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Nexus

Chapter Nine: Comparing Notes

The second time that Ryan woke up that day he was alone. Dixie was nowhere in sight, and the shadows on the wall indicated that it was late in the day. He wondered if she had gone out, because it would be Friday night if his calculations were correct, the day after his suspension.

He found her in the living room though, beside an ashtray full of fresh cigarette butts.

Still naked, he sat down on the chair opposite her and asked her if she was okay.

“No, I’m not okay.” She said in a harsh tone as she lit up a fresh cigarette. “Someone recently asked me to go undercover to get the goods on a very bad man and I can’t decide between helping the poor schmuck out or telling him to fuck off and get out of my life.”

“Got one of those cigarettes to spare?” Ryan asked.

She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “You ever smoke before?”

“No.” He admitted. “I heard that they’re bad for your health.”

She slid the open pack and a lighter towards him, keeping suspicious eyes on him the whole time.

Ryan pulled a tobacco tube out of the pack awkwardly and checked to make sure he had the right end before putting it in his mouth. He lit it while puffing rapidly, but not inhaling. When it was going he sealed his lips around the filter and drew in a lungful.

He managed to hold it in for less than a second before going into a couching fit.

Dixie burst out in laughter. “Christ Ryan, you don’t have to kill yourself to convince me to help you.”

“Maybe I should.” He gasped when he could catch his breath. “Because I haven’t been truthful with you, there’s more to my problem with Gunderson than just some money-making scheme of his. He also has a mole somewhere high up in the Detective Bureau, maybe the Chief of Detectives himself.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “And that is why you can’t lean on your cop buddies for help, because you can’t trust any of them.”

“All except my recent partner, Flynn.” He admitted. “She came along too late in the game and has nothing of use to the old Viking. But yeah, anything that gets back to the Squad will likely be known by Gunderson in short order, making spying on him very dangerous. Just look what happened to Jimmy ‘Fingers’.”

He filled her in on the details of what he had found and how that had led to his suspension and subsequent fall from the sobriety wagon.

“You’re not making it easier to convince me to work for you.” She said as she watched him stub out his cigarette without trying it again.

“No.” He acknowledged. “I won’t blame you when you kick me out on my ass to fend for myself.”

Dixie raised one eyebrow and focused her emerald-green eyes on him. “WHEN I kick you out? Not IF I kick you out?”

Ryan smiled. “You’re bound to kick me out sooner of later. According to experts that were once married to me I can be a real pain in the ass.”

“I’ll take my chances.” She said as she stubbed out her own cigarette. “Meanwhile, get your painful ass over her and show me some of what you had the other night, and then we can discuss Gunderson.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

* * * * * * * *

Dixie kept Ryan occupied well into the evening, and she did it without taking an alcoholic drink herself.

“You don’t have to deny yourself for my benefit.” He told her at one point. “I think I can resist the urge now.”

“I decided to give abstinence a try,” she told him, “so I had the Doorman clean out the liquor cabinet while you were sleeping it off last night. Besides, I was never much of a home drinker anyway.”

“Is there anything that guy wouldn’t do for you?” Ryan joked.

“No.” She replied seriously. “So you better behave.”

“Oh … okay then.”

He slept much better from exhaustion instead of inebriation, and woke up early in the day, earlier than he was used to after all the late nights on the Club and Cabaret circuit. He put on a robe he found at the foot of the bed.

Dixie was already up, but the condo did not smell of cigarettes, which he took as a good sign. He found her in the kitchen preparing breakfast. She was wearing a robe just like his, but much smaller.

“Oh good, you’re up.” She said. “Saves me waking you. I still haven’t decided whether to take you up on your offer, by the way.”

“No need to rush the decision. There are a few things that I want to follow up on first anyway.” He told her.

“What are you up to today?” She asked him as she set a plate with a delicious smelling omelette down in front of him.

“I’m supposed to meet my Union Rep at the Association Hall. I hadn’t figured anything else beyond that.”

“Well, eat up and then you can get cleaned up. There’s razors and soap and other manly shit that people have left behind in the spare bathroom. Take whatever you need.”

They ate in silence for a while before Ryan worked up enough nerve to ask, “So, you’ve had a lot of … friends … over before?”

“Lovers, you mean.” She said as she finished her eggs. “Fuck buddies.”

