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Venom: Beautiful Killers. Part 24.

_"We don't ask questions. We just follow orders." _

The Shark Pit is barely open, but there already is a crowd gathering inside. As the owners look on in amazement, an assortment of eager patrons quickly stumbles in. It started with three furries, then ten, then twenty. Now the number is truly great. Each one in there is ready to part with his or her money and feast on the variety of alcoholic drinks available. As soon as the first order is made, the drinks and the money start flowing.

The mood in the establishment is jovial, replete with the sounds of raucous conversation and laughter. It feels like everyone inside is a long, lost relative or a close friend. Everyone greets one another loudly and happily. Handshakes and high fives are everywhere. Most of the friendly gestures are saved for the bar's owners.

It would be an understatement to say that Bruno and Casey are being treated like celebrities. The bulldog and the bloodhound together are the center of attention. Apparently, recent appearances on a couple of local television news programs have bolstered their profile; now it looks like everyone knows them. Everyone who orders a drink expresses gratitude and congratulations for keeping the bar open amid all the trouble. There are more new, unfamiliar faces in the bar than there has ever been, and they just keep coming in.

Camille's is not an unfamiliar face. The cat enters the crowded bar, struggling for breathing room. She gently pushes her way to the front door. Her usual seat is at the bar itself, on one of the barstools. Today, every stool is occupied with grateful and very thirsty customers. She sighs in resignation and strolls to the front.

Before she can order, Casey recognizes her from afar. "Well, will wonders never cease?!" The greeting is so loud, it startles her and she puts a hand on her chest. The scare subsides quickly as the bloodhound smiles at her. He picks up a bottle of red wine and waves at her. "It's been a long time!"

Camille strolls to the crowded bar, gently nudging her way forward. The crowd is thick and impermissible, but she patiently waits for a clearing and manages to meet the dog face to face, squeezing her way between two barstools. Her smile is bashful, as if she owes him something.

"Is she with you?" he asks.

After a shake of the head, she answers, "She's indisposed."

"Good."

"Hey, come on. Be fair."

"Why?"

The cat slumps her shoulders. "So, you know, huh?"

"Know what? That she bombed the restaurant? Pretty much everyone here knows. Easily a third of our customers work the same place she does. It started quietly, as a rumor. People were going, 'Hey, you hear about the Italian restaurant that blew up? I hear one of us did it.' Now, that was meant as a joke. After all, one of the dead was part of the Cartwright administration and nobody here likes Governor Cartwright. Now, we know Pamila bombed the place--"

"That's not supposed to happen. Who spread the word in the first place?"

"Who knows? Don't worry. Nobody here's gonna tell the police anything. After all, the future of this place is at stake. Still, someone did tip them off. I'm trying like hell to figure out why. Why put us in danger? I mean, we protect our own because the local government doesn't trust many furry-owned businesses. So, why help them? Even if it is Pamila, why help our adversaries?"

"Maybe the tipster was just someone at the restaurant who knew that Pamila likes to unwind by getting drunk."

"I thought of that, but it's just not likely. Think about it. Only bars are being searched. Why would the police limit themselves to so specific an area? As if that's the only place to find her?"

The cat shrugs. "You think it's personal?"

"That's the only explanation that makes sense--the snitch knows her and wants her in jail. Also, this is the only bar that Pamila comes to, so the snitch is obviously one of us, maybe in here right now. Since the aide to Governor Cartwright was killed, the police, and now the feds, will continue acting on this tip. They're gonna keep coming back here until they get a breakthrough in the case. They won't stop until Pamila is in their hands." The bloodhound shakes his head angrily. "I don't get it. We're all friends here. If we have a problem with someone here, we settle it on our own. Why involve the cops unless you're acting on your own interests? And what if we get hurt because of it? I don't want to think that the snitch is one of us, but it's--"

"The only explanation that makes sense." Cautiously, she looks around her. Nothing suspicious seems to be going on. Everyone is laughing, drinking, and generally milling around with no sense of direction. Some are eating, some are playing eight-ball, a couple is reading, but all are happy.

The bloodhound points at her. "Don't think I've forgotten your role in the bombing too. You and that fox are like peas in a pod. The only reason Bruno's letting you in here is because you don't have a tab."

"I'm sorry, okay? We couldn't think of any other way to get to Mr. Morris. His family lived in a gated area and we weren't regulars. There was no way of getting to his house without drawing major suspicion from the neighborhood watch. The idea for the bomb came from a friend of mine."

"Who would want him dead? I mean...I hate the people he worked for, and I hate his administration's policies, but that wasn't a reason to kill him."

"We don't ask questions. We just follow orders." Camille shakes her head impatiently. "Whatever. So, you gonna serve me or what?"

Casey laughs. "What would you like?"

"A gin and tonic."

"Listen, I'm glad you're back. Really!"

"You just don't want to see Pam right now."

The bloodhound shrugs. "I didn't say that." As he starts to bring her the drink, St. Croix enters the bar. The gray wolf is the tallest person in the room. He sees the cat and calls out to her. She does not respond. There are just too many people in the way and too much noise. The wolf himself is distracted by a couple of female foxes greedily eyeing him from a table inches away.

As Camille looks around her, the other half of the partnership sneaks up behind her with the drink she ordered. The bulldog gives it to her gruffly. "Here you go," he says.

