| A Mystery Guest: Part of the Solution By Kuzibah |
| Part 6 of the Summer Vacation Series Disclaimer: The characters and situations connected to �Buffy the Vampire Slayer� and �Angel� are owned by Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, Mutant Enemy, the WB network, and (apparently) Evil Fox. No connection or ownership by the author is suggested or implied. Author�s Note: It�s Enigma�s birthday! And since she refuses to tell me who her favorite character is, she gets a story that features several. Happy Birthday, O Peachy One! And Happy Independence Day to all you Americans Archive- Sure, but email me and let me know where it�s going. Feedback- Absolutely. ******************* Edina Nigam waited patiently at the airport curbside for her rental car to be brought around. Her sample cases, four trunks the size of coffee tables, were stacked around her. She generally enjoyed her work as a sales representative for Phalanx, International, Ltd., even the travel, but the annual Southern California junket was not her favorite trip. Her clients were more serious here, less interested in history and craftsmanship, more in raw carnage. She did a mental inventory of her sample stock. She thought at least sixty percent of the items would go right out of the case, and was glad she had brought so much, but it certainly was a hassle. The car rolled up, a two-door coupe. Edina looked at her cases again, and sighed. - - - - - - - - - - She hit the towns outside of L.A. first, working up to her larger clients later in the week. No point selling her samples early. Now she had entered Sunnydale. Last year she�d lost a major client, but it was just as well. One of her favorite clients was here, too, and it let her spend more time with him. She knocked on his door, and he answered right away, smiling warmly. �Ms. Nigam,� he said, �it�s so good to see you. Can I offer you some tea?� �Why, thank you, Mr. Giles,� she replied. �Would you very much mind helping me with my cases? I brought some of the items we discussed on the phone.� A short time later they were sitting at the table. Edina took a sip of her tea and placed two sais between them. �You spoke about diversifying away from Medieval European,� she said, �and I thought you might find these of interest.� Giles picked one up and looked along its length. �Asian?� �Yes, Japanese,� Edina said. �We have both steel and steel-clad ironwood, depending on your needs.� Giles put it back down. �Interesting,� he said. Edina smiled. She liked Rupert Giles, but he was more set in his ways than he wanted to admit. She put the sais back in the case and took out an Asian short sword. �Maybe this is more to your liking,� she said. �Kyoto-forged water blade; sharp enough to cut a man into two-inch cubes before needing sharpening.� Giles reached out. �Let me see that,� he said, and pulled it from its sheath. �Oh, that�s lovely,� he said. �What sizes does it come in?� - - - - - - - - - - Edina was in Los Angeles proper now, a section one of her colleagues had jokingly referred to as the �abandoned-warehouse district.� This was a new client, and she was a little nervous that she wasn�t finding the address. She circled the block again, and drove slowly down the alley. Most of the buildings weren�t numbered and it was unclear where one ended and the next began, and she had the feeling she was losing count. She stopped the car and walked up to one of the metal doors. If it wasn�t the right one, she thought, she could at least ask the crackheads where 163 N. was. A young man in tight black jeans, a �Korn� t-shirt, and a gold cross around his neck answered. �I�m looking for Mr. Gunn,� Edina said. �I�m Edina Nigam, Phalanx International. He contacted us.� �I.D?� the young man asked. Edina could see there were several more men behind him. She handed him her business card. He took it and closed the door. Thirty seconds later the door opened and a handsome black man smiled out at her. His youth surprised her. �I�m Mr. Gunn,� he said. He instructed some of the young men to fetch Edina�s cases and led her down a very narrow corridor or corrugated steel. They came to an open room and Edina saw several young people holding small crossbows trained on her. �Put those away,� Gunn commanded. �What�s wrong with you? You ain�t never seen a lady in a business suit before?� He turned to Edina and flashed a truly disarming smile. �Please excuse these fools,� he said. Edina took Gunn�s arm. In all of her years with Phalanx (and she had gotten her start in the crossbow division), she had never actually had a weapon pulled on her, and it shook her seriously. �Could I please sit down?� she said. �Get the lady a chair,� Gunn snapped, and Edina sank into it gratefully. A bottle of water was put into her hand. She took a large swallow. After a moment she turned to Gunn. �I think I�m okay now,� she said. �Now what were you interested in?� �Let me show you our arsenal,� Gunn said. He took her further down, to where the warehouse opened up. Edina was impressed by the discipline exhibited by the organization, especially considering their overall youth. Some sparred, some practiced with various weapons, a good number of which were hand-made. Gunn proudly showed off some of his weapons, what were essentially long-range, multiple fire crossbows. Edina�s engineering training overwhelmed her earlier fear and she asked dozens of questions about how they were built and examined the inner workings. �We�d like to make it even longer range,� Gunn explained. �Some sort of compression cartridge, maybe. And fine tune the aim.� Edina considered a moment. �I think we can do that,� she said. - - - - - - - - - - Next stop was another ex-Watcher. Edina had met him briefly on her last trip out, and found that what he lacked in experience, he more than made up for in enthusiasm. She rode the elevator to his apartment with one of her sample cases. But she�d really only need one. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce met her at the door and insisted on wrestling her case into his living room. �I checked your on-line catalog at work,� he said, �and I must say I�m quite interested in the Turkish Fasshad scimitars. It said only a few were available. Do you know if they�ve all been sold?� Edina opened her case and drew out the glittering blade, inscribed with a talisman in the language of the Fasshadi demon tribe. �I thought you�d be interested,� she said, smiling, �so I set one aside.