NYR catching up, part two
New fandom tag!
So the progression on this story was something like: "So I want to write something that has some roots in Cincinnati..." "SO THERE'S THIS AMP. THAT WAS AT THE KILLER WHO CONCERT. AND IT CAUSES TROUBLE AND CLAUDIA SPOTS THE PATTERNS AND HIJINKS ENSUE!" "...Brain? I'm meant to be working on my original fantasy universe?" "THEY HAVE TO GO TO BOGART'S TO GET THE AMP! AND THEY CAN HAVE DINNER AT THAI EXPRESS! WIN/WIN!" "...All right, fine."
I sing my visions to the sky-high mountains
The song is over
I'm left with only tears
I must remember
Even if it takes a million years
--"The Song is Over" - the Who
17 Die, Dozens Injured in Little Rock Music Club Accident
Claudia frowned at the headline before clicking on it. This was the third concert-related accident she'd heard of in a month, and while she'd written off the first two as irresponsible pyrotechnics (New Orleans) and a particularly impatient crowd (Shreveport), that was before the Warehouse was a big part of her life.
...Well, all right, it sort of was, but she was a little busy trying to get her brother back into the land of the living.
Of course, it could still be a coincidence; Yahoo was kind enough to provide links to the previous stories, and it turned out all three accidents had happened at different bands' shows. But Artie didn't believe in coincidences, and even though Claudia hadn't been at the Warehouse very long, that was already starting to rub off.
She started researching it, when she could find the time between cleaning and inventory and all the other crap Artie had her do - yeah, maybe she could've gotten more time to do it if she told him what she was working on, but she wanted to be sure it wasn't a coincidence before she made her case. She didn't know Artifact activity well enough to call it that for sure, but something was definitely up. The band that'd had the accident in Little Rock had played in Shreveport the week before, at the club that had been trampled. And the band that'd had that happen on their watch had just come up from New Orleans - at the torched club's backup venue.
The trail went cold with the New Orleans band; Claudia spent a while trying to work backward, but the world reminded her it was moving forward, by way of another headline. A fourth band had a fatal accident during their show, this time at a bar in Memphis - and they'd been in Little Rock three days beforehand.
At the very least, someone needed to know about a string of four loosely connected accidents - someone who could do a little more than sit there and frown at the computer a lot. So when Artie came in and sat down at his own computer setup, she said, "I think we have a problem."
"Not now, Claudia, I need to track those bottles in Windsor--"
"Yes, now. Pete and Myka can handle bottles that turn water into beer by themselves for five minutes. I don't know for sure if I've found Artifact activity or not, but people are dying and there's something weird tying it together."
Artie sighed, but he at least stopped pulling up his resources for the Canada thing. "All right," he said. "What do you have?"
Claudia explained what she'd managed to piece together, and watched as Artie's frown grew - more his worried frown than his annoyed one, which she took as both a good and bad sign. After a while, he stopped her and said, "Do you have any pictures? Of the concert venues."
"I can dig some up, no problem." She'd bookmarked the articles with that in mind, so setting up the pictures side by side in separate tabs was a piece of cake.
And then she was treated to the rare sight - and definite bad sign - of Artie going pale. "Oh no, the damn Cincinnati Marshall's on the move again."
Claudia flipped back and forth among the pictures again, trying to figure out what she'd missed. "What, there's some airplane cop with a vendetta against rock concerts running loose?"
"The amplifier, Claudia." Artie started pulling up some stuff on his computer, and Claudia took a closer look; sure enough, the same battered amp was in the equipment stacks in every photo.
"Okay, great. And it's a problem why? Aside from the part where it's apparently killing people."
"December third, 1979. Who concert in Cincinnati. People heard the band warming up, thought the show was starting, and stampeded. Eleven people died. The venue blamed festival seating, but I'd wondered if the equipment had something to do with it." He tapped his monitor; Claudia leaned over to see an older photo with the same (if far less beaten-up) amp in it. "The thing gets to people. Makes them think things like stampedes or indoor fireworks are perfectly good ideas."
"Yikes. So why didn't you snag it sooner?"
Artie sighed. "There was always something else to round up. Besides, just about everyone else thought it was an isolated incident. I only looked twice myself because we'd rounded up Keith Moon's exploding drum set a couple years before that."
