Cuff Lynx by Fiona Quinn

know Frith thought in terms of Travis Wilson as his marionette and orchestrating. . .well, all the crap he made happen, with Tom Matsy and burning my apartment building to the ground. He called himself the Puppet Master.”
    “Frith was a narcissist. His mental health made him delusional. In the case of Indigo, I do not believe this is true. I believe he hates very deeply and his hatred spurs him to try to control, manipulate, and destroy.”
    “And there’s no way that Indigo and Frith could be one and the same?”
    “None at all. Frith no longer exists. He was killed in jail.”
    “Wait. What? When did that happen? How did that happen?”
    “He was caught in the middle of a gang fight. They believe it was a Hellhound who snapped his neck.”
    “Huh. So the Puppet Master is also Indigo.” I leaned back in my chair. “Neither of those names engenders fear.” I gave a half-smile.
    “Fear saps your ability to think and react. I do not wish you to feel fear. I would wish you to exercise extreme caution. Indigo wishes to pull Iniquus from her throne. And you, my dear.” He reached out and tapped my head. “You are a jewel in the Iniquus crown.”
    A smile played over my lips. “Ha. As if.” I stood and gathered our trash, then threw it away in the kitchenette. “Okay, where do you want me to start?”
    “There is a charity ball this Saturday, benefitting arts outreach programs in the school systems. Many wealthy and connected people will be there. Many people from your past casework, as well. I would like you to go, enjoy yourself, look around and see what there is to see.”
    “That’s it? Nothing concrete or specific? What about backup?”
    “Iniquus operatives will be in the building.”
    “But they won’t be assigned to me, right?”
    “They have their own mission. Perhaps they will not even recognize that you are there. I cannot say that there will be no danger; I will say that you would be wise to exercise every caution. Remember your training.”
    Alone at a ball. Undercover with no back up. I wondered just what training Spyder thought I’d need. I hoped I was as prepared as Spyder seemed to believe me to be.

Nine
    I swiped my finger over the red disconnect symbol and held my phone in my hand. The Arts Council had sold all of its tickets for the ball. How was I going to get in? Iniquus would be able to easily produce a ticket for me. But if a mole burrowed in the dark corners of our company, I had to make sure not to feed it with my words and actions. I needed to guard my mission. I realized right away that not having access to Iniquus resources was going to be a problem.
    Who did I know. . . ah, my friend Celia. Of course. I rang her number. When she didn’t answer, I texted. Have sudden urge to promote the arts. Understand there’s a ball Saturday at Smithsonian. Any idea how I can get a ticket?
    Bubbles tickled over my skin, the effervescence of energy brushing by. It seemed to slide from the open file on my desk, past me. I moved through my door to see if I could sense a direction or path but got nothing. I stopped in front of the picture in the hall. This was different. Someone had changed the art.
    “What are you doing out here in the hall?” Gater asked.
    “This wasn’t here before.” I pointed at the black and white design in front of me, an ink drawing of a landscape, almost Japanese in its Zen-like restraint. It was more of the suggestion of a landscape than an actual undulation of earth beneath sky. The piece that had been here before had been intricate and mesmerizing, almost dancing off the wall as the lines swayed and leapt. This image was a total one-eighty.
    “Yeah. The design team came in and did a bunch of rearranging. They changed all the art in the building.”
    “All the art?” Fear prickled the back of my neck, sending off static sparks, igniting my heebie-jeebies into a blaze. “What happened next?”
    “Huh?” Gater tilted his head as he looked down at me from