Startled again, she chuckles at Bruno. "Thanks a lot. It's good to see you again."

He does not smile back. Instead, he sniffs at her with suspicion. "Is she with you?"

"Ugh. I'll be over there." She takes the glass and heads away from the bar to one of the nearby tables. She takes the only unoccupied one there is. Around her, there is celebration and revelry. All the pool tables are occupied with eager furs, gambling as they play. The table behind her has been taken by eight dogs of different breeds, playing a drinking game. She seems to be the only one there with much on her mind. She takes a sip of her drink and sighs heavily. Just then, a pair of dark hands covers her eyes.

"Guess who!"

Camille yelps and quickly stands, ungrateful for that surprise. Her glass topples over and half of her expensive drink spills on the table. At first, she is angry, but it immediately gives way to relief. "It's you."

St. Croix puts his hands down. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

She chuckles and puffs out her chest. The sight of the wolf makes her less nervous. "That's all right. I saw you at the party last night, but you left before I could say hi."

"You were there? I didn't know. That's too bad. I was pretty busy. I was trying to help Loiola adapt to life outside the hospital. He's having trouble moving around, so he needed help with a couple of chores. He also desperately needed cheering up."

"Yeah. I saw his face light up when I arrived. He's a nice guy. I'm just sorry I couldn't be of much help."

"Did you have a good time?"

"Well, yes...and no."

"What does that mean?"

"Listen St. Croix, I need your advice."

"Uh-oh. One of the ladies is asking me for advice? And not calling me 'church-boy' while doing so? That doesn't happen very often. Is it non-work related advice?"

"Don't poke fun. It has to do with Pam."

The wolf lowers his head. "Oh, okay. For that, I'm gonna need a stiff drink."

"Don't run away. That's exactly what most of the guys tried to do at the party." Camille picks up her shot glass, intending to take another sip. After seeing that it's empty, she tosses it on the table. "I went there to have fun, for sure, and I did. But I also wanted to defend my friend. I wanted to tell the guys there that everything they thought of her was wrong and that she's not all bad. Most of them just chose not to listen. Some of them just kept asking me out--"

"You know most of that is Pam's fault."

"Well, before the party yesterday, I was still in the office...in the restroom. I was getting ready. I went to the chief's room to try to get her to go with me. I caught Baua going out of his way to put her down. He was relentless. She defended herself well enough, but it turns out he was just one of many...going out of their way."

"That's too bad. She's already paying for her mistakes."

"Indeed. It's...difficult to be her friend right now, but I imagine it's even more difficult being her. I need your help."

"I don't know what I could do to help. Anything that Pam's done just can't be fixed."

Frustrated, Camille clasps her hands and places them on the table. "Look, the guys listen to you. You're the most likeable, most agreeable person we work with. They like you. They...trust you."

"I like where this is going."

"I need you to tell them to lay off Pam. Really, it's getting brutal. I tried to tell them at the party last night. The only one who took me seriously was Loiola, but he won't be there to make fun of Pam anyway. He's out of commission."

St. Croix shrugs. He seems uncomfortable with the request. "I'll do what I can."

"You don't sound so sure."

"Well, the guys are gonna do what they're gonna do. Don't get me wrong. I'm tired of the infighting and I'm tired of playing mediator. I just want to go back to catching marks without worrying about what's happening at the office while I'm gone. And I just want to work at the front desk without keeping track of who's angry at whom. It would be nice to have peace for a change."

Camille smiles with relief. "They don't have to speak to her at all. They could just pass her by and the day could go smoothly."

"If I told the chief to get the boys to leave Pam alone, they'll do it."

"Yeah, right. They won't listen to her. Not for long. It's you who has to tell them."

Before the wolf can respond, he hears a loud shout that causes him to turn his head. Behind him is Rory, calling his name. He is wearing a fancy three-piece suit, so he looks a little out of place.

"Oh, God, not him." Camille leans back and looks up. "He was hitting on me all night long."

St. Croix stands and waits as Rory walks up to him. They shake hands energetically. "Long time no see."

"How you doin', wolfie?"

"How's it going, dingo? I could be better, but I'm all right."

"Hey, Camille."

The cat looks at him and fakes a smile. "Can't get enough of me, huh?"

"You know it. Oh look, you've spilled your drink. What was it? Let me get you another one."

"Gin and tonic. Get me two, okay?"

"You got it." Rory speedily escapes the meandering crowd on his way to the bar.

"I just can't seem to get rid of him." Her eyes suddenly widen. "Hey, listen! I've been putting this off for a while, but the get-together last night reminded me. I'm gonna throw a party of my own."

"Hey, that's great." St. Croix returns to his seat. "But so soon? Wasn't last night good enough for you?"

"Well, I had a good time and everything, the constant nighttime propositions notwithstanding. But this party was more sports-and-beer, not enough wine-and-cheese. I want to throw the kind of party that they throw at The Hamptons, the kind of party that I'm used to."

"Oh, so you want, like, a government dinner kind of thing; a two-hundred-dollar-per-plate kind of thing. You want caterers and butlers serving hors d'oeurves and crudités. You want a rich-bitch, fancy-pants, hoi polloi party."

"Yes!" she says, laughing loudly. "That's exactly what I want--the kind of gathering that makes you envied; the kind of party that makes you hated." She blinks her eyes rapidly and seductively. "Wanna come?"

