Chameleon Assassin (Chameleon Assassin Series Book 1) Read online

  “So,” I said, “luvdaze might be a failure that happens to have a recreational market.”

  “If I were guessing, I might come to such a conclusion,” Vincent said.

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.” I rose to leave.

  “I’ve enjoyed your visit, Miss Nelson. Most of my clientele is only interested in the effects and means of administration of my goods. Please, feel free to come again.”

  Yeah, feel free anytime I want to spend two thousand creds for a little conversation. It was money well spent, though.

  Chapter 8

  Albert Sheridan was a professor at the University of Toronto and a researcher for CanPharm. Call me lazy, but I decided to check him out first before taking trips to Switzerland and China. The chemistry in his published papers was a bit too dense for me to follow, but I could understand enough of the narrative parts of the discussion. I could also compare the chemical structures of the drugs he was working with to luvdaze.

  A check on his finances showed that while he lived well, he didn’t show any big spikes in income the past year or so since luvdaze hit the streets.

  That research soaked up most of my Tuesday, and I needed to get ready for my date with Ron. When a girl can count her dates in the past year on her thumbs, she treats them as something special.

  I washed and dried my hair, pulled out a red wrap dress with a mid-thigh hemline, and a pair of matching heels. I hesitated over jewelry. Diamonds were a little too ostentatious for a first date. I chose a three-strand necklace of turquoise beads with matching dangly earrings I’d bought in Dallas the day I followed Maria around.

  Although I was tempted to ride my motorcycle, I wasn’t really dressed for it, so I called a taxi, which deposited me at the restaurant at the appointed time. I opened the car door, and a hand extended toward me. Peering up, I saw Ron in a stylish black suit. I allowed him to help me. He did do romance well.

  The restaurant was new to me, and so I was slightly surprised when the maître d’ escorted us to an elevator. The door opened onto a covered rooftop terrace overlooking the lake. Candlelight and a fake breeze so soft the flame barely flickered. White tablecloths and fine crystal. Food almost as good as Dominik cooked. But the best part was Ron, who was witty, charming, and respectful. I discovered that in addition to motorcycles, he enjoyed rock climbing, the only outdoorsy thing I ever did. Of course, I didn’t tell him that my learning to climb was to develop a professional skill.

  We liked the same music, the same kind of vids, the same kind of art. If I’d been in a suspicious mood, I would have wondered if he had researched me. Since I knew exactly what information about me was available on the infonet, he couldn’t have learned any of those things in advance.

  Three hours later, we stood on the sidewalk and he said, “Shall I call you a taxi?”

  “Did you ride your motorcycle?” I asked.

  “No, I’m not exactly dressed for it.”

  “Why don’t you call us a taxi.”

  His home, two stories and very impressive, was connected to the funeral parlor.

  “Who all lives here?” I asked as he showed me in the front door. The foyer opened on a large living room to one side and a formal dining room on the other. A hallway stretched away into darkness ahead of us, and I was sure a door to our right led to the funeral home.

  “Just me. My parents were killed in a plane crash six years ago. My brothers were already married and had their own homes, and since I’m the one who runs the business, I took the house.”

  “It seems pretty big for one person.”

  “It is. I have about half of it closed off.”

  He led me to his bedroom and lit a couple of candles. We slowly undressed each other. I already knew his arms were covered in tattoos. They connected to an elaborate lace pattern on his chest and another one on his back.

  A man who knew how to kiss was such a pleasure to find. A man who knew how to touch me was even rarer. A man who wasn’t in a hurry was a treasure. Ron hit all three notes.

  When I got home around noon the next day, I changed clothes, donned my Jasmine Keller persona, touched base with Wilbur, and took the subway to the University of Toronto. Professor Hasting’s lab in an annex of the chemistry building had security and guards. I thought that was a bit unusual. In my time at the university, I’d never seen such security. On the other hand, I didn’t spend much time around corporate-funded laboratories.

