Along about mid-afternoon, figuring that he’d accomplished all he could, Charlie headed back to the Daily. Ernie was out and about someplace—they coordinated when possible, but they couldn’t always know what the other was up to. “Hey, Charlie,” one of the kids on the city desk not far away said. “Tom has been calling down here every fifteen minutes for you.”

“You don’t say,” Charlie said, taking off his suit jacket and hanging it on the edge of the divider. “I’d better head on over there then.”

It really was a relatively small paper, but it at least had the advantage of a fairly large building, a former chain grocery store, which gave plenty of room for parking and presses, even if it was not very close to downtown. So it was just a short walk across the building to publisher Tom Rostenkowski’s office. His secretary was out front, as usual, and Panty Raid Metheny and two guys he didn’t know were sitting on the none-too-comfortable chairs across the way. If things had worked out the way he figured, they had to have been sitting there simmering for hours.

Metheny looked nervous, and the other two guys looked shocked when they saw him. Well, that was to be expected, and why he’d taken off his suit jacket. There are probably not very many reporters who carry a .45 automatic in a shoulder holster as regular equipment, but there aren’t many who are certified police officers, either. In any case, it’s not something normally seen around a newspaper.

“Hi, Molly,” Charlie said casually. “I heard Tom was looking for me.”

“You can head right on back,” she told him.

Tom’s office wasn’t luxurious. Everything around the Daily had to be done on a tight budget, and Tom set the pace. His desk was neater than some in the building. Not a lot neater, but a little. “So out and around, Charlie?” Tom asked. “Find anything?”

“Couple little things, something moderate breaking in a couple days, maybe.”

“Well, good. Keeps life interesting. You see we got some visitors outside.”

“Yeah, Panty Raid Metheny and that crew from Newsmagazine. Heard about them.”

“Figured you must have. Same answer, right?”

“Of course.”

“They want me to ask you in front of them. That okay with you?”

“Fine with me,” Charlie nodded.

“All right, let’s go do it,” Tom sighed, getting up and heading for the door with Charlie following. They walked back out into the lobby. “Charlie, these people are Brad Bonds and Steve Hite from Newsmagazine, and I think you already know Jason Metheny.”

“Yeah, I have the misfortune to know Panty Raid Metheny.”

Tom watched the young reporter heat up to boiling, and broke in very quickly to cut him off. “Charlie, they want you to see if you can set up an interview with Hippolyta. Will you do that? Failing that, are you willing to be interviewed about her yourself?”

“No and no.” Charlie replied flatly.

“All right gentlemen,” Tom said. “That takes care of that.”

“Wait just a damn minute!” Bonds exploded. “You can’t just kiss us off like that with no explanation.”

“Oh, yes I can. You still haven’t answered my question from earlier. Which is, what’s in it for us? Hippolyta has been the source of some good stories for us. That means revenue. We’re not going to give up an exclusive source and get nothing in return.”

“To top that off,” Charlie said, firmly but without raising his voice. “I gave her my word that I would not reveal her identity in any way. I make a living on the strength of my word, and I will not break it. If you had an exclusive like this and I asked, I know you wouldn’t share it with me.”

“But … but the public has a right to know!” Metheny fumed.

“The public has a right to know what?” Charlie asked. “Like what goes on between you and your girlfriend? Okay, I’m a reporter too, and in some circumstances, I agree. But when a source requests anonymity, and your word is given, your word is your bond, or mine is to me. Tom doesn’t know who she is, I don’t know who she is, and he knows better than to ask me to find out, because he knows I’ll walk right out the door before I’ll break that trust. It’s been thirty years, and Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein still haven’t revealed who Deep Throat is. That’s called keeping your word.”

“Woodward? Bernstein? Deep Throat?” Metheny frowned. “Who the hell are they?”

“Jesus H. Christ, where the hell did you go to journalism school?” Charlie exploded. “Or don’t they teach that anymore? I guess not, if they let people like you graduate.”

“Now just a damn minute,” Metheny said, anger still near the boiling point. “You can’t talk to me like that.”

“Hey, settle down,” Bonds said, seeing blood on the walls any second. “Can’t you ask Hippolyta for us if she’d agree to an interview?”

“I already did. She said not just no, but hell no.”

“You talked to her?” Hite frowned. “You mean, after your sister called?”

“Yep.”

“So you do know who she is?”

“I just know how to get hold of her, and I got lucky this time. Now, like I told you, the answer is no. That means no. But I will give you a word of warning. Don’t push her friends too hard. She does carry a sword and she knows how to use it, so you don’t want her to interview you unless you like singing soprano. Now I suggest you gentlemen hit the street so I can get some work done.”

“Good God, what a hardass,” Hite said as soon as they were outside. “Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a reporter carrying a gun in a newsroom.”

