“I don’t trust him,” Jimmy grumbled. Sitting in the back seat of the car, he slouched against the side of the car with his arms crossed and sulked.

Tony rolled his eyes towards the heavens. “We’re not having this conversation again.”

“I do not trust him,” Jimmy again complained. “I think he’s setting us up.”

Tony let out a long sigh of exasperation. “He’s not setting us up.”

“I’m tellin’ yah, we’re being played!” Sitting up, Jimmy turned to face his brother. “It’s like you always say; don’t trust nobody who ain’t in it for the money.”

“He’s going to make money, Jimmy,” the equine replied, shaking his head. “He stands to make a lot of money.”

“Maybe so, but he don’t act like it!” Jimmy shot back. “All he talks about is how he’s gonna fuck that vixen bitch’s life up. The way I see it, he done already fucked her life up to no end. What the hell does he need to be screwing it up any more?

“Come on, Tony. You know as well as I do that ain’t none of our business.” Tony shook his head as he scratched the back of his ears. “Look, long as we’re making money and he don’t do nothin’ suspicious, I’m not gonna break a sweat worrying about it. So the guy’s got a hard on for the bitch. That’s his problem, not ours. Long as he keeps delivering on the cash, I’m happy.”

“He’s gonna turn on us,” Jimmy declared. “Mark my words. He’s gonna fuck the bitch over. He’s gonna fuck the DA over and then he’s gonna fuck us over. I can smell it.”

“Yeah, well, all I can smell is that damned sauerkraut you had for dinner, so just put a plug in it, OK?” Turning away from his brother, Tony closed his eyes and tried to relax. “Like I said, I ain’t havin’ this conversation again.”

“Miss Zumbrowski! Please, come in,” the immaculately groomed arctic fox said by way of greeting as the tiger stripped skunk entered the room. Stepping out from around her desk, she took a moment to shake Zig Zag’s hand. “Is there anything we can get you? Perhaps you’d like a Perrier? “

“No thank you,” she replied, giving the arctic fox a brief but firm handshake. “And please, call me Zig Zag.”

“As you wish.” Pausing, the fox accepted a folder from her receptionist. “Thank you, Velma. That will be all.” Turning back towards her desk, she gestured towards a chair. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Zig Zag sat in a chair facing the desk and took a moment to straighten her skirt as she nonchalantly glanced around the room. The interior decoration was modest, functional and gave the room a warm feeling and probably cost a fortune. Turning her attention back to her host, she smiled and said, “Thank you for taking time to see me.”

“No,” Mrs. Lamstead replied, “thank you for coming to see us today. And how may we be of service?”

“I’m currently shopping around for a nanny,” Zig Zag replied, trying to judge if the female was being genuinely pleasant or not.

“But of course you are,” the fox replied, leaning back in her chair. “I presume this would be for the Vixen kits?”

Zig Zag nodded. “Yes, that would be right.”

“Such a tragedy,” she replied, shaking her head. “It’s unfortunate that anyone should have to go through what she had to endure. I hope that she’s dong better?”

“She’s---“ Zig Zag paused for a moment, unsure how to reply, “---better than she was.”

Mrs. Lamstead looked somewhat uncomfortable as she realized there was no good way to respond. “Well, I do hope that things work out for her,” she replied, picking up the folder to cover for the awkward turn in the conversation. “Are you interested in a full time or part time nanny?”

Zig Zag crossed her legs, adjusting her skirt to cover her knees. “At the moment, I’m leaning towards a part time nanny, though I’ve not completely discounted the possibility of a full time one.”

The fox nodded. “This would be for during the day, while you were at work?”

“Not quite,” Zig Zag replied, shaking her head. “Actually I have days covered. This would be for the evenings and some weekends.”

“Really,” Mrs. Lamstead replied, her brow furrowed. “So I take it you have the kits in day care?”

“Not quite,” Zig Zag again replied. “I have one of my employees acting as an impromptu kit-sitter.”

“One of your employees?” the fox asked, incredulously.

“No! It’s nothing like that,” Zig Zag hastily declared. “She’s one of our gofers. The people we use for miscellaneous work around the shop.” Giving a nervous laugh, Zig Zag scratched her head with the tip of a claw before continuing. “To be honest, she’s my next door neighbor’s kid, and this was the perfect way to keep her out of trouble. If you know what I mean?”

“Yes, I do,” the fox replied. “In fact, I know exactly what you mean.” She leaned forwards, clasped her hands as she leaned on the desk. “Tell me, Zig Zag, have you given any thought to the possibility of a full time, live-in nanny?”

“A live-in nanny?” The question almost literally rocked Zig Zag back in her chair. “Good lord, no!”

Mrs. Lamstead cocked her head slightly to one side. “Why not? I think it might be the perfect solution to your problem.”

“Yeah, if I was independently wealthy!” Zig Zag shot back. “I may be pretty well off, but I don’t think I could foot the bill for something like that.”

Leaning back in her chair, the fox folded her hands in her lap. “Normally that might be true, however this isn’t a normal situation.”

