Ambient 06 - Going, Going, Gone

blood more than I ever wanted Bennett to hear. Entrapment, no doubt. B-boy looked in the files, found a pair who’d blown their cover, brought ’em into the office and gave them the opportunity to keep passing unhindered.
    »Who we represent?« Eulie asked.
    »You got it.«
    Chlojo gave me a sly eye and chirped, »Society for Psychical Research.«
    I played back everything I’d squawked to them about. After running through it I realized I wasn’t as in deep as I’d feared I was. That comment I made about having a hand in the tar might sound fishy to a fisherman, but something that vague could be talked away, especially if I called Martin on his hand. Back in the catbird seat: I decided to just act natural and lay off the code.
    »That so?« I asked. »So are they ghosts or Fortean phenomena?«
    »Fortean?« Chlo asked. »Define.«
    »Paraworldly,« I said. »The unlikely and unexpected, but with basis in fact. Lake monsters, abominable snowmen, poltergeists, fish falling from the sky –«
    »Unusual coincidences, living pterodactyls, cows giving birth to sheep,« Eulie added, sharing a fast stare with Chlojo. »Forteana.«
    »Well? Which are they?«
    »Uncertain,« she said. »They aspect both. Investigation warrants.«
    »Whatever they are, how’d you know I needed an exterminator?«
    »We centred upon disturbances in the field,« Eulie said. »Prompting interest.«
    »What field?«
    Ignorance being bliss, she kept me happy.
    »So why do they want to give me their business?« I asked.
    »Coincidence, undoubted,« she said. »You’ve seen them here?«
    »Today,« I said. »First time I saw ’em though was last night, in DC. Then again this morning.«
    »Washington, DC?«
    »Know the place?«
    Eulie looked less than slaphappy. Chlojo lifted her head like she wanted to give the ceiling a onceover. She had as many scars under her chin as she did on her face, and it struck me she’d been through major trauma. Car wreck? High-school chemistry experiment gone haywire? Crazy boyfriend? She was put back together pretty well, considering. Maybe she used to work as a lab rat for a Palm Springs nip and tuck man. Some scalpel jockey honing his blade on the riffraff before trimming the dowagers. »Saw here when?« Eulie asked, leaning forward, legs apart. »Oh,« I said, »before I went to Max’s. I spun some platters and they hightailed it.«
    I subtly began to fold up in the middle, because my southern inflation was starting to become a little too obvious. I was damned every which way and up with these gals. Didn’t matter if I tried not to go on beaver patrol with Eulie; I’d slide my eyes in the opposite direction and there I’d be, gazing deep into Chlojo’s posturepedic couture. Their six of one and half dozen of the other was knocking me way past blueball into mood indigo. The worst of it was that no matter how much these two were giving me happy pants, not knowing who they really were or why they were really here made me feel like a cat in a bag listening to the riverboats getting louder.
    »You see them now?« Eulie asked.
    »Nowhere nohow,« I said. »They weren’t much for tunes.«
    »We need to execute necessaried tests. Is that acceptable?«
    »Sure,« I said, »don’t let me get in the way.«
    She nodded to Chlojo and they started unloading their
    gear. I picked up her empty satchel thinking at first it was
    leather but finding out soon enough it wasn’t leather or
    plastic. Whatever it was, it looked expensive, so I guessed
    the stuff was one of those new miracle space age things like
    Tang. Eulie positioned a set of twelve little black blocks on
    the floor and started tapping each of them in turn with a foot-long black rod. The tip of the gizmo was round and I couldn’t help wondering if Trish had been right, and my unforgettable guests were little miss muffets after all. Sad story indeed if true but I thought I’d wait till all evidence was in before passing judgement. Eulie stroked the beast’s sides in the expected manner as she tapped each box. The tip lit up with a pink glow like a car’s cigarette lighter. She aimed her rod my way, and it was hard not to flinch.
    »Chlojo, position in accordance.« She snatched up the boxes and laid them out in a semicircle on the hearth, in front of my bricked-up fireplace, on the hearth. »We’ll ready en momento.«
    The little one was a charmer, no doubt; impressive as I might have thought Chlojo to be at the getgo, the longer I was around her the