—shit.

Veruca Stiletto stood there blocking the alleyway entrance. The sun blazed behind her,  casting her shadow on the ground in front of me. She wasn’t even panting! Who was this woman?

She had her hands on her hips, and the instruments on her belt glittered brilliantly. She wore thick-framed horn-rimmed glasses with a—leopard pattern? And she grinned. Wait, had she changed glasses?

Ok, I have to admit, she looked kinda hot. But she was trying to kill me. Or at least drag me off to some secret library dungeon where I would be forced to toil away at, I dunno, dusting book jackets for my most fertile years? Not that I wanted to ever get pregnant.

“Look,” I said, my mouth getting ahead of my brain, “I’m on my way to get a drink—would you like to join me? They make excellent vodka infusions.”

Veruca threw her head back and laughed in that way that only a supervillain laughs when they have just revealed their diabolical plan to the hero and are still reveling in their own genius.

But still, it kinda stung. Was I not cool enough for her?

“I told you why I’m here, Iris, and it’s not to cavort.”

I huffed indignantly. “What are you implying? I was just being friendly! All this chasing is exhausting, and I was giving you a good run, you have to admit,” I said, unconsciously undoing the top button of my lab coat.

Veruca Stiletto looked me up and down…slowly. She smirked and cocked her head bemusedly. “You’re a funny one. But it doesn’t matter. You’re mine now.”

Heat rose to my cheeks. I was…hers? Oh, right. For library jail.

And she whipped out some handcuffs (sadly not the fuzzy kind!) from her utility belt and approached me slowly while holding them out, as if I was a stray kitten she was trying to feed.

I glanced around quickly, trying to find an escape route. There were none. The buildings surrounding us were all at least five stories high. Despite my excellent parkour skills, I had neither the training nor the equipment to scale brick walls.

“So,” I said, looking her over, “do, um, those outfits come with the job? Or is that just your personal touch?”

She moved ever closer with those cuffs. I backed away slowly. I might not have been able to scale the wall, but I could do something: I turned to face the wall and ran up to it, pushed my right foot hard against it and flipped into the air just as Veruca closed the distance, startled at my sudden move. I punched at her mid-flip, catching just the edge of her jaw and saw her grimace. Then I twisted and landed in a crouch, facing her and twirled to send a roundhouse kick her way. But she caught my leg and forced me to backflip away.

“Not bad,” she smirked. She pulled out the cuffs from her belt again. “But seriously, just put your wrists out so I can take you in. You have wasted enough of my time, I am out of patience for your banter and for your amateur self-defense training.”

“Amateur! Maybe I didn’t go to Bounty Hunter University, but c’mon, these are pretty good moves for a scientist!”

She stepped closer, cuffs still held out, her grin broadening.

“W—where is library jail anyway? And the, uh, tribunal?”

While I stalled for time, I wracked my brain for some clever way to let her cuff me but somehow make it so I could escape. I’m sure I’d seen that on MacGuyver once.

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“You think I’m just going to tell you that?” Veruca asked.

“C’mon, I’ll need to let my family know, surely the UCL doesn’t want to be party to human rights abuses?”

“Ok, it’s in Brooklyn.”

“Where in Brooklyn?”

“The Brooklyn branch of the New York Public Library.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense. But I’ve been to that branch a few times, and I’ve never seen any kind of court, there.”

Veruca sighed. “It’s in the secret fifth sub-basement, accessed by a voice command that slides aside the Eagle sculpture. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

That was it, that was my out. I scrambled in my pockets for my cellphone and began tapping out a text message. “Secret! So—you’d be in big trouble if people found out about that, right?”

I held the phone out in front of me as if to ward off the handcuffs with it.

“Yes, but—” she began slowly.

“I’ve already started a message to my friend Sara, and I will hit send if you don’t step back! And EVERYONE will know about the secret fifth sub-basement that holds tribunals for the UCL! Everyone! Don’t test me! Sara is terrible at keeping secrets!”

Veruca paused and I thought her outreached hands drooped a little.

But then she smiled, showing teeth. I’d never seen teeth so white! I absurdly wondered if she used whitener?

And in a motion that was all a blur, she whipped the handcuffs against my phone, knocking it to the ground. She moved behind me, wrapped her arms around my waist, and slapped the cuffs on my wrists.

“I trained my whole life for this job. You can’t beat me,” she said, breathing the words into my neck softly.

She smelled like pretzels and kerosene. She remained behind me, pressed against me. I sighed, melting into her. I was really tired of running, and it was a relief to know I couldn’t any more.

“So,” I said, “no cavorting, huh? Why are you hugging me, then?”

I couldn’t see her face, but I thought I could feel her flushing. “I’m not—” she started, but must have realized she would be lying if she claimed otherwise.