“I guess, yeah.”

She sat back and a sad frown came over her face. “I’m not claiming to be a saint,” she began, “but what I do at the clubs and what I do here at home are two separate things. Sure, I’ve brought guys back here before, but only guys I liked. Some I liked enough to try playing house with them for a while, hence the leftover toiletries, but it’s never worked out. Guys you meet in the clubs aren’t exactly the domestic type, if you catch my drift.”

“Is that what you’re looking for?” He asked, his cocking head to one side in curiosity. “Domesticity?”

“Fuck.” She sighed. “Who knows? I just need a change from guys that look at me like my father did – like I was a toy for their pleasure.” Then she smiled ruefully and placed one of her hands on his. “At least you try to give as good as you get. Speaking of which, where did you learn that thing you do with your fingers?”

“Before I met my future wife I had a very demanding lover from the Traffic Squad.”

“Male or female?”

The unexpected quip made him break down with laughter.

“Jesus, Dixie.” Ryan sputtered when he could breathe again. “We’re quite the pair. I’m unemployed and could lose my pension and you’re stuck trying to make up for the monster that raised you.” His voice had gone serious as he spoke and he was no longer smiling, but his hand was still holding hers tenderly. “What’s to become of us?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know Ryan. But first, you get your ass cleaned up and go talk with your Union guy. We can figure out the rest as we go along.”

“Right.” He nodded as he stood up, then he headed for the spare bathroom to check out the shaving gear.

He reappeared an hour later, clean shaven and freshly showered, wearing the clothes that he had appeared in two nights before. They had been freshly laundered by some unknown hand, but he suspected that the multi-talented Doorman might have something to do with it. Even his overcoat had been ironed until it hung almost like new.

“I’m off.” He announced as she checked the time on his personal comms device, which was strapped to his wrist above the police model.

“Why are you wearing two of those?” The sharp-eyed feline asked.

“I have to keep the Police comms device on while my suspension is being reviewed,” he told her, “so they can track me. Once I’m officially fired I can take it off for good.”

Her eyes narrowed in thought. “Did you have to wear it in the shower?”

“Uh, no. It’s waterproof, but I can take it off for short periods. Although, anything longer than fifteen minutes sends out a warning, and anything over thirty would be another violation.”

“It’s coded to your DNA through your sweat or something, I suppose?”

Ryan was confused at her line of questioning. “No, the Force can’t afford genetically matched comms devices. As long as it’s on a warm wrist and you know the activation code it would work for anyone.”

Dixie nodded sagely. “Good to know. Anyways, off with you! Go discover your fate, and then come straight back! No stopping at the liquor store, got me?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“I love the way you say that, but go … go before I rip off this robe and ravish you again … go!”

Ryan went, this time with a copy of Dixie’s pass key.

The two security guards in the lobby stared at Ryan with blank expressions, which he took as a sign of professionalism. The Doorman, still the same tall, heavyset, old black man that was on duty the first night that Dixie brought him here, cast him a much more hostile look. Ryan wondered what the connection between Dixie and the old man was as he stepped out onto the street.

While waiting for his rideshare he dropped Detective Brown’s universal pass card down though the sewer grate. No sense being caught violating another regulation.

His Union Rep was running late, so Ryan lingered in the lobby, not wanting to be tempted waiting at the bar while he waited for his host to arrive. He did glance into the bar occasionally though, just in case his Rep had come in though another entrance and was waiting for him in there.

The third time he checked he was surprised to see Chief of Detectives Fanning sitting at the bar by himself. Not that Fanning taking a drink was anything unusual; when they were both young detectives Fanning could knock them back as well as Ryan could, but a Deputy Chief was rarely alone. Ryan wondered who Fanning was waiting for and where Lawson was, but only for an instant. He might not get an opportunity to talk candidly with Fanning again, and he intended to take advantage of it.

Screwing up his courage Ryan entered the bar and strolled towards Fanning, pretending to notice the big man only as he passed.

“Chief.” Ryan said with a nod. “Looks like we’ve both been stood up. Mind if I join you?”

Fanning looked up at his old friend. His expression was not unkind. “You think that’s a good idea?” The Chief asked, indicating the Scotch and water in front of him.

