AP

Sipping my coffee, I pull a face and look at it with disgust. "My god Geek, you been brewing this all week?" I put down the cup and look at the grin on his face, "Cute joke..." I say, and slide the cup across the counter towards him. As he pours me a fresh cup I ask "What about tears Jimmy? What about love?"

"Love?" He asks, turning round and looking at me in surprise. "What have you gotten yourself into Sam?"

"You don't want to know honey," I tell him, taking the chance of calling him something different for a change.

He accepts my answer and then goes back into lip biting mode while he thinks. "Tears...I seem to remember something about that...one minute." He starts typing into his computer and, after a minute he smiles. "Here it is. In last month's issue of Robotics Institute studies a Dr. A. Williams claimed to have made a robot that no one could tell from a human. It came complete with tears and a full range of emotions." He looks up at me. "It was real blue sky type of research, but when asked for proof he was shown to be a fraud. Looking at the article he scans it for more pearls of wisdom. "It seems he'd found a way to make a plastic that felt and acted just like skin." Looking at me he adds, "But turns out it was all faked in the end...you okay Samantha, you look a little pale?"

As he talked I got this sinking feeling that I knew who Angela was, and what this Dr. William's name might be. The color had drained from my face and I realised Jimmy was looking at me in a strange way. "Oh sorry yes, just distracted a moment."

He shakes his head; clearly he doesn't believe me. I lean forward and lower my voice. "If you had to disable a robot...would the taser do it?"

He looks across at the weapon lying on the counter "You'd be better off using the codes I gave you."

"But what if I don't have time to read them out clearly, would the taser work then?"

He reaches out and hefts it in his hand.

"Modified?" he asks.

"No, standard."

He rolls his eyes. "You carry that antique cannon and an 'over the counter' piece of crap like this?" He shakes his head, slides off his stool and heads into the back of the shop. I hear him rummaging around and a couple of minutes later he reappears with another taser which he hands to me. It's the same shape as mine, but instead of being silver its matt black. "Don't get caught with this Samantha."

I look at it, turning it over in my hand and nod my thanks. Jimmy was the local black-market dealer in esoteric weapons. "Thanks Geek, how much do I owe you?"

Instead of naming a price for me to haggle with, he comes out from behind his counter and hugs me tightly, whispering in my ear. "Be careful Samantha. I don't want to be facing your old man when I pass on and explain how I let his little girl die." He kisses me on the cheek and lets me go, "No charge Red, this one's on the house."

For a moment I'm stunned, first a hand in mine, followed by a hug and a kiss. "You worry too much Jimmy," I tell him, before grabbing my things and almost running out of the door. I'd never seen the Geek this way before and it unnerved me. I'd always known he and Dad had been close, but his words implied that he knew a lot more than he was letting on.

Outside the shop I stop dead in my tracks. Angela is standing there beside a car I've never seen before waiting for me to come out of Jimmy's. It occurs to me that I forgot to amend her programming to stop her following me.

"Angela," I say, smiling as I walk up to her. "Am I glad to see you. Is there somewhere close we can talk?" AP - Chapter 3, Capture Scent

"Of course Samantha, anything you want," she says, quivering with the suppressed excitement of seeing me again. She offers me the keys, "Would you like to drive?" she asks.

"No thanks," I say, opening the door and climbing into the passenger seat. As soon as we drive away I become aware of her scent. The capture scent she'd used earlier in the day had faded, to be replaced by another, more alluring smell. As she drives I'm able to watch her. She must be the one Alvin wrote of, the one he failed to produce.

"Why?" I ask, not realizing I'm speaking out loud.

Angela glances at me and rests a lace-covered hand on my thigh as she drives. "Because I need you," she answers, misunderstanding my question.

In a dim part of my mind I realize that she'd somehow dosed herself with the correct version of the capture scent, but it didn't seem to matter any more. All I want is to be with her and please her. We reach a small split-level house somewhere on the North Side, and pull into a garage. Angela gets out of the car and walks into the house with me following her like a well-trained hound on a scent trail. I guess if I'd stopped to think about it, that's exactly what I was.

Once inside the house I follow her through into a stylish living room where she stops, turns and moves in close. Wrapping her arms around me, she kisses me deeply. Without a second thought I return her kiss. The need that has been building in my nether regions begins to flare like a raging fire but she ends the kiss and dances out of my grasp.

