A visitor out of the blue propositions our hero with a once in a lifetime chance, to prove existence (or not) of some of Cryptozoology's most infamous creatures.
“Bring Me the head of Nessie”
A Crypto-Mystery Story
Chapter One: Ms. Cypher
“The only thing I enjoy more than watching a long legged woman walk away is watching one walking towards me” Anonymous
The “Vikeling” just wasn’t getting the mechanics on how to throw a flat snap. I was working all the tricks trying to get something to trigger the “light bulb” of self discovery in him. His name is Marty, he looks like a 21st century version of “Hagar the Horrible”; brick red bushy beard and mustache and matching ponytail. He is a lot of meat and sinew and not too quick on the uptake, but he’s a good guy.
I sensed her before I actually saw her. Not in that “spidey-sense” sort of way, but in the way that the normal martial cacophony of the dojo just stopped. A Dozen people normally grunting, swinging weapons and hitting things makes quite the din, when it just ceases you take pause. I noticed that there were a dozen sets of eyes focused behind me. I spun to take in what they viewed.
My guess is that she was 6’2” in her stocking feet, but with the 4 inch black, Ferragamo stiletto pumps she was easily much taller. Straight, thick, dark blond hair flowed off a perfect head. Blackout wrap around sunglasses rested on a aquiline nose. Burgundy painted lips perfectly bowed were drawn in an unreactive line. She walked with athletic confidence and a dancers grace…I was guessing a Tae Kwon Do background. The long fine legs encased in whitish stockings ran smack into the fitted charcoal with burgundy pinstripe colored skirt two inches above her knees. The silk shirt matched the lips as the neatly tailor suit jacket matched the skirt.
Willie the head student stopped her. They had a quick exchange and he led her in my direction.
With a grace borne of hours of repetition, she managed to walk gracefully in those heels.
At her arm distance she stopped, gave me a curt nod. She removed her sunglasses revealing eyes the color of a sunny sky in winter, Pale blue with icy white wisps.
I’m short so I had to look up into that Nordic beauty’s face, as she produced a business card and presented her hand.
As I took the card, and shook her hand (long fingers, firm and strong, Dry palm but she moisturizes) she spoke in a clear alto, “I’m Louise Cypher junior partner of the firm Dewey, Chetham, and Howe, and I’d like to talk to you…Seeker”
I forcibly maintained no reaction as could feel the weight of the eyes of the room upon me.
Chapter Two: Mysterious client
“No matter where you go, there you are” Buckaroo Banzai
I showed Ms. Cypher to the smallish office off the backroom of the Dojo, I waited for her to take a seat before taking the one behind the desk. The office had that “old church smell” because it was. The flotsam and jetsam of a martial career were shotgunned on the walls and flat surfaces of the office: pictures, trophies, belt racks…pretty typical fare.
My name is Hank S. Seeker is my nom de plume on a website dedicated to the field of Cryptozoology. As the study of Cryptozoology is a hobby of mine I lucked out and got a blog on the site. It is generally well received, lots of nice folks with similar interests posts nice things to say about my intellectual ramblings about things that may or may not exist. It keeps me writing and allows me a space to vent thoughts that would get me labeled as the societal freak I am. I like it.
So when Ms. Cypher addressed me as such I was taken a back.
I matched her straight professional look and said, “You a fan, Ms. Cypher?”
With a cool alto she responded, “No I’m not. Although I’ve read your blog in it’s entirety as well as all your posts onsite, but my client is”
“Say what-a-what now?” I scoffed.
Cool alto went on in a measured professional tone, “My client is a avid reader of your blog and he has retained the services of my firm to make you an offer.”
“Who is your client?” I raised an eyebrow.
“He would like to remain anonymous at this juncture” she measured evenly.
“And what is this offer?” eyebrow remained raised.
“He wants to engage your services to find out the fact of existence or not of various cryptids” more measured words.
My chin touched my collarbone as I tilted my head forward. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I do not “kid” Seeker,” icy blue eyes pale and restrained watched me.
Deep breath, long sigh, “No, I don’t doubt that you don’t, Ms. Cypher”
“Does your client have bags of money lying around because this sort of stuff just isn’t cheap?” I asked directly.
“Funding is not an obstacle here…Seeker.” The way she said “Seeker” was nebulous enough to be either mocking or a challenge.
My eyebrows raised in wonderment and question.
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|Reviewed by alex dihes (алик дайхес)
|"Personally, I'm an outdoorsy, urban, intelligensia, goofball. If I were a "Slasher" movie character I'd be dead by the end of the first reel. I'm the guy who cracks jokes when the monsters are coming through the floor, or laughs at his girlfriend as he goes and checks the "strange noises" in the creepy basement armed only with boxer shorts and a keychain flashlight. Yeah, "Mr. Redshirt" that's me."
i've read your stuff, Master. it proves -- in your statement you are correct, master. to the last sentence, master. to the last word, master.
stay on this way, master.
talent, health and money to you, master