“I can manage.” Ryan said, sitting down. He ordered a straight ginger ale from the bartender before turning back to Fanning.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for the fuck up, Chief. I know it put you in a bad position, having recommended me to the Mayor and all to break Flynn in.”

Fanning took a long sip of his drink before replying. “I didn’t recommend you.” He said slowly. “That was Lieutenant Lawson’s idea, that and putting you two on the Club and Cabaret circuit. I was going to have you pushing papers in Records until you quit, died or everyone forgot about you, but that would have left me short a Detective. With Lawson’s plan I could fill a crappy assignment and expose Flynn to some quality training … at least until you went off the reservation.”

“Really?” Ryan said. “Clever guy, Lawson. He have anything to do with Clubs and Cabarets before?”

Fanning looked up at the top row of bottles behind the bar, searching his memory. “Not until I agreed to assign you and Flynn there, then he took over the files from Bylaw Enforcement and reworked the schedule, so that the transition would go smoother, he said.”

“He always was better with paperwork than detective work.” Ryan noted.

“Yeah, you got that right.” Fanning looked around the bar. “You waiting for your Union Rep?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“They always meet the subjects of suspension cases here.” Fanning said into his drink before turning back to Ryan. “That way they can claim their lunch and drinks as a Union expense.” Then he turned to Ryan. “I’m sorry too, Tony, that it had to come to this, but my hands are tied.”

Ryan’s head cocked to the left. “Lawson tell you that too, did he?”

“He does have a good sense for politics.” Fanning admitted. “He keeps me out of shit, unlike you. He figures that by doing so he’ll get my job when I eventually move up or out.”

Ryan saw his Rep enter the bar in the mirror and he drained his ginger ale as he stood up. “Like I said, Lawson’s a clever guy.”

He searched his pockets for a credit token to pay for the drink but Fanning waved the bartender off.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this, for old times sake.”

“Sure Chief, for old times.”

Ryan left Fanning sitting there as he followed his Union Rep to a table the fellow had reserved. They ordered, but Ryan was finding it difficult to concentrate on the food or the conversation.

Taking his personal comms device out he tapped in a message and sent it. When he was done he slid his sleeve down and looked up at his host.

“Sorry, Bill … you were saying?”

* * * * * * * *

Flynn and Chase were engaged in a test of wills when her comms device alerted her to an incoming message. The contest consisted of a game popular with the canine Anthros called ‘stick’. The object was to place a wooden stick, or some similar object, on a table and stare into the opponent’s eyes with both hands flat on the table until one or the other went for the stick. Then the other player would try to slap the hand of the one that went for the stick before they cleared the edge of the table with it. Having one’s hand smacked down on a hard surface while clutching a stick hurt … it hurt a lot … but if you could pull it away fast enough it was the other player that would have a sore hand. You could also fake a grab and see if you opponent would take the bait and slam their hand down on an empty table.

They were using a wooden cooking spoon for the stick, and Chase’s hands were already smarting from repeated poundings. He was too eager, Flynn assessed. To eager to go for the stick and too eager to slam his hand down at the first hint of movement from her. She was already ahead five to one when her device went off.

“You should answer that.” Chase said, eager for an excuse to go to the fridge and cool off his hands while pretending to search for a cold drink.

“Sure.” Flynn said, not fooled. “There’s a bag of ice in the freezer compartment. Why don’t you massage that for a while.”

After he left the table she glanced at her wrist, then frowned. She didn’t recognize the sender and the message made no sense. ‘Found a nice apartment you may be interested in’ it said, followed by an address.

Now that she was drawing a Detective’s salary she could afford a better place, but she hadn’t been looking for one. The address in the message made even less sense. It was in an exclusive part of town, one that was unlikely to rent to Anthros even if they had the money.

She accessed the police database and plugged the name of the sender into it. It came back as the owner of an Italian Restaurant and her ears turned backwards when she recognized it as the place where she had seen Ryan with Jimmy ‘Fingers’ Anderson. This could not be a coincidence.

She sat back and thought about it as Chase massaged his sore paws with the bag of ice. Ryan had said that his mother was from that neighbourhood, so he probably knew people there. He had also chosen it as the meeting place for his secret CI, so he must have trusted the people that ran it. She queried the database again for a social network of the restaurant owner and Ryan’s name popped up. He and the owner were cousins.