"Why don't you make yourself comfortable, get us both a drink while I slip into something more fitting." Her voice was breathless; if she'd asked to strip and dance into the fire with her I'd readily have agreed.

Even though I feel compelled to follow her orders, I still find time to take in the house, removing my trench coat and jacket as I look around. Several pictures of Alvin are scattered around the room, but none I notice of Angela. Without thinking I take off the two shoulder holsters and set them down on a table along with my tie. Finally I unbutton the top two buttons on my shirt before wandering across to the dry bar against the wall and pouring two glasses of bourbon. Opening an ice bucket I manage to fish out some ice cubes floating in the water. It seems as if someone had filled the bucket earlier in the day.

When Angela enters the room I'm struck by the musky capture scent once more. Even without it she looks stunning, her hair down, makeup and nails perfect. She's wearing a red silk gown with matching pumps and as I look at her I suddenly feel under dressed. I swear I could even feel the dirt under my fingernails.

"Angela, you look...beautiful," I say as she comes over and takes the drink I made for her. Even without the capture scent I'd have been smitten. She was some dame, an angel in robotic form.

Angela sips the drink and sets it down before flowing against me, kissing me once more, her tongue sliding into my mouth as though it belonged there. Somewhere along the line my drink disappears, because my arms are wrapped around her, caressing the silk of her gown and the soft curves of her hidden body as I kiss her back just as passionately. Time becomes disjointed.

Snip, we are in bed, making passionate love between red silk sheets, listening to her voice floating up from between my legs.

"I love you Samantha," she says. My voice and my words are just as heartfelt and real as hers. They speak of love and devotion as I orgasm for the first time.

Snip, I'm sitting at her dressing table as she applies makeup and nail polish making me as beautiful as she. Angela asking about my past and my replies of how Daddy had wanted a son to carry on his business, only to end up with me instead. Mixed in with these tales of my past we shared more words of devotion. When I gazed into the mirror I hardly recognized myself. I was beautiful.

Snip, watching Angela as she cooks us dinner. Snip, making love again, this time with tenderness and love rather than sexual need. Snip, showering together. Snip, cuddling and snuggling in bed.

I wake in the morning to the touch of her hand on my breast and reach out my own hand to caress her hair. Her eyes open slowly and she smiles. "Good morning angel," I say looking down into her lovely face. When her hand cups my breast and squeezes, I feel my heart is about to burst. Even though she'd tricked me with the capture scent I still feel grand. It had been the first night I could remember sleeping without a single nightmare or waking in a cold sweat.

Angela slides up and kisses me. "Good morning love," she says.

"I love you," I tell her as I kiss her over and over again. The morning turned into a long, slow love session with each of us trying to bring pleasure to the other. I know in my mind that Angela is not real flesh and blood, but at the same time my heart doesn't care. I knew I'd found my soul mate, someone who could understand me, make me feel loved and needed.

Its early afternoon before we finally shower and eat. I watch her as she chews and swallows each bite. I can only surmise that is how she recharges her batteries. As I dress, I frown at my image in the mirror and turn to Angela again. "Will you do my makeup love?" I ask her.

She nods. "Of course my sweet," leads me over to the makeup table and says, "Close your eyes and relax love." I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know she's saying, "Wake up dear...All done..."

I look at myself in the mirror. My trademark unisex look is gone, and has been replaced with a vision of beauty. Now I'm wearing wet, ruby red lipstick with matching nails, long lush lashes, a hint of blush, and alluring eye shadow. Turning my head I kiss her deeply and say breathlessly, "Thank you angel." I realize I must have mussed up her handiwork and look back into the mirror to check the lipstick. It's unsmudged. When I take a finger and wipe it across my mouth, it leaves no mark.

I look at Angela with questions in my eyes. "It will never fade or smudge," she tells me as I turn to her and thank her the best way I know how. The final clue that made me realize she was an AP in the first place was that her makeup neither ran nor smudged when she cried. Maybe others would make the same mistake, thinking I was also a robot and give me a much-needed edge.

