Chaz:

Angelique slept on her right side, curled in a tangled fetal position, legs tight to her chest, head buried in a pillow. One fist pressed against her mouth. Her eyelids twitched. She must have been dreaming.

I slipped into her room as quietly as I could. I’m always a bit clumsy when I’m tired, but right now exhaustion had been replaced by a jagged adrenaline rush. Fear isn’t one of my favorite highs.

I took her left hand in mine as gently as I could. Ran a scanner over it. Nothing.

I wanted to feel good, I wanted to say, hey, one out of two. Chances are high that I was mistaken. But I’ve never been an optimist.

I reached for her other hand, twisted beneath the pillow. Tried to pull it forward. She moaned, tossed her head, stretched both arms and then repositioned herself. I waited. We each took a deep breath and sighed at the same time, one of those odd in-sync moments that catch you by surprise. I blinked and reminded myself that this was another human being lying here, with as many rights as I have. One of them being violated by Yours Truly right now.

She settled back into a deep sleep, her right hand draped over her thigh.

I ran the scanner again. A pulse of red light flashed.

She had a marker.

I gave myself a couple of minutes to think, paced back and forth in front of her bedroom window. Stared down at the almost empty street, then up at the starless sky. If I was waiting for a flash of brilliance, it didn’t come. The only thing I got was a nagging list of questions, one that cried for attention louder than the others.

I was her Babysitter, so how and when did she get somebody else’s marker? Messing with a Newbie is a capital, and none of the morons who run the kidnapping rings have access to this kind of hardware.

I decided to take a break, went out into the kitchen. Made myself some café au lait with chickory, then found a couple of cookies. I sauntered back into the VR room, rested in the chair and waited for my home page to boot up again, munched on something that tasted like chocolate chips but was probably a soy-based, lactose-free imitation.

Waves washed back and forth. Each one clean, fresh, new. White foam curling. Gulls complaining overhead. The sandpipers were gone. Now a baby seal and its mother glistened in the afternoon sun, sliding over the sand, chasing each other, barking like dogs with sore throats.

I wished my father was still alive. He understood this business like nobody else, had a way of explaining how it never compromised his faith, how he was more like a watcher on the wall, making sure Stringers kept their rights, while at the same time the One-Timers kept theirs. He believed that one day our family might be the only ones left with enough political power to stand up for the One-Timers.

Of course, the other One-Timers never saw it that way.

Dad wouldn’t think twice about all this, I know. He’d confront my brother, Russell, in a heartbeat, ask him what the hell was going on. Why did this Stringer have a marker? Why had that goon been following me? And who did he know over at Fresh Start?

But underneath all of it, I still had a feeling, one of those stupid gut-intuition things. I couldn’t believe Russ was involved in this. I mean, he’d made a few bad business decisions in the past several years, but he’d never actually crossed the line, never broken the law.

I was the one who always got stuck with the dirty work.

The café au lait was gone and I wiped cookie crumbs from my face as I stood in the doorway to Angelique’s bedroom. I was going to have to use a couple of Keys I usually avoid. And do something that could get me thrown in jail.

“Sleep, Angelique,” I said. “Deep sleep.”

She sighed, rolled over on her back. She lay perfectly still, almost not breathing. It was creepy.

I took her right hand.

“No Pain.” My words were clear, loud, firm.

She smiled.

I ran a tracker over the back of her hand, made a mental note of where the marker was. Swabbed her skin with disinfectant. Held my breath while I made a small laser incision, then carefully removed a tiny metal and plastic chip with tweezers. Fortunately, it didn’t have long tentacles like Fresh Start markers, but there was more blood than I expected. I wrapped her hand in one of the hotel towels, pressed it tight enough to stop the bleeding.

She just continued to smile.

Once the bleeding stopped, I put a flesh patch on top of the incision. Then I cursed softly. The color wasn’t quite right. Well, I hadn’t planned on doing minor surgery tonight. It made perfect sense to me that the skin patch wasn’t the right shade. I just hoped that Angelique didn’t freak out and decide to press charges in the morning.

I slipped the marker into a plastic bag and stuffed it in my jacket pocket.

I honestly had no idea what to do next. I was too hyped up on caffeine, sugar and adrenaline to sleep. So I decided to do what came naturally.

I went out on the balcony and played my sax.