Jane had taken this job at B.L.I.S.S. right after she got her doctorate. For the past two years she'd worked long hours trying to prove herself. Much of that time had been spent alone in her D & C workroom, --there or on nights and weekends, in the workroom she'd created in her apartment, which eliminated the need for a night nurse for Gran while still allowing Jane to tinker. Yet she still was working long hours, even now. It was no longer out of a need to impress anyone, but simply because she enjoyed it. Jane had a passion for her work. She hadn't really felt a need for a social life--especially not one that included the emotional messiness of male-female relationships.
Not consciously she hadn't felt it, anyway. But now, standing here looking down at the contents of her briefcase, Jane began to suspect that subconsciously it was a different story. Perhaps she was inwardly yearning for something. And that something was possibly emotional, but most definitely sexual.
"Jane?" Ira Manetrue prompted, making her realize she'd stood silent an awfully long time contemplating the possibility that she needed...well...basically that she needed to get laid.
Sighing, she shoved her concerns aside and grimly lifted one of the BMMLs out of her briefcase. The restless shuffling and soft murmurs that had begun to fill the room came to an immediate halt. Jane ignored the sudden silence and carried her invention down to the end of the table. There she handed it over to Y.
"Oh, my." The woman turned the object over in her hand. "I hesitate to even ask what this is."
"A microphone," Dick spoke up with a laugh. As Jane returned to her seat and picked up the second BMML he added, "At least, that's what she appeared to be using it as when I stopped in to remind her about today's meeting so she wouldn't be late again."
Jane ground her teeth and began to twist the vibrator in her hands.
"Mind you," Dick continued, "she said she was testing it--but she may have had it at her mouth for another reason entirely." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"This is the B.L.I.S.S. Mini-Missile Launcher," Jane announced to shut him up. She forced a calmer tone as she continued. "As you can see, it appears to be nothing more than your common everyday vibrator."
"So they're commonly neon pink, Jane?" Dick asked slyly. "And that big?"
Jane's fingers tightened on her invention, unintentionally flicking its switch. The cylinder began to vibrate. Jane gave a start and dropped it. Fortunately, she caught it before it hit the desk, but she flushed even further as Dick burst into gales of laughter. Jane tried to shut it off. Unfortunately, in her agitation, she pushed down on the switch instead of flicking it off. Much to her horror, the BMML bucked in her hands.
The missile launched.
Chapter Two
It sailed right over Dick's head, the draft from its passing parting his hair dead-center. There was a tinkle as the missile crashed through the window behind him, but that was almost unnoticeable next to the loud percussion that followed. Jane stood completely still, not even breathing. Mr. Manetrue got to his feet and moved calmly to the window to peer out. Jane envisioned dead bodies strewn everywhere behind the building.
"Nice shot, Jane. You hit the explosion test-pit dead-on," Manetrue announced. When he turned, his expression was curious. "That obviously isn't a microphone, and it has an excellent targeting system."
Relief poured over Jane. Her heart began to pump again, sending blood gushing through her veins. She even started breathing once more.
She hadn't hurt anyone. Thank God!
"No. Not a microphone," Y agreed dryly.
Jane glanced toward the head of B.L.I.S.S. who was now holding the other neon-pink BMML as if expecting it to explode at any moment. Grimacing, Jane hurried to retrieve it.
Y handed it back without comment; then Jane returned quietly to her chair, appreciating the sympathetic look Lizzy offered. This just wasn't her day, she supposed. Although, if she looked at it from a different perspective, perhaps it was her day. No one had gotten hurt by the malfunctioning BMML. And it had malfunctioned. She'd installed a fail-safe that should have prevented it from going off in such circumstances.
Jane's gaze slid along the table to Dick. He was no longer smirking or laughing; he'd gone silent and pale.
Everything had its upside.
"Go ahead, Jane. Explain your invention," Mr. Manetrue suggested. He moved back to take his seat. He didn't appear the least upset that she'd very nearly beheaded one of her coworkers, blown a hole through the room's window, and launched a missile that might have killed them all. In fact, he appeared to be restraining a smile.