Son of a bitch, she thought, looks like I need to go apartment hunting … alone.

“Chase, Honey … something has come up. I have to go out for a while.”

His face appeared from behind the fridge door. He wore a big smile from her calling him ‘Honey’, which he took as a good sign for their relationship.

“Oh yeah? Need a hand?”

“No, thanks Sweety. It’s just an old friend that had a breakup and needs a shoulder to cry on. I should be back by supper time. I’ll call if I’m going to be later.”

First Honey and now Sweety, he thought. “If you leave me a set of keys I can pick up the ingredients for my famous beef ragu and have it simmering away by the time you get back.”

“You do that.” She said, digging a spare set of keys out of a drawer. “The keys are numbered to match the locks top to bottom.” She was dressed just in jeans and a sweatshirt and it was too warm for a coat, so she grabbed a shoulder bag and, while her back was turned to Chase, slipped an off-duty projectile weapon into it.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She said as she gave him a quick hug and licked the corner of his mouth affectionately. “Don’t take up with any other ladies while I’m gone.”

He made some humorous reply but her mind was already on the upcoming meeting.

In the lobby she removed her police comms device and stored it in her mailbox. Physical mail had ceased being delivered almost a hundred years ago but local businesses liked to stuff flyers in them to reach the technologically deficient Anthros that could not afford comms devices. Neighbours also left notes for each other in them as an alternate form of communication, one that could not be monitored. She had half expected to find a note from Ryan in there one day, but she supposed that his method was quicker. Maybe, she wondered, because it was urgent?

She was not subject to monitoring so, unlike Ryan, her device would not send out an alert when she removed it. Anyone that checked in from the Station would just see that she was at home, as was normal during her time off.

Erring on the side of caution, she walked several blocks to a mixed neighbourhood before hailing a ride share. She paid with credit tokens when the driverless vehicle dropped her off in front of what looked to be a very posh building. It even had a doorman.

The elderly black man in the dark uniform trimmed with gold approached her as she stood looking at the building, wondering how to proceed.

“Miss Flynn?” The old man asked when he stood before her.

“Yes.”

“Follow me please.”

He led her around to the side of the building, into an alley that separated it from the next exclusive residence. Flynn noted that the alley was cleaner and more orderly than the street in front of her building. The Doorman stopped at a doorway, used a pass card to open it and held it open for her.

“Fourth floor.” He told her. “The door to that floor is ajar, please close it firmly behind you. Your friend is waiting for you in four-oh-one.”

She nodded in acknowledgement, hoped that Ryan knew what he was doing, and headed up the stairs.

She pondered if this was the servants’ entrance or the way rich clients snuck in to see their mistresses as she mounted the stairs and wondered if she should have left the Doorman a tip. The door to the fourth floor was indeed ajar and as instructed she closed it firmly, and held it there until she heard the electronic lock engage.

Whatever Ryan is up to there’s no turning back now, she told herself.

Four-oh-one was just down the hall from the service door, on the front side of the building, so it would have the best view of the park across the street. Whoever was lending this place to Ryan for their meeting must have an impressive income, she mused.

She tapped softly at the closed door. A shadow fell on the old-style peep hole and an instant later the door swung silently open.

Flynn was surprised to see the subject of their downfall, the Furry feline Dixie Lee, standing in the opening.

“Come on in.” the cat lady told her as she stepped back into the apartment.

Flynn followed her in, wondering if this was some sort of trap set up by Ryan’s enemy, Gunderson. She was relieved to see Ryan sitting comfortably on a love-seat by a coffee table … a little too comfortably for someone just borrowing the space for a meeting, she thought. When Dixie sat down beside him and leaned against the big man her suspicions were confirmed – Ryan had taken up with a former suspect that was in a position to sue the Department for unlawful arrest and detention. No wonder that the Chief had suspended him.

“Grab a seat.” Ryan said, indicating an easy chair with a convenient tail hole.

Flynn sat down carefully, swinging her tail through the open space that was better suited for Dixie’s slender tail than her bushy one. The chair was not quite right for Anthro hips either, but it would do.

She noticed that Dixie was eyeing her suspiciously. The way she was clutching Ryan’s arm told her that it out of jealousy. She probably thinks that I’ve got a thing for my boss, Flynn thought, telling herself that Dixie’s jealousy was not totally unjustified. It wouldn’t be the first case of a canine Anthro falling for an older human supervisor. Hell, she scoffed, we’re practically hard wired for it. I bet wolves don’t have this problem, she concluded before looking to her former boss.