She gingerly removed her hands from the locked cuffs and came back around to face me.

“Look,” she said, “I meant it when I said you’re funny. But your crimes are hard to look past. Do you have any idea how much your unpaid library fees sum to at this point?”

“Um, I never opened the letters. I did keep them, though! Just in case my student loans were ever paid off. I have a good salary now, I can probably pay those library fees in—how much did you say they were?”

She sighed. “So…do you know how much the value of all the gold in Fort Knox is?”

I swallowed hard. “No, but I bet it’s a lot.”

“Your fees exceed that.”

“What? C’mon! That’s got to be hyperbole. The UCL must be loan sharks! It was only—”

“Fifteen years of fees for hundreds of books across 40 libraries. It adds up. Also, they charge you more if they were through interlibrary loan.”

“Ok, I guess I hadn’t really thought about the scope of my transgression. I see your point and I really am sorry. I was just so focused on my research…”

“Well, you can tell that to the tribunal.”

“So how does one get your job, anyway?”

“What, you want my job?” she asked incredulously.

“No no, I mean, is there like an ad for ‘Library Bounty Hunter’ in the classifieds or something?”

“Given how quick you seem to be to give away the secrets of the United Coalition of Libraries, I think I will not answer that.”

I scowled at her. “Fine. But look, seriously, now that you’ve got me all buttoned up, how about that drink? You must be thirsty after chasing me through half of Manhattan. Even though you don’t even seem to be sweating. Is it your outfit? Is it like super water-wicking or—?”

“I—you ask a lot of questions, Iris, what are you, a—”

“—scientist, yes. Duh. How do you think I got into this mess?”

“Right. We don’t really have time for—”

“Look, we’re only 3 blocks away. C’mon. You don’t want me dying of dehydration before you can properly tribunal me, right? Wouldn’t that violate some kind of bounty hunter ethics rules or something?”

“Alcohol doesn’t hydrate,” she said flatly.

“We’ll drink water too! C’mon! It’s on me, since I made you run all this way.”

In one smooth motion, Veruca Stiletto whipped her leopard-print glasses off and glared at me. Her emerald eyes shone like twin traffic lights. The kind of power she projected while glaring was…kind of appealing.

Finally, she let out a long sigh and looked aside. “All right, I suppose at this point the day is shot anyway.”

She attached a chain from the cuffs on my hands to her belt.

“So trusting!” I said, glancing down at the chain.

“You tumbled across 40 blocks of buildings to get away from me. Why should I trust you? And your debt, remember?”

“Grad students are poor! I’m really sorry! I am not usually untrustworthy! I—I guess I didn’t consider alternatives,” I said, then mumbled under my breath, “or think the fees would ever be that high.”

Veruca frowned. “Do you know how hard it is to get funding for libraries these days?”

”I—I suppose I do,” I sulked.

“And do you want the children of the future to have little to no access to the books that will shape and inform their young minds so that they may become worldly and knowledgeable civic-minded citizens?”

“No, of course—”

“Or how about the next generation of grad students who desperately want to finish their PhD—” she said, looking at me pointedly.

“I get it! I get it!”

We walked in silence, the chain tugging at me when we strayed too far apart from each other.

A thought occurred to me. “Veruca, surely I can’t be the only one who owes this much in fees. Are you ever able to collect on those of others? If you could, you’d be the wealthiest and most powerful organization in the world.”

Veruca gave me a flat stare. “Your math is good.”

“Wait,” I whispered, “Is the world really secretly run by libraries?”

Veruca shrugged, “I’m just a bounty hunter, I am not privy to all the business of the UCL,” she said far too casually.

I looked up, seeing that the Russian Vodka Room was just at the end of the block.

“Let me introduce you, so they don’t think this looks weird,” I said.

“Uh…” Veruca began.

“No, see, I know the owners. I’ll just tell them…I’ll tell them that you’re my new girlfriend and this is just a kink game we play where you pull me around in handcuffs, they’ll understand.”

Veruca Stiletto blinked.

“I mean, with that outfit—it fits, you have to admit.”

Veruca Stiletto blinked again.

“Are you—“ Veruca began and then stopped and shook her head.

She turned away, but then turned back just enough to look at me from the corner of her eye.

“Are you—flirting with me?”

Before I could answer—though my awkward stare at the ground might have been an answer—the doors swung open and Boris Alexeyev came out with his arms open wide.

“Zayka! So good to see you. Why have you not come in so long? We have missed making you tipsy and listening to you talking nonsensical science things!”

“I—I’m sorry, Boris! Work has been so busy, and now, um, this…” I gestured to the handcuffs.

“Oh so sweet! You are playing the kinky games with your new girlfriend? Please to introduce us! Anyone important to you is important to me!”