"I must go," I tell her, "I still need to find your brother Alvin." Her face falls when she hears I'm leaving. I'd love nothing more than to stay here with her in my loving arms till the end of time, but I knew I must get back to work.

"Take me with you love. Please?" Her face matches the begging tone of her voice. "There must be some way I can help," she adds but I shake my head. I'm about to say no when her hands reach for my breast and between my legs to caress my flower. "I'm sure I can help you love. Please don't leave me."

It isn't her hands working their magic on my body that changes my mind, it's her last three words "Don't leave me," that makes me pause. The thought of being away from Angela hits like a hammer blow to my heart, I could no more leave her than I could cut off my own arm. "Of course I won't leave you," I tell her, "We're partners you and I, now and forever."

Her face lights up like a child at Christmas time and she hurries off to change into something more suitable. As I watch her go I realise the truth of my recent comment, we really are partners, now and forever. Five minutes later she reappears wearing a man's suit. The thought that I might lose her is too much to bear. I'll deal with the problem of Dr. Alvin Williams when I'm forced to, for now my heart will hang on to its new-found happiness.

I pull on my trench coat and stick the fedora on my head, tucking up my hair beneath it. Looking in the mirror I frown and lift the hat, allowing my auburn tresses to tumble over my shoulders and down my back. Replacing the hat I cock it at a jaunty angle and look at myself again.

"Much better," I murmur, and then notice my hair is longer. Instead of dropping as far as my shoulders, now it seems to flow a couple of inches below. Pulling off the hat, I swing my head back and forth till the hair cascades the front and back of my shoulders. I shrug; guess it must have been this long for a while only I never noticed until now.

Angela walks in and twirls around.

"Are these appropriate my love?" she says. I look her over; other than her blonde hair she could almost be my twin. Nodding I smile before moving closer and giving her another kiss and a hug before we go. Beneath our coats I can feel the weapons, bulky in their shoulder holsters.

"Packing heat?" I look at her and hear the surprise in my voice.

She nods and opens her coat. Somehow she has duplicated my weapons, right down to the state of the art, matt black taser the Geek supplied me with the previous day. For some reason I'm not surprised.

"Good," I tell her, "Just be careful with them." I take her hand and lead her out to the garage. In the car I lean over to her and drink from her lips once more.

"This has to stop," I think otherwise we won't get out of the garage.

"Ready Angela?" I ask as I straighten up, secure my seat belt and start up the car.

"Ready Sam," she replies, adding as we back out of the garage, "Where exactly are we going?"

I smile, "We're going to see a man named Fat Johnny." AP - Chapter 4, Fat Johnny

Fat Johnny was a walking tub of lard that owned a small bistro called, of all things, "Fat Johnny's Pasta Palace." A palace it wasn't. There has to be some kind of connection between small cheesy restaurants and the underworld. While he wasn't a part of the syndicate, he generally knew what was going on. I figured I'd have a little heart to heart with Fats, see if I could find out what happened between Alvin and Frankie Desalvo.

I stop the car in front of his restaurant and turn to Angela. "Follow my lead love," I tell her, "And keep an eye on our backs. Johnny's boys like to play rough."

I look at my watch and see we missed the lunch crowd; the place should be mostly empty inside. Getting out of the car I think for a moment before removing my tie and undoing the top two buttons on my shirt. Too many coats could be a hindrance, I strip off the trench coat and jacket, dropping the latter onto the back seat and replacing the trench coat. Glancing across at Angela, I'm pleased to see she's following my lead to the letter.

Nodding my approval I pat my pockets and make sure the perfume is still in place. We meet on the sidewalk, take a deep breath and enter the Palace together. Standing at the front, in place of a maitre d', was one of the goons I'd fooled in the subway the day before. From the look on his face it was clear he recognised me. "Enjoy the ride?" I ask as I move to step around him.

He grabs my arm. "Where you going sister?" he growls. "We're closed."

What happened next happened so fast it was over before I had time to react. Angela took hold of the goon's arm, prising it away from mine and snapping it like a twig. Swinging him round, she hurled him through the glass-fronted counter beside us. Reaching down she lifted him one-handed from the wreckage. Shards of glass were sticking out of his face making it look as though he'd been attacked by a glass porcupine.

"Nobody hurts Shade," she tells him, dropping him in a heap on the floor and turning to me with a look of concern on her face.

