The Fey stalked down the corridor towards their room. A man was waiting by the elevator, dressed in suit and hat. A sniff confirmed the smell of yet more gun oil. The thick carpet disguised her footfalls even more as she approached the man from his blindside.

  ‘Nice hat. Give it me.’

  The man, surprised, turned but only to be clipped under the chin by the Fey’s elbow. The suit she had stolen matched the colour of the secret service agent. He was even taller than the man she had stolen it from. She called the elevator as she placed the hat on her head. While she waited, Kat posed in the mirror. Her height was wrong.

  She arched and stretched her spine, like a cat’s, and went on tip-toe but she was a little taller. Not so tall as the man on the floor but it wouldn’t be needed for long. When the lift arrived, she pushed the unconscious agent in, selected the lobby and sent it go down to the ground floor.

  Time was of the essence. Whoever was in the lobby would be alerting everyone when the agent was discovered. Two unrelated disappearing tricks in one night was going to look suspicious but by then, Kat thought, they’d both be gone.

  She knocked on the door before entering. They must have either spread their team out too far or didn’t believe anyone would just walk in who shouldn’t. It took only an instant to appreciate the situation. Mac was dressed and tied to a chair with two agents either side of him. His cheeks were dark red from being slapped but otherwise appeared unhurt. Certainly not as bad as the mugging her friends had given the Blank. By the wall nearest the door facing him was the third agent with the gun out.

  ‘What is it?’

  None of the agents barely glanced at Kataya Oberon. She looked like them, therefore was one of them.

  They didn’t need to look long for a verbal report. Only Mac’s eyes were widening as he was taking in her bare feet.

  ‘Intruder in lobby.’ The Fey dropped her voice into a deeper tone.

  ‘Don’t ki….!’

  The Fey’s arm shot out and floored the gunman with a single swipe. A forward mid-air somersault ended with each foot hitting the remaining agents each in the jaw. As they landed unconscious on the floor, Kat completed the flip landing on McKensie’s lap.

  She kissed the Blank on the lips as her fingernails cut through the ropes. ‘Missed me, Mac?’

  ‘Remind me not to get you angry’, he whispered in a hoarse voice. ‘You didn’t kill them. They’re Brazilian Secret Service. Would cause all sorts of problems. Wanted to know what we were doing here. Room is still bugged.’

  ‘Heard at the window. You need protection.’

  The Fey got up and looked around. Her head tilted listening before suddenly looking up at the lampshade. Kat opened McKensie’s suitcase and emptied his soapbag to locate his shaving foam. She sprayed its contents rather liberally at the shade.

  ‘Artavello. Sorry, Mac. Preoccupied earlier. Didn’t look.’

  McKensie got up, flexing his wrists to get his blood circulating. ‘Fordias. We should have guarded our speech.’

  ‘You remembering Romany, Mac. Am forgiven for all?’

  ‘We’re still ahead of the game, Kat. Anything I need to know?’

  She emptied McKensie’s belongings into her own suitcase, along with the three packages from her vest, and then placed her smaller case inside his.

  ‘Don’t have long. Sent lift down with another agent. Expecting others. They come up. We go down. My plan.’

  The Fey turned and in the dim light her smile showed a pointed fang and flicked it with her finger. ‘Left fake trail at building.’ She stripped off the stolen suit and hung it up in the wardrobe.

  ‘It’s going to look like you’re planning another empty trail here. Is that wise? I mean, two vanishing acts.

  What if they make the connection?’ McKensie searched the more thoughtful interrogator and extracted a small tape recorder and removed the tape. ‘Let’s hope they didn’t make a spare copy.’

  ‘Fhuh! Problem with safe was thinking human. Think Fey made life easier. Safe not held by these people.

  Not likely to report it. Shouldn’t make connection.’

  ‘As we’re not checking out, just how are we leaving?’

  Kat pointed at the window. ‘You carry the case. I carry you. Too many watchers in hotel to do anything else.’

  ‘I didn’t realise we were so notorious.’ McKensie slipped on his jacket.

  ‘Maybe not like British Secret Service?’

  ‘Or someone at Six doesn’t like the Stable.’

