Claudia: MacPherson is Reynolds

[moonshadows]

Ping.

Claudia blinked as the quiet sound filtered through the maze of other thoughts she was entangled in, weaving its way through the corridors of memory in search of the door behind which meaning rested. With a click and a silent explosion, the door opened. POPmail from my first email address. Holy shit, Professor Reynolds-slash-James MacPherson is contacting me.

With fingers that almost trembled, she opened her mail client and clicked the message.

It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm afraid my responsibilities took me out of contact for quite some time, but if you can forgive me that, I would like to catch up. I received your email - years after you sent it, I know - and am heartened that my colleague in Academia was there for you when I was not. Has he proven to be a worthy guardian, my young giant-slayer? Are there witches in your quiet little town to practice your milk-magic on? Or - heaven forbid - was he the pill doctor requiring you to cure him? Do write me back, dear child. I am eager to see the fine, fearless young woman I am certain you've grown into.

He didn't sign it. Somehow, that confirmed in her mind that it was James MacPherson.

"Hey, Artie?"

From the sunroom, he called back, "What?"

"Professor Reynolds just emailed me. You know, Joshua's physics professor? Gave him the compass?"

Three beats of silence. He'd never told her that Macpherson was Reynolds, but she'd never told him that Reynolds was Macpherson, either. "Yesss?"

"How much have you told me about what you really do for a living?"

The chair scraped and he crossed into the living room to peer over her shoulder. "Nothing," he said in a harsh tone. "Not a damn thing. You've never been inside the Warehouse."

"Got it." She didn't try to hide the screen as she typed a reply. Some day, their little triple-blind arrangement would crumble, but it wasn't going to be today.

You're alive! (She thought she heard Artie stifle a laugh.) Where have you been? ("A good question," he muttered.) I'd love to catch up. Univille's boring and Artie doesn't let me inside the warehouse, but a zillion tax returns isn't exactly riveting so I'm not missing out there. IDEFK what he does in there all day. Picks people to audit, I guess.  ("I-D-E-F-K?" he asked. She smirked. "I Don't Even Fucking Know.") Whatever, I've got internet and a PS3 so as long as he keeps bringing me on his business trips and letting me shop while he does whatever boring shit he does, it's all good. ("You're very good at sounding like a resentful little snot-nosed brat," he said dryly. "Just playing the part, gramps," she teased back.) Josh is still...gone. Things were rough for a while and I was a little shit to Artie for a few years, but he's actually been pretty schway as a guardian. ("What does that even mean?" "Cool," she answered. "Schway means cool. Hip. Awesome. Wicked. Groovy." "I get the point.")  He may be an enormous bear, but my hair is nice and straight. ("I'm not- What does that even mean?" "Hush, I'll show you later.") What have you been up to? Write me back, I'm getting plenty of calcium but my giant-killing sword is dull and rusty.   - Isabel 

Artie straightened up and gave her a stern look of disbelief. "Isabel?"

"Chill, it's a poem." A quick google search later, she handed him the laptop so he could read without throwing his back out. "It's kind of our little in-joke. I was complaining that there weren't a lot of smart girl heroes and he told me I reminded him of Isabel."

He handed the laptop back with an unconvinced sound. "Let me know if he replies. I still want to know where he found that compass."

 

=========================

 

"He emailed me back," Claudia called an hour later. "He's been out of the country on unspecified business. Wants to know if you work all alone in that big, boring warehouse full of tax returns. Asked obliquely about Dr. Vanessa. Offered his condolences that I'm stuck with a stuffy, neurotic father-figure and no one my own age.  Hopes he'll get a chance to see me soon and mentioned contemplating a visit."

Artie stood in the doorway and thought about that with a variety of thoughtful and unhappy expressions. "You may as well tell him that I've got various employees transferring in but they don't stay long. Reassure him that you have a female physician, lament the lack of peers, and tell him I'm..."

He was silent for so long, contemplating how to describe himself, that Claudia almost typed out he misses you, dumbass.