Veruca and I both gaped.

“I’m not her—” Veruca began, definitely blushing now.

“Ha ha! Veruca—tell him honey, how we met, hmm? It’s such a funny story.”

“No, really, it’s—”

“So Veruca is a fetish model, and I thought she was way too hardcore for someone like me, but—”

Boris wrapped Veruca in a huge bear hug. “So good to meet you.”

“—we found out that we shared a love of books, and well, you know, things just went from there.”

Veruca sighed deeply and shook her head. She looked up and smiled at Boris. “Yes, she’s really quite charming once you look past her—quirks.”

She glared pointedly at me on the last word.

“Come in, come in, I get you both some drinks. Special today is garlic ginger strawberry infusion. I get one for each of you, on the house, of course. Special day, this is today, no?”

Before either of us could answer, he was off to fetch our drinks from behind the bar.

I turned to Veruca. “It’s nice, don’t you think?”

She mumbled something under her breath while looking around. “It’s a little bit dark, but I suppose.”

“If you spend time in secret fifth sub-basements, I would—”

“Shh!”

“Right, sorry.”

“Most of my time is chasing offenders like you, not in—basements,” she hissed.

I lowered my voice. “But I assume you have to be there at the tribunals to provide testimony?”

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t usually take long. Our justice is swift and decisive.”

Chills went down my spine. I wondered if Veruca was swift and decisive about…other things?

“Here you go!” We both flinched as Boris returned with our drinks in test tubes. I suppose that was another reason I felt so at home here, though I always paused before drinking out of the test tubes, since that would go poorly if they were ones from my lab.

Veruca took a careful sip of her drink. “It’s—interesting.”

Boris was watching us both carefully. “It’s new mixture, just perfected today. Don’t you think those notes, they go well together? Surprising, no? But surprisingly perfect!”

I took a sip. “It’s—um, yes Boris, a very fascinating combination of flavors! Thank you for letting us be your guinea pigs—I mean be the first to try it!”

Boris grinned broadly. “Of course my dear. Come, sit. I bring food. A sampling of everything so your new dorogaya can get to know.”

He shuffled through the swinging kitchen doors and was gone.

“He really does seem to adore you, Iris. I guess you haven’t incurred exorbitant debt with Boris?”

“Hey!”

Veruca tried hard to hide a smile, but I caught it.

“He adores me, because I am adorable,” I said, entirely without irony.

Veruca examined me curiously. “You are at least funny, as I said. But I’m not sure I can give you adorable considering those children and grad students who are suffering for your sins.”

“I—” I began, but I couldn’t. She was right, and I felt pretty bad. I pouted instead of saying anything else.

Veruca sighed. “Look,” she said softly, “you could have asked for help with the fees. University finance departments are usually willing to assist with that sort of thing. I just—I’m disappointed that you weren’t more responsible. You seem like a smart girl. Your profile says you’re doing some great stuff with your pharma research, it’s just—given how talented you seem to be, I would have expected better of you.”

I pouted for another moment, but then looked up at her. “You—you think I’m talented?”

Veruca smiled. “Clearly. You led me on a merry chase. So you’re athletic and smart. It’s fairly impressive. But you do need to work on your ethics—”

“Wait wait, let’s get back to ‘talented,’ say more?”

I was kind of swaying and looking up at her with big eyes now.

“I—stop that!”

I blinked. “Stop what?”

“Looking so damned adorable.”

“Aha! So you admit that I’m adorable!”

“In an—unethical sort of way.”

“Hmph.”

“I think with some—training, we could turn you around, though.”

My face felt very hot in that moment.

“T-training? W-who would train me? You?” I am sure I didn’t look that hopeful as I said it, but maybe a little.

“Mmm-hmm,” Veruca said.

I sort of fell into her eyes at that point and before I knew it my mouth was on hers. I was surprised at the ferocity with which she kissed me back.

“Whoa whoa lovebirds! Is time we get you a room?” he shouted and then winked at me as I pulled away from Veruca to look at him.

Boris set down a massive tray of food at our table. There was herring with potatoes, salted mackerel, gravlax, Osetra caviar and blini, two bowls of borscht, assorted pirozhkis, and beef tongue.

The place wasn’t very crowded, but suddenly everyone was applauding. Veruca and I both looked down at the floor.

“So, is that you real name? Veruca Stiletto?”

“Now that we’re um, a thing,” she mumbled,  “you won’t give away my secrets?”

“Cross my heart!”

“It’s—“ she began, but then lowered her voice to a whisper, “just for the job.”

“Aha! I thought that sounded way too La Femme Nikita to be your given name.”

We made out some more and she whispered in my ear what she was going to do to me for being so naughty with my library fees. I squeaked.

THE END