"Really? I thought he'd just... stuffed some explosives in it."
"Originally, yes, but I think it liked the idea and got carried away. Anyway - if it's acting up to this extent, it's past time we put it away. I'll send Myka and Pete after it once we've got those beer bottles squared away."
That stayed the end of the conversation for a few days. The situation with the bottles got more complicated - an identical set turned up in Detroit, and Artie sent Myka and Pete after them while they were in the area, muttering the whole time about how he hated Prohibition-era Artifacts and at least the bottles weren't a bifurcated set, whatever that meant. Claudia just kept going about her chores, and watching her collection of news sites for anything suspicious.
No more than five minutes after Artie declared case closed on the bottles and headed for the B&B (probably to make cookies), the exact sort of article Claudia had been hoping not to see popped up on Yahoo. She stared at the article and accompanying photo for a moment, printed a copy, and took off after Artie.
"We got more indoor pyrotechnics," she said, when she found him - in the kitchen, as expected. "Louisville, this time. Only seven people dead at the scene, but there's dozens more in critical condition, and you're not gonna like the picture."
She hadn't expected to be so right about that part that Artie actually swore at something.
"It's - do you know where it's going to go next?" he said, cracking an egg with what seemed like extra vehemence.
"Haven't looked yet. I kinda thought the part where it was acting up again was a little more important."
"Yes, but - the next stop's going to be the easiest place to intercept the thing. With two sets of those bottles, I need Pete and Myka to stop back here first after all. And I really hope it's not homing in on where it came from."
Claudia frowned. "I... take it that would be a bad thing?"
"It can be, especially when something's causing this much trouble on the move. That, and Cincinnati's still pretty emotionally battered from the original incident - the last thing they need is a repeat anywhere in town. I think the original venue's more of a multipurpose arena now, but there are other concert sites."
"Well, I'll see what I can dig up. You can go back to your... surprisingly angry baking. I'll probably have at least something by the time you're done."
She left Artie glowering at the mixing bowl while he stirred its contents, hoped his angry cookies were just as good as his 'successful mission' cookies - or at least not entirely ruined by the sudden mood whiplash - and headed back to the Warehouse. Even if this weren't Artifact activity, she'd want to know what the heck was going on; concerts could be good, when they didn't go completely crazy like this batch. The fact that she could help put a stop to the crazy was a definite bonus.
Her relative good mood only lasted as long as it took to find the Louisville venue's performance roster, at which point a decided sinking feeling replaced it. The sinking feeling started downright plummeting when she followed the links and worked out where the amp was headed, as long as the place in Louisville could offer a backup venue.
***
"Come on, Artie, please?"
"No."
Claudia sighed, trying to keep her frustration from getting in the way of making a good argument. "Trust me, this concert's not gonna be your speed. I love these guys, and sometimes they're not my speed. It takes two people to move an amp on a good day, so you're gonna need a lookout."
"I'll go. This could be just about as nasty as collecting Robert Johnson's guitar was - it'll take some experienced hands to get this done right."
"Yeah, like Pete and Myka have so much of that."
Artie raised his eyebrows at her. "They've got more of it than you, at any rate. I'm not sending you out there just because you want to to go a free concert."
"First, you started them in the field on the strength of a freak coincidence - yes, that one was a coincidence," she added, before Artie could protest. "It could've been anyone, or that Aztec thing could've just sat there and not made the guy go psycho. Second, all I want to do is stand there and watch for people - if I don't go to the show, I don't go to the show. I think I can do that and not screw things up, and it's not all that much to ask for spotting this thing in the first place and keeping track of it. Third, if you go, that leaves me here trying to do all the coordination stuff - and I'd be the only one here if something in the Warehouse acted up. I don't know about you, but I can think of all kinds of fun ways that'd go wrong in a hurry."
"We'll discuss it when Pete and Myka get back," Artie said, but Claudia knew she'd won. Well, she was pretty sure of it, anyway.
Myka and Pete made it back the next day, and Artie filled them in on the situation over dinner. Pete brought up the issue of a third pair of hands without any prompting, and Claudia tried not to sag with relief; it'd be an easier discussion to have with one of them bringing it up, but she was still the newbie, so she wasn't guaranteed anything.
But Artie wasn't even halfway through saying he'd go when Pete said, "Why not Claudia?"