  ‘Is possible. Feel OK, Mac? We go now?’

  Kataya Oberon pushed the window wide open this time. The safety limiter broke in its groove. ‘No bodies. No evidence. No proof.’

  McKensie at her side looked down. ‘It looks a long way down.’

  ‘Was up higher earlier. When on ledge, keep eyes shut if worried. Do as I say.’

  ‘All without the aid of a tether or safety net?’

  ‘Wanted action, Mac. Do this all time. Think of report. First hand information.’

  McKensie didn’t know which was more nerve-wrecking. His brief capture by the Brazilian Secret Service or the rather harrowing climb along the building ledge until the Fey found a rusty fire ladder. She took the suitcase and allowed McKensie to climb down. If there was any activity above, it could only be a minor detail compared to what he was doing. The Blank was several floors down before he realised the Fey wasn’t with him. The route down she had selected was away from the street lights and probably into some back alley.

  He continued down slowly, looking downwards hoping to see some sign of where the Fey had gone.

  McKensie suddenly slipped and was left hanging on by his arms to a rung. There were no rungs for his feet. How long could he hold on?

  ‘See found problem, Mac.’ A voice whispered from his left.

  In the poor light, McKensie could see the Fey’s shape clinging from the wall. Her eyes dimly shining in the poor light. Her strong arm pulled him up onto another ledge.

  ‘This old style ladder. Better one on next wall but too well lit. Too close to room. They there now.’

  ‘Christ! There’s no rungs!’

  ‘Fhuh! Didn’t stopped me.’ Even in the poor light, it was obvious to McKensie that she was smiling at his predicament.

  ‘But you’re a Fey’, he protested.

  ‘Bosh! Ladder too slow anyway. Keep legs out and don’t hit wall.’

  ‘What you planning to do?’

  ‘Put your life in my hands before, Mac. Trust me.’

  ‘Anything!’

  ‘Including not being reassigned?’

  ‘Just get me down!’

  ‘Hold tight!’

  Kat held him with one arm around his chest, the other under his bottom and began to run down the wall.

  The Blank’s additional bulk didn’t hinder her in the slightest. By keeping him moving his weight was evenly distributed. The Blank was glad this wall route was so dark. He was sure he’d have nightmares if he could see what she was doing. A few feet from the ground, she twirled McKensie around and holding him in both arms upside down, did a forward flip and landed upright on her feet.

  ‘Open eyes, Mac,’ she said placing his feet gently onto the ground and urging his body upright. ‘Is safe now.’

  ‘If I ever do this with you again, remind me to have some practice with you first,’ he said rather hoarsely.

  He was shaking from reaction to events.

  ‘You stay on? Work with lonely Fey?’

  McKensie shook his head, catching his breath. Kataya Oberon was still breathing at a regularly rate.

  ‘Yeah! Work with lonely lovely Fey.’

  ‘Say nicest things. Choomande!’

  ‘Can’t I catch my breath?’

  The Fey kissed him on both cheeks instead and hugged him until his body settled down. Her demonstration of strength was restrained with dealing with anything other than inanimate objects.

  ‘What happened to the case?’ he asked shortly.

  ‘It here. Came down while you on ladder.’

  She opened it and stripped and changed into a trouser suit and slipped the safe packages into its lining pockets. She hadn’t bother with any underwear.

  ‘Where do we go from here?’

  ‘Eat. Hungry! Could eat whole cow. Plenty time before leaving.’ Kat slipped on a pair of sandals and hat.

  McKensie kissed her on the cheek. ‘Now that would be conspicuous.’

  o O o

  More conspicuous than he realised, McKensie decided. The chef at a different cafe had been extremely uncooperative in providing Kat with raw beef in the late evening. After swearing profusely in Portuguese, the Fey had stalked into the kitchen. McKensie picked up a discarded newspaper and looked at the headlines as various noises came from the kitchen. There was little he could do, other than make the scene worse. He wouldn’t have been able to do much other than watch anyway. The other cafe patrons appeared to be either too pissed or high on the carnival to be that concerned. Just the activities of an annoyed tourist in their eyes.

