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Madeline now
had transport. She was in the cab on a hard uncomfortable seat
behind a huge steering wheel – it was almost better than the Volvo.
Not being screened anymore, Nuttall came through her audio inside
her head.

‘
About time
you got out of there, got another little test for you.’

‘Surely not
another robbery… I’ll have no part in killing anyone.’

‘
You’re an
assassin for heavens sake!’

‘I need to hate
my prey first – right now, there
is
someone I could easily
kill.’

‘
A pleasant
drive to Cincinnati. The Reds are playing the Giants the day after
tomorrow. Pick up your ticket at the Hilton. I’ve booked you a room
there.’

Chapter
36: The Reds and the Yankees

Madeline knew
absolutely nothing about American baseball – football – basket ball
– whatever. She knew almost as much about British football and
that’s how she intended it to stay. Naturally she had never been to
a football match in her life so the ticket would be completely
wasted on her. Perhaps I’ll give it to some poor unfortunate tramp
outside the ground, she though but she somehow knew Nuttall
wouldn’t allow that. However, there was an up side. If she got a
move on, she had a whole day to do a bit of shopping in Cincinnati.
This was obviously a place she had never been to but she had yet to
discover a town or city that didn’t have lots of women’s clothes
shops. Once more her bottomless credit card came out of her inside
pocket. It had been a while since she last used it so she would
certainly make up for that. Occasionally she had wondered if it was
actually been paid off or if eventually it would reach the credit
limit and then just stop working.

Grey and Maroon
was her current colour – it was becoming slightly dated – well over
a week old, it was time for a rethink. Eventually after many, many
shops and department stores, she was back to red and if she hadn’t
been red before, now was a good time: A small red leather jacket
without tassels this time. Red knee high boots and a pale orange
lace, mostly see through, short tight dress finished off her
outfit. Red was very apt as she was going to see the Cincinnati
Reds play the Yankees, whoever either of them were. She had no bias
what-so-ever so her outfit decided for her, the one to support.

After this
lovely day she flagged down a taxi to take her back to the Hilton –
the van had been wisely left on the hotel car park. Naturally, she
had no cash on her, just a bottomless credit card, so she paid for
the fare with Nuttall’s $100,000 watch. The taxi driver was more
than pleased. He had seen the very same watch on eBay but had been
out bid on it in the last two seconds – so bloody annoying!

For a change
she decided to spend the evening down at the bar.

Even though she
loved Adam to bits and would never two time him, strictly speaking,
she wasn’t Poppy – certainly not Poppy’s body and why shouldn’t
others enjoy the view. This was of course, outrageous and conceited
behaviour but time was moving on, she was no spring chicken anymore
– well actually she was, she didn’t age but she really had to start
enjoying life even if she was someone’s puppet.

A problem
arising (if it was a problem) was that somehow Madeline Bull was
getting well known. She had a reputation, a feisty, flamboyant one.
She always seemed to be around when ever there was a major incident
happening, evil men killed, Armageddon’s averted and gold bullion
stolen. Obviously, no one thought for a moment that she, a
stunningly beautiful, flirtatious seductive femme fatale, was in
any way connected with the incidents and was in fact an automaton,
android, robot killing machine.

It wasn’t long
before the paparazzi were gathering, camera flashes going off like
a lightening storm and various News channel vehicles drawing up
outside. They all wanted to know about the up to the minute
Madeline Bull fashion style. Everyone previously thought that red
and orange would clash liked hell… but no, actually they didn’t.
Madeline had pulled it off perfectly. Red and orange together, were
now in.

She refused to
give any interviews, comments or advice on fashion; that wasn’t in
her job description.

Then she woke
up, she had fallen asleep in the room’s comfy chair – It was a good
thing that she had woken up because it was now time for bed.

The next day
she had a restful free morning before the afternoon game. She got
up late, it was the best night’s sleep she’d had in a while, even
androids need comfy pillows. This luxurious room had all the
necessary requirements: a stunning view from the window, a
television and most important - a rug. She had read somewhere in
her schematics that certain routine maintenance had to be done on
her body, especially after using explosive motion and been frozen
to death. Basically her joints had to be fully mobilised to
circulate lubricant – a kind of yoga for androids. The last time
she did such a thing, she got so knotted up that the room maid had
to straighten her out. This time she would try and keep track on
where her limbs went. Her hips took most of the strain in explosive
motion so that’s where she would concentrate her movements. It
wasn’t really stretching because her legs just went anywhere
effortlessly.

