Chapter Text
Shaw walked briskly up the school steps. She stepped through the main doors and looked around. A gentle flow of students parted around her as she looked for any indication of where she was supposed to go. She grabbed a kid’s arm as he ran past. “Where’s the office?”
He pointed down the hall. “Turn left. There’s a big sign.”
Shaw grunted her thanks and moved in the direction he pointed. Pushing open the door marked Administration, she was greeted by a cheery, “Welcome to Fitzhugh Quinnell Preparatory School! How can I help you?”
“I’m here to pick up a student for vacation.” Shaw said.
“Name?”
Shaw frowned. “Mine or hers?”
The secretary laughed. “Hers.”
“Genrika Zhirova.”
“All right. And yours?”
Shaw tapped her earpiece while brushing her hair behind her ear. “Sam.” she said, hoping Harold had picked an alias that could have that nickname.
The woman nodded, clicking on her computer.
Shaw shifted to the side and hissed. “Harold. What’s. My. Alias.”
“Oh!” Harold’s voice urgently sounded in her ear. “I put you on the paperwork as Sameen Gray, and I am on as Harold Wren. You do have that ID on you?”
Shaw’s response was to firmly tap the earpiece off.
The woman (Annie, or so her nametag said) looked up, her brow ever so slightly creased. “Sam?”
“Yeah. Sam Gray.” Shaw said. “Harold said he put me on the paperwork?”
Annie’s face cleared. “Ah, yes. There are two potential ‘Sams’ on the paperwork, so you understand my confusion. Can I see some ID?”
Shaw pulled her wallet out of her pocket, shuffled through the IDs inside, and found Sameen Gray at the bottom. She hadn’t used that alias in at least a year.
As she handed it over, she leaned on the counter. “Uh, the other Sam on the files. It wouldn’t be Samantha Groves, would it?”
“Yes, actually! Do you know her?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know her.” The corner of Shaw’s mouth twitched. Annie fussed with the printer. She placed the papers on the counter in front of Shaw and handed her a pen. “Sign here and here. Take these papers to the dorms and her housemother will help you with the rest.”
Shaw nodded. “Where are the dorms?”
“Just go to your right after you exit the main doors. Her building number is on the paperwork.”
Shaw glanced down at the papers in her hand. “Right. Thanks.”
The dorms were pretty easy to find. There was a small stream of other parents picking up kids. Shaw entered the foyer of the appropriate dorm and scanned the room. An older woman in a tweed suit was directing students and parents and collecting paperwork. Shaw eased her way through the crowd until she was standing in front of her. As soon as the woman looked at her, Shaw shoved the paperwork at her. The woman glanced down, reading Gen’s name across the top. “Oh, good! I wasn’t sure that Gen would be going anywhere this holiday. It’s good to spend the holidays with family, don’t you think?”
Shaw shrugged.
The woman smiled. “Well, I’ll get her right down. I’m not sure that she’s packed; I hope you don’t mind waiting.”
Shaw shook her head.
“Excellent! Lizzy!” The last shout was directed at a taller girl on the stairs, who turned and looked expectantly at the woman, who called up. “Tell Gen someone is here for her.” The woman turned back to Shaw. “I’m Beth Cooper, the housemother for this dorm.”
Shaw stuck out her hand. “Sam Gray.”
Ms. Cooper shook her hand firmly. “Pleased to meet you! I’ve never met any of Gen’s family before, not even her guardian. Are you family?”
Shaw stared at Ms. Cooper. “Uhhhhh. Close enough, I guess.”
Ms. Cooper looked like she was going to say something, but was interrupted by a cry from Gen. “Shaw!” Gen pelted down the stairs and threw her arms around Shaw. Shaw smiled faintly and hugged back. “Hey kiddo.”
Ms. Cooper looked at the two of them. “Shaw?”
“It’s a nickname.” Shaw hastily reassured her.
“Where are we going this time?” Gen asked.
Shaw looked at her. Gen had hit a growth spurt over the past few months and was now nearly as tall as Shaw was. “You’ll have to ask Harold that. He just told me to pick you up.”
Ms. Cooper interrupted. “You were the one who took her on summer vacations?”
“Yeah.”
“And Root.” Gen added.
At Ms. Cooper’s look of confusion, Shaw said. “The other Sam.”
Ms. Cooper looked down at the paperwork. “Ah, yes. That explains the nicknames, doesn’t it? Now then Gen, you go pack your bags, and I’ll go through the spiel with Ms. Gray here.”
Gen nodded and rushed back up the stairs.
Ms. Cooper turned to Shaw. “Genrika needs to be back in the dorms by six o’clock on January 3rd. She does have two assignments that will need to be completed before school begins on the 4th. While on vacations she is to refrain from alcohol, drugs, and getting into trouble. An arrest will be cause for immediate expulsion.”
Shaw kept her face neutrally blank. It was a good thing they had used Gen’s aliases last summer.
“I think we can manage that.” she said, in response to Ms. Cooper’s questioning look.
