Chapter Seventeen

Casteel desperately wanted to cringe when the cops saluted her after checking her ID. There weren't any rules or regs that stated that local law should salute her - but they did anyway. A mark of respect yeah, but Riddick wasn't going to see it that way. She could just *see* him spontaneously combusting from the intensity of his anger.

So, she had used her Company ID to get through the barricade without violence and without questions. Now she was receiving murderous glances from Riddick. She got them all the time - not many people liked Mercs or 'Company men', she knew that - but when a real murderer gave you a death stare, well that was something else entirely.

"You work for the fucking Company?" The disapproval in his voice wasn't veiled. He sneered at the word and that cold-determination that she dreaded was creeping onto his face again.

She had expected his dislike of the Company to emerge once they were clear of the police and she was correct. She had heard all kinds of swear words during her time as a Merc and had personally witnessed the creation of a few - but the stuff that spewed out of Riddick's mouth was - unrepeatable.

"I consult for the Company - purely contractual work."

"Fuck that" he was almost growling at her, "nothing is contractual with the Company. Once you work for them, they own you." He was silent for a moment, "So are you even a fucking Merc?"

He was starting that doubting her identity shit again. Enough was enough. She hated repeating herself, so she decided to not bother. "Actually, I'm an exotic dancer." Go on, she thought pissed off, bait the murderer.

How cute - she was being flippant now. Fucking exotic dancer. To him this was serious. The last thing he had expected was to find that he was keeping company with a fucking Ghoul. A Company killer, what next? And the salute - he hadn't seen her ID but it made an impact. Whoever she was and what ever she did for them, she had rank. What other surprises did she have in store for him?

"We seemed to have gone around in verbal circles," she was exasperated and she made sure her tone reflected it. She was tired of this? Riddick was amazed. It was her fucking fault - she wouldn't know how to hand out information to people if instructions were printed on her arms.

"You say you consult with the Company? What? What is it that you have to consult on?"

"Isn't it enough to say that I consult with them? I believe the only things I asked of you was whether you worked for Len and what your relationship with Jack was? Why should I be subjected to an inquisition?"

He glared at her in contempt. Well, he tried, but he could see her point. The trouble was she wouldn't see his. "Protecting my interests. The Company wants me. The law wants me. You represent both. I'm interested in what you do for the Company."

He'd gotten her there. Point Riddick. He stopped walking and folded his arms. She was going to tell him or he was going to make her day very unpleasant.

He saw her sigh as she turned back to him. It registered with her that he wasn't going to budge. "I evaluate case files of criminals they have their eyes on - sexual offenders, mainly. I find patterns, develop MO's, and thrash out possible flight paths of the subjects. I haven't consulted in over eleven months."

"So you are a Merc?"

She rolled her eyes at him - he could see that he wasn't winning any friends with his repetitiveness.

"Yes, I am a Merc."

"Okay" he motioned for them to start walking again. He wasn't satisfied and he didn't think that he would ever truly be. But they had to move - he was uncomfortable with standing out in the open and he knew that he was pushing her buttons, the wrong buttons. His resolve to find to Jack had to be kept foremost in his mind.

They walked in silence for over ten minutes. It was the most uncomfortable silence that he had ever experienced. She refused to look at him or even acknowledge his presence. He had to think that she was willing him to disappear or plotting his death. Whatever it was she was thinking about - she had a look of pure concentration on her face.

She led him up the steps of a grand old looking building - The Regency Hotel. The Doorman didn't even blink as he held open the door for him. A few patrons sneaked sideways glances at the absurdity of his clothing, but the staff ignored him. The hotel was definitely a haven for the rich - everything was plush and lined with gold or silver. He felt like the proverbial fish out of water amongst all the finery.

A receptionist glanced their way her face brightening with recognition. "Miss Earl," she called her face lighting up even more when Casteel turned toward her.

"Myna, hello." Casteel stopped at the desk, "what can I do for you?"

"Well, a package arrived for you about an hour ago, I just need you to sign for it."

A clipboard was passed across the desk to her.

Riddick saw her frown. It disappeared fast, replaced by expectant joy. Casteel wasn't expecting a parcel. Did she tell anyone that she was here? He didn't think that she would so how -

"Great - was it delivered via courier?" She signed the form.

"Yes, Hastings Couriers. I remember." She leaned towards Casteel conspiratorially, "because the delivery guy was hot!"

Casteel laughed. Shit, she was good. He had to wonder if she had harboured any desire as a child to become an actor.

Myna placed a parcel on the desk.

Casteel eyed it carefully, "this is going to sound silly, but, uh - did you scan it? My ex-boyfriend's a bit of a toad and, well I like to be cautious. Last month he sent me an exploding dye bag. I still haven't got the purple out of my carpet!"

Myna looked at her shocked, "what a bastard! I've had a few boyfriends like that. Can't accept that it's over and they didn't end it!" She picked up the parcel and handed it to Casteel, "It's been scanned - hotel procedure. Nothing ticking inside." Her smile resumed its place. "I hope it's something nice!"

Casteel smiled back and took Riddick's arm and led him away. He cast one last look at Myna. She winked at him. He could definitely have a piece of that.

Fucking bastard. That was the first thing that sprung to mind when Myna told her that she had a package. Len was going to get nasty again.

Riddick didn't speak until they were inside the elevator, "you often get courier delivered packages?"

She didn't answer - she glared at him instead, her eyes slipping over to the elevator operator. This wasn't the time or the place.

Turning the package over in her hands, she hoped for a benign gift - something that wasn't originally attached to someone else. She'd really pissed Len off catching him in the act - she'd find out how much when she opened the package.

The lift ride ended and once the doors closed behind them, Riddick continued his questioning.

"So, have you ever really been on the receiving end of an exploding dye bag, Miss Earl?" She could hear the sneer in his voice when he said her 'name'. "Is it from Len? 'Cause I'm wondering how he would know where to find you and what your alias was."

She 'humphed' at him and swiped a key-card through the lock on her door. The lock beeped and the door swung open.

"Nice room," Riddick said as they entered, "you certainly get paid well for your Company consulting."

The 'room' was actually a suite and it was decked out in varying shades of blue and trimmed with gold, even the curtains and the couches hadn't escaped the scheme. She let him look around while she retrieved her personal scanner and a med-kit. When she placed the scanner on the marbled desk top, Riddick returned from his exploration to join her for the scan.

She ran the wand over the box from top to bottom, scanning for electronic circuits - the display showing green - all clear. She adjusted the setting, searching now for bio-contaminants. Green again.

Great, now it has to be opened. It was a little disappointing that it wasn't in any way hazardous. She would have preferred not to open it at all. Len never sent her anything she wanted.

She took a scalpel from the med-kit and sliced the tape on the edge of the box. The paper fell away to reveal a gift box slightly smaller than a shoebox. She scanned it again - nothing. Carefully she lifted the lid. It smelled bad and it looked worse. Riddick looked at her and then back at the box. He shook his head.

"Fuck."

Yes, that about summed it up. Fuck indeed.