"Tell him I'm frustrated with my superiors but don't have the spine to do anything about it," he said finally. "Work in that hand that feeds reference you love so much. No - on second thought, tell him that I'm such a mess because I don't have peers to talk to, either."

As Claudia typed, she tried to figure out what coded message Artie was sending his ex-partner. There was no more shadow for doubt to hide behind; "Reynolds" hadn't questioned that Artie worked for the IRS while supposedly being a professor, and Artie hadn't questioned that "Reynolds" hadn't questioned. But why change the message? Was James MacPherson liable to do something rash if he thought the Regents were mistreating his old partner?

"What about the visit?" she asked quietly.

"Oh, God." Artie removed his glasses and wiped his eyes as if it would make an answer appear before him. "You'd love to see him, of course, but because you're underage and prone to...erratic behavior...I won't allow it unless I'm there with you."

She wanted to say, So, you want to see him, too? but she knew the answer was yes and she didn't want him knowing that she knew how emphatic that 'yes' was. That didn't stop her from typing, I've told him a lot about you and he really wants to meet you. I think you two would get along great.

"How about a video chat?" she asked instead. "Would you deign to allow your miscreant ward to talk to an old fogey by herself over webcam?"

"Miscreant. I like that." Artie scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Would you, uh, record it? Jus- um, s-so I can see who gave Joshua, you know..."

"Yeah, sure." If you want, we can video chat. Grumpy Bear doesn't need to know. Miss you, Isabel. "I'll let you know what happens."

 

=========================

 

As it turned out, the next thing that happened was New Agent Day with Pete "don't tell him his mom's a Regent" Lattimer and Myka "I don't eat sugar but I sure eat crow" Bering. Claudia forgot all about the Reynolds-Macpherson email until the Warehouse firewall started reporting a determined effort at someone breaking in. It was Leena's disbelieving question - Who would even know about the Warehouse, let alone be able to make it this far? - that brought MacPherson to her mind and Artie's, to judge by his growled "Who, indeed?" But he didn't break in, and looking at the logs, Claudia knew why. Everything Artie has secured by himself, he was able to slip through...but anything Claudia had touched stopped him in his tracks. Artie muttered about someone knowing him too well, but only when Claudia was the sole person in earshot.

"He's going to try something else," Artie grumbled to her one night, after the electrical grid had been thoroughly probed for nonexistent weaknesses and they'd traced the attacks back to the Secret Service HQ in Washington but then lost the trail. Either that, or Pete and Myka's old boss was in cahoots, but they though that was rather unlikely given Dickinson had taken the loss of his agents with acceptable grace. Neither of them said MacPherson's name. "He's going to try something else. The question is: what is he going to try?"

Claudia didn't have an answer for that, and the next few months were quiet, which unnerved both of them.

 

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“It was…it was like a bomb, only backwards, okay?” Pete sounded tired through the Farnsworth. “Instead of blowing out, it…it…it  yanked everything in.”

Artie glanced at Leena, standing off to the side, and pushed his chair away from the desk, turning a tight circle as he stood up. “Implosion?”

“Artie,” Myka called, sounding as tired as her partner. Leena took a few steps closer. “Artie, did the sword do this?”

“And if it did,” Pete interjected, “can I reconsider this mission?”

“It didn’t,” growled Artie as he leaned over to glower at the Farnsworth. “And what you have to do is you have to get in that room and tell me exactly what you see.” One finger toggled the connection off and he closed the lid, straightening with an expression of distant horror.

Leena paced still closer, arms folded. “That’s a look I don’t know,” she said steadily, making it as much of an invitation to elaborate as it was a statement.

Artie didn’t even glance at her. “It’s called the past rearing its ugly head.”

That was a tone of voice Claudia knew. She’d last heard it when Artie was telling her how to reply to Professor Reynolds’s email. Eyes locked on the budding drama, she let her fingers drift until they found the power button for her laptop and told it to hibernate.

“So in other words, the sword didn’t do whatever happened at the embassy.” Leena fixed her dark eyes squarely on Artie’s. “But you know what did.”

He looked away, out into the Warehouse, and breathed, “Oh, God, I hope not.”

