I wake up channeling large gray sledgehammers. They goose-step over my scalp. About every third step, the hammers come down. My eyes don't want to focus, they want to go away.

Lots of old brick. My left hand spasms into a claw. Fish stink. Pretty sure the stink and the bricks are real. Another wave of pain. No, the sledgehammers and the brick are real. Pull myself up, and the eyes blur out. Come back in focus though. A card table, folding chairs, guy in a new suit. Really nice, dove gray suit. Maybe mid-fifties, gray hair and peepers too, but muscular rather than old looking. Like a wrestler dressed for a wedding. Big jaw. Sits there owl eyeing me.

Gets up, kicks open another chair, then sits back down. Watches me through cold eyes, arms resting on the table. The guy, brickwork, and fish smell are real, hold off judgment on the rest.

"You coming around yet?" His voice is harsh, all gravel and flint. He picks up a wallet. Mine, looks like. "So, you are Richard Wander, right?"

I moan, but that doesn't seem a good reply. "That's what it says on my license. This isn't the hospital, is it?"

"No. Get up. Take a chair."

As I carefully ease one leg up, then the other, this becomes possible. The chair starts to look real comfortable, so I take a seat.

"What do you want with me?"

Out comes the damn cube. The thing sure gets around. Nice machine-like lettering on it, this go-round. Micain does good work, for a putz.

"Anything else come to you with this? Say a message or paper? A map, maybe?"

"No. You're lookin' at what I got."

"Ever figure out why it was sent to you? What it's for?"

"Some client, trying to stir my interest. It's a puzzle box. Never did figure it out. I was called about it within an hour or so of delivery, it was picked up the following afternoon."

So, I'm thinking about what I can spit out that he already knows. "Later, I got employed by a young lady, Becky Randell to check out some things about her late father. Told her the cube was retrieved by someone, that I had no idea it was her property at the time. End of story."

I sense wheels moving somewhere behind cold eyes. Bet some kid got paid a bunch of money to try and 'solve' the cube's 'message', but came up shooting blanks. No message, just an amateur decoding key.

"Some associates of mine got...damaged, in that exchange. You know something about that?"

"Secondhand. Left a temp in the office while I was busy. Couple guys got rough, the temp got rougher. Heard the guys tried to steal back the reward for the cube. I sure didn't get one. Doubt the temp stiffed me– knew I expected it. I got nothing to do with it."

The suit works his face a bit. Bet he was wondering how honest his thug's report was. Bet he knew the police found a 100 Cr note on 'em, too. Sure bet they had some lawyer there soon as they got booked. The moke at the hospital didn't even know the cube had been retrieved yet. I'm shaking inside from all this rough handling, but keeping my wits racing, and a poker face smeared on my mug. As long as nobody's swinging at me, what's the point of making things worse?

"Getting anywhere with her case? She have an address?"

"This would go faster if I knew what your interest was."

Slick dresser considers this.

"Miss Randall's father was working on a project I had a financial interest in. I don't know what you have heard, but I have no connection with Dr. Randall's passing. He was...a company asset, you might say. I think your client might have some papers for us, information Dr. Jessup Randal should have passed along, but went missing after his death. I paid for it, so I'd like to recover that information. I'd like to talk to Becky about it, and that's all you need to know."

So this moke, he just wants me to fill in some blanks, see if I am up to playing along. A lot of P.I's are like that, play all sides when they get a lead, see how many times they can sell the same legwork. I know this game. It's why we are alone in the room. There aren't any goons in here. If he intends to beat it out of me, he's going to have to do it himself. Possible, by his looks, but I don't see that happening.

"I generally get paid to find stuff out. You hiring? As it happens, she cornered me in a restaurant. Wouldn't give me an address. Paid cash, said she'd get hold of me later. That's all the common knowledge. What's your offer?"

The suit starts up out of his chair. That could mean physical labor for me, which I don't care for. Thinks better of it, scrutinizing my threadbare togs.

"Someone told me you're old army, right? Dependable. Okay. I'll throw you a bone. You get me some quick answers, we're done. Shine me along, you get something else. Deal?"

"How do I get in touch, and who are you?"

"Same deal as your other client, but much easier job. Just get me her current address, that's all. Not her home address, the place where she is staying right now. Soon."

He pulls out a fat wallet of his own, removes five hundred Cr, shoves it in mine, throws me my stuff back, along with the cube. "You're just under Jefferson Avenue. Behind you, up the stairs. Door's open—leave."

The seance is over, so I get up and make for the stairs.

"By the way, the name's Semperton. Heard of me?"

"Yeah, in passing."

"Good. Oh, by the way, you may need to get a different temp soon, and your client? She's known to be a skipper. Don't go depending on her being a meal ticket for too long, and watch your mouth around that hospital drone, Mitchel Davis. He's been snooping into my business. I'll handle Davis. Just a few tips."

I'm out of there. The man had nosed around enough to know his mokes had approached the wrong guy, and is cutting me some slack.

Jefferson Avenue sliced the waterfront off from the city. Long walk back. Worth it though. There is some connection between Becky and Semperton, and not a friendly one. Good to know for a fact. Semperton thinks she has something he wants, and it isn't cash, or the cube toy, either.

He doesn't seem worried I might find out anything connecting his mob to Becky's father. Semperton's bringing up Mitchel Davis doesn't make any sense to me either. Under the circumstances, I would have guessed they were working together, if anything. I did get bopped right after talking to him. So why the heads up? Maybe just a coincidence. Typical day for me, but strange conversation.