"Uh...yes, sir." Clearing her throat, she held up the unused missile launcher. "The...er...B.L.I.S.S. Mini-Missile Launcher is highly nonthreatening in appearance and easily-carried in luggage into foreign countries. Made mostly of polymers, it will not set off airport alarms. Should it be discovered during a hand-search of luggage, it is unlikely to raise concern. In fact, most people would be too embarrassed to look at it closely. Even if they did, however, they will find a functioning vibrator." She'd remembered and fallen into the speech she'd prepared, and now she moved to flick the BMML's switch to on. Movement out of the corner of her eye made her hesitate.
Dick had finally snapped out of his stunned state, and he was moving to duck under the table, out of the way of the missile she'd unthinkingly turned in his direction. Jane bit her lip. Part of her wanted to smile at the obnoxious twit being sent to his knees that way. The bigger, better part of her felt slightly guilty.
"Er..., guess you don't need to see that part of it again," she remarked quietly. Then she glanced toward Mr. Manetrue and Y. "I did add a safety feature, though. It isn't supposed to fire unless you twist the base and tip in opposite directions first, and then you push the button. The safety must have failed."
"You were twisting the base and tip while you were talking," Y mentioned gently. "But this indicates that a more complicated safety mechanism should be thought out. Otherwise, I think it's brilliant."
"Yes, yes." Ira Manetrue looked thrilled. "It will help avoid customs problems without having to reveal our agents to those countries who refuse to help us."
Y nodded. "I'll expect several new safety ideas for your BMML at the next meeting, Jane, and I want to be consulted as to the final design. Now, if that's all, I guess we can adjourn."
After a brief pause to be sure no one had anything to say, Y stood and left the room. Mr. Manetrue followed. The moment the door closed behind them, the room burst into activity. Everyone began to move at once, packing their things and preparing to leave.
Jane blew out a heavy breath, shaking her head at surviving, mostly, yet another monthly presentation. Then she opened her briefcase and set her BMMLs--spent and unspent--inside.
"Well," Lizzy said bracingly as she got to her feet, "that went well, I think."
"Ha, ha," Jane muttered. Her friend grinned. "No. Seriously. You had a little hiccup there with the...er, BM-whatever."
"BMML," Jane prompted, shrugging into her jacket. "And nearly blowing off the head of a coworker is hardly a hiccup."
"It is when it's Dick."
Lizzy and Jane had often agreed the man's parents had been prophetic, if cruel, in naming him. Richard--better known as Dick--Hedde. Jane's gaze moved along the table to the empty spot where Dick had been seated. "Did he leave already?" she asked hopefully. Jane rather supposed she owed him an apology, but she wouldn't be sorry to miss the opportunity if he'd left.
"I think he's still under the table. In a fetal position and sucking his thumb."
Mouth dropping open, Jane bent swiftly to peer under the table. Dick wasn't there.
"Janie, honey, you are so gullible!" Lizzy laughed good-naturedly.
Jane straightened, making a face and closing her briefcase with a snap. "It's part of my charm."
"Yes, it is." Lizzy grinned. "Want to stop for a drink and maybe a pizza on the way home?" They headed for the door.
"Can't. Jill has to leave early to pick up her daughte
r from the train station. She's skipping Friday's classes to come home from the university for the weekend. I have to get straight back." Jill was the woman who watched Jane's gran, and she was gold as far as Jane was concerned. She was a hard worker, was always on time, was never sick, and most importantly got on with Jane's gran. Which was no small thing. Maggie Spyrus could be a cantankerous mule.
Jane glanced at her wristwatch and frowned. "Actually, I'd better hurry about it too. Her daughter's train gets in at five-thirty. It's already five." She made a face. "This meeting would run late on a day I have to be home early."
"Hmm." Lizzy nodded. "That's the way it usually works. It would have gone faster if Lipschitz hadn't rambled on for an hour about his knockout lipstick."
