called out their goodbyes as Theodore
was escorted down to the parking garage. The local police were true to their
word and in well less than five minutes three groups of three squad cars
arrived. They were all repulsar cars, floating effortlessly 30cm off the
ground. Theodore was a sucker for old fashioned wheels, but these cars could
move far faster and turn far sharper, their utility was obvious. He climbed
into the back of a squad car and laid down in the back seat. He didn't know if
he was supposed to lay down, but it made sense to him and he definitely didn't
want to draw attention to himself. For the first time in his life, he was
ashamed of himself. He didn't know why, but there was now a trail of death and
destruction following him and... well... it just didn't make sense...
That air of shame and dejection still hung over him as he
sat in a plush chair of a lavish apartment. The windows were frosted white...
for safety... the whole place had one thing on its mind: safety. Well, that's
not true, a visiting dignitary would have felt at home. Theodore just felt
worthless...
There was a knock at the door and Agent Telmark entered with
two others, “If you are feeling up to it, we'd like to talk with you.”
Theodore just meowed at them and hung his head. That wasn't
proper etiquette and he knew it. He just didn't care.
Agent Telmark started to excuse himself when the third man
spoke up, spoke up in the Highland Old Tongue, “Theodore, I know you are upset
and dejected. We just want to help. None of this is your fault, don't blame
yourself. Blame lands squarely on the shoulders of the Bella-Shoana. Not you;
them.”
Theodore rolled over and sat upright. He didn't feel like
talking, but he really didn't feel like being alone and it was so comforting
to be able to speak in his native tongue. “Come in and sit. Sorry for my
manners, I'm not feeling much like a host today...”
“I'm Alec Rhys, I'm a consultant for the Federal Special
Services. You've meet Agent Telmark, the other here is Agent Falstaff.”
“Sir John Falstaff?” asked Theodore with a grin.
Alec shook his head and grinned, “No, Robert. And I'm certain he's never heard that joke before.” He sat smiling and continued, “ Robert works in the Organized Crime Division. We all have questions... You as well as
the three of us. You are asking yourself 'why me?' and we are here to try and
help you figure that out.”
“Where are my manners...” murmured Theodore as he
shifted languages.
Alec grinned, “No! Stay in the Old Tongue. I don't want
you to have to think about things across the language barrier. I've spoken
this language since I was five, I'm perfectly comfortable with it, and I'd rather
you be as comfortable as possible.”
Theodore nodded and watched as Alec produced a small
keyboard and feverishly started typing as he talked. “We are going to record
this conversation as well. Are you comfortable with that?” With Theodore's
nod he continued, “We've pulled the records from the problems a month ago and
started running things anew today. Your dorm room was broken into, you heard
about that, yes?” Theodore nodded again and Alec continued, “First of all,
stop moping: you did nothing wrong! Don't blame yourself for anything; we are
here to find out why you are so popular. You have a squeaky clean slate and
your tail is bright and combed: you are a model citizen. When model citizens
get under the microscope of organized crime, it is usually because of something
they know. Something small, some accidental encounter that makes the bad guys
nervous. The other reason that comes to mind is you may be getting ready to do
something, something that would upset them.”
“But I haven't been anywhere, seen anything out of
the ordinary, nor am I planning on doing much of anything! I'm just a kid at
the university who's...”
Alec tutted
was escorted down to the parking garage. The local police were true to their
word and in well less than five minutes three groups of three squad cars
arrived. They were all repulsar cars, floating effortlessly 30cm off the
ground. Theodore was a sucker for old fashioned wheels, but these cars could
move far faster and turn far sharper, their utility was obvious. He climbed
into the back of a squad car and laid down in the back seat. He didn't know if
he was supposed to lay down, but it made sense to him and he definitely didn't
want to draw attention to himself. For the first time in his life, he was
ashamed of himself. He didn't know why, but there was now a trail of death and
destruction following him and... well... it just didn't make sense...
That air of shame and dejection still hung over him as he
sat in a plush chair of a lavish apartment. The windows were frosted white...
for safety... the whole place had one thing on its mind: safety. Well, that's
not true, a visiting dignitary would have felt at home. Theodore just felt
worthless...
There was a knock at the door and Agent Telmark entered with
two others, “If you are feeling up to it, we'd like to talk with you.”
Theodore just meowed at them and hung his head. That wasn't
proper etiquette and he knew it. He just didn't care.
Agent Telmark started to excuse himself when the third man
spoke up, spoke up in the Highland Old Tongue, “Theodore, I know you are upset
and dejected. We just want to help. None of this is your fault, don't blame
yourself. Blame lands squarely on the shoulders of the Bella-Shoana. Not you;
them.”
Theodore rolled over and sat upright. He didn't feel like
talking, but he really didn't feel like being alone and it was so comforting
to be able to speak in his native tongue. “Come in and sit. Sorry for my
manners, I'm not feeling much like a host today...”
“I'm Alec Rhys, I'm a consultant for the Federal Special
Services. You've meet Agent Telmark, the other here is Agent Falstaff.”
“Sir John Falstaff?” asked Theodore with a grin.
Alec shook his head and grinned, “No, Robert. And I'm certain he's never heard that joke before.” He sat smiling and continued, “ Robert works in the Organized Crime Division. We all have questions... You as well as
the three of us. You are asking yourself 'why me?' and we are here to try and
help you figure that out.”
“Where are my manners...” murmured Theodore as he
shifted languages.
Alec grinned, “No! Stay in the Old Tongue. I don't want
you to have to think about things across the language barrier. I've spoken
this language since I was five, I'm perfectly comfortable with it, and I'd rather
you be as comfortable as possible.”
Theodore nodded and watched as Alec produced a small
keyboard and feverishly started typing as he talked. “We are going to record
this conversation as well. Are you comfortable with that?” With Theodore's
nod he continued, “We've pulled the records from the problems a month ago and
started running things anew today. Your dorm room was broken into, you heard
about that, yes?” Theodore nodded again and Alec continued, “First of all,
stop moping: you did nothing wrong! Don't blame yourself for anything; we are
here to find out why you are so popular. You have a squeaky clean slate and
your tail is bright and combed: you are a model citizen. When model citizens
get under the microscope of organized crime, it is usually because of something
they know. Something small, some accidental encounter that makes the bad guys
nervous. The other reason that comes to mind is you may be getting ready to do
something, something that would upset them.”
“But I haven't been anywhere, seen anything out of
the ordinary, nor am I planning on doing much of anything! I'm just a kid at
the university who's...”
Alec tutted
Similar Books