  If it hadn’t been broad daylight, I would have bypassed their security, but climbing the walls in plain sight of the world would have probably attracted attention. Forced to be good, I called his lab and asked for an appointment. The sweet-voiced woman who answered the phone told me that would be impossible. The professor was far too busy, he never granted interviews or spoke to the press, and if I wanted to meet with him, I should wait until hell froze over. She was a bit more diplomatic than that, but I got the hint.

  With my plan for the day stymied, I assumed my normal form. After stopping by the realtor’s office and picking up the key, I descended into the slums to fetch Miz Rollins. The two of us, along with Nellie and her brother Tom, who insisted on coming, went to inspect the old school.

  Compared to the abandoned tenement, the school was huge. Twenty-four classrooms, a half-dozen offices, a teacher’s lounge with a bathroom, janitor’s shop, kitchen and cafeteria, a gym with a basketball court and girls’ and boys’ locker rooms. Plus four other bathrooms. A fenced playground outside was mostly dirt and weeds, but it was huge.

  “They only want fifty-five thousand for all of this?” Tom asked.

  “The realtor said the bank just wanted to get rid of it. It’s not in a neighborhood where the land is worth that much, and whoever buys it will have to tear down the school.” I grinned. “I didn’t tell her we weren’t tearing anything down.”

  “It’s too big,” Amanda said. “What am I going to do with all this space?”

  “So close off what you don’t need,” Nellie said. “At least here, you might get some volunteers to help you. People won’t be afraid to come here like they are where you are now.” She suddenly laughed and with a big smile said, “We can hold a fundraising event. I’ll get the band and we’ll do a show. It will raise money to clean the place up and get you some publicity.”

  I wasn’t so sure. “You’re contracted to Entertaincorp. I don’t think they’ll like you giving your services away.”

  Nellie wasn’t buying it. “Oh, Richard will let us do it. It’s good publicity. The PR people will contact the press. It makes the corporation look good. Just look at this playground. We could have two or three thousand people.”

  I left them to their planning, called Dad, and made arrangements to meet him at the realtor’s office later that afternoon. Then I dropped by Mom’s to check on my other charity project.

  When I knocked on the kitchen door, the dishwasher answered it. Instead of the surly greeting I usually received, he turned and shouted, “Glenda, someone to see you.”

  My waif bounced into sight, wearing a chef’s white pants with the legs rolled up, a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, an apron, and a huge knife in her hand. “Miz Libby!” she squealed and rushed toward me. I dodged.

  “Glenda, be careful of that knife!”

  She gawked at it as though she had no idea how it came to be in her hand, and said, “Oh, okay.” With a little more deliberation, she gave me a hug. Her face had filled out a little, and she didn’t seem quite so skinny. Behind her, Dominik came into sight with a soft smile on his face.

  “Hey, Libby,” he said. “You’re distracting my helper. Glenda, I really do need the carrots and potatoes today.”

  “Okay, Mr. Dominik,” she said, then to me, “I’m learnin ta be a prep cook. I chop up all the vegtables.” She turned and went back into the kitchen.

  I looked at Dominik.

  “She really is a sweet kid,” he said. “Smarter than I expected. Tries really hard and never complains. Lilith asked if I could find so
mething for her to do. You know, Libby, cooking doesn’t require an education beyond reading, writing, and math, and you can make a good living at it.”

  I gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Yeah, I know. Thank you.” Dominik earned a six-figure salary plus his share in the restaurant’s profits. Mom knew better than let a good thing get away.

  I went up to Mom’s office, chatted with her a little while, and left her some money for anything Glenda might need. Such as a cook’s uniform that fit.

  After meeting Dad at the realtor’s office, I signed the papers, made a down payment on the school, and got the utilities turned on. While I was there, I also rented a small apartment a few blocks from the university. That cost as much as the mortgage payments on the school, but Blaine would pay it.

  I walked out in debt for the first time in my life. It suddenly hit me. Between the school and Glenda, I suddenly had responsibilities. Like a real adult.

