"No," Butters said. "This computer is too old. It has the wrong ports. We could go to one of the other offices, maybe-"
"No. We need to get out of here-now."
"We could go to my place," Butters suggested.
"No. Grevane will definitely have it under surveillance. Dammit."
"Why dammit?"
"We're short on options, and that means we have to go someplace I didn't want to go."
"Where?" he asked.
"A friend's. Come on."
"Right," Butters said, and promptly walked over to his polka suit. He heaved up a couple of pieces. The cymbals clashed tinnily against one another.
"What are you doing?" I demanded. "We've got to go."
"I'm not leaving it here for God knows what to mess with," Butters said. He grunted and threw a strap awkwardly over his shoulder. The bass drum rumbled.
"Yes, you are," I said. "We are not taking it with us. We don't have time for this."
Butters turned to face me, his expression stricken.
That stupid polka suit filled up most of the back of the SUV It was a pain to move it without making a bunch of noise, but in the end we managed to slip out the back door of the Forensic Institute and make a clean getaway. I watched the road behind us carefully, until I was sure that I wasn't being followed. Then I headed for the campus area, and Billy's apartment.
I pulled into the apartment's parking lot, leaned out, and yelled, "Hey!"
A young man with arms and legs a few sizes too large to match his body appeared from behind the corner of the building, frowning. He was dressed in sweats, a T-shirt, and boat shoes, standard easily discarded werewolf wardrobe for troubled times. He flipped an untidy mop of black hair out of his eyes and leaned against the SUV's door. "Hey, Harry."
"Kirby," I greeted him. "This is my friend Butters." Kirby nodded to Butters and asked me, "Did you spot me?"
"No, but Billy always has someone on watch outside when times are tense."
Kirby nodded, his expression serious. "What do you need?"
"Park this beast for me. I keep running into things."
"Sure. Billy and Georgia are upstairs."
I got out of the car, and Butters hopped out with me. "Thanks, man."
"Yeah," Kirby said. He got in the SUV and frowned. He looked around at all the doors.
"The door is ajar," the dashboard said.
"It won't shut up," I explained to him.
"It gets sort of Zen after a while," Butters said brightly. "Life is a journey. Time is a river. The door is a jar."
Kirby gave him a skeptical look. I grabbed Butters by the shoulder and hauled him into the building and up to the apartment.
Billy opened the door before we even got to it, and looked out expectantly. He stepped a bit to one side, holding the door open for us, watching up and down the hallway. "Heya, Harry."
The apartment was a typical college place-small, a couple of bedrooms, nothing permanent on the walls, furniture that wasn't too expensive or hard to move, and equipped with an expensive entertainment center. Georgia sat on the couch reading from one of a small mountain of medical books. I walked in and introduced everyone.
"I need a computer," I told Billy.
He arched an eyebrow at me.
I waved a hand in a vague motion. "Tell him, Butters."
Butters pulled the jump drive from his pocket and showed it to Billy. "Anything with a USB port."
Georgia frowned and asked, "What's on it?"
"I'm not sure," I said. "I need to know."
She nodded. "Better let him use the one on the far wall of the computer room, Will. The farther from Harry the better."
"Feel the love." I sighed. I pointed at the little table next to the door and asked, "Can I make a few calls while I wait?"
"Sure." Billy turned to Butters. "Right this way."
They went into one of the bedrooms. Georgia went back to her book. I picked up the phone.
The phone at my place rang a dozen times before it rattled, and then Thomas slurred, "What?"
"It's me," I said. "You all right?"
"I was all right. I was asleep. Stupid Mouse woke me up to get the phone."
"Any sign of visitors? Calls?"
"No and no," he said.
"Get some more sleep," I said.
He made a grunting noise and hung up.
I called my answering service next. They had recently phased over to stored voice mail. I was suspicious of it on general principles. From a purely logical standpoint, I knew my issues with technology wouldn't extend all the way across town over the phone lines, but all the same I didn't trust it. I would much rather have dealt with an actual person taking messages, but it cost too much now to keep someone manning the phones when voice mail could do all the work. I punched the buttons and had to go through all the menus only twice to get it to work.
Beeeeeep. "Harry, it's Murphy. We got into Hawaii all right, and there was no problem with the hotel, so you can reach me at those contact numbers. I'll call in again in a couple of-" Her voice broke off into a sudden high-pitched noise. "Would you stop that?" she demanded, with a lot more laughter than anger in her voice. "I'm on the phone. In a couple of days, Harry. Thanks for taking care of my pants. Er, plants, plants." Beeeeeep.
I wondered what had caused Murphy to make a high-pitched noise and a big old Freudian slip. And I wondered what to read into the fact that she had left me a message instead of calling me at home. Probably nothing. She probably didn't want to wake me up or something. Yeah. She was probably only thinking of me.
Beeeeep. "Harry. Mike. The Beetle will be ready at noon." Beeeeep.
God bless Mechanic Mike. If I heard a car complaining about its closed doors being open one more time, I would have to disintegrate something.
Beeeeep. "Oh," said a young woman's voice. "Mister Dresden? It's Shiela Starr. We met at Bock Ordered Books last night?" There was the sound of her taking an unsteady breath. "I wondered if I could ask for a few minutes of your time. There have been... I mean, I'm not completely certain but... I think something is wrong. Here at the store, I mean." She let out a snippet of laughter that was half anxiety and half weariness. "Oh, hell, I probably sound crazy, but I would really like to speak to you about it. I'll be at the shop until noon. Or you can call my apartment." She gave me the number. "I hope you can come by the store, though. I would really appreciate it." Beeeep.