  She returned with her raw meat dish and something she described as feijoada for him. An apologetic waiter arrived with drinks for them both, adding in poor English that it was all the complements of the house. Oddly enough, the Fey chose to drink guaraviá, the fruit juice he favoured, rather than the cachaça she had been drinking all day. Diplomatically, the Blank avoided asking her about the change in her taste. Presumably, her period of camova was at an end.

  The early morning bus trip to Sãn Paulo was totally uneventful. Why would anyone suspect that they would go further inland than leave the country right away? He had slept most of the way. Kataya Oberon had taken the aisle seat and half-dosed, keeping an eye out for possible thieves. If the Fey had stopped anyone, she didn’t say. A couple faces appeared to be keeping a respectable distance when he woke.

  An attitude developed with all Blanks working with any Psionic was to just keep out of the way while they looked after trouble. Physical Psionics like the Fey needed the same sort of respect. They were simply in a class of their own.

  Maxine Caruthers had obviously tried to impose her own values on the Fey. Kat was very much a free spirit and had eventually rebelled. The fact Maxie drew a knife on her appeared to indicate the pheromone might have driven her to it, too. It would be mitigating circumstances for her and probably not restrict Maxie to desk duties.

  Kataya Oberon was strong-willed with strong body. A free spirit. She resented having her freedom restricted. Kat did as she pleased, which was probably why she kept missing spy bugs. Not out of arrogance but simply because she didn’t care because nothing would stop her. Yet now she had more than designs on his body and was obviously out to protect him. As a tiger would protect its mate.

  She might be half-tigress but this value was carried with the Fey for the ‘weaker’ male. He was feeling the mood of camova but not sure if it depended on her pheromone. He hadn’t smelt that odour for a couple days now. Had he got used to the smell or was he now under its spell? How could he tell the difference?

  McKensie looked at the Fey curled up on the aeroplane seats. Without any assistance from her pheromone or the deodorant, they had spent a couple days and nights in a Sãn Paulo hotel making love and eating. They had got extremely close.

  If it was the love of a man that would stop her roaming the villages around the Compound then he was hardly in a position to argue. McKensie also didn’t want to see her angry or upset. Least of all with him.

  He had too much respect for her, both as a Fey and as a woman. He could certainly do worse in lovers.

  In training, Blanks were told to be pliable with the demands of the Psionic they worked with. Training never equipped anyone for this situation. Quite what the Stable Bureaucracy would say about this arrangement was hard to say. Standing orders were to encourage Psionic Pairs to get emotionally involved in the hope that they might yield powerful Psionic offspring. It was something they tended to resist. A Blank bedding a Psionic might be frowned on. If he told them about it. A Fey offspring with the ability not to be susceptible to being scanned by a Psionic might be regarded as being dangerous to the Stable. It might not as well. Whether their relationship had tamed Miss Oberon would be hard to say.

  Everything had to start from somewhere.

  From a management point of view, her attitude was now markedly different. The Bureaucracy would appreciate that more than the way it was achieved. Whether it was from controlling her camova lust or purely in love was hard to say. Even love was undocumented where the Fey was concerned. Would she fall out of love as easily? Would he? What would happen then? An angry Fey was as dangerous as a tiger on the loose. Another question to add to his list to ask her grandfather the next time he met the elder Fey.

  Being in love had probably saved a bloodbath with those Brazilian Secret Service agents. Would it temper his caution when they were on assignment? Hopefully, not on his part. The reverse was more likely. Kat’s rescue of him at the hotel was an act of protection for her mate. The same would probably have applied for any other Blank. Hadn’t Chris Lancier pulled his Blank, Courtney Adams, out of a few scraps himself? The Bureaucracy didn’t mind as long as trouble was minimised. Cheaper on the budget.

  A thorough check of all the Brazilian newspapers had indicated nothing of the Fey’s theft or of the hotel incident. Whether it was because inquiries were still being carried out discretely or there was the equivalent of a Brazilian ‘D’ notice in effect would be hard to say. More likely both affairs were being kept discrete for different reasons. The only real way was to see what happened was when they left the country. The McIntyre passports had been left in the Rio hotel. There simply hadn’t been enough time to collect them. A loose end. Kat found another Romany thief before leaving Rio and after passing him a couple of Mac’s travellers cheques, promised to retrieve and post them to the local British Embassy.

