There Colinaude was, sitting in a car in the deep end of Mad Jack’s dealership lot, a promotional celebration getting underway that was going to bring the man known as Ratbeard to him. Company hosts dressed as super heroes were fast proliferating, and the Eidolon himself had an hour to go before the Cad would not very far away be attending what could be a definitive turning point in a case about to be sealed. The wildcard was an agent called Neville, originally assigned to monitor Colinaude and now enjoying a little freelancing, possibly in tandem with Cad and definitely involving hired muscle at this moment making a beeline similar to Ratbeard’s.
There was nothing to worry about. Colinaude was, however, concerned that one of these hosts was going to turn out to be one of the nuisances that wouldn’t have the good sense to leave him alone. Technically he was a duplicate Eidolon, which might not go over well should someone try and make n issue of it, but he was more concerned that an overly zealous associate would not even register his appearance and attempt to try and sell him the car he was currently taking advantage of. He had no such interest, but that was not going to dissuade anyone here. He understood there might be some confusion, but was not at all interested in working that out. He wanted to concentrate on Ratbeard’s entrance, which shouldn’t be long now.
There was more than enough to hold his attention. Colinaude watched as a customer a few rows over made the usual earnest inspection. There was an associate approaching, and he now feared that he would indeed be accosted. He exited the vehicle, knowing full well that this would make him all the more an inviting presence. He was a gambling man, and it served him well. Ratbeard pulled his Sedan into the lot. Colinaude had felt they were headed in the same direction, but he had not seriously considered that it would be this easy to corner this contact, not counting the hour previously spent in the rodent district on seemingly fruitless pursuit.
He made his way to the station. There was going to be a complication here. The other Eidolon, a woman with orange goggles instead of silver, was standing between him and it. Someone had once made a crack about the possibility of an "Eidolonina." Not only was there never going to be one of those, there certainly was never going to be a "Kid Eidolon." Colinaude was in no position to adopt a ward anyway. All the same, this second Eidolon was there, and she had a well-tailored, snug-fitting variation of the original costume. With orange goggles. The closer he got the more snippy remarks Colinaude had swimming around in his head.
"I’m sorry, did I manage to arrive on time for the Eidolon convention? Silly me," he decided on. "I suppose there could be a worse fate."
"Sure," the second Eidolon responded. "Seriously, there was only supposed to be one of each. And Rick said it was fine for me to play this one. Did he change his mind? The creep!"
"Creep indeed," Colinaude said as he continued walking right by the doppelganger.
"Hey, do you find it hard breathing through this thing too? I was just wondering," she called after him, but he had no interest in replying. His version was slightly better designed. It also had silver goggles. But the prototype had been difficult in that way, he had to admit to himself. It was funny to be reminded of that now. He was only a few steps ahead of Ratbeard, so he tucked the thought away and prepared himself.
Everyone in this ship must be busy elsewhere. When Ratbeard made his entrance, they had the station to themselves. Colinaude took the opportunity to startle the contact, and it worked well enough for Ratbeard to jump a few feet and nearly fall over, his weight not allowing him to find his footing again easily. Ratbeard did have a beard, and it was a wiry, thick one, with stray wisps sticking out here and there, as if he’d tried combing it but given up in frustration.
"What do you think you’re doing, you fiend," he stammered.
"I’m no fiend," Eidolon said, "despite indications to the contrary. And even if I were, I’d be one of the friendlier ones."
"Yeah, to the right people," Ratbeard said. He had an oddly entrancing blinking pattern, which had already set about its routine task of lulling observers into compliance. Colinaude was fighting it. "Fancy catching you here. In the market for an official automobile? Don’t you guys get them custom-made? You do that at places like Mad Jack’s?"
"I’m here to see you, Fred," Colinaude said.
"Strange coincidence," Ratbeard suggested.
"No," Colinaude said. "Let’s cut to the chase for a change. I understand you know the current activities of an agent called Neville?"
At the name, Ratbeard pulled him further into isolation, which meant a corner. This was an interesting reaction. "Listen, don’t go throwing that name around," he whispered. "You don’t know what he’s bugged."
"There’s a nerve here," Colinaude whispered back. "I can feel it."
"You’re darn certain there’s a nerve," Ratbeard said. "Some of us have heard quite a deal about him, not at all things we like."