"Knockout lipstick?" Jane asked. They started up the hall. She hadn't paid attention to Lipschitz's presentation. Or anyone else's for that matter. She really had to see someone about this fear-of-public-speaking thing.
"Yes." Lizzy pulled a small tube from her pocket and handed it over. "This is the prototype. He passed a couple around. We were supposed to give it back, but I forgot when he sat down and you opened your briefcase. I couldn't believe it when I saw those vibrators." She shook her head and laughed.
Jane smiled slightly and took the sample, managing to uncap it one-handed. The color was a hot red. Every man's dream, she supposed. "How does it work?"
"There's a clear stick in the other end. You put that on first like a base coat, then put the color over top. Kiss a guy, and poof!" She snapped her thumb and finger together. "He's out cold and you're fine, according to Lipschitz."
Jane pursed her lips. "I wonder if he tested it himself....And if he did, whether he was the kisser or the kissee."
"Good Lord, I hope he was the kissee! Lipschitz in lipstick is just not something I want to imagine."
Jane laughed. Closing the colored end of the lipstick, she turned it over to open the other and stared with interest at the clear glistening tube beneath. "Is the base coat an antidote, or does it just prevent the drug from touching the wearer's skin?"
"I'm not sure. I missed that part of his very long explanation. I kind of zoned out after the first fifteen minutes." Shrugging, Lizzy changed the subject. "So if Jill's daughter is home, who's watching your grandmother tomorrow?"
"I am," Jane managed to say without grimacing. "I took tomorrow off."
"Off?" Lizzy smiled. "As if! You mean you'll work at home. As usual."
"Yeah, well--"
"Lizzy!" At the call, both Jane and her friend paused and looked back. Joan Higate, one of the three secretaries everyone in D & C shared, started down the hall after them. "You have a phone call. A Mark Armstrong."
"Damn. I have to take that," Lizzy muttered. "Well, I'll give you a call this weekend." She turned and broke into a jog back toward the phones.
"Oh, wait! The lipstick." Jane took a step after her friend, but paused when Lizzy waved back at her not to worry.
Shrugging, Jane turned back toward the exit. Recapping the lipstick, she slipped it into her pocket. She'd give it back on Monday; she really had to get home now. The last thing Jane wanted was to piss off Jill. Who else could take care of her gran?
Maggie Spyrus had been an active, sharp-minded agent right up until six years ago. Then, after forty-five years in the business, one year before she would have retired, an assignment had gone awry. She had been training a rookie who'd made a terrible error--one that had cost the girl's life and landed Maggie in a wheelchair. She'd not taken the change well. She missed the action and adventure of her old job. She missed using her brain and body. And she got into all sorts of trouble--or had until Jane hired Jill.
Jill was the sixth nurse Maggie Spyrus had in the year after the incident, but she was also the last. The woman had once told Jane that the secret to her success with Gran: She hid whatever sympathy she felt. When the old girl misbehaved, Jill berated her for acting like a child, accused her of being a nasty old witch feeling sorry for herself. Which was apparently what Gran needed. The last thing Maggie could handle was being pitied or treated like a senile old cripple, so Jill's attitude was perfect. Gran responded well to expectations, and Jill had a lot of them. She expected Gran to do what she could and to behave well. And for Jill, Gran did.
Jane paused at the door at the end of the hall, punched a code into the keypad, stuck her thumb on another pad so it could read her print, then pressed her eye to the retina scanner. A buzz sounded and the door unlocked. Jane immediately pushed it open and stepped out into a small lobby painted a soothing blue. It was very small, perhaps twenty feet wide. The wall facing her had three elevators. A small counter stood at either end of the room, a man in a security guard's uniform behind each.
Jane gave a smile and waved in response to their greetings. As she crossed the short distance to the first of the three elevators, the doors slid apart almost at once, opened by one of the guards.
Jane stepped inside. This elevator was saved for D & C use only. The other two traveled up, carrying people to the higher floors and departments in the B.L.I.S.S. building, but this one was reserved for her department alone. It opened out into the main lobby or traveled down to the first and second basements, where all of the more interesting and dangerous experiments took place. Thus the security for it was very tight.
