(no subject)

Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Federal Prison Camp Yankton
Yankton, South Dakota

"Huh," said Horace Weston, pausing in his sorting of the incoming mail. "Hey, boss?"

"What?" called Mr. Gage in return. He didn't bother looking up. Weston tended to come up with the weirdest questions and he'd about gotten to the point of answering them on autopilot by now.

"Got an Amazon package here I don't know that I like the looks of."

"Porn?" said Gage.

"No."

"Nazis?"

"No."

"Manchurian Candidate on DVD?"

"It's a handbook, boss."

". . . tell me it's not Worst Case Scenario Survival Manual: Prison Edition or the Action Hero Handbook or something."

"More like How to Be a Villain: Evil Laughs, Secret Lairs, Master Plans, and More. And three exclamation points."

Gage paused, his coffee halfway to his mouth. Finally, he said, "It's not on the shit-list. Let it through."

Weston shrugged and slid it into the appropriate basket. Not like Peck got much in the way of mail anyway.

(no subject)

Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Bob and Steve's University Sportswear
Manhattan Mall
Third Floor

"This isn't a job for the NYPD," said Detective Chen, staring at the revolting off-pink substance that was extruding from every ventilation duct in the store. "This is an OSHA problem. What the hell is in that stuff?"

"It's just insulation, sir." The store manager pulled on a rubber glove and started to reach up for a handful. "K-13 sprayed thermal and acoustical insulation. We just-"

"Don't touch that," Chen snapped. "Evidence, remember?"

"Oops. Sorry."

He grimaced, gesturing to the analytical team to start snagging samples of their own. "Not a problem. Fill me in, though. What happened here again?"

"Well- the store's in the process of some pretty massive renovations, including the insulation, obviously. We're trying to get the jump on the new fire codes and put in some soundproofing as long as we're at it, so we call in ThermaSpritz Insulation. They come in, they hook up the hoses, they turn on the machines."

"Sounds pretty normal to me."

"Well, yeah, but there's regulators on the spray hoses, right? So they don't swamp the place?" The manager grimaced, running a hand over her hair. "Only they don't seem to be working. ThermaSpritz's guys try and turn off the machine, but it doesn't work either. I mean, it does work. It keeps working."

Chen glanced up at the pinkish yuk oozing its way out of the nearest vent, and said nothing.

"I figure, you know, we're in trouble if we can't get this thing stopped, and the ThermaSpritz guys're yelling like anything, and the machines just keep pumping and pumping, and that's when one of the hoses comes loose on its own."

"Call me crazy, lady, but I don't see the kind of splatter I'd be expecting if an out-of-control insulation hose got loose."

"That's because it didn't splatter," said the manager with a small shiver. "It rears up like a snake, right? And it starts moving around like it's got eyes or something. It's not flailing or spazzing or- it's just turning and, and, it's looking at us- and then, wham."

"Wham?" said Chen.

"Wham." She shivered again. "Tyrell's got six broken ribs. Hector, he's just watching, it picks him up and throws him." She pointed towards a visible dent-mark in a wall a good thirty feet away. "It's about to go after Tameree, right, and then the ThermaSpritz guy turns out to have a fire axe and he cuts the hose off at the bottom. And that's that. I'd've called the Ghostbusters but company policy is to get the cops if somebody gets hurt enough to be hospitalized. So, you know, the paper says the city's got cops who show up for ghost stuff, I figure maybe I should call you specifically. . ."

There was a Moosewood Coffees at the other end of the mall, next to the Sharper Image store, if he was remembering right. Damn shame it was on the floor with the PATH trains; he'd never be able to get away long enough without somebody noticing.