“I think he’d rather die than go back in a cage, anyway,” Maribelle said.
“I concur.”
“Could we call a lawyer, maybe? Get some kind of injunction?”
“First we would have to get Adam declared a contender for basic Human rights,” Judith said. “That debate has been going on for a while, of course, but it doesn’t look to be decided anytime soon. We cannot ramrod any decisions from the judicial system.”
“Not soon enough to help Adam,” Maribelle said.
“I fear not.”
“Poor Adam,” Maribelle said. “There has to be a place for you somewhere. There has to be.”
Blaine listened at the door for a while, then went to walk around in circles in the parking lot. At least it had stopped raining. The hems of his pants were wet from where he splashed in the puddles. At times like this he wished he hadn’t given up smoking. He could damn sure use a cigarette right now.
He heard a car door slam closed. Looking over, he saw a man getting out of a van. A short, heavy man. Blaine looked away, pacing towards the edge of the parking lot and the thicket of trees beyond. He looked back. The bearded man was walking towards him. The man waved. Blaine stopped. *What the hell does this guy want?*
“Hey, there,” the man said. “Shitty evenin’, ain’t it?”
“Yeah,” Blaine replied, wary.
“Your name’s Blaine? That right?”
“How do you know that?” Blaine demanded.
“Easy, Cochise.” The man smiled. “I’m Phil Hamm.” He extended his hand. “I work for WEBWATCH.”
Blaine stood still. “What?”
“You know, the company your little girlfriend works for. And Judith Mocker.” The man withdrew his hand.
“What do you want?” Blaine said.
“Settle down, now,” the man said, “an’ listen. You know what a directional microphone is?”
“What?”
“A directional microphone. You point it at somebody way off an’ you can hear what they’re sayin’. Sometimes it can even let you hear through walls, or doors. I got me one, see. Real good one, in fact. Sittin’ in my van over there, I could just about hear every word you all said inside that apartment.”
“What?” Blaine could think of nothing else to say. His mind couldn’t keep up with what he was hearing.
“Let’s skip the shit,” Hamm said. “We know you got that critter inside that apartment. An’ your girlfriend is in some deep shit, amigo. As in, prison time. You read me? Now you don’t want your pretty little princess to go up the ol’ river, do you?”
“No,” Blaine muttered, then: “No!”
“I didn’t think so,” Hamm said. “Lucky for you, I think we can work somethin’ out.”
“Okay,” Blaine sputtered. “Yeah, sure.”
“See, there’s other people out there that want this creature even more than the authorities do, right? An’ maybe I’m workin’ for them on this one. Maybe if you was to help me out, help me to get that critter to the right people, then maybe, just maybe, I won’t turn over the tape recordings I got to the bosses at WEBWATCH. No recordings means no prison term for your gal. You followin’ me, son? You with me?”
“Yes,” Blaine said.
“Question is, do you want to save your girlfriend an’ her pal, Mocker, or do you want to save that freakazoid?”
“All I care about is Maribelle!” Blaine said. “I don’t give a damn about that monster!”
The man, Hamm, grinned. “There, now,” he said. “I knew you was a man I could do business with.”
