The Defenders airbus remained parked just outside Nashville, waiting for some lead to Antoinette’s current location. On their third day out, while they were eating breakfast, the radio began beeping. Captain Jones took the call.
”For you, Team Second,” he said. Marsha set her plate on the table and slid into the co-pilot’s seat.
”NewsNet Central, to Victoria Killmartin.”
”Receiving. Pass-code 77-AR-134-G. What have you got?” she said, fully alert.
”Green-flag your search, referencing livestock kills, cross-referencing great cats, first name Antoinette, etc…. Do you wish to receive?”
”Yes!”
”Billing your account,” the mechanical voice said.
”Summary: news report, on the wire 6:42 A.M., CDT, Cole, Missouri. Local farmer, Mr. Adam Samuels, contacts sheriff, reports cow killed by a big cat of some sort. On the body of the cow he found the name ‘Antoinette’ printed in blood. Do you wish hardcopy?”
”Continue searches. Transmit hardcopy. Killmartin logoff.” She racked the mike as the printer began to hum.
”Yeoww,” she shouted. “Everyone, hit the deck! Scott, we’ve got a hit! Captain, how soon can you get this crate of spare parts to Cole, Missouri?”
”One hour, twenty-nine minutes, with a tailwind,” he replied after a moment.
He looked at Scott. “Team Leader?”
Scott nodded. “Catch that tailwind, Captain.” There was a rising hum from the engine compartment.
Picking up the microphone again, Marsha reported their discovery to Base.
They arrived at the Cole Sheriff’s Department shortly after ten. Having called ahead, the deputy that had responded to the big-cat report was waiting for them at the scene. Minutes later they landed on the track leading into the pasture.
”Follow me, sir,” the deputy said. A lean, elderly man was waiting for them by a gate when they arrived.
”Over there,” the man said, pointing. They followed him to where the corpse of a pale brown cow lay. Around the partially eaten cow were the pawprints of a huge cat. On its shoulder, the name “Antoinette” was clearly written.
Scott studied the tracks around the cow, trying to determine what direction the tiger may have gone. Not having the tracking skills of a fox or even a wolf, he quickly lost the trail in the tall grasses.
“This looks like the one we’re following,” he told the farmer. “This at least puts us back on her trail. Thank you,” he added.
“What are you going to do about my cow, here? It’s not like I can afford to just let any old beast kill my cattle any time it wants,” he cried out, shaking his fist. “Who’s going to pay for it?”
“The Defenders will pay for the cow, sir,” Scott answered. “What was it worth?”
The farmer’s eyes lit up. “I sell my cattle for thirty-five hundred a head, on the hoof.”
Scott turned, “Captain Jones, make out…”
“Hold it, Scott,” Marsha interrupted. “The going rate for beef on the hoof is…” she paused and studied her hand computer, “… about seventy-five cents a pound. At eight hundred pounds, the average weight of a mature Charolais, that would only add up to six hundred dollars.”
Scott turned back to the farmer. “Six hundred, hmmm?” The farmer sputtered. “Tell you what, Mr.Samuels. We’ll give you an even thousand for the cow. On one condition.” He turned to the deputy. “Officer, I want you to ensure that Mr. Samuels here salvages as much meet from this carcass as he can. I want the beef shipped to the Defenders base in Chattanooga, Tennessee by way of the nearest FORCE enclave. When the meat is delivered, the Defenders will transfer one thousand dollars to Mr. Samuels, here.” He turned back to the farmer. “No meat; no money. Bad meat; no money. I’ll give you a script right now for one hundred dollars to pay for the butchering and shipping. Deal?”
He nodded.
“Very well. Captain Jones? Make out a script for one hundred dollars cash to Mr. …”
“Adam Samuels. That’s S.A.M.U.E.L.S.”
“Mr. Adam Samuels, Captain. And send a message to Magnum that the beef will be on its way within two days. Save me a T-bone for when we return.”
“Me, too,” piped Jay as he watched Lady orbiting the pasture.
”Thank you, Deputy Struthers, Mr. Samuals,” Scott said. “Everyone, back on the airbus.”
Jay watched as Lady stooped on some prey. A moment later she arose from the grass, carrying an unfortunate rabbit. He summoned her back to the airbus and held out his arm for her to land. Taking the rabbit from her claws, he carried her in and placed her on the perch mounted for her inside. Taking a tray from the galley, he placed the tray in the center of the galley table and dropped the rabbit onto it. The hawk half-flapped down to the tray and tore into its dinner.
Once everyone was back aboard, Scott closed the doors. “Captain, plot a course from the Base to this point. Then extend it another six hundred miles. Let’s see if we can catch up to Antoinette.”
* * * * *
The airbus continued flying northwest in a tight search pattern that brought the terrain for ten miles to either side of Tigresse’s plotted path under the scrutiny of their scanners. It was about two in the afternoon, and they were well into Nebraska, when the radio beeped.
”It’s for you, Team Second,” Captain Jones said. Marsha took the call.
”Yes?”
”NewsNet Central, to Victoria Killmartin.”
”Receiving. Pass-code 77-AR-134-G. What have you got?” she asked.
”Green-flag your search, referencing great cats, cross-referencing disturbances involving tigers, disturbances involving naked human females, physical description Antoinette Duval. Do you wish to receive?”
”Yes.”
”Billing your account.
”News report, on the wire 12:15 P.M., CDT, North Platte, Nebraska. Summary: After reports of a tiger on the median of I-80, Nebraska Highway Patrol closed a fifty-mile stretch of the Interstate between Lexington and North Platte and staged a massive, though unsuccessful attempt to capture the animal. The police followed it for some thirty miles, then tried to capture it near North Platte. The tiger changed into a naked woman, who spoke to one of the officers. He attempted to arrest her for indecent exposure, she turned back into a tiger, knocked him down, and fled. Shots were fired and the tiger was hit at least twice but escaped into the trees bordering the Interstate. Do you wish hardcopy?”
”Yes. Continue search. Killmartin logoff.” She racked the headset and flipped on the intercom. “Hey, Scott, we got another hit. Antoinette’s been spotted. She talked to the Nebraska Highway Patrol about two hours ago, they tried to arrest her for indecent exposure, she ran and they shot at her. Nobody hurt, it appears, but I’m afraid she’ll go into hiding and be harder for us to find.
”Good job, Marsha,” Scott said. “Captain, the Interstate near North Platte, top speed. Monitor Highway Patrol frequencies.”
”Why are we going to talk to the highway patrol?” Jay asked. “Why don’t we just head for her last known point and continue looking for her?”
”First,” Scott replied, “we are so much faster than she is that the time spent will be minimal. Second, like Marsha said, she’s probably going to be hiding from air search right now. Third, I want to know what she told the officer.”
Jay considered it for a moment, then shrugged. “It’s a plan, anyway.”
Fifteen minutes later, the airbus began its vertical descent over the Interstate. Two patrol cars were parked on the shoulder. Three patrolmen stood, looking up at the airbus. They were carrying rifles.
Scott, Marsha and Louis stepped out and walked over to one of the patrolmen. “Excuse me. I’m Scott Nolan, with the Defenders. We’re trying to find the girl that was reported, the one that changes into a tiger. FORCE business.”
The officer shook his head. “Sorry, sir. You’ll need to go to the station at North Platte to get that information. I don’t know anything about it.”
Marsha looked at the rifle in his hand. “Just standard equipment, I suppose?”
He nodded gravely. “Yes, ma’am.”
Scott shook his head in annoyance. “Come on, folks. Back to the airbus.”
”Yeah, sure,” she said to the trooper, then turned and started back to the airbus. Behind her, she heard the crack of splintering wood and a startled exclamation from the patrolman. She looked back to see Louis drop the patrolman’s rifle, the breech mechanism crushed.
”Louis, stop breaking their guns,” she ordered.
”Damn it, ma’am, they shot her! All she did was talk to them and they shot her!” He slammed his fist down on the trunk lid of the nearest patrol car. It buckled under the impact, springing open to show a small arsenal. With an angry oath, Louis reached in and crushed a grenade launcher, then broke a heavy shotgun in half.
”Louis. Stop!” Scott ordered. “I agree with your feelings, but we can’t go smashing things. Now calm down and get back in the airbus. Officer, send the bill to the Defenders, care of FORCE.” Then Scott turned and followed Louis.
”Into North Platte, Captain. We’re just wasting time here.”
They got the same stonewall treatment at the patrol station in North Platte. Finally, in frustration, they went to the Highway Patrol Headquarters in Lincoln.
”I want to speak to the Commander, please,” Scott said to the officer at the front desk.
”I’m sorry, sir. The Commander is out of the office. Would you like to speak to the Deputy Commander?”
”Okay.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were talking to the Deputy Commander. “And so, sir, I need to find her. The North Platte officers say I need clearance.”
”Well, I’m afraid only the Commander can give that clearance. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
Scott stood up. “Something stinks here!” he said in a voice tight with anger. “I don’t know what is going on, but I am sick of being given the runaround.” He gathered the others up with his eye. “Let’s go.”
Back in the airbus, Jay said, “Now what, Boss?”
”We’re going to the office of the Commissioner of Public Safety. I want you to go in civies first, then Marsha and I’ll go in in uniform. We’ll both ask to see the Commissioner. I assume we’ll be stonewalled there, but Captain Jones can fly a spy-eye around and see if we can find the joker and see what is going on. I don’t know whether this is simple bureaucratic bungling, or something much worse.”
Jay, dressed in civilian clothing, walked into the office of the Commissioner of Public Safety. He smiled down at the secretary. She was young and pretty, if a bit thin for his tastes. “Hi, I’m Jay Perrin. I’m doing an article on public officials and the good they do the State of Nebraska. Can I speak to the Commissioner?”
”Sure. He’s busy right now, but if you care to wait, it shouldn’t be long.”
”Thanks,” he said, and sat down.
Scott and Marsha entered in uniform a few minutes later. “I want to see the Commissioner,” Scott said. “FORCE business.”
”He’s, ah, he’s not in, sir,” the secretary stammered, after a conference by phone.
”Then I’ll wait for him,” Scott snapped. He walked over to a seat against the wall and sat down, pulling his com unit from its carrying case on his belt.
Scott, watching as Captain Jones maneuvered the spy-eye through the building until he came to the door to the commissioner’s office. Twice people came down the hall but failed to notice the transparent spy-eye buzzing along near the ceiling.
Sliding under the door, the insect-sized device found the commissioner, sitting behind a desk and reading a report. It flew behind him, where Scott could see the heading of the report. It was about the encounter with a tiger on the Interstate.
”Got the bastard,” he announced. “Come on, Jay. Let’s get him. Uniform.” He put his comm back in its case, then stood and walked past the receptionist. Jay got up, his red-checked shirt and brown pants changing back into the Defenders forest-green uniform as he pressed the concealed switches in the garmets.
”Wait,” the secretary said, jumping up. “You can’t go in there.”
”FORCE business,” Marsha snapped, stepping between the secretary and Scott. “Try to stop us and you’ll end up in a federal prison.”
The secretary turned to the visiphone, but Jay reached across her desk and yanked the cord from phone, dropping it on the floor. He wagged his finger at her. “Really wouldn’t advise it, Miss. She can get awfully testy at times.”
The three Defenders strode down the hall and burst into the Commissioner’s office. “Commissioner?”
He jumped. “What? Who are you? And how did you get in here?”
”My name is Scott Nolan, I am with the Defenders, and I need some information. I am trying to find that girl that changes into a tiger, and no-one is co-operating.”
”What girl are you talking about?”
”The one in that report you’re reading.”
”Huh? How do you know what’s in it?”
He shook his head. “Immaterial, Commissioner.”
”I don’t know anything about it,” the commissioner said. You’ll have to go down to Patrol Headquarters and talk to the Commander.”
”We’ve tried that. Seems he’s conveniently ‘out of the office’.”
He shrugged. “Well, I’m sorry, but …”
”Commissioner,” Marsha interrupted, eyes snapping with anger. “It is obvious your boys goofed and are now trying to cover it up. I don’t yet know what they have done, or think they have done, but I guarantee if we don’t get some straight answers real soon, I will see this spread over the front page of every newspaper and TV station in Nebraska. By the time I’m done, your chances for re-election will be rather less than zero!
”Now, we want to find that girl. I don’t care what sort of blunders the Highway Patrol may have made. If they will co-operate with us in finding her, I will be more than happy to co-operate with them in covering their asses. But I swear, if she gets hurt because you all are trying to hide something, I will dig until I have uncovered every skeleton in this department, and I will see to it that every bit of it gets front-page coverage!” She stared angrily at the commissioner.
”Please, Commissioner,” Scott said. “All I want to know is what went on with Antoinette and the Patrol. We’re trying to find her. Please, help us.”
The door burst open and a man in Highway Patrol uniform started in. Jay stepped in front of him. “FORCE business. Scat,” he said.
The officer bridled, hand dropping to his pistol. “That would not be a good idea,” Jay said, “unless you are just aching for ten years in the Federal pen. This is FORCE business, and it doesn’t need to involve you, so take my advice and scat.”
The patrolman backed up a step, looking over Jay’s shoulder at the commissioner. “It’s all right,” the commissioner said. “You can go.” The officer left. Jay closed the door again.
The commissioner hesitated a moment more, then nodded. “Very well. I have your word you will not publicize anything that you may discover, in return for our co-operation?”
”Yes,” Scott said. “Your full co-operation.”
”All right. The officer who first contacted her tried to arrest her for indecent exposure, and she fled. We reported the incident, including her request, to FORCE, and got no response.”
”Wait a minute,” Scott interrupted. “What request? What did she tell you?”
”She said that her name was Antoinette Duval. She asked us to call FORCE and have them tell the Defenders that she was following Tracker and that she needed help. She said that she didn’t have the time to come down to the station and call you herself.”
Scott nodded. “Please continue.”
”When we tried to apprehend her, the arresting officer slipped and fell, and she ran. One of the covering officers fired at her, then the others opened fire as well. That was unjustified, and the officers involved have been reprimanded.
”I’ll give you a letter instructing the North Platte station to co-operate. Will that be satisfactory?”
”Yes, thank you,” Scott said. “I understand from that report that she is wanted for resisting arrest, indecent exposure, and creating a public nuisance. Looks to me like your boys are under the gun for use of excessive force. Interested in a general absolution? Drop all charges against her, and I’ll see that she doesn’t bring charges against the department, or the officers that shot at her. Deal?”
He nodded. “It’s a deal. Thank you, sir.”
Jay walked over behind the commissioner and plucked the spy-eye off the window blind where it was attached.
The commissioner turned. “What are you doing?”
”Better call your exterminators, Commissioner. You have bugs.” He dropped the spy-eye into his pocket and returned to his post by the door. The commissioner looked at Jay and at the window blind, then shrugged, took a sheet of stationary from his drawer, and began writing.
Scott took the letter, holding it so Marsha could see it too. They read it carefully, then Scott folded it and put it in his pocket. “Thank you, Commissioner,” he said.
”Where to, Team Leader?” Captain Jones asked after they’d returned to the airbus. “Back to the North Platte station??
Scott considered, then shook his head. “No. We won’t learn anything more there. Head back there until you can pick up the trail again, and let’s keep following her.”