“Yeah, I have to put up with that shit from him all the time.” Metheny said. “At least that’s one good thing about getting booted off the police beat; I don’t get it every day now.”

“What was that deal about ‘Panty Raid?’ Bonds asked.

“There was a break-in at Victoria’s Secret back last spring. We did several stories on it. Good water cooler story, you know. He obviously didn’t think so.”

“Well, it’s clear we’re not getting anywhere through him,” Hite said after a sigh. “That doesn’t leave us with a whole hell of a lot. We might get some kind of a tearjerker out of this Spangler.”

“I don’t know how hard you’ll be able to push him,” Metheny said. “He is an attorney, and he has a reputation for being a big cheese in this town.”

“Yeah, but he might know who this Hippolyta is,” Bonds said. “I mean, she’s doing this stuff, she needs an attorney, and he obviously owes her.”

“If he knows her that well, he’s probably not going to say,” Metheny said. “Believe me, I’ve been beating my head against that wall for a couple months. I’ve felt since the beginning that if I could get Hippolyta alone sometime, I could maybe get something of an interview, but the only way to talk to her seems to be through him. I mean I’ve only seen her up close twice and got to ask her that one question, and she just gave me that doofus answer before she blew everyone off. I tried tailing Parker once when he was escorting her, but she just evaporated.”

Hite shook his head, seemingly lost in thought. He was actually the cameraman, Jason knew, but he and Bonds, the producer, had worked together for a long time and made a good team. Hite was a hell of a lot smarter than some of those bozo cameramen Jason had to work with at Channel 5. He got stuck with that black bull-dyke Keri more and more these days, and that didn’t make it much more fun. “Might be possible to tail him some other time,” Hite thought out loud. “But how would you know that anyone he’s talking to is Hippolyta? I mean, let’s face it, she almost certainly doesn’t wear that black getup all the time. She might be that woman, oh, right over there,” he said, pointing across the parking lot at a woman walking up the street. “How would you know?”

“Right,” Bonds agreed. “And that doesn’t mean he had a face to face with her. That’s what telephones are for.”

“Well, we do have something,” Hite agreed. “We can get footage of the hostage thing and the check passing. We could go out and get scenes, maybe do a re-creation of the Spangler thing, especially if one of the cops will help.”

“There’s only one you’re going to even have a chance with,” Metheny said. “And don’t hold your breath.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, one of the cops in on that rescue was guess who? Charlie Parker. The other one? His girlfriend, or at least that’s what I hear. She doesn’t like me much either. You can imagine what kind of a hardass she has to be to get along with him.”

“Boy, he’s all through this thing, isn’t he?” Bonds said and frowned. “I have to wonder how much his sister really knows and is holding back.”

“Good question,” Metheny nodded. “I honestly think she knows more than she’s saying. I think she knows who Hippolyta is, but she’s letting her brother take the heat.”

“What makes you think that?” Hite asked.

“Hippolyta obviously has to be a fencer,” Jason said. “Sally’s a former champion fencer in some class or other, went to the NCAA Championships meet a couple years ago. She’s from around here, grew up here, so she has to know about everyone who can handle a sword like that.”

“Hey,” Bonds said. “Not to point out the obvious, but what are the chances that the Parker girl could be Hippolyta?”

“Sounds good,” Jason frowned. “The only problem is that I don’t think she is. I mean, I’ve met both of them, and I can’t imagine it. The physical appearance is too different.”

“How different?” Hite asked.

“Just different,” Jason frowned again, struggling in his mind to make the leap of imagination to put Sally into Hippolyta’s outfit. It was a long leap. He couldn’t imagine that the mouthy brat in the newsroom could be the same person as the menacing, awe-inspiring Amazon he lusted after, no matter how she dressed. To think that the woman he’d had dreams about for the past two months being Sally was too much of a stretch, something he just wasn’t going to accept. “Hippolyta’s quite a bit taller, for example, taller than I am. I’ve got a few inches on Sally,” he explained, trying to defend his logic. “The build isn’t the same. Hippolyta’s got a chest full of boobs, and Sally’s flat as a ballerina. Hippolyta’s burlier, more muscular, broader through the shoulders. Besides, the voice isn’t the same, and the way they talk is way different. Sally’s very casual, even on the air, and Hippolyta is cold and distant and menacing. I mean, you’ve seen that clip of how she had the mayor kissing her ass.”

“You could have a point,” Hite said. “But it sure would explain a lot. Answer me this: do you know of any time Hippolyta made an appearance when you know for sure Sally was somewhere else? An alibi?”

“Good question,” Jason said, thinking. “The Shop’n’Go, no, I don’t have any idea where she was. The Spangler girl’s rescue, she said she was visiting some friends, and saw the cops heading into the place, so she got there with the first backup to arrive. One of the guys from 13 said that the first backup only missed Hippolyta by a minute or two.”