Myka looked up from her mashed potatoes. "What?"
"Well, we mostly need the lookout, but if we need help with lugging the amp around, I think it'd be better if our backup probably won't throw out their back in the attempt."
"Hey," Artie said, pulling a bite off his portion of fish with his fork. "I'd be fine. Besides, do you really think she's got enough experience for this?"
"Do you think we have enough experience for this?" Pete countered. "Be honest, if you had an older team, would you even consider having us go after it?"
Artie didn't answer; Claudia took that as a no.
"I hate to say this, but Pete's right," Myka said, after a few moments. "If things get really bad - and hopefully, we can snag this amp before it causes any trouble in Cincinnati - we can take care of her. She's better prepared for this than all the stuff you do to run the back end and keep this place standing."
Claudia grinned. "Thanks, guys."
Artie sighed. "All right, all right, but only because I'm outnumbered. Somebody pass the asparagus?"
***
"What I don't understand," Myka said, as they pulled back onto the highway from a Burger King east of Indianapolis, "is if this thing has been out there for thirty years, why has it barely done anything until now?"
Claudia shrugged, though she was sure Myka was too busy watching the road to see it, even from the rearview mirror. "You got me. I also have no idea why it suddenly turned up in New Orleans and not... closer to home, I guess you'd call it."
"Did you try tracing it backward?"
"Yeah, until it moved to Memphis. Following it forward seemed like a better move than trying to figure out where it had been."
"I may have a theory," Pete told the passenger window.
Claudia couldn't help herself. "Is it bunnies?"
"Wouldn't it be ferrets?" Myka said.
"No, no fuzzy animals of any variety, guys. Claudia, do you know much about any of the bands who've used this thing?"
"The ones I didn't know before this, I looked up," Claudia said. "Three death metal bands and one really obnoxious emo band, in those. The band in Shreveport tends toward classic rock covers, they're not bad, and where we're going... I kind of adore Pacific Tech. Perfect balance of geek rock and good, solid music, even when they get all weird and experimental, and I do not want to see a stampede or something on their watch, not when I can do something about it."
"They're not afraid to crank up the volume, either, are they?"
"Well, they don't shy away from it, if the occasion calls for it. Especially on some of the... probable crowd favorites." Claudia swallowed. "How sure are you that's the trigger?"
"Not a hundred percent," Pete said, "but we are chasing after an amplifier first used by the one-time loudest band in rock and roll. I'd call it a pretty safe bet."
"Then we have to make sure we get there before anyone hooks that amp up tonight," Myka said. "And we'll need a plan in place when we get there."
They talked strategy most of the rest of the way to Cincinnati. Pete and Myka did, anyway; Claudia tried to make contributions, but mostly felt at sea in the conversation. She contented herself with watching the scenery, pulling up local points of interest on her phone, and trying not to worry too much about what might happen that evening.
***
Of course, the plan went entirely to hell in a handbasket by six.
They checked into the hotel with no problems, and found a Thai place Claudia had stumbled across in her Google wanderings for some quick dinner. But Pete got them thoroughly lost in a maze of one-way streets, and by the time they finally made it to Bogart's, there was a line of concert-goers all the way down the block.
"I told you it was a right turn," Myka said, as they finally pulled into a parking space with access to the club's back door.
"Relax, will you? I got us here in one piece, and - aw, crap, we've got roadies."
"Whose?"
Pete sighed. "I'd guess the warm-up band's. I can't tell from here. But either way, I don't think the usual 'hi, we're Secret Service agents here for your stuff' routine is gonna work."
"Great. So what are we going to do instead?"
"Easy," Claudia said. "We blend in. Well, as much as the purple rubber gloves will let you. Take the replacement in first, and if anyone asks why you're lugging the problem-child amp out, it needs repairs. Problem solved."
Neither of them said anything right away, and Claudia got a sinking feeling they were going to scrap her plan and spend time they didn't have trying to figure out what to do. But then Pete grinned, pulled on a pair of gloves, and opened the back of the van. "I'm up for anything that cuts down on the number of trips we gotta make."
Myka started to follow, but Claudia frowned and shrugged out of her jacket. "Wait, Myka, here. You don't look like a roadie," she added, when Myka looked at her like she had three heads. "I think it'll fit you, but - at least leave your suit jacket here?"
