The next day was Sunday, so when Steve arrived at the school, there was practically nobody out and about. Steve hadn’t been raised to be particularly religious, so he wasn’t missing anything important by showing up. He wondered if Hannah had known that when she’d asked him to help out.

Steve only waited ten minutes before Hannah arrived, again riding a rental bike. After hooking it back into its kiosk, she approached him quickly, a red messenger bag slung over her shoulder. “You’re early,” she noted as she approached.

“I didn’t want to be late,” he replied, shrugging absentmindedly.

“That’s fine,” said Hannah, ignoring it. “Did I mention which newspaper building I wanted to look at?”

“I assumed you meant the old Appleton Gazette building,” Steve replied. It hadn’t crossed his mind that she might have wanted to go somewhere else.

“Well, I meant the old Free Press building in the city,” she said apologetically. “Sorry about that; I should’ve specified.”

“It’s fine,” said Steve kindly. “So how do we get there? Are you just going to get some former client to ferry us around for free?”

“What do you think this is, a spy movie? We’re taking the bus. Unless you particularly want to walk there, of course.”

“The bus is fine,” Steve replied, not wanting to force the issue. He wasn’t trying to be mean, but her rather snarky attitude was making it difficult to act normal. As if on cue, a bus turned the corner and stopped in front of them.

The bus ride was uneventful, as it was fairly empty. There was no driver; instead the bus was fully self-driving. By the city, Hannah had meant the city center of Magiesville, rather than the suburb town of Appleton where they lived and the old Gazette building was located. They got off in downtown Magiesville near the courthouse, in a fairly affluent portion of downtown. As they moved away from the courthouse and towards the newspaper building, Steve noticed something odd. “I was expecting this area to look a bit more run down,” Steve remarked, noticing just how clean everything looked. “You said that this place is gang run.”

“What you see here, Mr. Dodson, is the aftereffect of gentrification,” said Hannah, using a fake announcer’s voice that made Steve flinch. “The Leader had to put the building in a good part of town where the other gang members wouldn’t normally come.”

“Please, don’t talk like that again,” he said quickly. He spied the old brick building standing out like a sore thumb compared to the nearby newer apartment buildings and quickened his pace. They passed a few people out on the street, but they were only jogging or walking dogs. However, they did pass some people going door to door and passing out Bibles. There was also a group of little old ladies that were harassing anybody that was out for daring to do any work on a Sunday morning, apparently ignoring the fact that they themselves were out working.

When they reached the building, they found that it was guarded. There weren’t any physical guards, but there were security cameras at every entrance. Hannah quietly gestured for Steve to join her in a nearby park to scope it out.

“What do you see?” Steve asked eagerly as Hannah pulled out a camera with high zoom.

Hannah pretended to take pictures of the wildlife and the trees that were changing colors, but was in reality using the zoom function on the camera for a closer look at the security. “It’s pretty tight,” she began, peering at the digital screen. “Every entrance that I can see has one or two cameras monitoring it. Given the situation, I would guess that the cameras aren’t fake. We’re going to have to go in through a window.” She put the camera away and looked at the building again. “You’re my partner – what do you suggest?”

“We could try every window,” said Steve, taken aback.

“Not happening,” said Hannah flatly. “Remember the security cameras? They’re not going to just leave a window unlocked.”

“We could break the window,” Steve said, less certainly than before. He didn’t really like to be put on the spot.

“I thought we agreed to try to not get caught,” said Hannah, rolling her eyes.

“What’s your idea, then?” Steve asked, annoyed.

Hannah studied the building again, analyzing their options. “Do you see that drainpipe in the back?” she asked, nodding towards it. “It’s far enough away from the rear exit that we won’t show up on their cameras, but if we climb up it we can reach the second story windows. They probably won’t be locked.”

Steve looked at the drainpipe leading to the windows. “The problem is that I don’t really, well, climb,” he said hesitantly. “Fear of heights, you know.”

