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drab.” It felt kind of anti-something to be going in without a crime. Upset the delicate balance between the good guys and the bad. “We can’t just stop by to check on him. He and ‘it’ would smell a rat.”
    â€œWe found many chemicals and organics on Jimbo. Perhaps…a contamination issue?”
    Vi considered this. “It could work, not for long, but hopefully long enough.”
    â€œWe just need to keep him talking, distracted for about ten more minutes,” Joe said, setting his watch.
    Ten minutes. Surely she could blather on for ten minutes. Best case would be getting Afoniki talking, but he pretty much had a “no talking in front of the cops” rule. He even resisted admitting that his name was Afoniki.
    An escalator wound up to the middle of the structure, like a corkscrew, taking visitors to where all the utilitarian stuff happened. His property even had power, she noted, when the escalator activated at the pressure of her foot on the bottom step. It was interesting, though sadly, not illegal. He was allowed to have emergency power. She rose smoothly, the corkscrew of the stair oddly soothing. It also made the air move, which was nice.
    They entered into a setup that appeared benign. Could have been any business reception area. It was discreetly classy, though currently tended by a goon instead of a benignly elegant female. Vi, going out on a mental limb, postulated she’d been unable to get to work. Even a bad guy couldn’t control Mom Nature. Though she’d bet money she didn’t have that he’d tried.
    It was cooler and smelled better than outside. The storm had for sure stirred up the muck at the bottom of the swamp. She angled her head, pretending to look at some artwork, and took a cautious sniff of herself. Maybe the gently moving air would help dissipate what the storm had stirred up at the bottom of her armpits. At least she didn’t have a habit of shaking hands with Afoniki, so she could keep her distance. She tried to identify the good scent, but all she come up with was: expensive.
    She recognized the goon filling in at reception. And he knew her. They exchanged looks of mutual…something. Wasn’t respect. Might have been a bit of “I’m not here to arrest you so don’t make me change my mind” on her side. His gaze had some “I ain’t done nothing, so don’t get your knickers in a twist” to it. His gaze shifted to Joe. He’d made the news when he arrived, but she didn’t think they’d arrested the goon since Joe’s arrival, so he might not have seen Joe up close before. Joe’s cool gaze must have made him uneasy, because he pressed a button and a door slid open with a pricey-sounding whoosh. Vi kept her eyes on the goon until he looked away and the door closed between them.
    Hard to feel it was suddenly safer when this meeting might involve an ‘it’ bent on causing widespread pain and destruction. She’d seen its work and was not eager for this possible confrontation.
    There was another goon and another set of escalators. One that went up and one that went down. Vi followed, with her eyes, the one twisting up toward another floor. Straight ahead, a bank of seriously high windows appeared to look out over the city. Only it was NON the way it used to be, not the way it was now. The down escalator was equally elegant, a definite upgrade from the one outside.
    The goon grunted and jerked his chin toward the down escalator. Like the one outside, this activated at pressure from her foot. The slow spiral down gave glimpses of the artificially generated views. It made the high ceiling appear higher and the room bright and light. At the bottom, the view through the transparent floor was the real deal. She’d have probably hesitated before stepping out, but the escalator slid her smoothly onto what seemed like nothing. The effect was that good. And it was that clean.
    She