"I..." Myka sighed, and pulled the Farnsworth out of her jacket pocket. "I guess you have a point there. You might want to grab some gloves of your own - I'm not sure whether we'll need extra help getting this thing in the van, but you probably won't have much warning if we do."
"Got it." She pulled on a pair of gloves after they left with the replacement amp, and sighed. She hated playing the waiting game at the best of times, and waiting for Myka and Pete to come back with a dangerous Artifact before it had a chance to give one of her favorite bands a bad rap for live shows? Was definitely not the best of times.
She resisted the temptation to pull out her phone - she was supposed to be the lookout, after all, and Artie would probably never let her out of the Warehouse again (or, worse, leave her to the tender mercies of Mrs. Frederick) if she screwed that up - and looked around. She didn't hear any screaming or anything coming from the club, at least, which was probably a good sign. But this still seemed like it was taking forever, and she was actually getting a little chilly without her jacket. Maybe she shouldn't have let Myka borrow it after all. Who was she kidding, they were totally going to get caught anyway, who had ever heard of roadies with purple rubber gloves? And the damn amp would get hooked up anyway and people would die and hell, the way Artie was so worried about what might happen if the thing ended up in Cincinnati again, the whole town might explode or something. That would be a shame, if only because she hadn't had a chance to look around yet and dinner was some of the best pad thai she'd had in years--
"Claudia! Get out of the way!"
She looked up to see Myka and Pete barreling toward her with the amp, and ducked out of their way. They plopped the amp into the van and just stood there for a few moments, probably catching their breath.
"That it?"
Pete nodded. "Yeah, Artie wasn't too worried about fully neutralizing it until we get back to South Dakota. We've got enough to dunk the volume control, at least." He turned to face Claudia, and grinned. "Now get your ass in there, the opening act's about to start."
"You... I - really?"
"You did a good job tonight," Myka said, handing Claudia her jacket back. "And it didn't seem fair for you to come this close and still miss the show. We've got the amp under control."
Claudia grinned. "Thanks, guys, really, I don't even--" She gave up trying to put words to it, and ran for the club door before she missed anything important.
So the progression on this story was something like: "So I want to write something that has some roots in Cincinnati..." "SO THERE'S THIS AMP. THAT WAS AT THE KILLER WHO CONCERT. AND IT CAUSES TROUBLE AND CLAUDIA SPOTS THE PATTERNS AND HIJINKS ENSUE!" "...Brain? I'm meant to be working on my original fantasy universe?" "THEY HAVE TO GO TO BOGART'S TO GET THE AMP! AND THEY CAN HAVE DINNER AT THAI EXPRESS! WIN/WIN!" "...All right, fine."
I sing my visions to the sky-high mountains
The song is over
I'm left with only tears
I must remember
Even if it takes a million years
--"The Song is Over" - the Who
17 Die, Dozens Injured in Little Rock Music Club Accident
Claudia frowned at the headline before clicking on it. This was the third concert-related accident she'd heard of in a month, and while she'd written off the first two as irresponsible pyrotechnics (New Orleans) and a particularly impatient crowd (Shreveport), that was before the Warehouse was a big part of her life.
...Well, all right, it sort of was, but she was a little busy trying to get her brother back into the land of the living.
Of course, it could still be a coincidence; Yahoo was kind enough to provide links to the previous stories, and it turned out all three accidents had happened at different bands' shows. But Artie didn't believe in coincidences, and even though Claudia hadn't been at the Warehouse very long, that was already starting to rub off.
She started researching it, when she could find the time between cleaning and inventory and all the other crap Artie had her do - yeah, maybe she could've gotten more time to do it if she told him what she was working on, but she wanted to be sure it wasn't a coincidence before she made her case. She didn't know Artifact activity well enough to call it that for sure, but something was definitely up. The band that'd had the accident in Little Rock had played in Shreveport the week before, at the club that had been trampled. And the band that'd had that happen on their watch had just come up from New Orleans - at the torched club's backup venue.
The trail went cold with the New Orleans band; Claudia spent a while trying to work backward, but the world reminded her it was moving forward, by way of another headline. A fourth band had a fatal accident during their show, this time at a bar in Memphis - and they'd been in Little Rock three days beforehand.
