Free Lafferty, Mur by Playing for Keeps [html] Page A

stood out as a red flag, which of course meant nothing. They walked away from her apartment building.
    Keepsie sighed. "What do you want, Dr. Timson?"
    "You know what I want," she said. "And now we have something you want."
    "You have two somethings I want," Keepsie said.
    "Ah," Timson said. "Mr. Jacobsen. Yes, I thought his arrest would have upset you. But that is a matter for the courts to decide, not us."
    "No," Keepsie said. "Like you guys don't have your fingers in every bit of politics in this city. You use your heroes to intimidate us and to shut down my bar, you arrested my friend -you, not the police -and you say you can't help me. Well, I can't help you, lady. Sorry." She turned to head back to her apartment, praying Timson would let her go.
    Timson grabbed her arm. "Now, Keepsie, be reasonable. Even if we could influence the courts, how would it look if we released a Third Wave man who attacked police officers in public?"
    Keepsie faced her, trying to form her features into stone. "That is not my problem."
    Timson’s face lost all pretense of friendly overtures. "It doesn't have to be this way, Keepsie. You are putting the city in danger by keeping that device.
    And we can do more to you than close your bar and take your best friend."
    The rage pushed the words out before Keepsie could stop them. "I thought we were going to deal, Timson, and yet all you can do is threaten me.
    You don't seem to understand. I can keep this device safer than anyone else in the world. Safer than you; you let Doodad steal it."
    "Doodad invented it," Timson said, and Keepsie thought she looked sad.
    "He knew exactly how to steal it. Machines are like his children. He knows exactly how the device works."
    Keepsie laughed. "So it belongs to him? Doesn't that make you the thief?"
    "Don't talk about things that you don't understand," Timson said. "Give me the device, Keepsie."
    "No."
    She turned and walked back to her apartment. Timson did not follow.
    Clever Jack was sitting on her doorstep.
    He stood up in one easy movement when he saw her. He wore a battered denim jacket, a blue sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. Had she and Timson passed him on the street? Keepsie couldn't remember.
    He smiled at her. "You're late."
    "I was distracted," Keepsie said, and opened the door to her apartment.
    "Keepsie, what -" Samantha asked, but stopped when she saw Clever Jack.
    Keepsie placed her hand on his shoulder. "This is Clever Jack."
    The room was silent as her friends stared at the villain. They had all seen pictures of him, heard about him on the news, but this was the real thing.
    "Pull up some floor, Clever Jack. We want to talk," Keepsie said.
    A smile flitted across Clever Jack's face, and he sank into a cross-legged position and looked up at Keepsie, who perched on a stool. She propped her elbow on the bar between the kitchen and living room. Pulling the small ball from her pocket, she peered at it.
    "You know, I don't even know what this does," Keepsie said. "And I wonder if my decision would be made easier if I did."
    Clever Jack said nothing.
    "But as it stands, I have no desire to help any of you. Throwing it away won't work though. So I obviously have to choose.
     
    "If I give it to the Academy, I could get my bar back. I could also get Ian released. But I know that wouldn’t be the end of it -they'd probably lean on me even harder since I stood up to them. They might even start sending heroes into my bar to drink, driving away customers." She slipped the ball back into her pocket.
    "What can you give me?" she asked Clever Jack.
    He was silent for a moment. "I don't think we can give you your bar back."
    "Oh, I know that," Keepsie said, smiling. "We want you to get us Ian."
    Clever Jack stood up. "Done."
    "Wait," Keepsie said. "That's it?"
    Clever Jack paused with his hand on the door. "You wanted something else?"
    "Files. Files on our parents, and files on us. We want to know what the Academy knows about us."
    "That will be more