“How’re you holding up?” Ryan asked.

“Okay, I guess.” She replied. Then, sensing an opportunity to put Dixie at ease she added, “I’ve taken up with that Tactical Squad canine you saw me with the first week, Chase. We both had some time off this week so we’ve been sort of hanging out at my place.

Dixie relaxed visibly, enough for Flynn to know that her tactic had worked.

“You been, uh, keeping busy?” Flynn asked him as her eyes darted between the two figures on the love-seat.

“He’s been busy fuckin’ my brains out, if that’s what you mean.”

“Dixie!” Ryan warned, but Flynn could tell that he was only slightly embarrassed.

He turned to Flynn. “I ran into Fanning today at the Association Hall. He told me that it was Lawson’s idea to pair us up and put us on the Club and Cabaret Squad. Seems that it was also Lawson that left the schedule we’ve been following for us.”

Flynn sat back and gazed through the window behind him in thought for a few moments before speaking.

“I had a chance to talk to Fanning too. When I told him that he could have briefed me himself about keeping tabs on you he seemed surprised, but he covered it well.”

Ryan’s brows scrunched together. “When did he react?” He asked her.

“When I said that Lieutenant Lawson had given me the instructions and told me to report to the Chief through him.”

“That makes sense.” Ryan said. Leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs and tapping the tips of his fingers together. “Fanning isn’t the type to spy on his Detectives … but Lawson is. Normally I would just pass it off as the little prick being overly protective of the Chief, but if he was also the one to suggest the Club and Cabaret detail … knowing that it would eventually bring me into contact with Gunderson again … then maybe this has all been a set up.”

“You think that he’s Gunderson’s mole in the Detective Bureau?”

Ryan pondered that for a bit. “He is an ambitious guy, and a scandal like the one I almost caused on Fanning’s watch might be enough to get the Chief reassigned, creating a vacancy for someone that knows the system inside and out. That would be good for Gunderson, especially if he passes enough intel on his rivals to make Lawson look good … good enough to be in line for Chief of Police, or even Commissioner some day.”

“But he failed.” Dixie injected. “Your boss acted fast and suspended you before the shit could stick to him.”

“Maybe there was supposed to be a big finale.” Ryan said thoughtfully. “Flynn, do you have access to your database through your personal comms device?”

“That would be against regulations.” Flynn said frowning. “But, uh, my IT guy did put in a backdoor for me in case of emergencies.”

Dixie chuffed in amusement. “You’ve been hanging around Ryan too long already.”

Ryan and Flynn ignored her.

“Run this business.” Ryan said, suddenly sweating as he wrote down the name of the liquor delivery service that had opened up near his apartment, the one with the blazing neon sign opposite his window.

Flynn frowned when she read ‘Ace Liquor’ but Ryan just shrugged, more embarrassed now than when Dixie called him out as her lover. She ran the name and address through one of Clark’s patented queries and watched the small screen as a spider’s web of connections grew between the registered owners and what looked like a familiar criminal network.

“Gunderson owns it.” She said slowly. “Not directly, but ultimately, it’s his to command.” She zoomed in a section of the social network the query had returned and Ryan could see the links leading from the Norwegian gang leader to the Owner/Manager of the liquor store that had sold him an obscene amount of booze two nights before. “According to this the company was created a few months ago but only went into business last week … and they dissolved the company yesterday.”

Ryan thought back to the night of his suspension. “Loadin’ up on liquid courage.” The large, tattooed man that had delivered the bottles had said when Ryan transferred credit to the store’s account, along with a decent tip. “Must have a score to settle with someone, eh? Best of luck with it.” The man had said as Ryan closed the door in his face.

Ryan remembered thinking at the time that it was a strange thing to say, but he had been so eager to break the seal on the first bottle that he had forgotten about it … until now.

“That bastard.” He swore, then lifted his head to Flynn. “This has the stench of the old Viking all over it. He knew that I’d never let him get away with murdering my CI and almost killing me in the process, so he had his dog Lawson …”

“Hey!” Flynn objected.