“Well, everybody has their fears,” said Hannah. As they were talking, a carload of goons arrived. “Drat, it’s security,” Hannah remarked. “They’re usually off on Sunday mornings to go to church. They’ll probably leave soon apart from maybe one or two.”

“How soon are we talking about?” Steve asked, checking the time.

“Oh, around 10:30 I guess,” Hannah shrugged. “That’s when I generally come here to scout, since my mama has Bible Study then and I can slip out without her seeing. It’s better than baby-sitting in the nursery like I’m supposed to be doing. They have enough sitters without me.”

“Great, so now I have to wait?” Steve thought. He’d never been on a stakeout before, though, so it was actually kind of exciting. “So, you’re a detective right?” Steve began as Hannah started to climb a tree to get a better view. “How much do you know about me?”

“Just what I’ve heard in passing. And I looked you up online Friday when I got home. You’re a nice guy that’s willing to help people out with no thought for personal reward. You’re pretty popular with the girls, you know. That’s why you wear those fake glasses, I guess.”

“How’d you know my glasses are fake?” Steve asked in surprise.

“You remember that selfie you took in your bathroom the morning of the first day of school? The picture got both you in the mirror and the bathroom counter. You were wearing your glasses there, but in another picture where you and your friends were watching TV, you weren’t. If you were actually nearsighted, you wouldn’t be able to see the screen, so one would probably assume you were wearing contacts. But in the bathroom picture, there isn’t any evidence of a contacts container on the counter. Of course, you could store the contacts in your room or something, but you’d definitely keep the cleaning solution in there next to your eyeglasses cleaner. But it isn’t there. That’s why I know your glasses are just girl repellent.”

“Geez…all that from two pictures?” Steve thought in astonishment. “What else does she know about me?”

“Oh, speaking of girls, here’s a word of advice,” said Hannah, dropping her surveillance for a moment to look down at him. “If you just pick one, you won’t need the dorky glasses anymore. Or you could just drop the glasses and revel in the attention, I guess. There are a lot of guys that would love to be you, you know. They don’t understand why you always turn down date requests from girls.”

“I just like to keep to myself is all,” said Steve, now feeling slightly weirded out. The way this girl kept talking about him like she knew all his innermost secrets was just a bit creepy. And he had his reasons for not getting a girlfriend, so it wasn’t really any of her business.

“Yeah, I know,” said Hannah. “It drives your fan club nuts with how private you are.”

“What do you mean fan club?” Steve spluttered.

“Oh. Oops,” said Hannah sheepishly. Then she noticed Steve staring at her and sighed. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but I guess it’s too late now. It’s an online community where people you’ve saved can rave about you and treat you like a celebrity. It’s really private, and only people you’ve saved get invited to join.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I’m looking it up,” said Steve, pulling out his phone and accessing the internet. While he was online, he also changed his privacy settings to hide his pictures. He went to the search bar, typed in ‘Steve Dodson Fan Club’ and hit the Go button. The page he wanted showed up instantly, displaying a humongous picture of his face over a gaudy blue/pink background. “Oh wow, you weren’t kidding,” he said, looking over the member list. “But you’re on here too, aren’t you?”

“Oh, that’s just so I can keep an eye on them,” said Hannah. “I got an invitation Friday night, so I figured I’d infiltrate and see what it’s like. It probably looks fairly OK for you, since you’re not a member, but there’s a lot of crazy stuff that’s members only, which you really don’t want to see. Stalker-type stuff. There’s a bunch of stories, too, like the time your mom chased a group of them away from your house with a shotgun.”

“She did WHAT?” Steve asked in surprise. His mother was one of those quiet people that usually trusted others to do the right thing rather than getting involved.

“You didn’t know?” Hannah asked in surprise. “That’s the type of thing I thought she’d tell you about.”

“Are you sure it was her?” Steve asked. “It seems so out of character.”