At the very least, someone needed to know about a string of four loosely connected accidents - someone who could do a little more than sit there and frown at the computer a lot. So when Artie came in and sat down at his own computer setup, she said, "I think we have a problem."
"Not now, Claudia, I need to track those bottles in Windsor--"
"Yes, now. Pete and Myka can handle bottles that turn water into beer by themselves for five minutes. I don't know for sure if I've found Artifact activity or not, but people are dying and there's something weird tying it together."
Artie sighed, but he at least stopped pulling up his resources for the Canada thing. "All right," he said. "What do you have?"
Claudia explained what she'd managed to piece together, and watched as Artie's frown grew - more his worried frown than his annoyed one, which she took as both a good and bad sign. After a while, he stopped her and said, "Do you have any pictures? Of the concert venues."
"I can dig some up, no problem." She'd bookmarked the articles with that in mind, so setting up the pictures side by side in separate tabs was a piece of cake.
And then she was treated to the rare sight - and definite bad sign - of Artie going pale. "Oh no, the damn Cincinnati Marshall's on the move again."
Claudia flipped back and forth among the pictures again, trying to figure out what she'd missed. "What, there's some airplane cop with a vendetta against rock concerts running loose?"
"The amplifier, Claudia." Artie started pulling up some stuff on his computer, and Claudia took a closer look; sure enough, the same battered amp was in the equipment stacks in every photo.
"Okay, great. And it's a problem why? Aside from the part where it's apparently killing people."
"December third, 1979. Who concert in Cincinnati. People heard the band warming up, thought the show was starting, and stampeded. Eleven people died. The venue blamed festival seating, but I'd wondered if the equipment had something to do with it." He tapped his monitor; Claudia leaned over to see an older photo with the same (if far less beaten-up) amp in it. "The thing gets to people. Makes them think things like stampedes or indoor fireworks are perfectly good ideas."
"Yikes. So why didn't you snag it sooner?"
Artie sighed. "There was always something else to round up. Besides, just about everyone else thought it was an isolated incident. I only looked twice myself because we'd rounded up Keith Moon's exploding drum set a couple years before that."
"Really? I thought he'd just... stuffed some explosives in it."
"Originally, yes, but I think it liked the idea and got carried away. Anyway - if it's acting up to this extent, it's past time we put it away. I'll send Myka and Pete after it once we've got those beer bottles squared away."
That stayed the end of the conversation for a few days. The situation with the bottles got more complicated - an identical set turned up in Detroit, and Artie sent Myka and Pete after them while they were in the area, muttering the whole time about how he hated Prohibition-era Artifacts and at least the bottles weren't a bifurcated set, whatever that meant. Claudia just kept going about her chores, and watching her collection of news sites for anything suspicious.
No more than five minutes after Artie declared case closed on the bottles and headed for the B&B (probably to make cookies), the exact sort of article Claudia had been hoping not to see popped up on Yahoo. She stared at the article and accompanying photo for a moment, printed a copy, and took off after Artie.
"We got more indoor pyrotechnics," she said, when she found him - in the kitchen, as expected. "Louisville, this time. Only seven people dead at the scene, but there's dozens more in critical condition, and you're not gonna like the picture."
She hadn't expected to be so right about that part that Artie actually swore at something.
"It's - do you know where it's going to go next?" he said, cracking an egg with what seemed like extra vehemence.
"Haven't looked yet. I kinda thought the part where it was acting up again was a little more important."
"Yes, but - the next stop's going to be the easiest place to intercept the thing. With two sets of those bottles, I need Pete and Myka to stop back here first after all. And I really hope it's not homing in on where it came from."
Claudia frowned. "I... take it that would be a bad thing?"
"It can be, especially when something's causing this much trouble on the move. That, and Cincinnati's still pretty emotionally battered from the original incident - the last thing they need is a repeat anywhere in town. I think the original venue's more of a multipurpose arena now, but there are other concert sites."
"Well, I'll see what I can dig up. You can go back to your... surprisingly angry baking. I'll probably have at least something by the time you're done."
She left Artie glowering at the mixing bowl while he stirred its contents, hoped his angry cookies were just as good as his 'successful mission' cookies - or at least not entirely ruined by the sudden mood whiplash - and headed back to the Warehouse. Even if this weren't Artifact activity, she'd want to know what the heck was going on; concerts could be good, when they didn't go completely crazy like this batch. The fact that she could help put a stop to the crazy was a definite bonus.