“By whose timing?” Bonds asked.

“The cops on the scene.” Jason shook his head ruefully. “Janice Watkins and Charlie Parker. You’re right, that doesn’t really prove anything. Okay, the Spangler check passing, don’t know, she was supposed to have a date or something. But the night of the Cordero thing, she was anchoring up till eleven-thirty. When Hippolyta showed up at the scene, Jeff said he’d just sent Sally home, and wished he hadn’t. That’s quite a ways across town.”

“Two don’t knows, and two near misses,” Hite nodded. “It’s not impossible then.”

“Oh, it’s possible on the face of it,” Jason agreed, still reluctant to believe it. “But like I said, I don’t think they’re the same person. I don’t think Sally’s actress enough to do Hippolyta either. I mean, it sounds good to say it, but I’ve met both of them, and I know one of them much too well.” And the other not well enough, he thought to himself.

“Well, I don’t know,” Bonds sighed. “I mean, it’d be nice if it was, because we’d have quite a story. But without knowing for sure, we have nothing, unless we get an awful lot from the Spangler interview tonight. Any reason you can’t come with us to their place? You might pick up something we don’t.”

“No problem,” Jason said. “I’m technically off today, anyway.”

“If we get some good stuff from them,” Bonds observed. “We might be able to build a mystery story around it. But we don’t have the time to waste farting down a dry hole right now.”

“You want me to drive?” Sally asked.

“Fine with me,” Charlie grumped, opening the door of the Shay in the parking area behind the Toledo Salle, just after full darkness. It got dark early, and with Daylight Savings Time having ended a few days before, it got dark even earlier. “You seem to like this thing. It scares the shit out of me.”

“You just have to remember what you’re driving,” she laughed as she got behind the wheel, dressed as Goth Girl. “You can’t bully it.” It would have been possible to take the Mustang for the first part of this, but the Salle wasn’t in the nicest neighborhood, and certainly not one to leave a car as conspicuous as the Shay just sitting around. The Mustang wouldn’t draw attention like that. Sally had parked it under a street light, and Stan ought to be along pretty soon, anyway.

But the Shay would be needed later at Franklin Park—Hippolyta needed to make a grand appearance, and not be seen driving anything conventional, like, say, a Mustang. A vehicle as unique as the Shay would do the job nicely.

“Okay,” he said as he walked around and got into the other side, a little nervously. He really didn’t like riding with someone else—he’d had several police pursuit courses, and knew he was a good driver, but Sally was right, he liked to tell a car what to do, not just chivvy it along. “You realize I’m putting my life in your hands, though.”

It was several miles of rather nervous riding out to Franklin Park, but it went quickly—Sally used the expressway, which was just dying down from rush hour, so the drive was fairly calm. Charlie was just glad it was a warm night—the Shay was an open car, and it was getting a little cold for that kind of thing, but at least it didn’t take long. They pulled into the back side of the mall and Charlie directed her up to one of the entrances, where he got out. “Okay, see you in an hour or so,” he said. “Good luck.”

“Yeah, everything should go all right.” This had all the earmarks of one of her brother’s shenanigans, and the timing would be tricky, but it should be rewarding if it all worked. It did have the promise of providing some fun in any case. Both had been in short supply lately. This could well be the last time Hippolyta made an appearance, but at least she could go out on a high note, not a heavy one like the thing at the Cordero’s.

It was several miles from Franklin Park out to Spangler’s, but Sally was a Toledo native, after all, and she knew the quick ways to get around the city. It was breezy in the open car, and Sally was soon grateful that she’d gone ahead and gotten the leather outfit, because she’d have been awfully cold in the old Spandex gear. Very soon she pulled into the alley behind the Spangler’s and parked the Shay right in front of their garage, so it wasn’t visible from the house. It was dark back there, but even with the unfamiliar location of gear in the Shay, the transition from Goth Girl to Hippolyta went quickly. It only took donning the corset, the hood, the .357, and Penthesilea, and by now the routine was well practiced, even though she hadn’t done it in a couple weeks. She checked her watch: right on time.

Hoping this would work out, she walked across the yard to Spangler’s patio and knocked on the glass door. “Hippolyta!” she heard Missy cry. “You came!”

“I said I would be here, Missy,” she said in the Hippolyta voice. Although the light was low, she could see Mr. and Mrs. Spangler standing there in the darkness. “Shall we go? I cannot stay long, but I have time to walk with you for a few minutes.”

“Hippolyta, we’re very glad you could make the time for this,” Mr. Spangler said. “We don’t have much time either, but as Mr. Parker said, it would be a shame for Missy to miss out on Halloween. When he said you’d offered to join us, we couldn’t say no.”

