Most detectives don't have stakeouts anymore. When I told the kid manning the desk back at the precinct where people could find me, I might as well have said it to him in Gailec. He couldn't imagine what that was like. He asked "what do you do on a stakeout?" and I told him that if everything goes well, nothing at all. Just take some notes.

With all the tech we've been afforded, there's no reason to spend your night in a car with a set of binoculars and cold coffee. You can send a drone to sit out of sight, collect a bunch of data and have it sorted for you before you set your butt down at your desk in the morning.

I prefer the personal touch. Sure, the machine could do a good job of telling me who went in and out with some history on each of them, but they don't do a great job of context. Techies would tell me that's what the video is supposed to be for, but you lose something watching through a video screen as opposed to actually being there. You can hear the ambient noise. You can smell something when it's off. It's just different.

The kid looked even more perplexed when I asked him to print me off a manifest of everyone that works at Delcor. Our precinct, along with nearly every other modern police outfit, has gone paperless. Paper can't get updates, they say. It's wasteful too. The various glass screens will give you the latest information at your fingertips and save some trees.

I'm not a complete luddite. I know that these tools help tremendously. I even use the car's autodetect to give me names and details of the people I'm staking out. I know where the line is, but I also think we may have gone a bit too far. My pen and paper have never run out of batteries and no one has changed their names on me while I sit on a stakeout. Not once.

He told me I should at least take the fancy, high-tech binoculars that will name people in the hud while I look at them. I didn't. I use old-fashioned ones and cross the names off my list, based on what faces match in the car's auto-detect console. That eases them a bit, knowing that even I rely a little bit on their tech safety-net. I still keep it 99% manual anyway. It's a system that keeps me focused and has led to some productive stakeouts in the past.

Today's session starts very slowly as I roll into my third hour. I pour a bit more coffee from my canteen. It's still pretty warm. It serves as a reminder that the night has barely started.

Most of the people who have come out of the building on foot are lower level operators. Custodians, receptionists, data entry analysts. They're forced to drudge through the snow. Anyone who can give me useful information is already warm in their car, coming out of the private garage. No big names worth tailing. Nothing unusual. Just people going about their business like they don't work at a potentially evil, monolithic lab.

I'm not sure how much time passes, but it's enough that I'm out of coffee and the sun is down. I'm tempted to call it a night when someone catches my eye. He doesn't look like the rest of the people coming out. A little less put together. Not someone who would pass an aptitude test to work in the lab, based on the look of him. He stands out.

The autodetect doesn't pick him up and I question whether I'm just seeing things. After a bit of tinkering, the autodetect gets a lock. It confirms he doesn't work in the building, so the autodetect filtered him off my hud. I check for any relation to someone working in the lab, maybe a contractor or a loved one dropping off dinner. Nothing. One unlike all the others. The tech in the car would have seen this as a rounding error. I see what it really is.

A lead.

If this guy had any business in the building, he surely had to sign a non-disclosure. No one who gets into Delcor and speaks of it, ill or in praise, for fear of endless lawsuits. This guy with his tight t-shirt, sporting haphazardly ripped off sleeves and a large eagle from armpit to shining armpit, likely doesn't know what he signed. I sense an opportunity. The arms that his sleeves once dared to cover prove that this guy spends an inordinate amount of time in the gym. He might get agitated. I'll need to be careful.

Not that I haven't taken down bigger guys before. I'd rather avoid the scuffs and scrapes where I can. No one likes having to waste their time writing reports about why you had to squash a gym rat on the sidewalk. It's just better for both of us if I handle this situation with care.

I make my play and casually walk over. I make myself petite, chest out, one foot in front of the other. Just a woman who maybe doesn't know her way around here and needs a big strong man to show her the way. More bees with honey approach.

"Oh, hi, sir?" I put a hand in the air and he almost looks past me. "Did you just come out of Delcor Labs over there? Do you happen to know if a Doctor Winslow was there?"

He takes down his shades, shades he's wearing in the dark, to get a better look at me. He decides I am worth his time. I have to fight the urge to break his nose.

"Yeah, who's asking?"

"Ellie. And your name?"

"Giuseppe. You can call me Joe."

"Oh, thanks Joe. So, did you happen to run into Dr. Winslow in there?"

"No, I didn't really get anyone's name."

"Do you work there? Are you, like, a scientist?"

He laughs it off and gets a little closer sensing an opportunity, thinking I'm like one of his usual conquests. The cheap cologne starts to really overpower the oxygen. I play as though I like it, while also trying to keep my lunch down.

"Nah. They have me in there for some important tests. I'm sure I could tell you more about it if you give me your number."

"Oh, well when you say it like that," I dig into my coat and hand him my card. "Here."

His expression changes immediately. He takes a step back and I'm happy to have some fresh air between us. He doesn't look as happy.

"What the hell? What's going on here? You're supposed to tell me if you're a cop."

"I just did. I'm not investigating you for anything, Joe. I just have some questions about what or who you saw in there. They're pretty secretive. I'm just trying to make some inroads on a case I have."

"I'm not telling you shit, lady."

"Oh, Joe. We were getting along so well."

"No! You tricked me. I don't like to be tricked. I don't like to be treated like an idiot!"

I take a step back. Joe is starting to blow his lid. His face turns a concerning shade of red and his veins are starting to bulge. He's looking for a fight, but I'm not giving it to him. Like I said, I really don't want the paperwork.

"Just, calm down. I wasn't trying to trick you. I'm sorry if it came across like that. I just need your help. I needed to know if you would."

"No, you bitch. You were trying to trick me. You were trying to make me look stupid! YOU'RE THE ONE THAT'S STUPID!"

He gets right in my face. I push him back and involuntarily yelp. His skin feels like touching a hot stove. I think he burnt my hand.

Something is seriously wrong.

"Joe, we need to get you help. You're not looking right. Please, just calm down."

"Stop it! Stop trying to trick me! Just shut up, you lying bi-"

I'm thrown to the floor as a hot burst of flame lights up the street from where Joe was standing.

Joe is gone.

A small pile of ash blows away in the breeze where he was standing.