  I made a quick shopping trip to buy a wardrobe for Jasmine. I could image one, but since imaged clothes weren’t real, they disappeared when I took them off. Such things as coats and shoes, for instance. If I was going undercover as a university student, who knew what kind of situation I might end up in. I had been a student four years earlier and hadn’t forgotten what it was like. If everyone else was taking their clothes off, I’d draw the wrong kind of attention if I kept mine on.

  I took my new clothes to the apartment. The place wasn’t too bad. I’d been lucky, never having to live in such a place. Dad gave me the townhouse rent-free when I started university.

  Breakfast at a little dive I used to go to when attending the university was still pretty good. I liked their banana-nut pancakes. I dropped by Lilith’s and spent an hour with Glenda. She had her alphabet down and could sound out words.

  The new orphanage had a dozen volunteers working on it. The broken windows had been replaced and the kitchen was clean. Two guys were in the process of re-wiring the large walk-in refrigerator. Small posters outside advertised a concert by Nellie and Blues Revival on the last Saturday in August.

  The next night, I assumed my Jasmine Keller guise and went to the club Mark Wellington frequented. The band wasn’t very good, but they tried to make up for it by being loud. It probably didn’t matter since most of their clientele had the awareness of a rock. It was still early, and those who weren’t already stoned were working hard on getting there.

  Sipping on a beer, I played wallflower, hanging around the periphery and watching. One of the things I’d noticed before, especially since I was following Mark and Susan Wellington, was how young a lot of the kids were. Down to sixteen or even fifteen. The oldest were around my age of twenty-five, except some of the staff and a couple of men in their early thirties who tried to dress to fit in, but didn’t quite make it.

  I pretty much ignored those who stumbled in already high. I was interested in identifying the dealers. One of the bartenders attracted my attention right away. Three or four university-age kids were also doing business, and they were regularly visiting the two older men.

  Around eleven o’clock, a girl who seemed familiar walked in. It took me a few minutes to place her. It was a face-palm moment when I did. Mark Wellington’s girlfriend.

  Instead of going to the bar for a drink, she headed toward one of the older men. They greeted each other and shook hands. The girl smiled and walked away and into the ladies’ room. I followed her.

  As I walked in, I saw her enter a stall at the far end and close the door. When she came out, I was waiting for her. Looking past her, I could see a small one-shot jet injector lying in the corner.

  “Luvdaze?” I asked.

  “Huh? Who are you?”

  “I’m new in town, and I’m looking,” I said. “Someone told me you knew the scene.”

  “Who told you?”

  I took a chance. “Susan Wellington. Her mother knew my mom at school.”

  She nodded. “I’m Shannon.”

  “Jasmine.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “The best stuff. I have a friend in Calgary who can move it.”

  Shannon smiled. “Give me your phone.”

  I did and she entered her number. “Call me tomorrow.”

  She walked away and I shook my head. If I was that gullible, I’d have been dead before I hit eighteen.

  Next, I approached the bartender who I suspected of dispensing drugs.

  “A pint,” I said, “and whatever the evening’s special is.”

  He smiled. “That’ll be twenty.”

  I pushed my card across and he scanned it on two different readers. He handed it back and I checked it. One transaction for five credits and one for fifteen. In exchange, I received a pint of beer and a plastic packet with green vegetable-like matter inside.

  I gave him a wink. “Thanks.”

  The evening progressed and the patrons grew increasingly intoxicated. Those on luvdaze paired off and left. In fact, those who were alone and also displayed the symptoms of luvdaze use seemed very receptive to complete strangers approaching them. I wondered what users did if they were alone when the aphrodisiac effects kicked in. Shannon left with two university boys, and I wondered how badly addicted she was. Definitely living on the wild side.

  As the crowd thinned out, the two older men spoke to the club manager, handed him a credit card, then left. I followed them.

  As I passed the first alley, I blurred into the shadows. Just as with the reptilian chameleon, I could blend into the background when I stayed perfectly still, but when I moved, someone could see me. I couldn’t adjust fast enough to match every background. Still, I was a better shadow than anyone else.