  Unlike the afternoon pickpocket, this adult thief was more than a little afraid of the bori rawniskie matchka! He would even take from any polcia. Quite what the Embassy staff would make of the passports would be debatable. Probably wait for some distressed tourists to come and claim them. Fat chance!

  They left on a late night international flight from Sãn Paulo to London, stopping briefly at Rio to collect a few late passengers. Both of them scrutinised these arrivals in case any of the Brazilian Secret Service watchers were looking over the flight. Kataya Oberon cuddled her mouth into his neck, suppressing the giggles as a husband was complaining to his wife about a suit missing from their hotel room as they sat down. In the same breath, he was also assuring his wife he hadn’t gone out on the town while she slept.

  McKensie was sure she would explain it later. Her report of the actual assignment itself was going to certainly drop a few jaws upstairs. It was far more thorough than anything she had told the more prudish Maxine Caruthers. After she recovered from her stay in hospital, Maxie would probably be reassigned to less dangerous activities. If ever there were any at the Stable. She might even have his old supervisor job to give her a greater insight into other Psionic problems. He shrugged. What would Maxie make of his new role? He didn’t really care. She wouldn’t be working with the Fey again anyway.

  When they returned to the Compound there was one thing McKensie promised himself. The local villages were to be surveyed to ensure that all the men had access to and were using the neutraliser deodorant.

  Immunity to Kataya’s pheromone charm was a must. He didn’t want to be beaten to a pulp on a regular basis should they visit a pub. He still had to find out why he couldn’t always see her and if it was true of all Blanks.

  Kataya Oberon stretched and uncurled on the seat beside him. In the dim aeroplane lights, her golden-like eyes looked like dim saucers looking at him. She pursed her lips at him before smiling and grabbing his hand to haul him off to the plane toilets. McKensie gave a wry grin. He wasn’t quite sure where he was getting his strength from for all of this camova but felt no resistance in joining her in the Mile High Club.

  End

  end-note: although it isn’t really necessary to understand Brazilian Portuguese to know what is being said, it is as accurate as I can make it in this backwater, it should be more intelligible than the Net format treated my Cyrillic in the Psi-Kicks story ‘Shell Game’ elsewhere on this site. Any mistakes can be addressed to my e-mail address: gfwillmetts@hotmail.com.

  The Romany language, however, is a different kettle of fish. The two books I used for reference indicate only word transposition with English. Any differences in their use should be blamed on me and Kataya Oberon, who although uses the language isn’t strictly speaking Romany either. Again, much of what is meant can be inferred from the text and what follows below is to assist those who want the literal translation.

  artavello - pardon or forgive ‘Artavello, o bori rawniskie matchka’ - pardon, lady lady-like cat baleneskoe - hairy balormengro - hairy fellow

  bengako tan - hell

  bengui - devil

  bosh - fiddle

  bostaris - bastard

  camova - lust

  cannelo bostaris - stinking bastard chee pele - no testicles (balls) choomande - kiss me

  chore chal - thief boy

  chores - stealing

  dinnelo - a fool, one possessed by the devil dui - 2

  fordias - forgiven

  gav-engro - police officers

  gorgio - a gentile, non-gypsy hom te jav - I must go

  kaulo ratti - gypsy blood

  keri-poggring - house-breaking lunneny - harlot

  matchka - female-cat

  paracrow tute - I thank you

  pireni - sweetheart

  poknies - justice of the peace povo-guero - mole or earth-fellow rawniskie dicking gueri matchka - lady-like looking woman cat romani chi matchka - gypsy lass cat romani chohawni - gypsy witch Tatto ratti se len - They have hot blood trinis - 3

  weshen-juggal - fox or dog of the wood yeck - 1

  Kisaiya Matchka - Kataya Oberon’s alias: Kisaiya is a traditional female gypsy Christian name chosen because it resembles her regular name. Whether it is her true name I’ll leave everyone guessing. It should never be assumed that the Fey don’t have secret names.