Tricks of the Trade - By Laura Anne Gilman Page 0,49

pplace, for certain.

I knocked at the top floor apartment, shifting my kit to my right hand to do so, and I’d barely let my hand drop before a voice came through the door.

“Yes?”

The voice was female, and dubious. “You called for a pup?”

The door opened, and I tried for my best “friendly pro” attitude. “I’m Bonnie.”

I could see the woman giving me a once-over, and I wished I’d worn all black today, instead of my favorite bright red blouse, like a miniature fire engine. Not exactly professional. Oh, well. Too late now.

“Come in,” the woman said, stepping back enough to let me by.

I went in. Nice apartment, if a little barren – all bland colors and stripped-down decor, like nobody actually lived there. Venec said she’d had a break-in, of the Talented sort. Unlike Sharon’s gig, the client was Talent, and certain of the source, so I was there to see if we could recognize any signatures. That meant he – or this woman, anyway – thought it was someone we’d already encountered, because it wasn’t like there was a huge data base we could cross-reference against. Not yet, anyway. Something about this was a little weird, but mine was not to question why. “So, where’s the stink?”

“Kitchen.” She waved off to the right. “Think you’ll be able to pick anything up?”

Okay, doubt was something I did not like to hear, even if this woman technically wasn’t a client. I patted my kit. “If it’s there, we can sniff it out. Just give me a little time and space... Oh, man.” I stopped and stared into the space. It was less a kitchen than a kitchenette, barely enough room for two people and a fridge, but it had a window at the far end, and was filled with natural light. “Totally retro kitchen. I love it. This entire place is just so totally – are there any other apartments available in this building?”

The woman blinked in surprise. “One, actually. Downstairs.”

“Most excellent.” I hadn’t known how badly I wanted to move out until I walked into this building. “The vibes in this place are... ”

“Yeah, I know.” The woman finally looked amused, and I took a longer look at her – or tried to, anyway. It was tough to focus on anything beyond average height, average weight, brownish hair, pale-ish skin. It was like trying to find Pietr, only worse, like...

Comprehension hit me like a slap. Oh, sweet fuck. She was a Retriever. And there was only one Retriever in the region who was female, and that age, and...

Wren Valere.

I tried really hard not to let my sudden penny-drop show on my face. It’s one thing to meet a legend, another to act like a dork about it. Damn Venec anyway for not warning me!

Although it was kind of funny: for a legend, The Wren was awfully... unimpressive.

“Right.” I put my kit down on the floor and got down on my hands and knees to look around. Stay cool, stay cool, focus on the job... . I sat back and pulled some of my tools out. The undeveloped film was a trick Nick wanted us to try, to see if I could process any images onto the negatives. So far it was an utter loss in the field, but I was willing to give it another try or three. The vials of powdered metal were going to be more useful. I snapped on a pair of latex gloves before I opened those; they were like invisible splinters if they got on your skin, all sticky and sharp.

“Do you mind... ” I gestured, indicating that she should get the hell out of my way. I didn’t like anyone looming over me while I worked, not even a legend.

“Right.” I guess she felt the same about being observed, because she got it right away. “I’ll be down the hall.”

Left to my own devices, I placed the film on the floor, touching it with just enough current so that – according to Nick’s theory, anyway – anything I visualized would impart itself in electromagnetic images on the film.

It was a good theory, anyway. I hadn’t even made it work in controlled runs. Even Lou was better at this than I was, which was sort of embarrassing.

The powders came out, and I brushed them over every available surface like fingerprint powder, swirling the brush to get an even distribution.

Despite Venec’s insistence on us “not putting on a damned show,” as he said, this worked better