The Gadgeteer

Chapter 2

BACK HOME, ARABETH stared at a note on her outside door for a moment then pulled it down. Her assigned Bail Enforcement team had refused a new bounty offer, deciding to retire early?

That was fine—they'd proven to be unreliable. She suspected they'd let her do all the work on the last two jobs, tracking and subduing both escaped convicts with only Marble to help, and that meant she might get into a situation with no backup. She would complete this one herself, then quit. There was one modification she needed to do before turning this batch of devices in for police use.

She suspected Police Chief Harbertrope was pushed into using outside, hired Bail Enforcement people. His interpretation was to pass on low-profile work, menial recaptures, thereby coming across as cooperative to the Police Commissioner.

She went to change her outfit, choosing soft cotton trousers and a loose but tucked-in long-sleeved blouse. It was still a few days before she was out of mourning, but she couldn't wait. She'd taken the black clothes to the Underprivileged Women's Home on Levi street and it had felt good. As the weight of the fabric lifted, so did her shoulders. Unburdened, emotionally and spiritually. She felt free in this outfit.

As she considered which tactics and devices to use for catching this next target, Marble paid close attention, getting more or less excited based on the tool Arabeth picked up. More than once, Arabeth caught Marble picking something and dropping it into the sling bag. "This bag isn't bottomless, you know," she said with a soft tone.

"Heathcliff Sanders is six feet tall and about two hundred pounds. None of the others want in, so we're on our own."

The miniature fox gave a little yip, as if she liked the idea.

Running her hand along the edge of a large set of storage shelves, she reviewed what she knew. Her target's build was his advantage. It usually was, she sighed. She'd need a size 12 hand restraint and a size 17 ankle restraint.

It wouldn't hurt to load a trio of sedation darts, Arabeth decided. Each dart stood securely fastened inside a stiff leather pouch she clipped to light-weight rigging worn under her jacket.

If her information was accurate, he would be found eating at a sloppy little licensed restaurant called Donny's Diner on the south side and be well-inebriated by the time he left.

Someone coughed, startling her. Turning, she frowned at Hicks.

"Remind me why you have a key to my home and workshop," she said to the tall, dark-haired, well-suited man.

Hicks doffed his hat and shrugged in response. "Someone has to make sure you're still alive now and then."

"My mother sends a maid once a week."

He paused as their eyes met and locked. "I was in the area."

"I've got work." She shook a finger at him. They'd been friends since childhood, but her marriage to another man had changed things. Now that Matthew was dead, she was figuring out the rest of her life. This was part of the process. Either way, she wasn't taking Hick's bait. "Whatever you're after, I'm busy."

"You found the bounty assignment note?"

"I suppose Jerome told you."

"He likes to talk." He coughed, and she wondered if he was coming down with something. "I thought you could use an assist, considering the target is twice your body weight."

"No thanks," she hesitated a moment, tempted to accept.

"Are you sure? My schedule is a little thin right now." Sam looked like he wanted to say more, but made himself stop.