The Cain File by Max Tomlinson

you some tea while you get in the tub,” she said, kicking off her black Keds and peeling off her blue jeans. Down to her underwear, she grabbed the coffee pot, darted into the bathroom, turned on the taps to the Jacuzzi bathtub. She filled the pot partway with water from the sink and dimmed the bathroom lights on her way out.
    Ulfric stood puffing as he watched her make tea. He was probably wondering how an Indian girl got hold of such classy underwear, she thought. At least her lingerie seemed to be occupying his thoughts. “Sugar. I like plenty of sugar.”
    “Go on! Into the tub with you. I’ll bring it in.”
    “Right,” he said, turning like a robot and heading into the bathroom. “Right.” The door shut behind him. She heard him sneeze.
    Maggie removed the filter from the coffee maker and fired it up, making hot water. She heard Ulfric getting into the bathtub, splashing. He started humming a German tune.
    She made a paper cup of tea and while it seeped, she tapped quietly on the keyboard to Ulfric’s laptop. His screensaver appeared and prompted her for a password. She picked up the cell phone lying on the table. It required a security gesture to get in. She set it down quietly, retrieved the packet she had gotten from Kacha from her jeans. She opened the paper slowly, so as not to touch or spill any of the white powder. There was perhaps a half-teaspoon. A lot, it seemed.
    “Suwa?” Ulfric said in a theatrical whisper from the bathroom. “It’s getting late!”
    She dumped all of the Devil’s Breath into the cup and stirred it with a plastic spoon. She added two packs of sugar, mixed that in too.
    She pushed open the bathroom door with her foot and entered.
    He was sitting in the tub, naked, his glasses off, looking at her with his mouth agape. His clothes lay in a pile on the floor. She held up the spiked tea.
    “Plenty of sugar,” she said. “You’ll need your energy.” She winked.
    “ Ja ,” he said, pawing at her leg with a wet mitt. “Come here!” He swiped at her breast as she bent over to put the cup down next to him. She had to maneuver so she didn’t spill any tea.
    “Hey! Go easy, Ulfric.”
    “Indian girls have big ones.”
    “Drink your tea.”
    He picked up his cup, toasted her, giving her an evil little grin. “ Skol! ”
    “Come on,” she said, picking up a bar of soap, unwrapping it, as she sat on the rim of the tub. “I suspect you need a bit of a rubdown.”
    “Yes.” Laughing like a schoolboy, he gulped tea. “Rub me down like a good girl.”
    She stood up. “I’m just going next door to slip out of my underwear. I don’t want to get them wet. Any wetter than they already are, hey?” She gave him an evil glint.
    “Hurry back!” he said, slurping his tea. “I’m really excited, you know.”
    “Yes, I can see that.”
    She went into the bedroom, shut the door, picked up her jeans and T-shirt, and dressed quietly.

~~~
    “ Messtechnik ?” Maggie said, sitting at Ulfric’s laptop. “And how do I spell that?
    “ M-e-s-s-t-e-c-h-n-i-k. ” Ulfric stood in the middle of the hotel room wearing nothing but a towel, dripping on the carpet, rubbing his bulging white stomach absent-mindedly as he stared at the wall with wide, unfocused eyes.
    Maggie typed the recited letters into the password field of his laptop and was granted access. The desktop screen showed a mousey Asian woman with a forced smile, partially hidden behind two overweight preteen Nordic boys. So Ulfric had a mail-order bride. She probably doubled as his maid, nanny, cook, and whatever else he demanded.
    Maggie fired up the email program. “Same password for email, Ulfric?”
    “Messtechnik,” he repeated in a monotone, blinking at the wall.
    Maggie typed in the password, waited for his email to connect and download.
    From Ulfric’s email account, Maggie fired off an email to a clandestine account Ed had set up, giving him Ulfric’s cell number and the phrase: the next time you think you