Hannah rolled her eyes and jumped down from the tree. She rooted around in her bag and pulled out a computer, which she opened to the corresponding entry. “It mentions the ‘Arab veterinarian from the clinic over on Greenwood chased us from his room with a shotgun’. Given your mom’s ethnicity and occupation, it couldn’t be anyone else.”

“Why wouldn’t she tell me, though?” Steve wondered. “And to top it off, when did it happen? I certainly don’t remember that.” To take his mind off his situation, he changed the subject. “Anyways, what about you? Why’d you become a detective?”

“Because I’m nosy,” said Hannah simply. “Okay, not really. It’s just something I’m good at. People put so much of their lives out in the open, it’s not really that difficult to just deduce things about them. I just have to be careful about what exactly I do. I mean, telling you I know you don’t need glasses in a private place like this is different than pointing out that a cheerleader’s purse is fake in the middle of school. See, you didn’t really care, because no one’s around and I won’t tell anyone. Plus you’re not even wearing your glasses right now. But if I talked about a cheerleader like that, I can say goodbye to any popularity and reputation I might have. You see the problem, right?”

“Yeah, I see it,” said Steve. “You don’t seem to be someone who cares about popularity and reputation, though.”

“Now look who’s the detective,” Hannah smirked. “You’re right; I don’t care a bit about it. I just know how important reputation is in a high school environment, so I try my best to make sure it stays positive. Basically, that means if I want to expose sensitive things like the fake purse I have to be quiet and sneaky about it so they can’t trace it to me. I’m not like a certain someone whose popularity remains high no matter what he does. But maybe it’s specifically because you don’t flaunt it that makes you so popular.”

“Sorry about that,” Steve grinned sheepishly.

“Are you? It seems to me like that’s how you like it.”

“What?” Steve asked angrily.

“Well, you walk through life with your head in the clouds, constantly saving random people and then being totally oblivious to any repercussions from it. Your own parents won’t even tell you about things that affect you because they know you won’t care enough to do anything about it. That’s how I see it, anyway.”

“Maybe you need glasses, then,” said Steve, hurt. Deep down, though, he knew she was right. He didn’t take life that seriously.

“Look, I’m not trying to be mean,” said Hannah kindly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m just giving you a reality check. Take off the glasses, change your attitude, and be more assertive. That’s all I’m saying.”

Even with her saying she wasn’t being mean, her words stung. That was the problem with smart people: they were generally right. In that instant, Steve decided to take her advice to heart right away. Glancing over at the old newspaper building, he saw the criminals jumping in their cars and leaving. “Looks like it’s go time,” he told Hannah, who had been busy climbing back up the tree.

Hannah dropped to the ground and looked over. “Good,” she said calmly, packing everything back in her bag and handing it to Steve. “I’ll climb up, slip inside, turn off the cameras, and open the back door for you. Your job will be to send me a text or something if the Syndicate comes back. Simple, right?”

Steve didn’t really think so, but Hannah had already put the plan into action. She walked casually over to the building, taking care to avoid the cameras. When she got to the pipe, she grasped it firmly and climbed up to the second floor, where she opened a window just wide enough to slip inside.

Steve hid behind some bushes while he waited for his cue to go in. After about twenty minutes, the back door opened and she beckoned him over. “That took a while,” Steve remarked as he approached.

Hannah ignored his comment. “I haven’t seen anyone, but we should hurry,” she told him, letting the door close behind them. “I was right, by the way; this has the Syndicate written all over it.” Hannah took out a flashlight and they began making their way through the building.

“So what is the Syndicate like?” Steve asked. “How do they operate?”

“The Syndicate is simply a combination of a ton of criminal organizations, united under their one leader. Each organization has their own separate operations, so if they get busted it doesn’t tie into anyone else. The Leader takes an incredibly small cut of the money, so it’s harder to trace. That and his reputation makes everyone scared to death of him. Think of it like this: how many criminals are more interested in power than money? I found a guy last month willing to talk about the Leader, and that’s what he said. He met him once, when he was bodyguarding his gang boss during a joint meeting with other bosses, and the Leader scared the pants off him with his attitude. According to him, he’s like one of those mob bosses from the movies that’ll shoot you dead on the spot if you screw with him. Except he won’t use a gun for personal reasons. He won’t let anybody that works for him use one, either. Instead, the guy said he’d use magic.”