The doors at Jane's back clicked shut, enclosing her in the mirrored elevator. A moment passed during which she knew she was being x-rayed and what she carried was being recorded. Then the doors in front of her slid open.
Jane stepped out and crossed the large main lobby filled with B.L.I.S.S. workers coming and going. She pushed through the main revolving doors to the outside. Hurrying along the concrete sidewalk, she passed the large sign that read TOTS TOY DEVELOPMENT and had a laugh. It was a dummy sign. Camouflage. There was very little having to do with tots inside that building, unless you counted weapons against terrorists or counteragents or threats to the world order as nifty children's games.
The sight of her little white Miata sports car made her smile. Jane unlocked its door, tossed her briefcase inside, then slid behind its wheel.
Catching a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror, she grimaced. The light dusting of face powder and rose lipstick she'd applied that morning were long gone. Large naked green eyes peered back at her. Between that and the long auburn hair pulled back into its usual ponytail, she looked about ten years younger than the twenty-eight she was. Someday she'd look her age, she was sure, but by then she probably wouldn't want to.
Jane glanced up at the soft top of her car and considered putting it down. It was November but unseasonably nice, and she loved to drive fast with no roof. She was running late, however, and the latch tended to give her trouble; so she merely undid her window, buckled up, and started the engine. Imagining herself a race-car driver, she shifted the stick shift into gear and roared out of the parking lot.
It was only a twenty-minute drive from the B.L.I.S.S. building to the apartment she shared with her grandmother. Today she made it in sixteen. Grabbing her briefcase, Jane scrambled out of the car and hurried inside. The apartment building had been designed in a squarish C, with the entry way and lobby in the front opening into a long corridor that diverged both right and left for a good thirty feet before turning sharply into the wings. Jane and her gran lived on the first floor in the hallway on the right. Their apartment overlooked the street, so she wasn't surprised when she rounded the corner and found Jill waiting in the open door with her coat on.
"I'm sorry," Jane apologized as she rushed forward. "I meant to get here earlier, but my meeting ran longer than usual."
"That's okay. I saw you pull up and got ready," the slender, fiftyish brunette said. She held the apartment door so Jane wouldn't have to use her key. "I'll get there just in time."
Jane breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Thanks, Jill. See you Monday." She raised her hand to hold the door herself, then watched Jill hurry off up the hall. When the woman was gone,
Jane stepped inside and pushed the door closed. She dropped her briefcase so that she could lock the door, and removed her jacket.
"Janie?"
"Yes, Gran, it's me. Be right there." Hanging her coat on the rack by the door, she picked up her case and moved into the living room.
Maggie Spyrus, seventy years old but still lovely, smiled at her as she entered. "How did the meeting go, dear?"
"Other than firing my BMML and nearly taking off Dick's head, I think it went pretty well."
Gran's eyebrows flew up. "Firing the...What did Y say?"
"Nothing about nearly killing Dick, but she did say she thought the BMML was brilliant."
"Brilliant? My!" Gran marveled. "That is high praise from her."
"Yes, and she thought the shrink-wrap condoms were 'diabolical' but would be more useful for torturing enemy spies than anything else. She didn't say much about the tampon trackers...but she did ask a lot of questions about them."
"She likes them then," Gran said with satisfaction. She absently petted the small white Yorkie in her lap.
Jane merely shrugged, weariness coming over her now that she was home. The stress was over. She wanted nothing more than to have a light dinner with Gran and maybe watch a movie. Tomorrow she'd start thinking up new fail-safes for the BMML "How was your day?"
"Oh, well...I didn't die. But we can always hope for tomorrow."
"Yes," Jane agreed pleasantly. "I'm going to go change into something more comfortable, then see about dinner." The best way to fight Gran's depressive moments was to ignore them.
"Jill made a nice lasagna and salad. She said she put them in the fridge, and that the lasagna just has to be cooked for fifteen minutes or so at 325 degrees to warm it up."