A Perfect Crime (TWS)

"Well, as it happens, I do have an appointment. One that the Crone doesn't want to delay."

"Name," the eyes asked suspiciously.

"John Smith."

It was a gamble, but a safe one. No one had an actual name of John or Smith these days, not since the Council banned them, so naturally every criminal looking for an untrackable pseudonym used it.

"Which John Smith?" the eyes shot back.

Damn. I hadn't been prepared for that one. Luckily, I always had another trick up my sleeve.

"The John Smith here on official Council-related business," I said, slipping a paradox note through the eyeslot. The eyes looked down for a bit and then turned away, closing the slot... but not before I squeezed my regulator through it. With a little work, I got the door open, while the doorman was still figuring out what he was supposed to do. I figured paradox notes were above his pay grade.

(The right thing to do with a paradox note is to delegate it to a subordinate. If you don't technically have a subordinate, you just hand it to anyone who doesn't actually have any authority to report you for it.)

Of course, the doorman was just one of the shady characters hanging around the place. When I walked into the next room, I found about a half-dozen of them, all glaring at me.

But I also found the Crone sitting very pointedly in a nice chair. The kind of nice chair that a licensed criminal who sticks to authorized illegal dealings usually can't afford.

I had some questions for her, questions that would surely come to mind just as soon as I figured out how to keep her goons from pouncing on me.