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                      SEX, LIES, AND NECROMANCY

                                  by

                    Daniel Parsons and Brandi Weed

 Never let your sense of morals interfere with doing the right thing.

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Grayson wearily glared at his charges. "All right, amuse me.  What
happened?"
     Janie began hesitantly. "Angel was in pursuit of Samuels... I was
following... he attacked her with a knife... and I shot him."
     "Before that.  Whose gun was that?"
     "That was mine." Ardrin grimaced. "I figure the cops were playing
with it while I was in the hospital, and didn't put the safety back
on.  I grabbed it, it went off."
     "Actually, I grabbed it, sir."
     Grayson sighed, and gazed at the ambulance as they loaded Jillian
Flash into it.  "Nevah mind who grabbed it.  Local cops.  At least we
found her.  And not in too bad a shape.  Have they finished searching
the building yet?"
     "Almost, sir.  Most of the motorcycle gang fled in the confusion;
we were able to find two of them upstairs.  Samuels himself is still
unconscious, but they do expect him to live.  Flash is not seriously
injured, but from the marks on her, they believe she was subjected to
torture, and... possibly raped." Angel's lip curled in disgust as she
said this last.
     Grayson nodded. "Figures.  Now... what next..."
     Looking at his car, Ardrin quipped, "Damage control?"
     "Later.  First," Grayson said as he got into the car, "let's get
back to tha station and fill out our reports.  That ought to keep us
occupied for a few hours."
     As they drove back across town, Grayson continued to think out
loud. "First, get tha dagger to the lab, and have 'em do their stuff.
Next... we need some more on tha Shriners."
     "I don't know if we can get a warrant to search their building,
Mr. Grayson." Angel said.  "We must remember, our only connection
between Finger and the Shriners was Flash, and our only connection
between Finger and Flash was McEwey's testimony.  I'm afraid that
might not be enough."
     "The word of one obviously jealous woman against those nice
blokes, with all their charities and contributions to the community?
Probably not.  We'll have to break in and search tha place."
     There was a dead silence from all three of his charges, but Angel
was the first to speak. "Sir, I do hope you're joking again."
     "Nope.  Relax.  It's easy."
     Janie hesitantly asked, "Um, sir, isn't that kind of illegal?"
     "When did that ever stop the search for truth, justice, and cheap
macho thrills?" Grayson laughed and grinned at them. "It's not quite
illegal.  An agent with my rank has some privileges, and one of 'em is
that under certain circumstances, I am not under tha obligation to
respect the legal rights of others.  Don't you go tryin' it, though."
     "But is it, like, legal?  The courts accept it?"
     "No, tha evidence isn't admissible.  That's why you don't tell
anybody ya did it.  You go in, have a look 'round, and get out.  Then
come tha warrants and legal evidence."
     Angel crossed her arms and frowned. "That strikes me as being
little more than a legal loophole which encourages sloppy
investigation.  Or worse, it allows dishonest officers to plant
evidence."
     "Why Angel, dear, why evah would you think such a thing of me?"
     "I don't.  Sir." Her brow furrowing even more deeply, Angel
shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I'm not entirely sure anyone
should be allowed that kind of latitude with the rights of the people.
It worries me a great deal."
     "Relax.  It gets tha job done.  Now, let's go fill out all of
that lovely paperwork, and not get our jobs done for a while."

