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By Root 525 0

barbs shot out of the opened drawer like a striking snake, but they hit only air—I was standing two feet away. It wasn’t really too likely that anyone would get past all the security devices and Pansy too, but if they did I figured they should pay a little extra toll for the trip. The spring-loaded barbs would stab through anything, even padded gloves, and the solution I’d carefully painted on each tip would induce dizziness and nausea in a minute or two after that. It wouldn’t kill anybody, but it’d make them think of poison right away—and head for the nearest hospital instead of going on with their work. I only set up the bottom drawer—professionals always start that way so they don’t have to close one drawer to go to the next one—saves a few seconds on each job. For a pro, a few seconds saved on a job can mean a few years saved somewhere down the road. You learn a lot of things in prison.

Part of my stash was there. I counted the bills a couple of times. This was my case money—for emergencies only, not bullshit like food or gas. More than enough to smoke the Cobra out of his hole, if it didn’t take too long. I took some of the bills, replaced the rest, set the springs for the barbs, and carefully closed the drawer. I went back inside to the desk, got out a yellow legal pad and some felt-tip pens, pulled an ashtray close, and started to map out the campaign.

Pansy came over to me, slammed against my leg in what she thought was a friendly gesture, put her massive head on my knee and growled encouragingly. She was wasting her time—I wasn’t going inside to watch television, I had to work.

An hour passed and the yellow pad stared up at me, laughing at my blankness. At this rate I’d have to wait for the dirtbag to die of old age.

I went back into the side room and took a shower, using the time to think. Still nothing. I took an old Con Edison uniform, one of those jumpsuit outfits they used to wear, climbed into it, and sat on the floor. Pansy came over and stretched out next to me. I patted her head absently, knowing I couldn’t force it.

Finally I got up and went back to the desk, rummaged around until I found an old draftsman’s compass and a piece of cardboard. I stabbed the compass point into the cardboard and drew a two-inch circle. I used my razor knife to cut out the circle, took it back into the side room, found an ice pick, and stuck the whole thing to the wall. Another couple of minutes and I found a little can of spray paint I’d used on a videotape surveillance camera in one of those luxury apartment buildings a few months ago. I held one palm flat against the cardboard and sprayed, using the open circle as a stencil. In a minute I had myself a round black dot stark against a white piece of wall.

I found a blanket, folded it over a couple of times, and sat down. Then I looked into that dot, breathing in through my nose, forcing the air down deep into my stomach and groin, holding it there, exhaling so that my chest expanded each time. I did it again and again, in slow, steady rhythm until I found myself relaxing, looking deep into the dot. It grew larger and its edges disappeared—I was going inside the black hole and using my mind to probe out ahead of me, looking for the Cobra. Black holes are dangerous—I took Find-the-Cobra with me instead of a mantra, and I went away from this earth for a while.

Pansy’s snarl brought me out of it—something was thumping against the back window in the side room, softly but insistently. I could see an indistinct shape against the dark curtains. I got quietly to my feet, reached in the top drawer, took out the flare pistol I keep there, checked to make sure it was primed, and moved over to the window. Pansy was at my side and just ahead, on point and ready. I parted the curtains ever so slightly, leveling the gun.

It was a goddamned pigeon, trapped in the maze of wire I had built around the windowframe. Only one of his feet was caught—his wings were free and they flapped like insanity let out of a bag. If he had a bit more strength he would have triggered the electrical circuit