The car rolled to a smooth stop and the door popped open automatically.

  “Evenin’, darlin’,” Charles greeted the waiting woman.

  “Don’t you ‘darlin’ me, Charles,” she huffed.

  Jasmine was a big woman, but it was all muscle. A former marine who lost her left leg below the knee, she was all rock and no roll. Charles did his best not to stare, but she was so damn hot that he broke into a sweat. He subtly moved his arms, hoping for enough ventilation to conceal his condition.

  “Why’s it so damn cold in here?” Jasmine asked as the door shut behind her.

  Charles smiled. “Cuz you’re too damn hot, Jaz.”

  “Oh, you’re goin’ at it tonight,” she muttered as she adjusted the climate control for her side of the vehicle.

  “You let me know if I should stop.”

  “Keep goin’ Charles, I gotta have some story ta tell my sister when I get back. Lord knows we can’t talk about my job.”

  “She watching the kids?”

  Jasmine nodded as she buckled herself in. “And if you start the car and we hurry, maybe I’ll get back before they know I’m gone.”

  Charles chuckled as he hit a button on the wheel, sending the car off to its preset destination. “You know I’ve still got those season tickets. You should all come out to a game some time.”

  “Oh lord,” she sighed, shaking her head to the heavens. “Charles, if you think a five year old and a three year old can make it through a baseball game you are smokin’ somethin’.”

  “So what? We’ll get some hot dogs, stay for a few innings, then leave early when they get bored.”

  She wiped the smile from her face with a snort. “Why am I here, Charles? More Cascadia cleanup? Someone sabotaging the Yellowstone Stress Relief project?”

  “None of that,” Charles denied.

  She turned and shook a finger at him. “You better not be pulling me into more of that cult nonsense.”

  “No cults. Those guys are impossible to find anyway. You remember Hill’s kidnapped nephew?”

  “Colonel Hill?”

  “General now.”

  “See, there’s a committed man. Not like this lump I’m stuck with. Can’t even find a missing kid from Wisconsin.”

  “We got a lead,” Charles said.

  Jasmine’s eyebrows jumped. “Really? It’s been how long?”

  “More than ten years. The lead is hot, so we’re heading there right away.”

  Jasmine looked at the map display on their vehicle dashboard. “In New York?”

  Charles nodded. He leaned forward and tapped the screen a few times, zooming in.

  “In the Met?” Jasmine asked. “Seriously? He got trapped in a painting or something?”

  Charless scoffed. “That was the worst movie.”

  Jasmine nodded. “I thought so too, so I knew you’d seen it.”

  Charless laughed, quick and hard. “You always keep me on my toes, Jaz.”

  He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “You know, it’d be a waste to go into the city and just leave without enjoying anything there. After we go check this out, let’s go find a place that’s open late and get dinner.”

  “No place good is gonna be open at 3 in the damn morning Charles, and I am not eating with you at some dive bar. This girl has standards.”

  “So that’s a yes if I find a good restaurant?”

  “Damn, you’re persistent tonight. What’s the lead?”

  Charles shrugged. “There was a phone call from one of the Met offices to the Hill residence in Wisconsin. The caller claimed to know James, so I got tapped right away. Someone’s supposed to send me the recording, but first they’ve got to fill out some forms.”

  “Probably some drunk kid,” Jasmine said, shaking her head. “There some rich kid party at the Met tonight?”

  She pulled a screen out of her large purse and started tapping on it.

  “You should get one of these.” Charles gestured to his eye.

  “You see these nails?” Jaz practically yelled, waving her bright red nails at him. “You want me pokin’ my eye out?”

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  A light flashed in the corner of Charles’ eye and he blinked, bringing up some documents.

  “I just got the call recording,” he announced.

  He could feel his lips pulling down into a frown as he scrolled through the summary.

  “What?” Jasmine demanded. “Don’t go all quiet on me, it’s creepy.”

  “I’ll send it to your screen,” he said.

  He blinked and gestured and the files appeared on Jasmine’s screen. She scrolled through them, flicking her vivid nails with frustration.

  “This psyche profile is some bullshit,” she declared. “And what the hell is this accent analysis?”

  Her finger tapped angrily on the screen and read with mocking precision. “American English, possibly a regional Wisconsin dialect, plus variations from unknown secondary languages. Background speech of unrecognized language detected. AI requested expert input. Expert says: language is made up.”

  She smacked the screen again. “The hell is that?”

  “The caller wasn’t alone,” Charles said. “Look at the video we’re getting from the Met cameras.”

  They were both quiet for a few moments, digging through more documents.

  “The hell is that?” Jasmine asked, angling her screen towards him. “Are they cosplaying? Is there some convention? Don’t tell me that some larpers broke into the Met?”

  Charles shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His instincts were telling him that this was more than the usual city weirdness.

  “We won’t be there for another thirty minutes. Police and Met security have the place surrounded, and are detaining any suspicious people in the vicinity.”

  “Who the hell is hanging around the Met at night?”

  Charles glanced at more messages as they flew past on his display. “Some rich guy who claims he’s sponsoring an exhibit and demanding to be let inside. Also a couple of grad students and some techno-larpers. They claim they were slaying a dragon, but they were also carrying a bag full of nano-paint, so they’re being held.”

