Today. Five minutes ago. We received a complaint from Morse, Bell & Marconi, attorneys-at-law, reporting the theft of documents. They were involved in drafting a new bill for the state legislature. It would have cut the tariff for corporate users of high-speed communications equipment.
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A lot of people were against the bill. I could see why. It would have been just another fax break for the wealthy.
We had a lead: the attorneys had traced the call in which the documents were sent. My partner and I drove over to the address on Southport and knocked on the door.
She was a good-looking woman, with perfect blond hair, and the light jumped off her faxen locks as she glided smoothly across the room. Then she started jerking her arms a little, and moaning a strange sort of tune. She tried to look like someone who couldn’t remember what she’d just been doing.
That’s when she turned surly. “You dirty motherfaxers,” she cooed. “Send me away you will not.”