Zig Zag gave the fox her full, undivided attention. “What do you mean by that?” she asked in a flat tone of voice.

“Oh, please,” the fox replied, giving her a friendly smile. “I was simply thinking that there are ways we might be able to reduce the cost of such a service, making it more---affordable for you.”

Zig Zag’s eyes narrowed as she studied the fox. “Reduce how?”

“Advertising for one,” Mrs. Lamstead replied, surprising Zig Zag. “Let’s be honest here. You are a very famous female who has a more than full time job running a business. Now, suddenly, out of the blue, you’ve had two newborn kits dumped in your lap without any warning. Surely there’s got to be a way we could work something like that to our advantage.”

“So what are we talking?” Zig Zag asked. “Some TV commercials? Maybe a radio shot or two?”

The fox laughed. “Oh, dear me, no! We don’t advertise that way. All of our marketing is through print advertising in select magazines. For you, we’d probably do something along the line of a picture of you, paper-clipped to a testimonial letter. It would play on your strengths as a business person put in the difficult position of having to juggle your business with acting as the soul surrogate parent for a pair of newborn kits.” Standing from her chair, she gestured as she walked around the desk. “Although you did your best to handle work and care for the kits, you were worried that you weren’t doing enough for them. You were becoming stressed out and feared something might happen so you did the only thing you could do. You came to the Lamstead Agency who provided you with nanny who helped take away the day to day stresses associated with caring for the kits will allowing you to spend quality time with them.”

Zig Zag chuckled. “That sounds all nice and fine, but I’m not exactly single and I’m not that stressed out.”

Mrs. Lamstead leaned backwards against the desk. “Unless you’ve secretly gotten married in the last few days, you’re still single. As for the rest, it’s an advertisement. So we embellish the truth a little. The important thing is that we get the message across that you came to us and we solved your problems.”

“I’m not sure,” Zig Zag replied, shaking her head slightly. “I can see the advertising aspect of it, but I just don’t see how it can be worth that much. You can’t be doing enough business here in Columbus to warrant discounting the amounts we’re talking about.”

“Who said anything about Columbus?” the fox asked, giving a short bark of laughter. “I have offices in thirty major cities. Our clients are some of the richest and most famous people in the nation. Actors, politicians and the flat out filthy rich.”

“If that’s true, then why do you bother with an office here?” Zig Zag asked.

“This is the home office,” The fox replied. Taking the chair next to Zig Zag, she turned it around so they could face each other and sat down. “When I started this business almost twenty years ago, Columbus is where it all happened. Since then, I’ve branched out slowly, city by city, until I’d built the business up to where it is now.”

Zig Zag shook her head. “I had no idea your company was so big. I never would have imagined.”

“Here at the Lamstead agency, we believe in service, not bragging,” the fox stated, as if it were a mantra. “The people who come to us have usually been recommended by someone else. It’s not often that we accept a new client off the street without first doing a thorough background check on them first.

“Right,” Zig Zag grumbled with a nod. “I get it. So how long is this background check going to take and how much will it cost?”

The fox looked genuinely surprised. “I think you misunderstand. I wasn’t referring to you. I had a suspicion that you might come to us eventually and have already had all the background work done to get you approved. Now it’s just a question of deciding exactly how we can best help you.”

Zig Zag blinked, momentarily stunned. The last two agencies she’d gone to had given her the polite brush-off talking about having to do background and credit check that could take weeks if not months. This was totally unexpected.

“So,” Mrs. Lamstead said, leaning forward slightly. “How may we help you?”

Sheila concentrated on the flat-screen display that was mounted on the handlebars of the exercise bike. It currently showed a computer-generated scene of a path, winding through a park. As the path went up, so did the resistance on the pedals. As the path went down, it became easier to pedal. The one thing it wouldn’t let her do is stop pumping her legs, or the image would get wobbly and the simulated rider would fall over. It wasn’t the most realistic of simulations, but it did give the rider something to concentrate on. Normally the rider would be wearing headphones that would help create the illusion by giving them a soundscape to go with the picture, but instead Sheila was listening to a Walkman she had slung from her hip.

The burn in her legs had started close to ten minutes ago, making the virtual ride all the more difficult, but Sheila was determined to make it through the entire virtual-tour this time. She was concentrating on peddling so hard that she was taking completely by surprise by a tap on her shoulder. Letting out a bark of surprise, Sheila forgot all about peddling and turned to see Anatol standing next to her. “Jesus Christ, you startled the hell out of me!” the vixen declared, removing the headphones from her ears.

“I’m sorry,” Anatol replied with some amusement at her reaction. “I did try to get your attention, but you had the volume turned up a bit too loud. You know, you can hurt your hearing that way.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the only way I can tune this place out,” she replied. Turning back to the screen, she saw that the virtual rider had fallen over and the words ‘Virtual Tour Failed’ flashing in bright letters. “Damn it! I was so close this time too!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” the priest said, stepping aside as Sheila climbed off the bike. “If I’d known, I would have waited for you to finish.”