  “I hate larpers. Any chance they’re with the people inside? Or maybe their virtual storytelling is setting the two groups up to fight?”

  Jasmine squeezed a fist, popping a few knuckles.

  “Why aren’t the police going inside?” she finally asked.

  “Uh…”

  Charles flicked through his messages.

  “There’s some video evidence that the intruders have some kind of stun device, so security was waiting for the police to go back inside. Now that we’re on our way, they’re both waiting on us.”

  He skimmed a report and read aloud. “The intruders knocked out two guards in their first encounter. The guards recovered a few minutes later and left the building on their own. They did not see what kind of device was used.”

  Charles sighed. “Their testimony is that one of the women looked at them funny and they passed out.”

  Jasmine pointed a finger at him. “This better not be a cult, Charles. I swear to God, I will be so mad.”

  Charles grimaced. “Let’s listen to the call. Maybe we can pick up on something in the audio that the AI missed.”

  “Now you’re soundin’ desperate.”

  He shrugged helplessly and sent the recording to the car speakers. “We’ve got nothing better to do, right?”

  They heard a phone ring three times before someone picked up.

  “Hello?” answered a young girl.

  “Maev,” Charles whispered. “James’ younger sister.”

  “Hello?” an older female voice replied.

  Charles detected a nervous quaver in the unknown caller’s voice. In the single word he could also detect a strange accent. He leaned forward, listening attentively.

  “Who is this?” Maev asked.

  “Oh! Sorry! This is Bel.”

  There was an awkward pause.

  “Okay? I think you have a wrong number.”

  “What? A wrong – maybe, I’ve never used one of these. Are you James’ mother?”

  “What?”

  Maev’s voice had turned sharp at James’ name. Charles tried to remember the family’s details – he hadn’t checked in on them often, although James’ uncle bothered his superiors in the FBI at least twice a year. Charles thought Maev was born after her brother’s disappearance. Maybe after a desperate round of IVF? He couldn’t remember the details, but, even if Maev had never met her brother, she had heard plenty of details from her parents.

  “Are you James’ mother?” the unknown caller repeated. “He told me to call this number.”

  “He did? And where is he now?” Maev asked. From the tone of her voice, Charles guessed she wasn’t taking the caller seriously.

  “So you are his mother! You sound so young!”

  “I’m his sister,” Maev replied. Charles could hear the anger building in the young girl, but she was dutifully keeping the call going.

  “Sister? What? He said he didn’t have any siblings over here!”

  There was some noise on the other side of the conversation.

  “That the other language?” Jasmine whispered.

  Charles nodded. “I guess so.”

  Jasmine quickly brought up a frame from the Met security footage. The halls were dark and the three figures were only in a corner of the fisheye lens, but the image captured a clear view of the animatronic serpents that adorned two of the intruders’ heads. One of them was dressed in fantasy armor, but no shoes, and the other was wearing a heavily patched cloak. The shortest girl was wearing tentacles on her arms, along with a tight-fitting hat.

  “Speaker?” Jasmine asked.

  Charles tapped the image of the tallest woman, the one wearing the shiny armor.

  “They gotta be larping, right? You promised me no damn cults.”

  Charles grimaced, but the call was still playing so he didn’t respond.

  “Where’s James?” Maev repeated. “Are you making demands? The police told me to ask for proof of life if someone calls with demands.”

  “Am I what?” the armored woman asked. “Sorry, James asked me to read his parents a letter. Is that a demand? If I try calling again will I be able to talk to his parents? He really wanted me to read this letter to them.”

  “Is he alive? Can you prove you’ve talked to him?” Maev pressed.

  “Oh, yeah, he’s fine! He just had a baby! That makes you a, um, sorry, I forgot the word. A person who’s brother has a child.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You asked if James was okay. I’m telling you how he’s doing.”

  “But where is he?”

  “A place called, uh, I guess it translates to Bay Town. It’s on a Bay.”

  Jasmine leaned towards Charles and whispered. “She’s high as a satellite.”

  “What state? Or country?” Maev continued. Charles guessed the young girl was just dragging the call out, like she’d been instructed by the other FBI agents, but he could tell that she was losing patience. He thought that Jaz was probably right – some larpers who had done too many e-stims had broken into the Met and were making prank phone calls.

  “Country? Uh… well, Satrap doesn’t exist any more, not now that Technis is gone. Hey, you haven’t heard about Technis, have you? I’m looking for him.”

  “Oh shit!” Jasmine yelled. “It’s that god damn cult! You said no cults!”

  “Fuck,” Charles breathed.

  The call kept going, but Charles only half payed attention to it as the strange woman’s story got stranger. He brought out his badge and swiped it across the car’s internal cameras, unlocking the speed and safety limiters. Lights flashed and the vehicle leaped forward, the rest of the traffic yielding to their furious speed.

  Jasmine looked Charles in the eye. “I’m calling the police around the Met. No one goes in or out until we’re there, and everyone in the area is getting detained. We’re in for a long night.”

  Charles grit his teeth and looked through his messages. “Damn. They already let the rich guy go. The grad students too. They’re just holding the techno-larpers for us.”

  “Great,” Jasmine huffed, “worst date ever Charles.”