It becomes clear to me now what has been motivatin' this big drive to continue the investigation. Spyder has been havin' the time of her life hangin' out with Pookie and me. Instead of bein' a misfit and fightin' every day just to be accepted, we've been treatin' her like a favorite kid sister. Particularly Pookie, who has been givin' her tips on everything from how to dress sexy to how to take out a couple of loudmouths without even mussin' her hair. When this assignment is over, Pookie and I go back to workin' with the rest of our usual crew, which as I have said before are all top-notch both as fighters and as friends. Spyder, on the other hand, would have to rejoin her unit in the Army, an existence which, as I can testify from first-hand experience, is drab at best. This is a fate I would not wish on my worst enemy, much less someone I have a fondness for as I do Spyder.

Pookie catches my eye with a look that sez that her thoughts are rannin' along similar lines.

"Urn, let's go over this all once more," I sez, stallin' for time while I think. "Sure, I got my opinions, but I don't like to think of myself as bein' closed-minded. Maybe there's something I've been overlookin'."

Spyder starts to roll her eyes, then realizes that I might be softening my position and tries to look attentive.

"There are two different groups that we know of," I sez.

"That's right," Pookie sez, pickin' up my cue. "The peek-a-boo crew in the Royal Game Preserve, and the clown in the costume."

I nod and start drumming my fingers thoughtfully.

"Now, of the two, the forest guys are the bigger potential threat. The question is, is there any way we can do a little more snoopin' around about them without actually goin' into the woods after them?"

"Didn't the sergeant say something about a subdivision close to the forest?" Pookie sez.

"Yeah. The Sherwood Arms," I sez. "So?"

"Well, what we seem to be confronted with is minor-league guerilla warfare," Pookie sez. "According to most military experts, guerrillas can't operate without popular, local support. Maybe we can pick up some information in that subdivision."

"I thought that they'd be living off the land," Spyder sez. "I mean, there must be plenty of game in the Game Preserve."

"Uh-huh," I sez. "Ever tried to actually eat wild game? It's not bad for an occasional variation from one's diet, but on a steady basis it's pretty bad, unless you have someone cookin' who really knows what they're doing."

"Besides," Pookie sez, "they've been swiping money from the tax collectors. You don't need gold if you're living off the land. It's a good bet that they're spending it somewhere. That subdivision seems like a logical choice."

"Sounds like a plan," I sez. "Shakin' down some locals for information is a lot more up my alley than tryin' to play Sneaky Pete through a bunch of bushes and swamps. What do you think, Spyder?"

"Whatever works for you guys," she sez, tryin' to sound casual.

Pookie gives me a big wink so's Spyder can't see. I decide that not hurryin' back to the palace isn't such a bad idea after all.

EIGHT

"You know, it's been so long since I've been away from Perv, I had forgotten what a hoot it can be visiting other dimensions," sez Pookie.

As I mentioned before, I had gotten into the habit of tuning out the ladies' conversations as we were travelin', as they tended to make my head hurt, but that comment caught my attention.

"What brings that to mind, Pookie?" I sez.

"Oh, just things you don't normally come across, like that. .. what did you call it again, Spyder?"

"A porta-pottie," sez Spyder?

"See? That's what I mean."

"What's so strange about that?" sez Spyder.

"Look around you, dear," sez Pookie. "We're surrounded by a wealth of bushes and trees. Why invent something like a porta-pottie?"

"You can't charge people for usin' a bush or a tree," 1 sez.

Pookie is silent for several minutes before she responds.

"You and your crew have been spending a lot of time at the Bazaar at Deva lately, haven't you, Guido?" she sez finally.

"That's right," I sez. "That's where our headquarters are. So?"

"Nothing," Pookie sez, innocent-like. "It just explains a couple things is all."

During our travels, I have learned that it's easier to get a straight answer out of a lawyer what knows you are both monied and guilty than it is to get Pookie to elaborate once she starts bein' evasive. As such I simply change the subject.

"Realizin' we are rapidly approachin' our destination," I sez, gesturing to the small clutter of buildings up ahead, "it might be a good idea if we got it straight as to what our modus operandi is goin' to be once we get there."

"Could you give me a quick briefing on the general layout here, Guido?" Pookie sez, eyein' the buildings. "What's the deal with these 'subdivisions', anyway?"

"It's a fairly recent development," I sez. "It used to be that people would move away from the small farmin' communities for the excitement and culture, not to mention the economic opportunities, of the bigger cities. The problem was, as more and more people came to the cities, it got crowded and tended to draw what is politely referred to as 'the rougher element' who make their livin's by separatin' said citizens from the gains from said economic opportunities.

"The solution, strange as it seems, is that those citizens who were successful enough to afford it retreated to areas midway between the cities and the farms. Developers bought up abandoned or strugglin' farms, slapped up clusters of houses, and sold them to people who work in the city, but don't want to live there. For the most part, the people we'll be talkin' to spend their days in the city workin', then travel here to the subdivisions evenings to sleep and spend time with their families.

"The older, better developed subdivisions, like the Sherwood Arms up ahead, have gotten large enough that they have their own cluster of small businesses providin' food, services, and sometimes limited entertainment, so their residents don't have to lug everything back from the city."

"So the folks in this subdivision think of themselves as ruthless, sophisticated city folk, but aren't actually tough enough to handle the mean streets, eh?" Pookie sez.

"That about sums it up," I sez.

"It that case," Pookie sez, "would you mind letting me take the lead on our first interrogation?"

"No problem," I sez. "You got a plan?"

"Nothing specific," she sez. "I just thought it might give me a chance to demonstrate to Spyder here the effectiveness of applied femininity. Do you understand what I'm saying, dear?"

"You're going to hit someone," Spyder sez, dutifully.

I barely manage to suppress a rude snicker. It is clear that civilizin' Spyder is not a task easily accomplished. Even for someone as polished and tenacious as Pookie.

"No, dear," Pookie sez, patiently. "Think carefully. Remember what we've been talking about in regards to subtlety?"

Spyder frowns with the unaccustomed effort of thinking. Then her expression brightens.

"You're going to threaten to hit someone," she sez, brightly.

This time my effort to suppress my reaction is less successful, and earns me a dirty look from Pookie.

"No, dear. That's Guido's department," she sez. "We're ladies. Tell you what. Just watch what I do and we'll talk about it later."

· · ·

Unfortunately, my amusement with the situational did not last long. In fact, it dropped radically as soon as Pookie began her preparations.