Following behind the impish Romanian scamp, Nigel heads upstairs. Upon arrival he peers into a scene from electronic hell.
Virtually every piece of electronics in the room has been disassembled, either partially or fully. The TV, telephone, lamps, thermostat - everything is lying strewn about the room with its electronic guts ripped out like brightly colored viscera. Oddly, there do not seem to be any tools about.
The item that Marda proudly shows off appears to have begun its electronic existence as a Terminal video surveillance camera (the very thought of removing such an item sends a sympathetic shiver down Nigel's spine - or maybe that's something else). The lens has been disassembled, "enhanced" with some sort of electronics, and put back together in another configuration. The body of the camera is wide open with wires and circuit boards hanging out in all directions. Portions of a desk lamp have been added as a sort of cowling on the front, and the thing appears to be trailing a long black cord, probably from the deceased tv. The entire thing looks not only incredibly jury-rigged but also, in some vague and undefined manner, WRONG. Just looking at it makes Nigel jittery and slightly ill (or maybe that's something else).
Whatever the contraption is, it is clearly a long way from completion. Just by looking at it, Nigel can't tell a damned thing about its ultimate purpose, or even what the completed product will look like. Maybe this isn't even all of it, but just the beginnings of one component? The idea that this might be a small part of something far bigger, and far more... sinister(?) makes Nigel's head spin (or maybe that's something else).
Nigel's perusal of the object is rudely interrupted by a loud pounding inside his skull (no - that's something else), er, the door.
For some reason, Nigel can't get the word "daschshund" out of his head.
He surveys the carnage. "Marda, dearest, what does this contraption do? And remind me to ask about Teddy..."
Nigel gives himself a mental shrug. "Thank heavens it's not MY room the little gremlin took apart," he mutters as he makes his way over to the doorway to peek out the keyhole.
Unbidden thoughts of daschunds enter his mind and he suddenly feels quite uncomfortable...
Marda takes a look around and says, "Well, anyone can see it's a... from the make-up of the construction, it's obvious we're making a..." After a few more false starts, she finally concludes, "You know what? I don't know what it is yet, but it's gonna be really neat when we're done. I just know it!"
A knock is heard at the door. Nigel stares at Marda for a second, then at the mess in the room, then back at Marda. The knock repeats itself, slightly louder this time. Marda chimes out, "I got it," skips to the door, and opens it.
Nigel stands there wondering how it is that he failed to find the peephole....
He finally comes to the conclusion that there isn't one. Oh well,
stranger things have happened, may as well go with the flow...
Upon seeing the two individuals at the door, Marda emits a small yelp and rewrites the laws of physics (regarding that whole speed of light thing) on the way to the nearest small enclosed space (presumably a closet or underneath the bed.)
The woman says in a serious contralto, "Mr. Samuel Trevor Dart?"
Nigel gives a bewildered look to the pair. "Ahem.... no, my name is Nigel Timmons. This is Mr. Dart's room, but he isn't here right now, and I haven't the faintest idea where he is. May I help you?"
The woman looks at Nigel. "May I see some identification please?"
The man looks over Nigel's shoulder into the room - the destroyed room - the room with parts of a television and all sorts of weird stuff scattered over the floor. "Having some problems with the TV?" he asks, deadpan.
Nigel gives the inquisitive man a sly smile. "'I'm afraid it's not my room, so I don't know what the problem is. I was just escorting the child. May I ask who you are? And why you need my identification? And may I ask to see YOUR identification?"
The man reaches into an inner jacket pocket and pulls out a badge, flashing it in front of Nigel's nose. It looks really official but all Nigel can make out are the letters "CPC" towards the bottom, along with some ornate scrollwork and some sort of rather official looking symbol, before the badge disappears again.
"ID?" the man says.
The woman takes a step back into the hallway, and begins studying her wristwatch rather intently, then starts playing with the buttons.
Nigel gives the man a scathing glare. "Excuse me, my good sir, but you flashed your credentials by so quickly, I didn't get a chance to study them. Now perhaps you would be so kind as to tell me just who you are and what business you have here? If you have business with Mr. Dart, then I'm afraid you'll have to look elsewhere for him..." With that Nigel folds his arms and waits for a response...
"Step away from the door, sir," is the only response from the man.
Behind him, the woman's watch starts beeping. "Step away from the door, sir," the man repeats with somewhat more force. The woman's watch continues to beep. She mutters under her breath.
Nigel puts his hands up in mock surrender. "You know, I have yet
to meet an authority figure here with an ounce
of courtesy. My name is Nigel Timmons as I've told you; if you
agree not to fill me full of nasty holes, I'll show
you my identification to avoid any further unpleasantness..."
"Step... away... from the door.... Sir." the man repeats again Something in his tone hints that this is likely the last time he is going to ask politely.