  Unfortunately, I could only follow them until they got in a car and drove away, but I did get the license number.

  The drug dealers’ car was privately licensed, not a corporate vehicle, but I’d expected that. The owner lived in a lower-middle class part of town. My guess was that I’d have to go up the ladder from them to get closer to the source of the drug.

  Shannon McDonald turned out to be the daughter of a middle manager at Hudson Bay Exploration. She was nineteen, two years older than Mark and Susan, and ready to start her second year at the university. Hooking the son of her father’s corporate boss was a good career strategy. The girl had ambition. My brief encounter with her left me unsure about whether she had any brains.

  She had told me to call her the following day, but from what I’d read, she wouldn’t be awake and coherent until the day after that.

  I contacted Wil, and when he came over, I handed him the drugs I’d purchased the previous evening. “Can you get this analyzed and let me know what’s in it?”

  He opened the packet and sniffed it. “Smells like marijuana.”

  “Looks like it,” I said. “I want to know if it’s laced with anything else and how potent it is.”

  He tucked the packet away.

  I gave him the identity of the luvdaze dealer from the club. “Do you think the Chamber can find out who he’s working for? I would assume one of the crime gangs, but I don’t have any contacts in that world.”

  “You don’t do drugs, don’t know anything about criminals. Damn, girl, why did they choose you for this job?”

  “I mostly work with corporate clients,” I said. “Maybe Blaine is comfortable with me.”

  He gave me a raised eyebrow. “Maybe.”

  That set off some alarm bells. “He told me he didn’t have any operatives young enough to fit in. He also said one of my clients recommended me.”

  “Well, that’s probably true.” Wilbur had come into the club briefly the night I met Shannon and he stuck out like a vid star at a high school dance. “Who recommended you?”

  “Simon Wellington. And?”

  He studied my face for a long while. I could tell his mind was working. After a while, he said, “How long have you been in the business?”

  I didn’t ask him what business he meant. “I started
training when I was about twelve. Not formal training as such, more of an apprenticeship. My father was the head of security with a large corporation.”

  Nodding, he said, “That doesn’t answer my question. How long have you been doing jobs for pay?”

  “Since I was sixteen. Almost ten years.”

  “Ever have a client set you up? Hired you, but wanted you to fail?”

  “In a sense. One of the services I offer is intrusion testing. For example, a museum really didn’t want me to steal a valuable artifact.”

  “Did you manage to steal it?”

  “Of course. I wanted the follow-on money for redesigning their systems.” Why would Blaine want me to fail? “Ah. One of his bosses suggested me, so he had to make an effort. If I succeed, it points out a weakness in Blaine’s organization. My dad said that if I failed, it wouldn’t really count against my reputation, since even more experienced operatives had failed.”

  “But if we succeed, it will enhance both of our reputations,” Wilbur said.

  I grinned. “We?”

  He grinned back. I so wanted to make ‘we’ more than professional. Even the wonderful night I’d spent with Ron didn’t lessen my attraction for Wilbur. I scolded myself for being greedy. I rarely had a boyfriend, and there I was fantasizing about having two.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon in my Jasmine guise checking on student hangouts near the university. That evening, I went bar hopping. I wanted to see if other places were as immersed in the drug culture as the Drop Inn. A couple of other clubs catering to the university crowd had a lot of drugs going on, but nowhere was it as extensive and blatant as the Drop Inn.

  I tried three clubs catering to a more middle-class clientele. One of them turned out to have an open drug scene, but I didn’t see luvdaze in use. That made sense, as a dose of luvdaze ran a hundred credits.

  Around midnight, I hit a mutie bar that I used to hang out in. I couldn’t remember why I stopped, but after five minutes inside, I remembered. Lots of drugs, and luvdaze among them. Considering some of the unattractive physical mutations, I could see the appeal of an aphrodisiac drug. That gave me another idea.