St. Croix scratches his head. "I don't know, Camille. There's a reason I stay away from those kinda parties."

"Oh, please say yes." She puts her hands on his. "It'll be fun. I promise."

Well...when is it?"

"Um...I haven't planned a date, but it'll be soon. Real soon. I'm so excited I could host it right here."

"Okay. Who's gonna be there?"

Camille notices the dingo arriving from her left side and exhales loudly. Her smile disappears. "Definitely not this guy." She turns to watch Rory struggle to get to their table.

"I'll try to come to your party, Camille. If I'm not chasing a mark, like I will on Monday, I'll definitely come. I'll also see what I can do about getting everyone off Pamila's back. I don't think my attempt will have much of an effect though."

"Just try, okay? Pam needs the break."

"Okay. Well, I gotta go. I've got scouting to do."

"No, please! Don't leave me alone with him." She desperately turns to see Rory inching closer. He is precariously holding two drinks in his hands.

St. Croix chuckles and nods. "Sure thing."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

[It's Tuesday morning, around five. I'm still in a little bit of pain, but it is not as bad as it was hours ago. It has been about four hours since I last pressed the morphine button. My head is clearer, my mouth is not as dry, and fever seems to be down. As I wean myself off the medicine, the dreams become a bit less tense, almost friendly. It's something I should note when I write down my observations later. I'm gonna stay in bed until breakfast is served.]

[Memories of the last vision will stay with me for a while. I don't remember the last time I had a dream that nice....]

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The morning meeting is almost over and the workers are about to collect their marks. The meeting is going to be short, indicating that there are not that many marks today. There are also not that many workers here this day. Only two of the females have shown up. Mieri and Camille are seated in the back.

As for the men, the twin foxes, Benny and Boris, are seated at the very front. Ravi and Gonal are seated directly behind them. Also there are Inverness, Baua, Hoeness, and Paraná. The jaguar seems the most eager of anyone in the room. He looks like he is about to run to the front desk.

Robert Crevecoeur is conducting today's meeting. "This is the last mark," he says, "and this one has been waiting for his end for quite a while." He holds up what looks like a freshly laminated picture. "Arlo McDaniels." The name causes the room to mumble and stir. "Yeah, I knew this would get your attention. For the past few weeks, we've been showing this face but have been unable to provide any information as to his whereabouts. Well, on that, I have good news. We have narrowed down his location. My contacts have found him in North Los Angeles County. So far, he's--"

"And his last known location?" Hoeness stares wide-eyed at the moderator, as if he is about to pounce on a kill.

Crevecoeur looks at the dog's eager face and sighs with dread. "Santa Monica."

Hoeness and Inverness cheer. Baua applauds. "Finally!" he yells.

"It is also my duty to inform you that his bounty has risen yet again. It is now up to twenty thousand dollars."

The announcement causes even the girls to applaud. There is loud cheering from all the workers in the room.

"Don't celebrate just yet, fellas. There is one big catch that I don't think you'll like. The rewards are worth it, believe me, but it turns out that the person you're after is a very dangerous individual. He hangs out with people who are twice as dangerous. This is real, heavy-duty stuff."

Hoeness scoffs. "Just how dangerous?"

Crevecoeur shakes his head in disbelief. "Hey, take this seriously, would ya?"

"Please. Who do you think we are? We walk into danger every day. With all the people we kill, we're used to it."

"That's right," Inverness says. "And some of us are used to dealing with big numbers. I usually have no problem getting close to whomever I have to."

The moderator drops the picture of Arlo on the desk. "Look, your bravery is admirable, but this is different than what you're used to. My sources have found out that Arlo McDaniels is part of a trafficking ring. We were slow to the punch, so we don't know what kind of trafficking it is, but he and the people he knows are involved in a budding criminal enterprise. It looks like you're going to have to infiltrate the man's inner circle to get to the man himself."

Hoeness sighs impatiently. "If you're trying to scare us, it isn't working. Are you saying we have to go undercover to get him? If so, then there isn't a problem. We go undercover all the time."

Crevecoeur laughs, drawing an angry look from the German Shepherd. He cooly sits on the desk and looks at the crowd. He tries to act more like a friendly teacher rather than an employer. The meeting becomes close and cozy; the executive speaks to Hoeness in an almost hushed tone. "My friend, you have no idea what 'undercover' means. I worked on the force for twenty years, five of them undercover, mostly busting drug and prostitution rings. To attain success, I've had to spend weeks away from home, assist in hundreds of stakeouts, lose hours of sleep, break the law multiple times...that sort of thing. What you guys do is a far cry from what undercover work really is. All you guys ever have to do is dress up in disguises and follow your mark around for maybe a day or two. It's hardly the same thing." He looks around at the angry faces and nods. "Deal with it. Now, one of my contacts, sent to look for him a week ago, has now made his way into Mr. McDaniels' group. Later today, he's going to call me with more information about where he is and what he's doing. I told him to call me at about this time. Then, I'll relay that information to you. You'll have better information on him and can prepare accordingly. Now, I know you all are eager to get him, but I'd understand completely if you waited until tomorrow. Don't get me wrong. I trust you guys...and I trust whichever one of you chooses this mark. Just know that it will be a big challenge. Killing him will take longer than one or two days. The fact that he doesn't work with many furries doesn't help you either."

