part 9

My head whirled, making the headache even worse. As the gorilla in my cranium grew to King Kong proportions, I got the rest of the sordid story from Rancini. Bouchard was working for Rancini a year back. She quit under uncertain circumstances, but not before putting a bullet into Rancini's spine, freezing his body in the delightful, twisted way it is. Bouchard disappeared until recently, when she reappeared in Rancini's trophy room and liberated the Esprit. Bouchard finds me having breakfast the day after. My headache reached levels hitherto and untracked by Man.

Back in my office, I pondered. Who was Bouchard working for? Why did she turn on Rancini? And the million dollar question, Mr. Philbin, was why she offered me money to track down something she already had? The only logical thing for someone to do was to try to get something for as little as possible. Even... something for nothing. Was all I was for was a simple distraction? Maybe she wanted to get me distracted so I focused all my attention on tracking the artifact, and none on the client. Classic. Maybe even hire me before Rancini did. All I knew was the chessboard pieces were scattered again. Pawns to queens, and crippled kings, whereas I was, and still remained, a pawn.

A shrill ring shattered my reverie. It was Phelps.

"Got summin' for ya Theo."

"Can't hurt to hear it I guess."

"Huh?"

"Just shoot."

"Oh, uh, right. This Cassandra Bouquet-"

"Bouchard."

"Whatever. She usedta work for the Rancini mob."

"I know, and?"

"Doncha get pissy with me Garrett. I hang up now and you're hung out to dry."

He had a point. I'd come to the stage where I let my anger at being used be shown for all to see. I needed to regain composure, or the case would just fall apart.

"I-I'm sorry Morgan. Go on."

"Right. Anyway she disappeared 'bout a year back, think she skipped town or summin, weird shit like that. Anyway, get this: she was some kinda researcher or a scientist."

"What's so special about that?"

"Ah, 'ccording to this she was about ta develop summin' new. Instantly-degradable plastics, it says here."

"That... that makes a whole lotta sense Morgan. Thanks."

"Actually if you ask me it don't, really. I mean, plastic's wunna those things that ain't s'posed to break down or summin' like that right? Right?"

I let the dialtone answer his question. I had to check. I ran over to the suitcase Bouchard had left the other day, tucked into the corner of the room. I hid it with the luggage, thinking it'd be more camouflaged that way. With trembling hands, I slowly slid the tumblers into place. With my hands shaking as they were, it took me the better part of a minute to get all three into the right combination. The case sprung open, and I damn near had a heart attack.