The woman continues muttering and fiddling with the watch, which stops beeping.
Nigel give the man a steely glare as he steps away from the door...
The man gives a steely look right back and steps in, still watching Nigel closely. "I don't recall you saying anything much about cooperation. I do recall you giving me shit about my ID, and not producing any of your own. You say this isn't your room? Well, you don't match Dart's description, so you can take off if you want." He jerks a thumb at the door, then glances back at his partner, still fiddling with her watch and muttering.
"Illyana, would you PLEASE stop fucking around with that damned watch and get your ass in here? We have a case here, you know."
"E'b tvoju mat, pedik," the woman mutters under her breath. She dutifully stops fiddling with her watch, however, and steps into the room., her gaze falling on Marda's feet, which are sticking out of the closet.
"Hey kid! Come out of that closet," she says.
Marda's face peeks out from between two jackets to determine who is calling her out. Perceiving the individuals, she lets out a quick yelp - "Raui omi!" and shuts her curtain apparently subjecting the fact that everyone knows she's there to a fierce form of self-denial.
"Hey kid!" yells the woman again. "Come out of the closet!" She makes no move to draw the curtains aside, however.
Meanwhile, the man is poking through the electronic wreckage in the room. He finds Marda's partially constructed doohicky and picks it up. "Whatthehell is this thing?" he mutters to himself.
Marda takes another longer peek out of the curtains. While the strange people certainly wore the uniform of "Bad Men", they didn't act in the way that Marda remembered, which confused her to no end. Furthermore, if they were "Bad Men", why didn't they just drag her out already?
Then again, she reasoned, they might just be pretending to be good to fool that nice Mr. Nigel, so she decided to shut the "curtain" again.
Nigel walks over to the curtain, "Now now Marda, the nice gentleman said we could leave, so why don't you come on out, I promise no one will hurt you..."
"I said YOU could go," says the man, still examining the dohickey. "I never said anything about the kid. Dart has been seen with a kid."
The woman, still making no move to actually open the curtain repeats "Hey kid, I said, 'come out of the closet'! And I meant 'come out of the closet RIGHT NOW'!" She puts her hands on her hips and sighs in frustration.
Nigel looks at the pair with disbelief. "My dear lady, this is a CHILD!! Do you really think she poses any sort of threat to you? Any such assumption would be nothing less than absurd!! The child WAS with Mr. Dart, but since he has vanished without a trace, I have taken over her care, and would be glad to let you speak to her if you promise not to scare her, otherwise, I'm afraid I'll have to alert hotel security."
Nigel watches the pair, ready to act if the situation goes badly. Marda may be the link he's looking for and he's not going to let her go...
The pair both become instantly alert, looking at Nigel. "Threat?" says the woman, "Who said anything about a threat? Why would you think she might be a threat?"
Before Nigel can respond the man pipes in with, "She's under your care, but this isn't your room? Let's see your custody papers and ID, mister. Oh, and if you want to call hotel security, go ahead." He nudges a portion of the disassembled hotel telephone with one foot.
"You can use my phone if you want," he says amiably, withdrawing a small, black cellular. "I'll need it back when you're done, however, in order to call Child Guardian Services, so try not to get too upset when security tells you to go to hell."
The woman turns back to the closet. "Listen kid, if you come out of the closet I'll... um, I'll...."
Parenting is apparently not one of her skills.
Even her profound kidliness will not protect her if Nigel puts his foot in his mouth like that again, however.
Finally withdrawing from her rayon sanctuary, Marda walks out and says. "No, Mr. Nigel isn't my, uh, guardian, Tata is. But Mr. Nigel is just taking care of me while Tata is out doing a few errands, you know, what's that word? Oh, yeah, temporary substitute oversight -" Apparently the word "babysit" hasn't entered into her vocabulary.
Illyana looks down at Marda.
"Why did this guy,"she hooks a thumb in Nigel's direction, "think you might be a threat, um, honey?"
"A baby-sitter, huh?" says the man. "Well Dart's just going to LOVE what you did to his room. Of course, if we find him he'll have more to worry about than a hotel bill for damages. Ilyana, check the closet, would you ... please?" he finishes with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He continues to examine the doohicky.
"Yes oh grand and mighty Senior Detective," Ilyana responds, and starts popping open a duffel and tossing items around the room. A frisbee, some juggling pins, a yo-yo, a red-and-green wig, and other items go sailing out of the closet to land on the floor.
"Weird shit," comments the man.
Marda followed the woman who looked so much like a Bad Man but apparently wasn't into the closet. "I don't know why Mr. Nigel thinks I'm a threat - some people just don't understand me. My real Mama and Tata didn't, so they sent me away.
"Oh, you should be careful with Mr. Funny Clown's stuff. He's really nice, but he gets upset when you make a mess. By the way, why do you let that mean guy treat you so bad?"