Camille stands up. She has a worried look about her face. "Well how do you expect one of us to get through to him?"

"Calm down. First, let's find out what this guy really does. I'll be in the conference room waiting for my contacts to call. Once we know what he does and where he'll be, you guys can decide who gets him." Crevecoeur looks at his watch. "Well, I guess that's it. Seriously, don't kill each other trying to get this mark. Wait until I hear back from my sources." With that, he takes the laptop with him and starts to head out of the lobby. "Once you all make your choices, see me in the conference room."

Once he is gone, Camille is the first one to the front desk. The photo of Arlo McDaniels is on top of the other photos. She picks it up immediately as her coworkers surround her.

Hoeness runs to the desk until he is standing right behind her. "What on earth are you doing?"

She holds the laminated paper in both hands and looks at it eagerly. "I'm taking my mark. What do you think?"

"Forget it. It's way out of your league. You can't blend in with the criminal element."

She is still not looking at him. "I walk among criminals all the time. I'm with you now, aren't I?"

"Look, I'm only saying this because I care about your well-being."

"Bullshit. You just want the money."

Hoeness nods. "Could be, but you don't know how to do something like this. Even you have to admit that. You're better off parting with it. You don't have to give it to me if you don't want." He looks around and sees the tigers on the other side of the desk, grabbing other marks. "Give it to Ravi. He's good at blending in."

Ravi laughs. "Not this time, my friend. As much as I'd like to take that juicy morsel, I rely mostly on close surveillance, not full-fledged infiltration. I wouldn't know the first thing to do. I mean, you cannot teach a snorkeler how to deep-sea dive in one day. Besides, Gonal and I don't really need the money right now."

Camille chuckles and turns to the German Shepherd. "You see? Even he admits he can't do it."

"We also have to consider the people Mr. McDaniels is used to working with. I don't think it would be wise if I tried to join his group; he might not have any foreign furs working with him." The tiger points to Inverness. "That would leave you out as well."

The terrier shakes his head. "That's nonsense, lad. With the right change of voice and the right makeup, I can blend into anyone's territory." He turns to the cat. "You might as well give that mark to me."

Paraná clears his throat loudly, drawing others to his presence. "Excuse me," he says, changing his voice. "There's only one of us here who is adept at changing his voice, and that's me."

Everyone else laughs. Inverness nods. "That's a fine American accent you got there, Mr. Brazil. But remember, the mark isn't American. How do you know that Mr. McDaniels wouldn't be more comfortable with a Brit? I can be British easily."

The jaguar brings back his normal, accented voice. "Don't be an idiot. He works here in the States; he'll be around Americans."

Suddenly, Hoeness snatches the McDaniels photo out from Camille's hands. While she yells at him, he turns his back to her and looks over the information. "Sorry, ma'am. I really like you. That's why I'm taking this from you."

"Thanks for your kindness, but it's not needed. Just give it back!" She runs in front of him and flails her arms, trying to reach it as the taller dog holds it over his head. The sight of her struggling draws laughs from a couple of the guys.

"Look, just give it up. This big fish is not for you. Why don't you get another one? One that you can handle easily? Your friend over there gets the idea." Hoeness points to Mieri, who is standing on the other side of the desk, looking through the laminated photo in her hands. "Why don't you go join her?"

Camille stops and stares at the red panda, who stares back at her nervously. The cat spits on the ground, surprising those nearby. She inhales loudly and answers, "That thing is not my friend." Her voice is stern and determined, although it now seems that she is more angry at the panda than at Hoeness.

The men turn to Mieri to see her reaction. She continues to look at the mark she has chosen, seemingly not paying attention to the cat.

The German Shepherd shrugs. "Whatever. Just pick someone else."

"No! Give that back to me!"

"Look, think about it. What are you going to do if you're given this assignment? How are you gonna even approach the mark? You think sticking out your ass or shaking your boobs in his face is gonna work?" The question causes more laughter from the men. "You think if you act girlish enough, Mr. McDaniels will allow you to join him? You're mistaken, little girl."

"That's not how I do my work! You don't know anything!"

"What's to know? You distract your mark with your feminine wiles. That's how they become your victims. I'm just saying that it's not gonna work this time. From the description written on here, this Arlo McDaniels seems like a man's man, so this is definitely a man's mark. Just choose someone else."

Camille stops reaching for the mark and just stares at Hoeness angrily. "I can hunt and kill just as effectively as you can. I can be just as ruthless too. I can turn off the charm if the situation requires. What do you have that I don't have?!"

He looks at her just as sternly and politely clears his throat. "Tenure." He places the mark under his left arm. "That means experience. That's the one thing that we all must ask ourselves. Which one of us has the know-how...and the physical ability to do what needs to get done against this breed of criminal? You just can't--"

"Aye! That's me!" Inverness creeps up behind the German Shepherd. "So hand it over."

"Not on your life, Scottie. I've been waiting ages for a mark like this, and now that Shiloh isn't here to take it from under our noses, it's mine."

Baua creeps up next to both dogs. "You mean mine. Tenure is all well and good, but it doesn't help you sneak up and surprise the mark. That's my forte. You're better off giving it to me."