In the moment of calm before the flurry of action she knew would come, Claudia shut the lid on her laptop and then slid it into its bag while Artie lunged for his bag and stuffed the rapidly-rolled scroll into it.

Leena let her hands drop, one to the side and the other to her hip. “Artie, where are you going?”

“N-no, no, don’t know- not yet,” he muttered, grabbing the Farnsworth from its stand and tossing it into the bag. “But first- I have to…”

Without bothering to finish the thought, he glanced around the office, meeting Claudia’s eyes briefly, and hurried past Leena out of the office. She leaped from her chair and followed him, catching up just as he reached the Warehouse floor and hurrying after him down one of the aisles.

“Talk to me,” she said when they’d gone a fair distance from the office.

He didn’t slow down. “Implosion grenade. If it is what I’m afraid it is. Made by a man who promised, twenty years ago, that he wouldn’t make any more. Very few people who ever knew that he made them, fewer still that are still alive. I’m going to DC because if it is, I need to have a chat with Erik.” He stopped at a shelf and put a large firework and three pairs of goggles into the bag. “You are going to stay right here and keep yourself safe. Got that?”

“Got it,” she said immediately. “What do you want me to poke at? Need tickets?”

“I can handle the tickets myself.” Artie turned and hugged her fiercely. “See if you can get me security footage. And get some rest, I get the feeling it’s going to be a long night.”

Claudia hugged back. “Will do. Permission to hit the original Original Ray’s Pizza?”

“Permission granted,” he laughed.

“Have a good flight,” she said as they separated. Then she whistled sharply and sprinted for a wider aisle, waiting for her pet animated dinosaur skeleton to trot up.

 

=========================

 

As much as Claudia was fond of Leena, she was still too much a rebellious teen to be above things like deliberately hiding from the other girl. Keeping her invisibility cloak in her messenger bag just made it easier for her to use it as a blanket and take an undetected nap on the loft couch that sometimes seemed more like her bed than her actual bed. The harsh ring of the rotary office phone woke her, and in silence she listened to Leena’s half of the conversation. It wasn’t hard to wake her laptop, there under the cloak, and shadow Leena’s search. The tsuba of the sword was missing, but she found it…at the Secret Service. She didn’t need Artie to tell her to tap into their systems, but she hadn’t even finished that before her Farnsworth buzzed.

“What?” she answered shortly, propping the device up on her knee.

“I need a phone number. Carol Augustine.”

“On it. Who-”

“She was MacPherson’s wife.”

That was begging for more information, but first she read off the number and waited for Artie to confirm he had it. “MacPherson had a-”

“Later,” he interrupted. “Get some sleep.” The connection blinked out.

 

=========================

 

The buzzing of her Farnsworth woke her hours later, and Pete’s face looked uncertain and tired. “Hey, Claud, you heard from Artie recently?”

Tapping his cel phone didn’t count. “No, why?”

Pete looked unhappily over his shoulder, presumably at his partner. “We tailed the tsuba. Some guy with a red-lightning tesla tried to jack it. I chased him, but he got away. The Secret Service has it again. Dickinson just bailed us out and handed us a file. Claud, it’s on Artie. He’s wanted for treason.”

This was getting serious. “The man, did you see what he looked like?”

“No, he was wearing a mask. You’re not worried about what Artie may have done?”

“Later,” she said, and terminated the connection. Three clicks of a dial later, she flicked the toggle and waited until the Caretaker’s stern face filled the tiny screen.

“You have something?”

“Artie asked me to look up a number for him. I tapped his phone; he’s meeting Carol Augustine in a few hours.” She recited the name of the establishment and its location. “That’s not all; some guy with a red-energy tesla tried to steal the tsuba but was interrupted and got away. Pete and Myka were rescued by Dickinson and given at least a partial copy of Artie’s file. I’m trying to track who un-buried it.”

“Good work,” Mrs. Frederic said tersely. “I’ll take it from here.”