Ilyana pulls out a multicolored pair of leotards, holding them up and
examining them
critically.
"Da," she says with great seriousness, "this certainly isn't the sort of person I would want to get mad at me. He might... rearrange my wardrobe or something."
The man on the bed snorts. "Hey Ilyana, what do you make of this?" he asks, holding up the doohicky. Ilyana turns and regards it for a moment.
"Type 12?" she says uncertainly.
"Good guess, and close, but its not standard manufacture. Call it a type 12 'nonstandard' on your next exam and you might just get that senior detective's badge and pay raise you've been wanting." He produces a glassine bag, drops the doohicky into it, and pockets it.
Ilyana goes back to rummaging through luggage. Abandoning Leo's duffelbag, she moves on to Sam's suitcase, but finds it locked. With a bit of a flourish she produces a ring of keys and begins trying them, one after another, on the suitcase.
Meanwhile, the man has popped open his cellular and dialed a number. "Unit Gamma reporting in from the site - suspect is not here, but we have recovered a type 12 nonstandard from the scene." He listens intently to the reply.
Marda turns to the man pocketing her plaything as evidence. "Hey! Put that down! It isn't done yet!"
The two CPC detectives look at one another. Something passes between them, but it is not immediately evident what.
Nigel listens to the exchange with a mixture of bewilderment and irritation. "I thought it would be the kind thing to do to watch over this little one, but I must say your attitude leaves much to be desired. I'm looking after the child until Mr. Dart can be located. If that doesn't happen, I'll try to locate her legal guardians... now is that all? May we leave? or do you have some business with this CHILD?"
The man jerks his head fractionally towards the door, and the woman nods, rises, and exits. He more or less ignores Nigel's outburst, and instead scrutinizes Marda.
"What do you mean 'it isn't done yet?' What part isn't done? Did you make this yourself? What does it do?"
"'It'," Marda begins. "Pronoun. Subjective Case, Third Person Singular, Neuter Gender. Referring to the object you recently took.
"'Isn't'. Commonly used contraction for 'Is Not'. 'Is' being the Third Person Singular conjugation for the verb 'to be', and 'Not' being its negation. In this case, we are using the construction to build a sentence in the passive voice.
"'Done' - Past participle of the verb 'to do' which often signifies action, but in this case we are referring to completion.
"'Yet' - Often a subordinating conjunction, but in this case an adverb modifying the verb 'to do', implying that completion will take place at some point in the future.
"And as for 'What does it do?' How am I supposed to know what
it does if you don't let me finish it in the first place? If you
get me a piece of paper and something to write with, I can at least draw
the unfinished parts for you, though."
"Do you know how to use a drafting board, little girl?" he asks. "If I got you a drafting board and some tools, could you make a blueprint of this thing?" He pats his pocket.
Marda ponders on this one for a moment. "Well, they almost never let me near the design area, but I've worked from enough schematica. Yeah, I think I could."
The man nods seriously, "Good, good" he says. "There should be transportation here soon. We'll go to our, um, design area and let you have the tools you need. Where did you learn to build things like this, little girl?"
"Oh, I was always good at it, but they taught me the hard stuff at the Center."
The man seems surprised. "You've been to the Center?" he asks.
Nigel watches the exchange, and starts to feel more and more lost. Obviously, this small one is more than she appears, and he decides she bears more attention. "Excuse me, I don't pretend to understand anything that's going on here, may I be allowed to come with you and keep an eye on the child?"
The man smiles. "Of course you can," he says, nodding. "By all means." Nigel does not feel reassured.
Marda raises one eyebrow and takes a couple of steps backward. "I don't get it. You guys dress like the Bad Men and you know what the Center is, but you don't act like the Bad Men from the Center. Who are you?"
The man frowns. "How long have you been on Al Amarja? When were you at the Center before?"
Marda moves back still further, interposing Nigel between her and the other man. "I've been here four weeks. And at the Center for the four years before that."
"But how can you have been at the Center and not on Al Amarja? Cee Pee Cee is downtown in Arms Barrio."
"No it's not," Marda contradicts. "The Center's back home. And what's the Sipisi?"
"I think we're talking about different Centers, little girl. The one I work at is downtown in the Arms Barrio."
"Oh, I get it!" Marda replies with more than a little relief.
Conversation seems to rather run down in the little room. The man spends his time poking rather incuriously at the wreckage. After about 5 minutes there is a rattle in the lock and Ilyana steps back into the room. She nods once to the man, then turns to Marda. "We have a car waiting downstairs. Are you ready to go?"
Marda shrugs her shoulders and says, "Sure." She follows the agents
and Nigel out the room, Teddy in hand. Nigel opens his mouth
to say something, thinks better of it and follows Marda out of the room.
To Be Continued...