Before Hoeness can respond, he hears a soft "Hmm" coming from behind him. He, and everyone else, turns around to see Mieri sitting on one of the chairs. Nobody noticed her move from in front of the desk. She is sitting there, holding a mark and reading its information. Without looking at the group, she says, "You all don't need to fight. There's nothing to fight about. You don't even know who you're dealing with, so it's no use competing for that huge bounty. Just wait until Crevecoeur gets that call. Then you'll know who's best suited for the job."

The nine furs look at her with emotions ranging from surprise to contempt. They are surprised because this was the most words that she has spoken to any of them in a long time. They are also a little angry because, deep down, they know she is right.

Mieri stares at them momentarily, then goes back to looking at the mark. "Besides," she continues, "it's the right thing to do. Anyone of us could do it, depending on the situation. If the mark is doing drug trafficking, Benny or Boris could join his group...since they know about every illegal substance under the sun. If the mark is engaged in trafficking stolen property, then...." She looks up at the group once again. "Hoeness, you used to be a police dog and you know how talk to smugglers without looking suspicious. If McDaniels is that kind of guy, then this job could be right in your...um...." She squints, trying to think of what to say. "Wheelhouse! Yeah, that's the phrase. 'Right in your wheelhouse.'"

The environment is at a tense standstill for a few seconds. Then slowly, miraculously, the crowd starts to separate. Hoeness even starts looking at the other marks on the front desk.

Mieri looks back down at the photo she is holding. "We've got about ten minutes before opening hours, after which we'd better do our waiting in the cafeteria."

The German Shepherd grunts with disapproval and turns to the red panda. As he opens his mouth to speak, he brushes against the cat. Thinking quickly, Camille reaches over to him with her left leg and stomps on the dog's toes. As he wails in pain, he drops the valuable mark. The feline picks it up before it can hit the floor and runs to the hallway.

Most of the boys are still startled, looking at Hoeness while the cat flees. "So long, boys," she yells. "Mr. McDaniels sends his love."

Before anyone can react, she is gone. The shadows of the hallway have swallowed her whole. Disappointed, Inverness snorts loudly before turning to Hoeness, who has grabbed a chair and taken off his expensive-looking loafers. "Are you all right?"

Almost everyone turns to the suddenly ailing dog with concern. He shoos them away, announcing that he will be fine. Everyone wearily takes a seat. Gonal and Ravi sit behind Mieri, who is smiling at the mark she has now apparently chosen. Ravi taps her shoulder. "Excuse me, but what was that just now?"

She shakes her head angrily and turns to the tiger who interrupted her reading. "What was what?"

"Camille said, 'That thing is not my friend.' She was referring to you. What...just happened? Why would she say that?"

Mieri leans back on her chair and looks straight ahead. Her face sours, clearly dreading the answer. "She's just...mad at me for being Mariana's friend. That's all. You know they hate each other, right?"

Ravi shrugs. "She hates Mariana still? But she's gone now. They don't have to compete with each other anymore. Your friend can't come back to this place."

"You don't get it, do you? They're still competing. You heard what Hoeness just told her, right? He just said that Camille could only get marks by acting like a tramp--shaking her boobs and whatnot. That's exactly how Mariana and Zesty got their men. They used their sex appeal to get marks, a lot more than Camille was getting with her usual methods. So she started to copy them...and it worked. Unfortunately, that's the big thing she's known for now--using her body to get her marks, and subsequently get paid." She lowers her voice. "Kinda like a hooker."

Hoeness, still smarting, laughs at the remark. "Excellent analogy."

Mieri sits up straight and turns angrily at the dog. "You know what? This would all just blow over if you didn't remind her of that stuff."

"Oh, shut up. I didn't say anything that wasn't true. It's not my fault she's forgotten how to actually hunt." He folds his arms and starts to flex his toes. "That's a sad irony, isn't it? Cats are supposed to be excellent hunters, what with their stealth and all."

"It's really unfair. We may not like each other, but Camille deserves better."

Suddenly, Ravi stands and boldly faces the red panda. He clears his throat as if making an announcement. "Listen, just for the record, I respect Camille. She's smart, funny, quick-witted...which I guess is the same thing as funny...and very clever. She's a good listener and has a good heart. That's why we dated for so long. I was never attracted to her just because of her body."

Baua scoffs. "I am."

Paraná laughs. "Me too!"

Now all the men, save for the tigers, are joining in. The room is as filled with as much laughter as testosterone. Paraná is sitting right behind Mieri. He tries to hide his laugh from her, first with his hands, then by covering his mouth with his shirt. Then he spots Mieri's mark on the floor by her feet. He picks it up and puts it in front of his face.

As the laughter dies down, Ravi looks around him. "That is not funny. I'm trying to say that I see Camille as more than just an object."

Hoeness chuckles. "Aw, come on! You trying to tell me that you never once fixated on her bosom? I don't believe you for a second. Ask anyone here." He turns to Inverness. "Hey Scottie, you ever look at Camille without looking at her body?"

He wrinkles his forehead in response. "She has a body? I didn't know that! I've only ever been looking at her arse!"

The laughter returns, louder this time. Ravi shrugs and sits next to his brother. Mieri tries to ignore everybody and searches the floor for her mark. Quickly, she looks up as if she just heard someone coming. She turns to the hallway and sees movement. "Hey! Ixnay, fellas."