“I thought it important. It has been a very, very long time since I have been trick or treating, but I remember how much fun it was. It would be a shame for Missy to have that taken away.”

“We appreciate that,” Maureen Spangler replied. “It’s just, well, we’ve become very careful.”

“So I understand,” Hippolyta said, taking Missy by the hand. “That is why I offered to come. Let us go, since I really cannot stay long.” The four walked out into the back yard, around the house, and out onto the sidewalk.

Their first stop was next door at the neighbors. Hippolyta stayed back with Mr. and Mrs. Spangler, while Missy went up to knock on the door. In the light, she could see the dark outfit the little girl had on, the hood, even a little plastic sword thrown over her shoulder. It was all home-made, and it was clear some effort had been put into it. When someone came to the door, Missy gave the traditional Trick or Treat yell, and the neighbor said, “Well, what have we here? A little Hippolyta?” He looked up, and saw the three older people standing at the bottom of the steps. “Two Hippolytas?” he said with a smile as he put a handful of small candy bars in Missy’s bag. “Those are very good costumes.”

They worked their way up the street, taking their time, visiting several other neighbors. Hippolyta and the Spanglers didn’t say much, just let Missy enjoy the excitement. After a while, Mr. Spangler said, “We really do need to be getting back. We have that film crew who’s supposed to arrive shortly.”

“I am aware of that,” Hippolyta told them. “And, as you are aware, I do not wish to meet them. But there is one stop very near here that I would like us to make before we return.”

Shane had been a cameraman for a long time and considered it an art form. Especially at a station as short-staffed as Channel 5, some of the cameramen did a lot of coverage without a reporter along, often even covering stories by themselves. For something like Halloween night, it can be especially hard to come up with a fresh idea or a new slant on an old one, but Shane was good at telling the story with just a camera. Tonight, he had an angle he hadn’t used before, although he’d thought about it for a couple years.

He’d known the Ransoms for some years, more a casual acquaintance than real close friends, but he knew that they really liked putting on a good Halloween display for the kids. It was no great trick to get them to agree to let him hang around with the camera for a while during trick-or-treat, having fun getting some reaction shots to their elaborate decorations. It probably wouldn’t run as much as thirty seconds on the eleven o’clock news segment, but there could be some worthwhile satisfaction from it. And also a lot more fun than being out with Metheny, which is what had been the plan before Jason had decided to take the day off to kiss the asses of that network crew. That gave him an unexpected opportunity to do this, and Liz had gone along with the idea.

And it was providing him some really good reaction shots. The Ransoms did go overboard on their Halloween decorations and had made a mildly scary obstacle course of their front sidewalk leading to the front door, but because of it they drew a real good crowd of kids. Shane got a lot of good footage. Superhero costumes were in big this year, and there were a number of homemade Hippolyta costumes. Of course, there was nothing close to that on the market, so anyone doing Hippolyta had to put one together from scratch.

Visitation was about as busy as it had been all evening when four more people came up through the madness. Two of them were a little kid in a Hippolyta costume and a big Hippolyta. Pretty good costume on the big one, he thought, raising the camera and letting the film roll. In fact, that’s about as good as the real thing. The kid went up to the Ransom’s, who were elaborately dressed themselves, and got her treats, then headed back to her big costumed friend. “Look what they gave me, Hippolyta!” he heard her cry.

Huh? Shane thought, keeping the camera rolling, following the four as they walked down the sidewalk into the darkness toward the next house, his mind running hard. It was someone he ought to know, he thought. That little girl’s voice was familiar—and her parents weren’t costumed.

He turned back to taping the next kids in line, some more normal superhero kids, but his mind was still on the big and little Hippolytas. The other two people looked familiar too, but he couldn’t quite place them. Someone he’d seen, not recently, but not all that long ago. It bothered him enough that he stopped taping and ran the tape back to go over the scene again through the playback screen. It only took a few seconds, the getting the candy, the little Hippolyta turning back to the big one, and they turned to go. As they turned, on the tape, he got a better look at the big Hippolyta. Jeez, he thought, she’s packing heat, and that ain’t no toy. She’d have to be pretty ballsy … Oh shit!

That’s the Spangler family! That just about meant the big one was Hippolyta!

Madly, he swung his head around, looking for them, but they were gone in the darkness. Which way up the street? No idea. Chase after them? It would be nice, but he was working the lights off house current, not the power pack, which was too heavy to carry all evening. No time to run out to the truck to change, either. Well, he about had what he came for, anyway. Might as well get back to the station, he thought, running the tape ahead past where he’d quit filming before. A Hippolyta sighting, on Halloween even—that was pretty sure to make air, and not just as a cute little feature, either.

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