Partner
Angela picked her way through office debris scattered about the dusty floor. This building had been abandoned for a long time.
"Hey." His voice startled her; he was sitting on top of a file cabinet in the corner. "I thought maybe you weren't gonna show."
"Of course I'd show. Why would I call you if I wasn't gonna show?"
"I thought you might have come to your senses."
Angela fixed him with a dead-serious stare. "I know what I'm doing."
"Okay, okay. Just understand, I'm not forcing you to do anything. If you're uncomfortable with anything, if you ever feel unsafe or afraid or you just get bored and you wanna quit, just say the word."
"I'm not a quitter. This isn't a hobby for me." She didn't know what it was, exactly, but he didn't look like he wanted to ask, either.
Angela looked around for a place to sit, or even lean, but there was nothing in the room she wanted to touch. And something smelled bad... "Why did we have to meet here?"
"Because it's neutral ground. And there's a lot of foot traffic outside to get lost in, in case anybody's tailing you."
Angela thought he was saying that stuff just to humor her. Why would anybody be following her?
Or was he worried about people following him?
"Well, it's kind of a pain. What's wrong with meeting me at the apartment?"
"Are you kidding? That place? Yours is probably the only room in the joint where something illegal *isn't* happening. If the 'tenants' there saw a cop walking in, all hell would break loose."
"So, don't act like a cop when you come over."
His expression seemed to be asking the heavens: is she smarter than she looks, or dumber?
Angela shrugged it off. "Anyway, yesterday I was out at... this place getting interviewed for a job, and afterward I came out and saw this guy across the street who looked familiar. Then I remembered, he was the guy I saw drive up in that sports car the other night. One of our suspects. So I started tailing him." Angela smiled inwardly at her use of the 'lingo.'
"Did he see you?"
"Of course not," Angela dismissed confidently. "I was even ahead of him at first. Anyway, I followed him all the way across downtown, up Acorn, to this office tower at 405."
"405 Acorn?"
"Yeah." Apparently he knew the building. "I went inside just as he was getting on an elevator, so I kinda hung back. I watched the elevator go all the way up to the penthouse without stopping. Then I left."
He had a far-off gaze; he was mentally chewing on something. "Anything else?" he said without looking at her.
"Last night I went back to the chop shop but there was nobody there except a security guard." Angela decided not to share the rest of her adventure -- he'd probably just give her hell over it.
"This is good. This is really good." His voice was liquid calm, his expression reserved and professional... but something about him was very un-relaxed. Angela couldn't quite put her finger on it. No nervous movements, no shift in posture, but underneath his cool exterior Angela detected excitement.
It was infectious.
"So are you gonna set up a bust? Can I watch?"
"No. And No. That's not how it works. We don't actually have anything yet -- anybody will tell you, an eyewitness is unreliable." He held up his hand to squelch her protest. "I know, I believe you, but I need more for a warrant. If you're really serious about this," he said, leaning closer, conspirationally: "I need you to get pictures."
"Sure," Angela said, doing her best to hide *her* excitement.
He reached into his coat pocket. "Use this." He pressed something into her hand. He held it there a moment longer than was comfortable, then his hands retreated to let her look at it. A small camera, barely the size of her palm.
"It's digital," he said. "No film. Just give me the memory card when you're done."
"Okay."
"Here, let me show you how it works." He slid up next to her, close enough that he could guide the camera in her hand. "Press this button to turn it on -- the lens cover snaps open, see?" Close enough that the front of his chest pressed into her shoulder. "The camera defaults to auto-flash and viewscreen on -- two things you don't usually want. Viewscreen first -- see how it's showing you what it's looking at on the screen?"
"Yeah."
"The camera doesn't have a regular viewfinder, so this is the only way you can tell what you're shooting. Problem is, it's too bright and it can give you away in you're in a dark place. So most of the time you want to leave it off and just shoot by dead reckoning. You might want to practice a bit to get the hang of aiming without a viewfinder. Okay, press Menu..." he waited.
Angela looked around on the camera -- Menu?
"Here." His soft touch became a firm grip over her hand, pointing the camera down. "Button on the left."
"Okay." Angela pressed it.
"Now, press it three more times until it says Viewfinder. Then press Enter. See how it says Yes and No, and Yes is highlighted. Press Edit again to highlight No. Now press Enter. The No flashes once, then it goes back to just Viewfinder. You can press Menu to cycle through the other options, or press Edit twice to exit the menu. Notice the viewfinder is off now. Got it?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, the flash. Look up on top of the camera, next to the shutter button. That's Mode. Press that, and see how the little icon in the corner of the window changes. That's auto-flash, that's always-flash, that's no-flash, and *that* is infrared -- night vision. One more time comes back to auto-flash."
"Got it."
"That's basically it. There's no zoom or anything -- it's designed to be small and simple. When it won't take any more pictures, that means the battery's low. It takes a pair of triple-As under this little door here." He flipped the camera upside-down in Angela's hands and flipped a tiny toggle with his fingernail -- a little door popped open, and two little batteries bounced up partway out of the camera.
His hands finally released hers -- slowly, as if regretful. He moved away suddenly, reaching into his coat pocket again. "Here's an extra memory card." Angela reached out and took it, subconsciously avoiding contact with his fingers. "Call my cell when you've got some pictures for me to look at."
As if on cue, the cellphone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the display. "Shit, that's my boss. I gotta run." Curiously, he didn't answer it. He made for the door.
"Hey, Miguel!"
He turned around to have a bright light momentarily blind him. Angela looked down at the display and grinned.
Suddenly, the camera was yanked out of her hands. Angela looked up in surprise to find Miguel standing there, nostrils flared in anger as his thumbs stabbed at the buttons on the back of the device. "Don't *ever* shoot me again," he growled. "And don't tell anyone where you got that camera. No one can know we're working together. It's for your own safety." With that, he handed the camera back. The display flashed "FORMATTING" . . .
His hand gripped her chin and yanked upward to glare into her eyes. "Understand?"
Angela's hand swatted Miguel's arm away, breaking his grip on her chin. If she'd been wearing her sapphires she might have broken his arm. As it was, Miguel was merely surprised. He took a half-step toward her, then froze, apparently thinking better of whatever action he'd started. Angela had reacted by taking a half-step back, but her posture was defensive, not cowering.
"Yeah, I understand." she said through tight lips. "And don't you *ever* grab me like that again."
Miguel realized he'd crossed a line with the young woman and quickly stepped back from it. But male pride kept his expression hard. "Fine." He turned and stepped briskly to the door. "Call me when you get photos. And don't be a hero -- stay out of sight. We take this one step at a time, and I promise you we'll make the biggest organized crime bust this city has ever seen."
With that, the door bounced shut. Creaking floorboards marked Miguel's exit.
Organized crime! She'd show Detective Noel Aquino that she wasn't just a helpless little girl.
She'd show them all.
Sapphire *could* make a difference.