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Ten minutes swift walking along back streets and alleyways brought us to the fire exit doors of a fairly new and well-maintained apartment block. The door was locked from the inside, of course - this was New York, after all. Not that that slowed me down very much. There are several means available to me to get through locked doors - not all of them magical - but in this case I elected to use the rather fine collection of lock picks which I kept in one of my inner pockets. Once inside, Campsie seemed calmer, the absence of open space over her head apparently reassuring her. Her panic receded and her analytic thought processes kicked in. "So who's this human?" she asked, "Who are we visiting here?" "Call him Gumshoe," I said, "He was my partner, once upon a time." "He was your human partner?" she exclaimed, "So it is true, then." "Sure,, just like you said earlier," I replied, then switched to English, "Gumshoe and Gask, Private Investigators." "Wow!" "Remind me to tell you about the time we solved a mystery for the Old Ones," I said, feigning modesty with, I thought, a high degree of effectiveness, "For a human, Gumshoe certainly handled himself well in the Hells." "Really? You worked for the Old Ones?" Campsie squeaked, "And with a human? In the Hells?" "Yes, indeed." Campsie was beside herself. It was all true enough, of course. Maybe I should write it all down one of these days, if only for historical interest. "So Gumshoe's not to be underestimated," I continued, "He's pretty smart, and he's saved my life on more than one occasion too. So, better let me do the talking." Once again, Campsie nodded mutely. This was getting to be a habit. We made our way cautiously up a dozen flights of too-large human-scale stairs. The fire escape was as featureless and as unoccupied as one could wish. As we approached the thirteenth floor, there were just a few clues that our approach was not entirely unnoticed. Not that I wished to sneak up on him, anyway. "How are we going to contact your ex-partner?" Campsie asked in hushed tones, "Won't he be a bit surprised if we turn up unannounced?" "Oh, Gumshoe already knows we're here," I assured her, glancing at the little cameras half-hidden in shadowy corners, "So we'll just knock on the door." To my entire lack of surprise, the door to apartment 1301 was unlocked and slightly ajar when we got to it. I knocked politely anyway, then pushed it open just enough for Campsie and myself to slip through. The door clicked softly shut behind us. Inside, it was dark, at least by the standards of humans, and certainly dark enough that I no longer needed the sunglasses. I pulled mine off and stowed them in an inside pocket. From across the room, a familiar voice rumbled. "Hello, Findo. Long time, no see."
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Part 14