“Sorry, his rat, Lawson, set me up to come into conflict with him, knowing I couldn’t resist a chance to take him down.”

Flynn leaned forward. “But how did he know we would stumble upon …” she shot a sideways glance at Dixie, “… something suspicious?”

“Hey! Don’t give ME the side eye.” Dixie protested. “I went down to the Kit Kat Club on the regular to ah, … show off … sure, but there was no plan or schedule … and no one told me to be there that night!”

Ryan studied her closely. Dixie didn’t sound guilty, he thought. Hell, he mused, I don’t even think that she is capable of feeling guilt.

Flynn was staring at Dixie also, her head cocked to one side like Ryan did when he was curious. From what she had learned about human body language so far Dixie was either being truthful or she was a really good liar. What had her intrigued was whether some feline traits had been transferred over along with the fur and catlike features, because all the Anthro canines knew that Anthro cats were notorious liars.

Ryan looked between his feline lover and his canine partner. He noted Flynn’s distrust and Dixie’s obvious dislike of the canine for being suspicious. A guilty person might be fearful, or feign disinterest, but the falsely accused tended to be pissed off more than anything else.

“No.” He said, interrupting their staring contest. “It wouldn’t be something as obvious as that. Gunderson knows how meticulous I am. He would have buried a false trail deep in the books we never bothered to read. I would have followed it in hopes of tripping him up and landed right where I am now. Maybe worse. No one else was implicated when we brought you in Dixie, but a stacked deck could have made me go after some powerful people in the process of nailing Gunderson, only to find that he had all the aces all along.”

Then he burst out laughing. “Ace Liquor! Of course! His Ace in the hole. I can see the headlines now, ‘Disgraced alcoholic cop dies in a shootout with local businessman’s bodyguards’, or in a terrible single vehicle accident, or something.”

He wiped the tears of laughter from his face and sighed. “He really has been three moves ahead of me this whole time. If we hadn’t of been distracted by your, uhm … act… Dixie, then I would have been in much deeper shit than I am. Ah well,” he said standing up, “I better go give my Union Rep a call to see if he can cut a deal.”

“A deal?” Flynn and Dixie said in unison.

“Yeah, a deal. I’ve got no hope of beating Gunderson, not now. Best I can do is offer to take my retirement and move out town. That way I’ll at least keep my pension.”

“But … what will you do?” Flynn asked, concerned.

“I dunno. Work for one of the big detective agencies. Maybe even open my own private eye’s office, if I can scrape together enough dough.”

“It’s not fair.” Dixie exclaimed.

Flynn shook her head in agreement.

“No, really, It’s not fair.” Dixie continued, almost crying in frustration. “You gotta stand up to them, Tony.”

Ryan spread his arms. “Dixie … what do you want me to do? I got nothin’. No badge, no gun, no access. Where would I even begin?”

“I have access.” Flynn reminded him.

“And so do I.” Dixie said firmly. “Gunderson may not want to fuck me anymore, but I’ll bet he still needs breeding stock for his other operation.”

“And while she works the inside I can use Clark’s database program to do a really deep dive of Gunderson’s contacts.” Flynn added. “As well as Lieutenant Lawson’s.”

Ryan looked back and forth between the two. “It’s going to be dangerous.” He reminded them. “Gunderson has killed two spies already that we know of,” he said to Dixie before turning to Flynn, “and his reach into the Police Department can end your career.”

“Hell.” Dixie said leaning in to kiss Ryan before standing up. “I’m probably going to die young anyways if I keep living the way I’m doing. Now you’ll excuse me, I need to use the litter box.”

Flynn watched her leave before turning back to Ryan.

“Does she …?” she asked, pointing a finger to the door of the bathroom Dixie had entered.

“No. She’s just pulling your leg.” Ryan said smiling ruefully. “I guess we’re going to do this then?”

“I guess so.” Flynn replied. “but, Sarge …”

“Yes?”

“Why does she get to call you Tony?”

His face went an uncharacteristic and uncomplimentary shade of red. “Well, you know, she has a more intimate relationship with me than you do.”

Flynn nodded slowly in acknowledgement of the fact, but hearing the flush of a toilet from behind the bathroom door she continued hurriedly, “If we survive this, I get to call you Tony too, okay?”

“If we live through this,” Ryan reminded her sombrely, “you can call me anything you want.”