                            *     *     *

     There was a small back door at the rear of the Benevolent Temple
of B'nai B'rith, beside a loading gate.  Everyone was surrounding
Janie, who was trying to get the lock open.
     "It's been ten minutes already."
     Janie grimaced. "Do you want me to set the security system off or
not?"
     "Take yer time." Gazing about the alley, Grayson thanked the
powers that be for Inverness' lack of night life. "Just get it some
time this century."
     "Mr. Grayson," Angel asked, "how do you suggest we explain
ourselves if someone comes down here?"
     "Tell 'em we're a reconnaissance mission from tha Compassionate
Cabal of Cucamonga."
     There was a burst of giggling. "Don't make me laugh, it spoils my
concentration.  Wait, I think I've got it."  Carefully, Janie opened
the door; no alarms went off. "Ok, we're in."
     Inside there was a small backstage area, and a door to the back
of a big meeting hall.  No one was inside; the only thing their
flashlights picked out were chairs, banners, and a single, lonely fez,
lying forgotten near the back of the podium.  Carefully, they made
their way to the back of the hall and into the long corridor with
stairs going to the upper floor they had been through earlier. "Good,"
Tom said in a low voice. "Ardrin, Janie, check the side doors.  Angel,
up to the offices with me."
     Angel quietly followed Grayson up to the second floor.  In the
hallway, the first door Ardrin tried was locked, so he and Janie tried
some of the others; all of them were open.  They searched for a while,
but found nothing of interest; a kitchen, several storerooms with
candelabra, spotlights, banners, stacked folding chairs, and other
things which must somehow be important to the organization.
     Upstairs, Grayson unlocked Mr. MacIntree's office, and they began
their search. "Mr. Grayson, what exactly are we looking for?"
     "Financial records.  Anything to connect that bank account to
Flash to tha Shriners.  Failing that, a membership list with Flash and
Finger on it.  And any other relevant names."
     "That list he had earlier doesn't seem to be here."
     Grayson hmphed as he unlocked the file cabinet with a key from
the desk, and quickly riffled through it. "Smarter than I thought.
Don't waste much time here, anything we want's probably long gone."
     "Very likely, Mr. Grayson.  He didn't seem such a fool as that.
We may find more in the chapter president's office, actually.  I saw
his door earlier."
     "Good.  I'll go through the secretaries' desks."
     The president's office was unusually small as far as such things
went, but the odd layout of the offices on the upper floor seemed to
make it necessary.  The small desk was unlocked, as were the files,
and Angels prolonged search turned up nothing useful.  He did have a
gun in his desk, though, a .45 automatic, as well as three pairs of
handcuffs and a large, ornate knife.  The knife attracted Angel's
attention for a moment, but after hefting it she decided it would not
be a very useful weapon; it was made entirely for show.
     Downstairs, Janie picked the one locked door, and opened it
onto a set of stairs going down.  "Looks like a basement."
     "Uh huh." Ardrin started downstairs, his boots clonking and
creaking on the steps.
     Janie followed more quietly after. "What do you think is down
here?"
     "Probably more storage.  Maybe the freezer.  This is right next
to the kitchen."
     At the bottom of the stairs, there were two doors leading to
bathrooms, and a large steel door that opened onto a refrigerator.
The refrigerator was filled with shelves all filled with food and
drink for hundreds of people; another door led to a freezer.
     Ardrin opened up some jars and bags and started making himself a
sandwich.  "Might as well get something out of here."
     "And a trip to the bathroom."  Janie left.
     Back upstairs, Angel found Mr. Grayson going through the
wastebaskets in the outer office. "Have you found anything, sir?"
     "Nope.  Should go through their dumping bin tomorrah morning."
     "Sir, can Ardrin do that?  I suspect he won't mind so much."
     "We'll see.  Did we leave anything?"
     "There was one room that was locked.  I don't know how to open
it, though."
     "You're never to old ta learn.  Let's go look it over."
     The locked door, unlike the other inside doors, was of solid, not
hollow construction.  The lock shone dully under Grayson's flashlight,
fine German writing engraved around the rim. "Hello.  Looks special."
     "Can you open it?"
     "Don't recognize the type.  Did you find any keys in tha
president's office?"
     "Only to his handcuffs."
     "Hmm.  Well, let's try it."
     After fifteen minutes fruitless work, Grayson had thoroughly
spoiled two picks and his temper.  Janie and Ardrin found him staring
at the lock in frustration, with Angel standing behind him, patiently
holding the flashlight.  "Hello, Mr. Grayson?  We've found something."
     "Terrific.  What?"
     Janie held up a plastic bag, full of bundles of pound notes.
"Money.  It was in a barrel of mash.  We figure there's about 200,000
pounds in here, too."
     Rubbing his jaw, Grayson examined the bag.  The cash was in small
bills, all crisp and new. "Look like they came from a bank.  Could be
embezzlement.  Or laundering.  Even a ransom payment.  But by itself,
it's nothing.  We need names."  Handing the back to Ardrin, he
gestured at the door. "Ardrin, put it back tha way it was, nice and
pretty.  Janie, could you have a look at that lock?"
     "Sure.  What's wrong with it?"
     "It won't open, that's what's wrong with it.  I don't even
recognize what kind it is."
     Ardrin left, and Janie bent to examine the lock. "Mr. Grayson's
been working on it for nearly 15 minutes now."
     "I think it's Swiss.  But more than that, I couldn't say.  Let me
look at it."  Unrolling her tool kit, Janie set to work.
     Half an hour later, the lock still wasn't open.  Angel was still
patiently holding the flashlight, and the others were waiting less
patiently while Janie rubbed her fingers. "I think I might have it.
The thing seems to have three layers of tumblers, and --"
     "Mr. Grayson?  It's almost dawn."
     Grayson looked at his watch. ""Right, that's it then.  Stay any
longer and we'll be dodging tha janitor.  Pack your tools, we're
gettin' out of here."
     "But I think I almost have it, sir."
     Angel put down the flashlight. "Janie, I hate to be rude, but you
said that 10 minutes ago.  We really should leave now." Delicately,
she stifled a yawn. "I personally want to get some sleep tonight."
     "Hear, hear." Grayson started down the corridor. "I'm gettin' too
old ta be stayin' up oll noight loik this, 'cept when tha company's
bettah.  Move owt."
     No one else gave any argument.  The first rosy fingers of dawn
greeted them as they locked the back door of the building behind them,
and drove back to their hotel, the Inverlair Lodge, for some much
needed sleep.



Daniel Parsons                                             Brandi Weed
                          Questions or comments to dparsons@netcom.com
        Available for ftp from ftp.cs.pdx.edu, in /pub/frp/stories/SLN