Ravi follows her lead and tries to shush down the noise. As the laughing disappears, Camille emerges from the darkness, holding the valuable mark by her side. Everyone looks at her eagerly, waiting for any bit of news. Hoeness and Inverness stand. The Scottish Terrier creeps closer to her. "Well?" he asks.

Camille looks up at everyone, frowning specifically at Hoeness, then at Mieri. "Crevecoeur got the call right as I got in the conference room. He was on the phone to his contact and Ted was there, listening in. Ted told me that Mr. McDaniels won't work with cats, so I can't have the mark."

"Ha!" Inverness audaciously steps in front of the cat. "Let me have it then."

Baua stands and runs next to him. "No way! I get that now."

Camille backs herself away, keeping the mark from them. "How do you know he'll take dogs? This might not be for you either. Don't everyone look so happy."

Mieri shifts in her seat to look at the feline. "Trust me, that's not the reason they're smiling."

She points at the panda. "Hey, I'm not speaking to--"

"Yoink!" Hoeness snatches the mark away from the cat's grasp and quickly struts to the hallway. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the conference room. Let a real hunter-gatherer get this bounty." He disappears, laughing heartily.

Baua returns to his seat. Camille stares at the hallway angrily, waiting for her current rival to return.

Sensing that there is no chance of getting Mr. McDaniels, Inverness strolls to the front desk. "Oh well, let's see what the others have to offer." He paws through the eight remaining pictures until he finds one that looks interesting. He picks it up and skims through it, nodding a couple of times. As he turns to find a seat, he looks at the despondent furries. "Come on. What's this? Are we working today or what? Aren't we even gonna trade or anything?" No answer comes forth. He shrugs and turns to Camille, who is still staring at the dark hall, searching for signs of Hoeness. "Hey, why don't you just go pick one? You can yell at him when he returns."

"Why don't you just mind your own business?" Even though she clearly does not want to, Camille does what she is told and picks another mark.

"It's no use getting sour at me, young lady. This is how the game is played. When someone takes a mark we want, we just get another one. If it's money you're after, you could take two."

The foxes and the tigers also make their way to the desk. Camille finds a seat and impatiently reads through the information on the picture she is holding. The Italian Greyhound promptly takes a seat next to her. "Hey there. I missed you at the party Friday night. Where'd you go?"

"Leave me alone, Baua. I've had about enough of you guys."

"What does that mean?"

"I was having fun with a couple of the girls until Hoeness came over and started to flirt. It was a lame attempt. Then everyone started to join in. I was fending off all these pick up lines and date offers. At the same time, I was trying to tell you all to listen to me. I had a problem, but no one wanted to hear me out." She hears the sounds of stifled laughter coming from behind her and turns to see the twin foxes staring at her. "What's so damned funny?"

Boris shakes his head. "Are you that daft? Nobody wanted to hear about Pamila's problems. We all just wanted to sit next to you. You were looking mighty fine."

"You guys have the rest of your lives to hit on me; I wanted just a couple of minutes of your time to--"

"We know what you wanted to do. We just didn't care."

Benny clears his throat, bringing everyone's attention to him. "Look, when you started talking about Pamila, my eyes glazed over. I know you want us to forgive her transgressions and all that. But really, I don't give a damn what she does as long as she doesn't come near the Shark Pit."

Most of the men yell out in agreement, making Camille angrier. She throws the paper she is holding back on the desk.

Inverness nods. "I'm afraid your request fell on deaf ears, lass. That fox deserves whatever she gets for everything she's done. Every time I see news of police questioning bar owners, I think of her."

Camille stands. "Look, I wasn't asking you guys to forgive her or take pity on her! I just want you all to lay off! Just stop making fun of her plight; she's embarrassed enough as it is. You don't have to talk to her or anything; just don't even make eye contact! Let her serve her time and...." She hears more laughter next to her and turns to see the Italian Greyhound looking at her smugly. She points at Baua. "You started all this, you know. Why'd you have to get in her face when she was cleaning the chief's office?"

"Hey, I wanted to see it for myself. I still couldn't believe it. It was one of the best things I've ever seen, and it was sweet revenge after having to go through another police raid."

Benny approaches Baua. "Wait, you saw her? Tell me, was she wearing a maid's outfit?"

The men laugh again; even Ravi is laughing, despite having a soft spot for Camille's problems. As for the cat, she incredulously looks around her. She is surrounded by an uncaring lot; Mieri seems the most concerned, but does not offer any aid. Camille closes her eyes, silently cursing her luck.

At this time, Hoeness returns from the hallway, holding the mark in his right hand. Everyone stands to observe. Inverness is the first to approach him. He scans the German Shepherd, observing his body language. "What happened? Bad news, is it?"

Hoeness walks past him. "Mr. McDaniels doesn't work with dogs either." He drops the photo on the desk and limps toward a chair.

As Camille laughs, Inverness picks up the McDaniels photo. "Does...does that mean any dog, or just you?" He reads through the information on the paper. "I'm beginning to understand why this guy is so expensive."

Baua scratches his head. "Maybe none of us can get to him."

Hoeness continues. "Crevecoeur told me everything. According to his contact, Mr. McDaniels is part of a child trafficking ring that is making tens of thousands of dollars monthly. He doesn't trust many people and hates the company of anthropomorphic beings." He pauses to notice the guys sink back into their chairs. The room practically deflates. "But he is apparently flexible. He will meet with furries if they have something to offer. He prefers the company of exotic creatures--big cats, not "house" cats like Camille. He travels overseas a lot, so he meets with plenty of them. Obviously, they possess something he wants."