"‘Some of us,’" Colinaude said. "Why Freddy, do you have some other business you’re into?"
"None of your business, as a matter of fact," Ratbeard said. "And stop calling me that."
"It’s better than some of the alternatives," Colinaude said. "Okay, ‘Fred,’ what’s got you so worked up?"
"Neville," Ratbeard said, reiterating. "He’s dirty. He’s ruthless. He’s someone you don’t want to mess with. And I don’t think he’s been an agent for years. Unless he’s working in the entertainment industry, or possibly in some football program. If he is, good for him, I say."
"You sound upset," Colinaude said.
"That’s because I am!" Ratbeard said. "You would be too if you knew several of the unsolved murders in this state are the direct result of crossing Neville. They’re calling him Barracuda. You don’t get a nickname like Barracuda by playing nice. I might end up being one of those unsolved murders myself for this."
"I’d know," Colinaude said.
"Oh, great comfort," Ratbeard said. "Listen, my feet are killing me. Let’s sit down somewhere. This place is probably bugged up the wahoo. Oh god, I’m dead. I can see it already."
"See what?" Colinaude asked. They both sat in one of the offices the associated had abandoned. There were donuts lying around. Ratbeard helped himself, and to a cup of coffee that was someone’s, but not his.
"The obituary," Ratbeard said, slurping. "It’s actually a pretty good one. Lots of people are mourning over it."
"I’ll bet," Colinaude said.
"There’s a back door right? There has got to be a back door," Ratbeard said, powder now staining his whiskers. "Maybe there’s a company car, too. With keys in it."
"Don’t worry," Colinaude said.
"That’s easy for you to say!" Ratbeard gasped, possibly choking on the crawler half-eaten in his hand. "Mr. Hero! Some of us can be counted as ordinary folk!"
"Some of us," Colinaude said, "but not you."
"I could be normal," Ratbeard said.
"In some circles, yes," Colinaude said.
"Ones with halos and wings," Ratbeard mused, setting the unfinished coffee aside. "That’s a terrible brew. My god, do you think it’s poison?"
"Neville would have to have remarkable foresight," Colinaude said.
"Which would not be a stretch, believe me," Ratbeard said, trying to spit up the unpleasant taste. "That was really awful, just awful. It should be a crime. Can you do something about that?"
"I’m afraid I’m not on Java patrol right now," Colinaude said.
"But you are on Barracuda watch," Ratbeard said, wanting to be reassured.
"I am," Colinaude said. He watched as Ratbeard got up and looked for the alternative exit he’d been so anxious about. "Are you going to take your car?"
"Oh, no," Ratbeard said. "I can get another one. I need to get as far away from here as possible."
"And you’ll do that on foot," Colinaude said.
"I didn’t say I’d thought it out," Ratbeard. "I’m in a panic, here! A justly deserved one! Are you going to help me or not?"
He wanted to sigh, but he didn’t. "I suppose I could."
"And I suppose you should! Here we are," Ratbeard announced, finding his exit. Colinaude followed him. They emerged out the back of the station, and found the second Eidolon there, taking a smoke break. She’d removed her mask to reveal red locks.
"Fancy meeting you again," she said. "Where’ve you been? That creep Rick will not be very happy with you."
"He probably won’t be," Colinaude said.
"What is this," Ratbeard said, "some sort of Eidolon convention?"
"He showed up on time for a change," the smoking Eidolon said. She laughed after exhaling, or while doing it rather. Colinaude was not interested in this conversation. He tried herding Ratbeard away quicker.
"I’ve got a business card," Ratbeard announced, fighting Colinaude’s efforts. "Maybe we could strike some sort of deal?"
"I bet we could," the smoking Eidolon laughed again.
"Maybe some other time," Colinaude noted. "We are in something of an emergency. Do you know where you want to go?"
"There are many places," Ratbeard said.
"Choose one," Colinaude said.
"Perhaps he could choose for me," Ratbeard said, having turned around again for a last look at the second Eidolon."
"He? There is no he," Colinaude said.
"There is," Ratbeard protested. "It’s Godsend and he’s coming to greet us."
"Godsend? Oh," Colinaude realized. Then he turned around to see for himself and realized that Ratbeard was mistaken. Oh, the man was dressed as Godsend, but it wasn’t Godsend. It was Colinaude’s phantom, and they were now in a lot more than theoretical trouble.
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