 

=========================

 

Chasing digital ghosts through the Secret Service systems led to the NSA systems, dead end after dead end. When the characters on the screen began to blur, she set the laptop on the floor and curled up for some well-deserved rest. The opening of the umbilicus door sounded like the crack of thunder in the silence of the Warehouse office an indeterminate time later, and Claudia was halfway down the metal stairs from the loft before she was even aware of moving.

“No hugs,” Artie declared in a threatening tone as she reached the bottom.

She rocked to a dead stop, one hand on the railing for balance, and then the sling registered. Grim eyes under bushy eyebrows met hers and he nodded once, a minute smile playing about the right side of his mouth. Reassured, she paused to let inertia help the rest of her conscious mind catch up, then leaped straight into functionality. “I’ll grab the containment case,” she blurted before charging back up the stairs, leaving Leena to do all the fussing.

Once Pete, Myka, and Leena had been dispatched to shelve the sword, Artie glanced at her and sighed. “Yes, it was MacPherson. Yes, he stabbed me. Yes, I’m okay – or I will be. Does that answer all your questions?”

“No,” Claudia said quietly, taking a seat at the table. “How did you know it was him before he stabbed you?”

Artie fished the tail end of a roll of antacids out of his pocket and set them on the table before seating himself. “He left those in the workshop of the man who made the implosion grenades.”

“Did he seem…sane?”

“You mean besides killing Erik and beheading a man right in front of me?” Artie growled. Then he sighed again, resentment fading into resignation. “He seemed…in control of his actions.”

Claudia took a deep breath. “Why didn’t he kill you?”

That dislodged the seething gloominess. “Why didn’t he kill me? That’s a good question, kiddo. He could have, and I wouldn’t have been able to dodge. He didn’t have to talk to me at all; he had the sword, he could have run off and I never would have been able to prove it was him.”

“He wanted you to know it was him,” she said slowly. “He wants something.”

“Yeah, but what?”

The laptop hummed to life as Claudia opened the lid. “Well, what did he say?” Her fingers flew as Artie recounted the conversation. “He still cares about you,” she said when he’d finished. “Whatever he wants, you’re a part of it.”

“Yeah, but what- is it revenge? He did dig up my past. And stab me.”

“But he also tried to hack into the Warehouse.”

“We don’t-” Artie caught the look she was giving him. “Okay, yeah, we both know that was him. No one else knows me that well.”

“And he pulled this after that failed. This was a test run, to make sure he still knows the way you think and that you still know him the way he knows you. He knew you’d find that clue, he knew you’d figure out where he was going and chase him down. Whatever he wants, you chasing him down is integral to his plan.”

“You think he’s going to try something.”

“So do you, Artie. The attempt to hack our systems failed because he doesn’t know me well enough to predict my passwords, like he can with you. If it were me, my next attack would be passive – malware, maybe a Trojan. I think we should set up a DMZ for all outside traffic, keep your computer isolated.”

“That’s a good idea,” he conceded. “I’ll let you handle that. But in the meantime…what does he want?”

“Your love?” Claudia deadpanned.

He wasn’t amused “Very funny.”

“Hey, he said it first. Seriously though, for all that he was trying to push your buttons, he stopped to have a chat with you but he didn’t talk to his former wife? You’re more important to him than she is.” The look on Artie’s face threatened dire things if she didn’t drop the subject, so she dropped it. “Okay, let’s look at what he did and what it accomplished. He dug up your past…”

“And Mrs. Frederic’s already burying it again.”

“He stabbed you, but you’re going to be okay. He killed a dude and then…destroyed the evidence?”

“And also killed the man who made the implosion grenades in the first place, covering his tracks and ensuring there won’t be any more of them.”

“So…a lot of mess, but no real damage.”

Artie rubbed his eyes. “That’s not how the Regents are going to see it. If they even believe he’s still alive. Mrs. Frederic thought I was crazy for believing that he hadn’t died in that explosion until she had to get me un-arrested for treason three decades old.”

Claudia took another deep breath. “Did you believe he was alive before, or after you figured out he was Professor Reynolds?”

He gave her a long, hard look. “Before. When did you…?”

She didn’t flinch away. “Isn’t that why you showed me the picture of the two of you all those years ago?”

