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Work in Progress. If you like this story, check out my other stories on the Fanfiction Net, Twisting the Hellmouth, and Fonts of Wisdom websites.
by Marcus L. Rowland
"Jay, Kay, get in here!"
Agent Zed's voice was audible half-way across the vast concourse of the headquarters. Since Jay and Kay were just outside the door, on their way back from the coffee room, it was painfully loud.
"Chill out, Zed," said the black agent. "Where's the fire?"
"On our heads if we don't do something, Jay. And it's all your fault."
"Figures," said Kay.
"You're not entirely blameless either."
"Zed, I've worked eight cases since I came out of retirement, and as far as I know all of them have been by the book. What's the problem?"
"Your last case before you retired, Junior's first. There are some loose ends."
"Such as?" asked Jay.
"Remember the Baltian Prime Minister? The one who was assassinated on your watch?"
"The really small guy with the cat that was killed by the bug? Sure, what about him?"
"The Baltian courts have been settling his affairs, seems that on a conservative estimate his estate is worth about three and a half thousand Baltian dollars."
"What's that in real money?"
"Roughly the national debt of the USA over the last fifteen years."
Jay spluttered coffee. "Oh...kay. So what's this to us?"
"Seems that the heir is on Earth, and has been for the last twenty or so years. She's an illegal, some sort of sociologist, came here for a week to research our quaint native customs and slipped the leash in California. We have her logged out from New York on schedule, now the Baltian government say that what came back was an empty body suit running on autopilot."
"And they didn't tell us until now?" asked Kay.
"Apparently it had been planned from the outset. They thought it was a hell of a good gag to play on us primities. The trouble is that somewhere along the way they've lost track of her, and now that she's rich they want her back to make some administrative decisions. Decisions that could have a big impact on the economic future of Earth."
"Twenty years? A Baltian can't go twenty minutes on Earth without a body suit."
"The Baltians have reluctantly admitted that the uncle had one ready for her when she arrived, and that more have been shipped in since. The last one was six years ago."
"Why would she need more?"
"Wear and tear, I guess."
"So what are we supposed to do, and what's the big hurry?" asked Jay.
"I want you to find her and make sure that she leaves Earth. Voluntarily if possible, it'd be good for alien relations, but if necessary we deport her as an illegal immigrant. But nicely. This has to be handled with discretion. As for the hurry, their next liner will be calling in at New York in just over a Galactic Standard Month, and they want her aboard."
"About five days. Shouldn't be a problem. What do we know about the body suits? that should be a good starting point."
"They were shipped in as postal sorting equipment then sent out to California for pickup from a local goods depot."
"Damn, and we could have really used some Baltian sorting equipment in the USPS," said Kay. "So where's this depot?"
"Place called Sunnydale."
"Okay, so we're looking for a six-inch tall alien in a body suit somewhere in Sunnydale, California. Who did they ship it to?"
"Same name their Prime Minister used. Rosenberg."
"It's as good a starting point as any." Kay reached for a microphone and said " Bhob, run a computer check on the name Rosenberg and Sunnydale, California. Jay, you take a look at what he gets. I'm going to check out the hot sheets, there's something about the name of that town that rings a bell."
To Be Continued