Her relative good mood only lasted as long as it took to find the Louisville venue's performance roster, at which point a decided sinking feeling replaced it. The sinking feeling started downright plummeting when she followed the links and worked out where the amp was headed, as long as the place in Louisville could offer a backup venue.
***
"Come on, Artie, please?"
"No."
Claudia sighed, trying to keep her frustration from getting in the way of making a good argument. "Trust me, this concert's not gonna be your speed. I love these guys, and sometimes they're not my speed. It takes two people to move an amp on a good day, so you're gonna need a lookout."
"I'll go. This could be just about as nasty as collecting Robert Johnson's guitar was - it'll take some experienced hands to get this done right."
"Yeah, like Pete and Myka have so much of that."
Artie raised his eyebrows at her. "They've got more of it than you, at any rate. I'm not sending you out there just because you want to to go a free concert."
"First, you started them in the field on the strength of a freak coincidence - yes, that one was a coincidence," she added, before Artie could protest. "It could've been anyone, or that Aztec thing could've just sat there and not made the guy go psycho. Second, all I want to do is stand there and watch for people - if I don't go to the show, I don't go to the show. I think I can do that and not screw things up, and it's not all that much to ask for spotting this thing in the first place and keeping track of it. Third, if you go, that leaves me here trying to do all the coordination stuff - and I'd be the only one here if something in the Warehouse acted up. I don't know about you, but I can think of all kinds of fun ways that'd go wrong in a hurry."
"We'll discuss it when Pete and Myka get back," Artie said, but Claudia knew she'd won. Well, she was pretty sure of it, anyway.
Myka and Pete made it back the next day, and Artie filled them in on the situation over dinner. Pete brought up the issue of a third pair of hands without any prompting, and Claudia tried not to sag with relief; it'd be an easier discussion to have with one of them bringing it up, but she was still the newbie, so she wasn't guaranteed anything.
But Artie wasn't even halfway through saying he'd go when Pete said, "Why not Claudia?"
Myka looked up from her mashed potatoes. "What?"
"Well, we mostly need the lookout, but if we need help with lugging the amp around, I think it'd be better if our backup probably won't throw out their back in the attempt."
"Hey," Artie said, pulling a bite off his portion of fish with his fork. "I'd be fine. Besides, do you really think she's got enough experience for this?"
"Do you think we have enough experience for this?" Pete countered. "Be honest, if you had an older team, would you even consider having us go after it?"
Artie didn't answer; Claudia took that as a no.
"I hate to say this, but Pete's right," Myka said, after a few moments. "If things get really bad - and hopefully, we can snag this amp before it causes any trouble in Cincinnati - we can take care of her. She's better prepared for this than all the stuff you do to run the back end and keep this place standing."
Claudia grinned. "Thanks, guys."
Artie sighed. "All right, all right, but only because I'm outnumbered. Somebody pass the asparagus?"
***
"What I don't understand," Myka said, as they pulled back onto the highway from a Burger King east of Indianapolis, "is if this thing has been out there for thirty years, why has it barely done anything until now?"
Claudia shrugged, though she was sure Myka was too busy watching the road to see it, even from the rearview mirror. "You got me. I also have no idea why it suddenly turned up in New Orleans and not... closer to home, I guess you'd call it."
"Did you try tracing it backward?"
"Yeah, until it moved to Memphis. Following it forward seemed like a better move than trying to figure out where it had been."
"I may have a theory," Pete told the passenger window.
Claudia couldn't help herself. "Is it bunnies?"
"Wouldn't it be ferrets?" Myka said.
"No, no fuzzy animals of any variety, guys. Claudia, do you know much about any of the bands who've used this thing?"
"The ones I didn't know before this, I looked up," Claudia said. "Three death metal bands and one really obnoxious emo band, in those. The band in Shreveport tends toward classic rock covers, they're not bad, and where we're going... I kind of adore Pacific Tech. Perfect balance of geek rock and good, solid music, even when they get all weird and experimental, and I do not want to see a stampede or something on their watch, not when I can do something about it."
"They're not afraid to crank up the volume, either, are they?"