“We- yes.” The faint amusement that had softened his features drained away as facts fitted themselves together in his mind, leaving horror. “MacPherson is Reynolds. When the position at CERN came up…so did that name.”

Pieces were fitting together in her mind, too. “Whatever his plan is, Joshua is a part of it. We didn’t get Josh out until after the attempt to crack our systems stopped, and he didn’t try that until we let him think I was useless as a source of information.”

“He wants to get inside the Warehouse,” murmured Artie. “He doesn’t just want information, he wants to get inside…but how?”

“He’s already got his plan in place. However he’s going to get in, he already knows he can.”

“He couldn’t compromise the system to get access, so…compromise someone with access? It’s not going to be Pete or Myka; he called my attention to them specifically. He wants me worrying about them being corrupted.”

“It’s not me; I’m too obvious. He knows once you figured out he was Reynolds, you’d suspect me of being planted since he gave Joshua the compass in the first place and then was conspicuously absent when I needed him. That leaves…”

“Leena,” he breathed. “Oh God. What has he done to her?”

“Doesn’t matter, we need to figure out his plan. Hey!” She snapped her fingers to reclaim his attention. “So if he keeps the same pattern, acting like a mustache-twirling psycho, all sound and fury causing very little actual damage, what will the Regents do when he lets us catch him?”

Artie glowered. “Bronze him.”

“That’s it; we’ve got him.” Claudia slammed the laptop shut. “He wants to be bronzed because he has a way to get un-bronzed, but he can’t crack my passwords because even if he suspects we lied to him-”

“He’s been observing Pete and Myka for some time, I think we have to assume he knows I haven’t succeeded in keeping you as ignorant as you claimed to be.”

She gave him an are-you-shitting-me look. “Like you ever even tried? Anyway, even if he knows that, he doesn’t know the way I think.”

“Put a password on the debronze function,” Artie breathed. “That’s it, you’re right, we’ve got him. It won’t matter that I’m blindly chasing his clues because he won’t be able to guess your password. Go, now, before they get back. I’ll watch them and warn you if they’re getting too close.”

Laptop tucked under one arm, Claudia ran for the door. Once on the Warehouse floor, she booked it for Lucy’s pen. It was close enough that what time she lost making the detour, she’d more than make up riding the dinosaur skeleton to the Bronze sector. With luck, she’d be done, back, and gone before the others finished shelving the sword.

 

=========================

 

“So, Claud.”

Myka had gone straight to bed, but Pete was standing in the living room, arms crossed. Claudia looked up from her laptop. “Yes?”

“It’s later,” he said, sitting in a chair facing her. “You want to tell me why you are Artie both are so unconcerned by the fact that he was arrested for treason?”

“It’s not my story to tell,” she said calmly.

“But you know it.”

“I do. It was told to me in confidence when I was young and feeling very sorry for my Little Orphan Annie self.”

“So you know what he did,” Pete half-asked. “And you’re…okay with it.”

Her eyes dropped back to the screen, but she wasn’t exactly looking at anything there. “Was it the best choice at the time? Maybe not. Was it the lesser of two evils? Maybe. It’s hard to say. Did it make me think any less of Artie? On the contrary, that was the day I realized I did have a family, even if we weren’t related by blood.” When he didn’t respond, she raised her head again. “Look, you know he changed his name. Did you stop to think what that meant for him? He was instantly cut off from his family. They think he’s dead.”

Pete flinched.

“…and that was thirty years ago.” She stopped herself from saying, And then he lost his partner of fifteen years. Instead, she said, “He hasn’t even told Leena. Yes, I know what he did and I support him. Maybe someday he’ll tell you the story, but until then…do you really think Mrs. Frederic would have hauled his bacon out of the frying pan if he’d done something genuinely bad?”

“I guess not,” Pete sighed. “And…I guess I see why he didn’t tell us. I mean, there’s parts of my past I don’t exactly want to go waving around, either. It’s just been a long, long day. You know what I mean?”

Claudia looked down at the screen, at the half-written email she’d been staring at for the last two hours, and clicked discard draft. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”