“Excellent.” Ms. Cooper beamed. “You would not believe the sort of stuff parents let their children do over the holidays.”
“Uh huh.” Shaw tried to nip the conversation in the bud.
Unfortunately, Ms. Cooper took that as encouragement. “Why just over the summer we had one of our students arrested for drunk driving! But I’m sure you’ll take good care of Gen. You had her all summer, and we didn’t hear a thing.”
Shaw grunted noncommittally.
Ms. Cooper continued to chatter on. “Gen wrote such a wonderful essay about her summer vacations. Her descriptions of the places you went were so vivid. And the adventures!”
“What adventures?” Shaw asked sharply.
Ms. Cooper drew her head back slightly. “Oh, meeting dignitaries, climbing to the top of the Eiffel Tower and seeing Paris by night, driving a scooter in Rome.”
“Right.” Shaw relaxed.
“I guess that sort of thing isn’t really an adventure for you anymore, seeing as you travel with Mr. Wren so much, but for a child it’s quite exciting.”
“Right.” Shaw said again.
“Though,” Ms. Cooper added “driving a scooter in Rome? That’s hardly safe for a 13 year old.”
Shaw blinked. Better not get Gen in trouble. “Uh, yeah. I was on the scooter too, behind her. I just let her take the handlebars for a while. You know.” Never mind that Shaw had been shot in the arm and really had been in no condition to drive anywhere and Root had had to deal with taking their number home and blowing up the drug lab, so she couldn’t drive. And, of course, where they were no self-respecting cabbie would go. Gen had been the only choice and had done a spectacular job of it.
Shaw refocused on the conversation just to hear Ms. Cooper ask “What is it exactly that you do for Mr. Wren?”
Shaw’s eyebrows drew together. “Whatever he asks.”
“Of course.” Ms. Cooper glanced down at the paperwork again. “It says you are a stylist?” Her eyes roamed over Shaw’s combat boots, jeans, and heavy jacket.
“Yes.” Shaw replied shortly.
Shaw was saved by Gen sliding down the banister with her duffel slung across her back. “I’m ready!” She announced. “Bye, Ms. Cooper!”
“Have a good vacation!” Ms. Cooper replied. “Goodbye Ms. Gray. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
Shaw nodded, and followed Gen out the door.
“Where are we going?” Gen asked as Shaw handed her a motorcycle helmet and strapped Gen’s duffel onto the back of the bike.
Shaw tapped her earpiece. “Harold?”
“Is everything all right, Ms. Shaw?”
“I’ve got Gen.”
“Oh, excellent. Could you bring her back to the subway? I’m afraid John needs your assistance. Gen can stay here until you are done and can take her home.”
“Okay.”
Shaw turned to Gen. “We’re headed to the subway. There’s something I need to do for Harold, then we can drop your stuff off at my place.”
“I’m staying with you?”
“You’re staying with me.”
“Cool.”
Shaw dropped Gen off at the entrance to the subway, driving off on the bike as soon as she saw Gen enter. As Harold heard the gate open, he spoke up. “I’m glad you’re here, Ms. Shaw. John is in pursuit of a number but unfortunately he is partnered with a regular cop and cannot act as he would usually. If you would go assist him, discreetly, please?”
“I’m not Shaw.” Gen smiled.
Harold spun around. “Oh! Hello, Miss Zhirova. Where is Ms. Shaw?”
“She said she had something to do for you.”
“Oh.” Harold tapped his phone. “Ms. Shaw?
. . . “Assist John discreetly. He has been partnered with a uniform and must act with caution. He is currently on 1st and 13th.”
. . . “Thank you, Ms. Shaw.”
Harold tapped off the connection.
“Another number, Harold?”
Harold turned back towards Gen, who had settled onto a desk and was swinging her legs. “Yes. Always another number.”
“Can I help?”
“I think we have this one under control.”
Gen nodded.
Harold paused. “Ms. Groves and Ms. Shaw assure me you want to be a part of this, but I must warn you. This is a strenuous and lengthy commitment. You will receive no awards, no recognition; you will be hounded and hurt and yelled at. The numbers will likely never stop coming.”
“Well, sure, but with more people working the numbers, each person can have time off. Like any other job.”
“That could be the case, yes.”
“And I will be saving people.”
“Yes.”
“Like Shaw does.”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything more important than that?”
Harold looked at her. She was straight faced, a bright expression in her eyes. He answered slowly. “I suppose not.”
“Besides, you get all the fun toys.”
Harold smiled. “Indeed. I can see that’s a compelling reason.”
“I’m basically already part of the team though. I mean, I helped with some numbers over summer break.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Harold looked at her, eyes wide.
Gen cocked her head. “Uh. They didn’t tell you about our trip?”
“No . . .”
Gen nodded, adding quickly. “So, this machine you built. The one Root worships? Tell me about it.”
Harold smiled. He opened one of the many drawers in his desk and pulled out a flat case. “Miss Zhirova, would you care to play a game of chess with me?"