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Stories from the Verse
Multiverser: The Thirteenth Story
Chapter 17: Takano 162
Table of Contents
Previous chapter: Beam 201
“We’ll all do surf and turf,” Keller said even before the maitre d’ had seated them in their private room. “I’ll have my steak well done, baked potato, buttered spinach, and fry up some onions to go with it.”
“Very good, Mister Keller. Soup or salad?”
“What are the soups?”
“Chicken orzo, Manhattan clam chowder, and of course French onion.”
“I’ll do French onion.”
“And to drink?”
“Coffee and water, I think.”
“Very good. Madam?” he said turning to Missus Keller.
“I’ll have mine medium rare, and can I do broiled shrimp instead of lobster? Mash my potatoes and put brown gravy on them and on the steak, green beans, and the chowder. And I’ll have tea.”
“Milk or lemon?”
“Lemon. And lemon and tartar sauce for the shrimp.”
“Oh, indeed,” Keller interrupted, “I’ll want cocktail sauce with the lobster.”
Tommy was surprised that the man wasn’t writing any of this down, but she knew that professional waiters practiced that, and soon enough he said, “And mademoiselle?” which she knew meant her.
“Wow. Um--steak, medium well, and I think I’ll do the baked potato with sour cream, and the buttered spinach? And some of those onions with the steak.”
“Soup or salad?”
“I think salad. What dressings do you have?”
He rattled off a list of which she managed to hear vinegar and oil, French, Russian, and Bleu Cheese, and noticed that Honey Mustard was not on the list. She said, “A garden salad with French dressing, I think. And--do you have lemonade?”
The maitre d’ nodded. “Will that be all?”
“Um--tartar sauce and lemon?”
“Very good. Enjoy your meal.” With that he left the room.
“So,” Keller began, “you got a tip that Metalika was going to rob an armored car tomorrow, in the northeast quarter. How did you get this tip?”
“Robinette. We’ve got a sort of relationship.”
“And did she say how she knew?”
Tommy hesitated. That was complicated. But then, they should know.
“She read his mind.”
“She--I’m sorry, what?”
“My fault, I suppose. Derek and Vashti taught me to read minds, and they taught me to teach other people how to do it, but I had to teach someone to be able to do that, and she was the only friend I knew that I thought would--well, I’m not sure, but she can read minds.”
There was silence for a few minutes, and then Keller said, “Can you teach me?”
Belle interrupted somewhat sternly, “I’d rather she didn’t.” Tommy smiled.
“Not, I think, over your wife’s objection.”
“No,” he said, “you’re right. So you think the tip is reliable.” Tommy nodded, Keller shifted in his seat and leaned forward.
The soups and salad arrived along with the drinks, which interrupted the conversation for a moment as the waiter, not the one who took the order, matched food and drink to individual diners. Then as he departed Keller continued.
“I’ve used my contacts--both Keller’s and Tell’s--to try to find out about armored cars moving tomorrow. Banks don’t usually do business on weekends, and it doesn’t appear that this is an exception. Retail corporations similarly won’t move large amounts of cash when the banks aren’t open. The only thing I found that I thought was worth targeting by a supervillain was a shipment by the diamond market. It’s coming in from Denver and is expected to arrive mid-afternoon--it’s about a five hour drive. I was unable to get the route, so I’m thinking we might want to get The Eagle involved at least to do aerial recon.”
Tommy nodded. It was good that Keller was on top of this. Even if she had thought of involving The Eagle, she didn’t have a way to contact him.
“So, we should probably be ready by noon,” she said. “I’m not sure where I should be, though. I’m still not that familiar with the city, particularly up there.”
“Well, they’re coming from Denver, probably down 285 unless they go through Colorado Springs, in which case they’ll be on 160. Either way, when they hit town on the northeast corner they’ll want to get on Roosevelt Boulevard and take it downtown to the diamond district. Of course, that’s a couple miles, and it’s not obvious where Metalika is likely to strike.”
“Or whether he’ll have Aceydeecy with him,” Belle suggested.
“Right--and that certainly complicates our encounter, because he can stop the car if he can get close to it.”
Tommy considered the situation. They could stop the armored car, but only if they could get close enough to touch it. In Saturday downtown traffic, that wouldn’t be that difficult, but they would need a bike or similar vehicle to ride alongside it--or else--
“They’re going to find a way to stop the truck.”
“They have a way, dear,” Belle said. “Aceydeecy only has to touch it.”
“No, that’s certainly part of the plan,” Tommy said, “but he has to get close enough to a moving vehicle to touch it. He’s probably not going to do that; he’s going to touch it when it stops--but that means he has to know where and when it’s going to stop.”
“But the diamond exchange is downtown, and you said northeast quarter,” Keller objected.
“Right. So they have to have a way to stop the truck--blocked intersection, staged accident, something that would force them to stop for half a minute, long enough for him to run out and grab the bumper or something and ground out the engine.”
Keller was nodding. “That makes sense,” he said. “I’m not sure whether it helps, but at least we know what we’re looking for.”
Food arrived, and again the waiter had to match orders to individuals. Tommy had barely touched her salad, and turned her attention to it in earnest.
After a few minutes, Belle said, “I guess that’s about all we can plan at this point.”
“Right,” Keller said. “I’ll contact The Eagle tonight, and pick you up at the church tomorrow at noon.”
Tommy tried to say that wasn’t necessary through a mouthful of salad, but Keller brushed her off. “Be dressed as Truth; no need to complicate things.”
By the time she had finished the salad she was nearly full (although she had indulged in one of the dinner rolls). The others seemed to be slowing down with unfinished dinners on their plates. Soon the waiter was asking about dessert, and the Kellers were declining but offering to let her have something if she wished.
“Thank you, no--but is there anyway I can pack up this dinner and take it home?”
“Mademoiselle wishes to have a, doggy bag?”
Apparently boxing up unfinished food to eat later wasn’t a thing yet.
“Yes, a doggy-bag would be great,” she answered.
“Very well,” he said, and scooped up her plate. A few minutes later he returned with a waxed paper bag decorated with the name of the restaurant and the face of a drooling puppy on it, but it didn’t matter to her. She was going to enjoy all this, probably over the next few days. The Kellers returned her to the church, and she thanked them for their hospitality and headed inside to get washed, set an alarm, and get some sleep.
As to the old stories that have long been here:
