Chapter 19. It was early evening before a certain casually, yet elegantly dressed,

ne'er-do-well, appeared at the business end of the great pneumatic tube. He stepped out somewhat gingerly,

as though his head had not appreciated the trip quite as much as it generally did, but he was

determined not to show it. Kit Baxter's head popped around the corner.

Her cowl was down around her shoulders and the goggles were absent, but she was otherwise

togged and ready for action. Her eyes narrowed slightly. Should you be here? She said carefully.

He looked at her a little sternly, as if he were looking over the rims of glasses that he did not, in fact, have.

Miss Baxter, well, I appreciate your lugging my unconscious form out of that inferno.

You're all through being babied now? She finished his thought with a sheepish grin.

In a nutshell, he stepped into the hall and walked with her into

the crime lab. Can I use the same line on you the next time you're playing mother hen with me?

She said, noting that she did not need to hurry as much to keep pace with his strides. No,

he smiled. Does that seem entirely fair, she said, her chin jutting out of the injustice.

"'No. What do we know?'

Samson made contact. He spent the night dodging bullets with a certain police constable

who had no particular reason to be there last night.

"'Parker?'

"'Again?' the red panda looked across.

"'Why would a uniformed police officer be working solo on an investigation

of this importance? There are cases and there are cases, she said, pulling herself up to sit on

the workbench beside him. She caught her reflection in his eyes and found herself wondering again

if she seemed too eager. She wasn't accustomed to having to try this hard

...