"Perfect!" Paraná stands and quickly snatches the mark from Inverness' hands. "Give me that. This is perfect for me."

"Perfect how?"

"Um...hello? There's only one exotic big cat in this room who wants this job. That's me, not you."

Hoeness stands to face the jaguar. "No way, Jose! You already have two marks with your apprentice. You can't take this one until you finish those first."

"Excuse me, dog, but you're not an executive. Any orders coming from you mean nothing. I will take this to Ted and make it official. Besides, I may also have something to offer that none of you have."

"Oh really? What's that?"

Paraná does not answer. Instead, he runs past the desk and straight through the dark hall, leaving the crowd behind. As the darkness swallows him, he reaches into the pocket of his trousers and pulls out a small, black cell phone. He tucks the mark under his arm and punches some numbers. Once it starts to ring, he stops walking about halfway to the conference room. "Hello? Tivoli, where are you?" He smirks upon hearing her voice. "You've missed the meeting. Are you close by? I've got good news."

The door to the conference room opens, surprising the jaguar. He watches as Ted steps out, adjusts his necktie, and enters the chief's office. All the while, he nods as Tivoli speaks to him.

"Just get here as soon as you can. We have a lot of work to do." He suddenly hangs up on her and runs into the chief's office. He almost bumps into the executive.

Ted hardly notices. He angrily looks around the room, arms folded and breathing heavy. "Where is she?" he asks.

Paraná wastes no time. He clears his throat to get noticed. "Excuse me, sir. Hi. How are you this fine morning?"

"What do you want? Don't you see it's almost nine?"

"I know. That's why I want to make this quick." He steps in front of the human and shoves the picture of the mark in his face. "I want this."

Ted grabs it to see what Paraná is talking about. He looks at it and emits a fake laugh. "You want this?"

"Right away if possible." He smiles broadly, showing his large, white teeth. "I know it's becoming a hassle, trying and failing to get rid of him every day. But now that we know where he is, and now that we know that he likes big cats, I can--"

"No." Ted tosses the mark back to the jaguar. "You've already got hunts assigned to you."

"Let's change that then. Let's replace one of mine with this one. I know I can do it."

"Mr. McDaniels is a career criminal with a pretty big overseas fanbase. He hides during the day and travels at night. The fact that Crevecoeur's boys were able to find him was lucky; he might be gone tomorrow."

"All the more reason to give this to me now!"

"If Camille and Hoeness aren't right for the job, then what makes you think you can...." The sound of the swinging door stops him. He and the jaguar turn their heads.

Vivian Cross stands at the door way. Her face, just like her clothes, is all business. She strolls past the men. "Well, good morning, you two. What's going on? Why's the lobby such a mess when it's almost nine?"

Ted shrugs and tries to calm himself. "Good morning, chief. The trading must have run long."

Paraná shakes his head. "No, it didn't. Nobody is trading or selecting marks. They want this one, the one in my hand. I want it too."

Vivian smirks. "Don't you have an apprentice to teach? Don't those hunts come first?"

"Tivoli would love to do this. She would love to have this much money...and she'd love the challenge. She's done her job perfectly so far. She'll be perfect for this too."

"Okay. Is there a reason you two are doing this in my office?"

Ted politely nods. "Sorry, ma'am. I just wanted to remind you that the fiscal year is almost over and it's time to look through the books."

"Really? What day is it?"

"Monday, the fourth of August."

An impatient jaguar slams the mark on the desk, surprising the humans, who look like they would rather be doing their jobs. "I'm telling you, I can do this. Both me and my apprentice."

Ted shakes his head. "The answer is still no. I mean, what exactly do you have that could make Mr. McDaniels want to meet with you?"

"An apprentice."

"What's that?"

"Well, she...." Paraná stops and gasps. His face widens in shock, as if he has forgotten something important. Quickly, he turns to Vivian and gives a bashful smile. "Sorry." Then, he leans toward Ted and whispers in his ear.

The baffled CEO watches as the feline shields his mouth with the executive's face. She looks on as Ted receives the hidden message. A bit of the whispering can be heard, but through it all, Mrs. Cross does not get the idea of what is being said. When Paraná is finished, he releases his grip on Ted and smiles hopefully.

Ted stutters and turns to Vivian. "Um...I'll see you at lunch."

"Wait a minute." She strolls closer to the men with doubt in her eyes. "What's happening? What did he say?"

"Nothing you need know. Everything will be fine." Leaving her by herself, Ted follows Paraná out of the office and into the hallway. The jaguar walks quickly, determined on getting approved for the huge payday that awaits him. Ted is more reserved; he carefully closes Vivian's door and slowly strolls to the big cat. He exhales peacefully, then suddenly leans into his guest. "Are you out of your mind?!"

"What's the problem? There's nothing to worry about."

"What kind of plan are you hatching exactly? That's got to be the most lame-brained idea I have ever heard in all the years I've run this operation."

Paraná chuckles with complete confidence. "There really is nothing to worry about."

"How about you and Tivoli getting fucking killed? Isn't that something to worry about?"