"Well, they don't shy away from it, if the occasion calls for it. Especially on some of the... probable crowd favorites." Claudia swallowed. "How sure are you that's the trigger?"
"Not a hundred percent," Pete said, "but we are chasing after an amplifier first used by the one-time loudest band in rock and roll. I'd call it a pretty safe bet."
"Then we have to make sure we get there before anyone hooks that amp up tonight," Myka said. "And we'll need a plan in place when we get there."
They talked strategy most of the rest of the way to Cincinnati. Pete and Myka did, anyway; Claudia tried to make contributions, but mostly felt at sea in the conversation. She contented herself with watching the scenery, pulling up local points of interest on her phone, and trying not to worry too much about what might happen that evening.
***
Of course, the plan went entirely to hell in a handbasket by six.
They checked into the hotel with no problems, and found a Thai place Claudia had stumbled across in her Google wanderings for some quick dinner. But Pete got them thoroughly lost in a maze of one-way streets, and by the time they finally made it to Bogart's, there was a line of concert-goers all the way down the block.
"I told you it was a right turn," Myka said, as they finally pulled into a parking space with access to the club's back door.
"Relax, will you? I got us here in one piece, and - aw, crap, we've got roadies."
"Whose?"
Pete sighed. "I'd guess the warm-up band's. I can't tell from here. But either way, I don't think the usual 'hi, we're Secret Service agents here for your stuff' routine is gonna work."
"Great. So what are we going to do instead?"
"Easy," Claudia said. "We blend in. Well, as much as the purple rubber gloves will let you. Take the replacement in first, and if anyone asks why you're lugging the problem-child amp out, it needs repairs. Problem solved."
Neither of them said anything right away, and Claudia got a sinking feeling they were going to scrap her plan and spend time they didn't have trying to figure out what to do. But then Pete grinned, pulled on a pair of gloves, and opened the back of the van. "I'm up for anything that cuts down on the number of trips we gotta make."
Myka started to follow, but Claudia frowned and shrugged out of her jacket. "Wait, Myka, here. You don't look like a roadie," she added, when Myka looked at her like she had three heads. "I think it'll fit you, but - at least leave your suit jacket here?"
"I..." Myka sighed, and pulled the Farnsworth out of her jacket pocket. "I guess you have a point there. You might want to grab some gloves of your own - I'm not sure whether we'll need extra help getting this thing in the van, but you probably won't have much warning if we do."
"Got it." She pulled on a pair of gloves after they left with the replacement amp, and sighed. She hated playing the waiting game at the best of times, and waiting for Myka and Pete to come back with a dangerous Artifact before it had a chance to give one of her favorite bands a bad rap for live shows? Was definitely not the best of times.
She resisted the temptation to pull out her phone - she was supposed to be the lookout, after all, and Artie would probably never let her out of the Warehouse again (or, worse, leave her to the tender mercies of Mrs. Frederick) if she screwed that up - and looked around. She didn't hear any screaming or anything coming from the club, at least, which was probably a good sign. But this still seemed like it was taking forever, and she was actually getting a little chilly without her jacket. Maybe she shouldn't have let Myka borrow it after all. Who was she kidding, they were totally going to get caught anyway, who had ever heard of roadies with purple rubber gloves? And the damn amp would get hooked up anyway and people would die and hell, the way Artie was so worried about what might happen if the thing ended up in Cincinnati again, the whole town might explode or something. That would be a shame, if only because she hadn't had a chance to look around yet and dinner was some of the best pad thai she'd had in years--
"Claudia! Get out of the way!"
She looked up to see Myka and Pete barreling toward her with the amp, and ducked out of their way. They plopped the amp into the van and just stood there for a few moments, probably catching their breath.
"That it?"
Pete nodded. "Yeah, Artie wasn't too worried about fully neutralizing it until we get back to South Dakota. We've got enough to dunk the volume control, at least." He turned to face Claudia, and grinned. "Now get your ass in there, the opening act's about to start."
"You... I - really?"
"You did a good job tonight," Myka said, handing Claudia her jacket back. "And it didn't seem fair for you to come this close and still miss the show. We've got the amp under control."
Claudia grinned. "Thanks, guys, really, I don't even--" She gave up trying to put words to it, and ran for the club door before she missed anything important.