“Magic? Like real magic?”

“That’s what he told me. He said all the Syndicate subcommanders, the gang bosses, have to go through some kind of magic training to join up. If they fail, their gang gets passed over for membership, which would be bad for that gang since everyone else would be allied against them. Personally I think he made that part up, because who believes in magic? That’s for the movies.”

“Geez,” Steve said, now a little bit frightened. “By the way, Dad mentioned Arnie was in a gang. Was he affiliated with the Syndicate?”

“He was, but he was just a noob, so he probably didn’t know a thing about them,” said Hannah as they reached a pair of elevators. “But his punishment proves the Syndicate was involved. Normally the gang would’ve come after us in retaliation, but nobody has. That means they’re taking care of the issue without getting anybody involved. Complete secrecy. The Syndicate Leader has never shown his face even to the gang bosses, so he values his privacy. Now, this is just a guess, but since Arnie was so low-ranked but is still getting that kind of treatment, he must have known the Leader, whether he himself knew it or not. That’s why they’re taking such pains to take care of him. Apparently he changed his statement yesterday after previously talking about it being both his canonization and some kind of special job. Yesterday he said it was just his canonization that we screwed up. The transcripts of the first interview got lost, too. So that means the Leader has agents in the police.”

Hannah’s face froze as she was talking. “Wait, he has agents in the police? Why didn’t I see that before?” She quit talking and put a hand to her chin, thinking.

A minute later, they had reached the room where the presses were located. Steve was shocked at how big of an operation it was. Many of the old walls had been knocked out to make room for the presses, of which there were quite many.

“We’ve got a little over two hours,” said Hannah, checking the time. She pulled two pairs of rubber gloves out of her bag and gave Steve one of them. “Put these on and look for evidence we can smuggle out. You know, stacks of fake bills or printouts showing their operations or something. I’ll take pictures. Now, let’s move!”

For the next half hour, Steve explored the room, looking for anything that might be of value to the police. The uncut sheets of fake bills were too bulky to carry around, but Steve did slip a single bill off the top of a stack of hundreds. The only way you could tell it was fake was by holding it up to the light.

The operation was so enormous that they were printing more than just U.S. dollars. Some of the presses were printing Canadian dollars, euros, or Chinese yuan. Several computers in a corner handled online transactions.

Voices suddenly echoed down the hall from the entrance, making Steve freeze. He ducked down and quickly made his way over to where Hannah was hiding behind a printer. “You heard that too, right?” Steve asked in a whisper.

“Of course,” said Hannah, glaring suspiciously at the door. “It must be a patrol or something since neither of us made much noise.”

Steve didn’t get a chance to answer. The door burst open and three men and a woman entered, looking around suspiciously. Each of the men was dressed in a nice, expensive-looking suit, while the woman was dressed like a biker girl, with piercings, tattoos, and a leather jacket. None of them looked younger than thirty-five. “They’re Syndicate subcommanders, the leaders of the individual gangs!” Hannah whispered in terror. “What are they doing here?” The three men began searching the room while the woman stood in front of the door. The men were packing heat while the woman only had a spiked baseball bat, which she was holding in both hands pointed straight down at the floor like a cane or something.

“Now what?” Steve whispered.

“Calm down,” Hannah commanded, gripping his forearm tightly. She dug into her bag again and withdrew a small pistol. Steve stared at it in horror, but Hannah said, “Relax, Steve. I’ve been in worse situations. Now hide somewhere until the coast is clear.”

But Steve shook his head. “You wanted me here so that I could help out. I can’t help out by hiding.” Plus, she’d told him to be more assertive. Without waiting for her to retort, he took position next to an aisle that one guy was walking down.