� Wesley took the blade carefully and held it up to the light. �Absolutely beautiful,� he breathed. Edina began her pitch. �I can assure you of the piece�s authenticity,� she said. �The Salimbano family, who has long produced blades for the royal guard, only just released them for sale this year, with Phalanx International named sole trustees on distribution.� Her voice softened fondly. �I knew a discriminating collector like yourself could appreciate it.� Wesley turned towards her, one eyebrow raised skeptically. �You know, Ms. Nigam,� he said, �it should not at all surprise me to learn you come from a long line of horse traders.� Edina laughed. This was a definite sale. She knew love when she saw it. - - - - - - - - - - Multi-millionaire David Nabbit and his �gaming club� were more like Edina�s usual clientele. Only with about 100,000 time more money. But something was different. The club members were rummaging through her cases like a bunch of kids at F.A.O. Schwartz, but Nabbit himself stood apart, mentally removed. �Is the selection unsatisfactory?� Edina asked worriedly. �No, I�m just�� Nabbit surveyed his friends, posing with swords and battle axes. �Actually,� he said, �could you join me in the other room?� Edina followed him to his study and took a seat in one of the leather wing chairs. Nabbit joined her. �Ms. Nigam,� he began. �I�m a businessman. And I know a company the size of Phalanx can�t support itself on gamers and antiques collectors alone. I would guess you sell most of your products to people who use them for something more than� dressing up.� �Mr. Nabbit, I�m really not at liberty to discuss my other clients�� �It�s alright, I understand,� Nabbit said. �But I want to learn more. There have to be people who can teach me to use halberds, and broad swords, and morning stars� for real.� Edina sat back in her chair and steepled her fingers before her. She had to admit, David Nabbit was the last person she expected to make such a request. She reached into her pocket and extracted her PDA. �I believe I can give you some contacts,� she said. �Were you interested in a broad overview of medieval combat in general, or did you have a specific course of study in mind?� Nabbit actually giggled with delighted glee. �Well� let me think,� he said. - - - - - - - - - - Edina stepped out into the cool, dry darkness of the sub-basement apartment. �I�ll get your cases,� her client said, his voice deceptively gentle. Edina had met him for the first time last year, but she felt oddly compelled by him. More than any of her other clients, she wanted to know his story. �Mr. Angel�� �It�s just Angel,� he corrected. �Yes. Angel.� She began again. �I�ve been curious. How did the prototypes we designed for you work out?� Phalanx had created a spring-loaded wooden stake that strapped on the forearms. Edina could guess at their use, which made her client a daring man indeed. That he had lived to meet with her again said something of his skill, as well. �Better than I�d hoped,� Angel said, then allowed himself a small smile. �They never saw it coming.� Edina smiled back. �Well, I hope we can interest you in something more� conventional this time. We have a new line of heavy crossbows, in fact. They aren�t for everyone, but I think someone of your stamina, shall we say�� �Actually,� Angel interrupted, �I may be leaning towards more defensive items. Not for myself,� he amended, �for my staff. They may need additional� protection in the line of duty.� Edina cleared her throat, trying to think how to word her next question diplomatically. �Are they� mortal?� Angel smiled ruefully. �Very,� he said. �And one is a woman. I know that shouldn�t matter, but I�m� old-fashioned. I feel responsible for her safety.� Edina opened one of her cases and drew out a fine link chainmail glove. �Naturally, armor must be custom ordered,� she said. �But this will give you an indication of our craftsmanship.� She handed it to him, and he let it slide from one hand to the other, smooth and supple as a snake. �It�s strong,� Edina went on, �yet feminine. Nearly invisible when worn under a normal sweater or sweatshirt.� Edina smiled. �Of course, our director of marketing keeps hoping they�ll catch on as club wear. Perhaps your employee can be at the crest of a trend.� Angel chuckled. �Oh, she�d like that,� he said. He handed the glove back. �I want to get it for her,� he said. �But she�ll take some convincing.� Edina passed him a slim, glossy catalog with �Phalanx Armor� printed in red, gothic lettering above a photo of a bland, blonde, smiling couple in plate-mail. �This will give her the information she needs,� Edina said. Angel took it and put it to the side. �Now,� he said, �about those crossbows�� - - - - - - - - - - - Edina drove into downtown Los Angeles after spending a restless night at the Holiday Inn. She always allotted a full day to her accounts at Wolfram and Hart, but she placed them at the end of her junket, hoping they would cancel, or she would get detained. Or the San Andreas fault would swallow up her rental car. �Ms. Nigam!� Holland, one of the older junior partners, ushered her into a conference room roughly the size of Madison Square Garden, followed by a fleet of security guards with her sample cases. A slim young woman with a clipboard joined them. �This is Lesley,� Holland said. �She�ll be scheduling your meetings with all relevant employees. If you have questions or need anything, she�s your gal.� He just managed to restrain himself from slapping the girl�s fanny. Edina thanked him and began her long day of meetings. She talked to several security people, most of the junior partners, and a good deal of the rank and file. Towards the end of the day, Lesley entered, looking a little more nervous than usual. �Lindsey MacDonald to see you, ma�am,� she said. A youngish man entered, his arm in a sling. �Thank you, Lesley,� he murmured, and the girl quickly retreated. He smiled a wolfish, predatory smile and Edina suppressed a shudder. �I have a few questions about vampires,� he began. �I know what can kill them. I�m not concerned with that. I need to know what will hurt them� disfigure them, permanently.� Edina stepped behind the conference table, putting more distance between herself and the lawyer. �Phalanx International is in the business of war, Mr. MacDonald,� she said, �not torture.� �A fine distinction, at best,� Lindsey pointed out. �But let�s not debate semantics. Let�s talk about custom-made items.� He took the sling from his arm, revealing his hand had been severed at the wrist. Edina felt the blood drain from her face. �I�d like you to make a rather� personal item,� Lindsey said. Part 7- Wesley: Seven Day Cruise Main Menu ~ Summer Vacation Series |