“No big deal,” she replied, wiping the sweat from bike before toweling down her fur. “I’ll beat it tomorrow.” She wrapped the towel around her shoulders and smiled at the priest. “So what brings you out here? You finally decide to give in and take me out to lunch?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Not this time,” Anatol reluctantly stated. “I stopped by to let you know that I’ve been given a new assignment and must leave today.”

”What?” the vixen shrieked. “No way! You said you had two more months to your hiatus!” Her face twisted into a snarl of rage as her ears snapped back against her head. “Zig Zag!” she growled. “She’s responsible for this.”

“On the contrary,” the priest interrupted. “My orders came directly from the Vatican. I know that Zig Zag has some influence with certain people, but somehow I don’t think she was responsible for this.”

Sheila blinked in surprised. “The Vatican? No shit?”

Anatol chuckled. “No shit. I am, after all, a member of the Vatican Diplomatic Corps and I do have responsibilities. I’m being sent to South America on temporary assignment.”

“South America?” Sheila whined. “No! That’s so far away!” She took the towel from around her neck and threw it across the room. “That’s not fair! There’s no way I’ll be able to see you!” The vixen stopped and turned back towards the priest. “How long will you be gone?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied, giving her a shrug. “Two, maybe three weeks. It depends on how long the investigation takes.”

“No!” the vixen cried out, lunging forwards to wrap her arms around the priest. “I don’t want you to go!”

Anatol glanced around and said a small prayer of thanks that there was nobody else in the room. “I know, Sheila. I don’t want to go either.” Gently he pushed her away until they were again separated. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, reaching up and removing the rosary from around his neck. “Here,” he said, handing her the cross. “Take this.”

Sheila frowned. “I don’t want some stupid cross! I want you!”

“That’s no ordinary cross,” he replied. “That was a gift to me by his Holiness when I was ordained. It is very precious to me.”

Sheila looked down at plain looking rosary and cocked an ear in the direction of the priest. “Are you kidding me? The Pope gave you this thing?”

“Yes, he did,” Anatol replied. “Remember, I’m not giving it to you. I’m just loaning it to you while I’m away. That way you know that I’ll have to come back for it.”

“I---“ Sheila looked at the cross for a moment before putting it on. “I’ll keep it safe for you,” she said, looking at him with teary eyes. A moment later she took her headband off and handed it to him. “This wasn’t given to me by the pope or anything,” she said, wadding it up in his hand. “Actually, it was given to me by the towel guy, so…” She chuckled and wiped her eyes. “It’s not like you really need to give it back or anything, but I thought maybe…”

“I’ll keep it with me for luck,” the priest declared, folding it neatly before tucking it into a pocket, “and to remember you.” Glancing up at the wall, Anatol let out a sigh. “I have to go. Father Jacob is waiting for me in the car out front.”

Sheila’s ears drooped as she nodded in defeat, looking down at the floor rather than at him. “OK. I guess I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, then.”

Anatol leaned forwards and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll do my best to call you if I can,” he promised, before turning and walking away.

“I love you,” Sheila whispered too low for the priest to hear as he walked away. She watched him vanish through the doors to the gym before turning towards the females locker room.

Sitting high in a corner, unnoticed by either, a single video camera continued to record the room long after they’d left.

“Well?” Joshua prompted as Anatol climbed in.

“Well what?” Anatol asked with some annoyance.

Joshua started the car and put it into gear. Pulling out into the street, he merged with traffic as he talked. “I was just wondering how your girlfriend was doing. You were in there for some time, you know.”

“First of all,” Anatol growled, “she’s not my girlfriend. And second of all how long I take saying goodbye to someone is my business and not yours. Got it?”

The young fox chuckled. “Whatever you say.”

Dr. Spivey leaned back in his chair as he studied the young buck sitting in the chair across from him. “OK. Let’s see if I’ve got this right. The FBI has limited protection on Miss Vixen to you and your partner and in order to better protect her, you want to be admitted to the hospital as a psych patient and put in the room across the hall from where Miss Vixen is being housed, correct?”

“That’s right,” Carl replied, nodding.

“And what psychosis are you supposed to have?” the doctor asked, twiddling the thumbs of his feet and hands at the same time.

“How about agoraphobia?” the agent replied. “Maybe I’m afraid of sunlight or something else equally weird.”

The orangutan sighed and shook his head. “I’m not sure I’m keen on the idea of having you snooping around, considering the level of privacy our patients expect from us.”

“Trust me, doc, I’m not going to report on anything that’s not directly related to Miss Vixen’s case,” the buck promised, holding one hand over his heart and the other in the air. “Personally, I’d rather be anywhere but in here. Unfortunately, I drew the short straw, so believe me when I say I want to wind up this thing as quick as possible and get out of here.”

The doctor frowned. “You’d rather be anywhere else but here? Why’s that?”

Carl slapped the palm of his hand against his forehead. This was going to be a long day.