Gyrus

Chapter Thirteen: Old Acquaintances.

Thirty three hours ago...

Norman and Zoe and I stood in a small arc around Bob, the old balding owner of the motel whose Laundromat we'd just broken into and mere seconds before. His gun had been caressing the back of Norman's skull. He'd caught us inside his Laundromat trying to steal work uniforms for the Betulla factory, the only way we could sneak in without arousing suspicion. He was also very interested in how we managed to make the hydraulic doors open, pointing his shotgun at Zoe, who couldn't seem to marshal her thoughts to provide a reasonable answer, or at least, a good lie. I coughed loudly as I took charge of the situation and saved all our asses. Again.

"She's a genius, and there are only six buttons on your keypad. It only takes a minor algorithm to guess the most likely code combinations, which is what she did, in record time too. She impressed my socks off."

As I'd hoped, everyone gave a confused 'huh' in response. It was just what I was hoping for; I couldn't even help the grin that lit up my face.

"Amateurs. She didn't use any magic, just science."

He turned his gun to me slowly, half irritated and half intrigued by my apparent lack of fear and grinned widely. I grinned even wider, calling his bluff.

"Well, science or not, y'all broke into this here premises and I can't allow y'all go without some form of punishment. If y'all want to wash your clothes, y'all coulda just asked me. There are some rooms in the back that need to be cleaned out. Workers can be nasty when they're drunk."

He waited to see if I'd respond, waiting for me to give him an excuse to use his gun. I just kept grinning at him while different possible strategies for disarming opponents flashed in my head totally unbidden. I instinctively lowered my centre of gravity and spread my legs, resting all my weight on my back leg so I could spring into action if things went south. Not a breath was passed for the next few seconds as the owner's grip tightened on the butt of the shotgun before his shoulders sagged and he loosened his grip and swung the barrel of the gun on to his shoulder. I let out a gasp that I didn't even realise I was holding in. He wasn't going to kill us or worse, take us to the cops. He'd given up on that even being a possibility. He came up with some arrangement that would reward him some quick cash and herded us towards the largest room in the motel.

I passed out almost as soon as we got to our new room, our gracious 'host' had decided that we weren't living large enough and 'persuaded' us into moving. It cost us most of our money but that was better than our insides redecorating his very tacky Laundromat. I pretended not to notice Norman and Zoe's argument and him trying to pacify her as they both stole furtive glances at me. He noticed me watching them and raised his voice, talking about how she had managed to get the Laundromat's doors open. I mumbled something about admiring her computer hacking skills and made her promise to teach me sometime. That calmed them sufficiently to drop the topic as I'd hoped. I knew that Zoe had some extra ability which they both tried to hide from me. My show of ignorance gave me the upper hand and the element of surprise; I didn't want to lose that.

The next morning came quickly with the rattling of Bob the motel owner's key in the lock of our door shaking off the light doze I was in. I vaulted off the bed and out to the far end of the spacious room, ready to duck under the bed in case Bob got trigger happy. My movements must have woken Zoe because she bolted awake. She scanned the room and noticed me and immediately joined me without a single word. Norman was still sprawled all over the bed, snoring. I leaned over and gave him a few gentle kicks with my foot till his head rose off the bed. I gestured to the door and whispered that he come join us. He did just in time before the door swung open and Bob came in with the porter we'd met at the reception the day we checked in. It took us about ten minutes to get his money to him. No one wanted to get reacquainted with Bob's shotgun. I noticed Clement make eye contact with Norman, holding his gaze for almost a minute as he brought in our bags and threw them on the bed, his way being barred by Bob. He gave Norman one last searching glance before he left. We had an unlikely ally.