Read Online Fort Freak by George R.R. Martin - Free Book Online

that everyone at the precinct would miss it because it was the weekend.
    They didn’t.
    I walked into work, and suddenly I was naked. There was the click of digital cameras and phones snapping photos, and gales of laughter swept through the squad room. Apsara had her hand over her face, but her fingers separated so she could peek through. Bruce Cordova, aka the Stripper, was leaning on a broom handle in the doorway laughing at me while Puff pounded him on the shoulder. I snatched a file off a desk and covered my junk, but not before Captain Mendelberg walked through and gave me the once-over. “Not bad, patrolman,” she drawled and headed into her office.
    The desk sergeant walked up and said, “Better get some clothes before I have to arrest you for indecent exposure.” Wingman brayed at his own wit.
    Once again I had files at my crotch and crack and I was shuffling into the men’s room. Bill came in after me. “It’s not smart to stick your head up, Franny. You’ll just get it cut off.”
    I was in that state between anger and depression. I couldn’t figure out which way to fall. I decided anger was healthier. “Are you part of this?”
    “No. If by ‘part of this’ you mean planned it.”
    The door to the john flew open and Tabby and Puff strolled in. “You asked for it, Rook. You got a law degree. Your daddy was the captain of this precinct,” Tabby said.
    “The kid didn’t pick his father,” Bill said.
    “Yeah, but he picked to be a cop.”
    “And come here,” Puff added.
    “And he gets invited to receptions at the Four Seasons.” Tabby again.
    “And has articles written about him,” Puff said.
    “I didn’t ask for any of this,” I said.
    Bill took a step forward. He was bigger than either of the other two officers. “Back off. Now. I won’t ask again.” Puff and Tabby left. Bill turned back to me. “Do you have an extra uniform?”
    “Yeah, at my apartment.”
    “Gimme the key. I’ll go get it.” His face fell comically as I dropped the files and spread my hands.
    “What key?”
    ♣
    Days passed. I took to just keeping an extra uniform in my locker. The game was getting really old, but obviously not for my tormentors or for Bruce, whose parents had quickly cut a deal so the kid was doing his community service at the 5th. The cruder members of our force—read most of them—had adopted him as a mascot and my personal tormentor. I knew if I whined to the captains I’d pay, and they didn’t seem inclined to ride to my rescue. I considered confronting Cordova and giving him a little “come to Jesus” talk, but I was feeling so low I figured he’d just laugh and blow me off.
    Which meant I was in a really bad mood so when I came across Abigail Baker again, I wasn’t inclined to be sympathetic despite our shared nude experience.
    It started with a skinny joker that looked like a big ant. He had been racing into coffee, ice cream, and sandwich shops—anywhere there was a tip jar—grabbing the jars and racing off down the street. Bill was in taking a report from the latest victim. I loitered in the door where I could keep an eye on the street.
    “How hard can it be to find a giant ant?” the owner, who looked like a giant caterpillar, asked.
    I spent a moment picturing a Japanese monster movie version of the ant guy and the caterpillar guy battling over an empty pickle jar filled with dollar bills. It didn’t have quite the panache of Godzilla Versus the Swarm. But then my attention was drawn to the jewelry store across the street.
    Mr. Zamaani, owner of Fine and Rare Things, came barreling out of the door and gripped a young woman by the upper arm. The girl was staring down at her hands, and the sapphire and diamond necklace that lay across them. Mr. Zamaani started screaming, “Thief! Thief!”
    I ran across the street dodging cars and tourists in pedicabs. The girl was bucking like a foal newly broke to halter trying to break Zamaani’s grip. Zamaani’s round, fat face