"You're only scared because you know it will work. Not many jaguars live in Los Angeles, so meeting me would be a unique experience for him. Besides, there are a lot of traffickers back home, some of whom I've had to deal with. I'm no stranger to the danger." He chuckles. "Heh, that rhymes."

"You're taking an awful risk. You don't know enough about McDaniels to make the decision to hunt him. It's also not ideal apprentice hunt."

"No hunts are easy, sir. But right here and now, I give you my word. I will be fine. Tivoli will be fine. Let's just go talk to Mr. Crevecoeur and get all the information we can. By the end of the day we can--"

"Quiet." Ted carefully leaves Paraná's side for a moment to peer through the hall. He stares at the lobby for a few seconds before breathing a sigh of relief.

"What's happened?"

"Your student has arrived."

The feline beams brightly and pats Ted's shoulder. "Time to get ready."

Feeling rather unsure, the executive looks at his watch; he has trouble reading it in the dark. "Look, it's practically nine, which means I gotta go do my real work. So, I can't discuss this now. Just think about this before you do anything rash. Talk to Crevecoeur, get all the new information on McDaniels that you can, and most importantly, tell Tivoli of your plan to switch hunts on her."

"Trust me, sir, she will like going after this one instead of going after another five thousand dollar mark."

"'This one' is no joke." He opens the conference room door. "I'm gonna go talk to Robert. You coming?"

"I will. Let me greet my student first." As Ted leaves him, Paraná walks briskly to the edge of the hallway, where the lobby is in full view. Most of the furries have left. A couple is saying good-bye to the ocelot as she enters. First, she takes a sneak peek at marks on the front desk, then she notices her handler.

She laughs and runs to him, stopping just short of bumping in to him. "Good morning, master."

Her laugh is infectious, though he tries to be as serious and as professional as he can be. He looks down at her. "How are you this lovely morning?"

Tivoli answers by embracing him. She squeezes tightly, causing him to wheeze uncomfortably. She laughs in response. "That's for Fluffy's microchip."

"Oh, why thank you...."

She stands on her toes and presses her lips to his, balancing herself by grabbing his arms. The shaky kiss lasts a few seconds, but is heartfelt and rather sweet. "And that's for the flowers."

Still trying to act professional, Paraná gently pushes his student away. "I'm sorry I had to cut the date off, but I had to prepare for today."

"Yeah, I know." She giggles and puts her hands behind her back. "It's time for my next job."

"I see you've bought new clothes. You've spent your money right away."

"I was kinda hoping to buy jewelry to go along with it."

"Don't go crazy spending your money. Hopefully, if everything goes well, you'll be getting a lot more."

"Well then, are we ready to go?"

"Not quite yet. There's going to be a change in schedule. We're going to meet with Ted for a chance at a new mission. I think you will be pleased."

"Okay, hold that thought. Let me wash my hands; I've still got breakfast on me." She leaves him and heads to the restroom.

"When you're finished, come to the conference room." Paraná watches the restroom door close behind her before heading towards the executive suite.

Once he disappears, the restroom door opens once again. Mieri exits, wiping her hands on a handkerchief. After putting it in her shirt pocket, she adjusts her collar and steps into the light. The lobby is empty, except for Camille, who is arranging the chairs to face the television. She stops in the middle of what she is doing when she hears the sounds of the red panda coming toward her. She does not turn, but clearly knows who it is. After the brief pause, the cat continues her work.

Mieri passes her to turn the television on. "There." She laughs softly and turns to the cat. "You know I haven't done this in a long time. I've forgotten how good it feels to pull the wool over the customers' eyes."

Camille sneers. "Who cares?"

"After all these months? Are you really still mad at me?" After not hearing an answer, she turns to the antagonist. "You know, I tried to defend you, just now. They were making fun of you and--"

"I don't need it!"

Mieri looks down and taps her left foot on the carpeted floor. As frustrated as she is, she remains calm. "I also tried to help Pam. I've told her, last week, to watch out for Hoeness. I think he had something planned for her. I don't quite know what it is, but she's got to--"

"Why...are you talking to me? You know I've got nothing to say to you." With the last chair turned, she looks at the panda and folds her rigid arms. She waits for an answer to her question and instead just gets Mieri, looking back at her. The panda is as sad as the cat is angry. "Just leave me alone. You got your mark and you're ready to hunt. What else do you want?" She turns around, grabs a picture from the desk, and starts to head to the conference room.

The panda directs her newly found anger to the back of the cat's head. "You know, at least you've got a friend to worry about!" She nods emphatically as she watches Camille slow down. Catching up to her, she continues to unload. "I came back here after a long sabbatical, hoping Mariana would still be here." She is very hesitant to continue, but wants Camille to stay and listen to every word. "I had a problem and I needed a shoulder to cry on; I was hoping it would be hers. Now she's gone. Zesty's gone too. I don't know where they are. I can't even reach them by phone...." She runs after the fleeing cat and steps in front of her. "You know what's worse? There are less females here now than ever before. Mariana's gone, so there's no more competition. Why can't we get along?"

"Your friends are in Fresno, and good riddance to both of them. Start there!" As if in a big hurry, Camille now trots away from Mieri and into the dark hallway.

"Wait a second!" She chases after the unwilling feline, but stops as she closes the restroom door behind her. Irritated, Mieri knocks on the door. "You can't take a mark into the restroom. It's against the rules."

"Go away!"