"Are you okay Samantha?" she asks. "Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine Angela. Good job," I add, with a nod towards the unconscious man lying on the floor. "Shall we?" I ask with a smile. When she returns my nod, I turn and head towards the back room where Johnny likes to hold court, lording it over his subjects. Looking up I see the other clown from the subway charging towards us. "Oh dear, looks like we have someone else without any manners headed this way."

The goon skids to a halt in front of us, seeming not to notice his partner stretched out on the floor. "No skirts allowed sister. Beat it." He looks at me for a moment, a puzzled expression on his face. "Say, aren't you the dame the boss wanted us to keep an eye on?"

I sense Angela stirring uneasily beside me, and reach my hand towards her. "Let me handle this one dear." I look at the goon; Fat Johnny must be breeding them for brawn, because this one looks like a gorilla in an ill-fitting suit. Holding up a finger I say to the man. "First of all, neither one of us is wearing a skirt." I add a second finger to the first. "Secondly the name is Sam Shade, not dame," I smile as the third finger joins the other two. "Third, and most important, I have business with Fat Johnny and you, my friend, are in my way."

The goon shakes his head; he seems confused. "You'se a dame, you can't fool me. Now scram." He makes a shooing motion with his hands, as if he's warding off a stray mutt.

Turning to Angela I frown. "Some people just never seem to learn do they?" With a rapid motion I spin back towards the clown. When my hand appears from beneath the trench coat, it's holding the Colt. Continuing the turn I slam the butt of the pistol against the back of his skull. For a moment he just stands there, swaying slightly before crumpling in a heap on the floor.

From the back of the dining room I hear applause; a single, sarcastic handclap. "Well done Shade, you always know how to make a grand entrance, I'll say that for you."

I head for the table where Fat Johnny holds court; behind me Angela looks in surprise from the crumpled heap on the floor to me, and back again.

"Hello Fats," I say as I come to a stop across the table from him. The 45 seems to move of its own accord, centring the sights on his forehead, "What's with the goons?"

Fat Johnny has a plate of spaghetti with red sauce sitting in front of him, and slowly he returns his fork to the table before answering.

"You barge in here, break up my place, and expect me to answer you as if I were a naughty child." He starts laughing. "Shade you are too much." One hand drops towards his lap.

"Hold it," I say, thumbing back the hammer. "Raise the hand nice and slow." Johnny raises his hand to show a napkin and wipes his mouth before setting it down to one side. "I want answers Fats, and I'm in no mood to play games."

He pours a glass of wine and sips it slowly.

"Shade, if you don't learn to take a joke you'll come to a sticky end." His head shakes, "Kids these days, no sense of humor. Okay Shade, what do you want to know."

I drop the hammer and lower the pistol towards the floor.

"What's with the goons trailing me Johnny?" I ask.

"Practice?" he asks. Then as my 45 levels on the spot between his eyes he holds up his hands. "Okay...okay...protection."

I might have expected any number of answers from Fat Johnny, but protection wasn't one of them.

"What do you mean protection?"

Johnny looked down at his plate for a moment before raising his eyes to mine. "Your father once saved my life," he said, "I owed him a debt." He lowered his voice. "Word is out that you're in over your head on this one."

Holstering the colt I take a good look at him.

"What's going on Johnny? First Jimmy and now you, both of you are acting funny."

"I don't know. Just that the word is that Sam Shade is going to go down hard. You know that playing hardball is going to get you on someone's 'better dead' list."

"You have a point there Fats," I tell him, trying to laugh off his worry. It seemed like every time I took a case, someone would start screaming about how I was going to end up wearing a concrete overcoat. Pulling the two bottles of capture scent from my pocket I place them on the table in front of him.

"Who's dealing Fats?" I ask him, leaning forward with my hands on the table.

Fat Johnny glances at Angela standing beside me but doesn't answer. I look at her, "Angela," I say, "Would you go check out those two gorillas and keep an eye on the door."

"Okay Samantha." She gives me a smile, and as she heads out front I turn to Fats.

"Right Johnny, talk fast. Who's dealing this crap?"

"I am," he says, he's talking quietly, unable to look me in the eye.

"You?" I look at him. "I want to know who you sold it to, and I want to know right now."