She sat naked
in the splits position and effortlessly lifted both legs above her
head – one leg up behind her and the other up in front of her. She
remembered doing this particular surreal inhuman
yoga
position to convince Mikael Ottis that she was an android. This
evoked painful memories, poor Mikael; she as good as killed him. He
would still be alive if it wasn’t for her. With a release of pent
up indignation she swung her legs rapidly straight up and down
several times to circulate the oil. Unfortunately on the forth
lift, both legs went up too fast. The leg behind her back popped
out of joint and with momentum flopped loosely past her shoulder in
front of her. The leg in front did the same and flopped loosely
behind her. Her muscles were so over stretched that they didn’t
respond to restore her to normality.

As is always
the case, it was that time of the morning – it happened again. The
maid burst in to the room and immediately saw the incredible act
that Madeline was performing.

‘Oh… My… God!
That… is… fuckin a – mazing. Does that hurt Miss?’ said the
maid.

‘No, no…
perhaps just a little. Think I’ve gone a little too far,’ said
Madeline.

‘Little too
far!? I didn’t know legs could fuckin do that Miss, scuse me
language .’

‘If you could
just help me…’

The maid
carefully lifted Madeline’s legs back into place. Both went back
with an audible pop-clunk. Madeline lowered her legs, jumped up and
once again, grabbed the sheet off the bed to cover herself up.

‘Thanks… I’d
appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone,’ said
Madeline.

‘No, of course,
don’t worry Miss. Madeline Bull isn’t it! Fuckin-ell, I follow all
your fashion. You’re a very talented person – now even more fuckin
talented than I thought! Scuse me language.’ said the maid.

Of course she
would talk but Madeline didn’t really care if she did.

She was early
for the game and if truth be known, she was slightly excited. She
had a good seat with a clear view of the whole of the stadium.
Naturally it crossed her mind why Nuttall would want her at the
game but she pushed that thought to the back of her mind. Either he
was up to no good… again or perhaps he just wanted Madeline to
experience the delights of American baseball.

After a wild
and colourful performance from acrobats and dancing troupes the
game eventually started. Well actually it didn’t, now it was the
turn of the players to enter the stadium and parade about to
deafening cheers and boos. Then the game started, well actually it
didn’t, now it was the turn of the mascots and cheer girls to
prance about to very loud music – then, at last the game really did
start. A ball was thrown by a player wearing a dark blue cap and a
player in red cap hit it with a long wooden stick and started
running.

‘It’s
rounders!’ shouted Madeline to the annoyance of all around her.

They kept doing
this for a while and a voice over the PA system started talking
about ‘runs’.

‘It is, it’s
bloody rounders!’ shouted Madeline.

The runs built
up steadily and then suddenly they swapped around and a player with
a red cap starting throwing the ball.

(At this point
I must apologise to all baseball fans if in any way I have
disparaged your obviously wonderful game – Author)

Immediately,
the feeling that Madeline had experienced before, began again. Her
mouth involuntarily opened widely and an unexplained power drain
was indicated in her sight. She was emitting an ultrasound
brainwashing… sound. There was nothing Madeline could do about it,
her mouth and other bits of her were being violated. She was now
doing, again, the same thing that the horns did in Antarctica only
on a much smaller scale.

Whatever the
hidden message was, the effect was dramatic. The chap wearing a
dark blue cap with the bat, missed the ball completely. Then a
burly chap wearing a red cap and kitted out with all manner of
protection, behind him, caught the ball with an oversized glove.
The spectators went wild – out with the first throw.

Madeline wanted
to say, ‘he isn’t very good, is he?’ but couldn’t, it was almost
impossible to talk with her mouth wide open. The players with the
red caps had no such problems. Throughout the game they hit the
ball, every time, out of the ballpark. To cut a long story short,
bypassing the wildness and unrest of the spectators, the hysterical
babble from the commentator on the public address system, the
frustration, the anger and the opposing jubilation, the final score
was 210 – 2 to the Reds. It was a result completely unrivalled,
unheard of and… inconceivable. Madeline was so wrapped up in the
moment that she didn’t notice her mouth close.

It was
something Nuttall had installed somewhere down in Madeline’s throat
that had made this score happen but, quite rightly, as far as she
was concerned, it was nothing to do with her.

‘Nuttall,
you’re just an old romantic,’ said Madeline.

‘
Merely an
experiment to see how effective you are in a crowd.’

‘And you’re not
a Reds supporter then?’

Other people
were now occupying the room in the nondescript motel. As usual, the
Vixen News channel was tuned in on the television. Carol, the
Newsreader was visibly excited.

‘
Well, well,
what a game. For those of you who haven’t heard – where’ve you
been, Mars? The Reds beat the Yankees 210, 2. That’s what I said,
two hundred and ten to two. Let’s go over to Berny outside the
Great American Ballpark to see what he made of it. Berny is this
unprecedented?
’

‘
Certainly
is, Carol. Certainly is. It’s so improbably that all the Yankees
are now being tested for drugs but why O why would you take drugs
to worsen your performance?’
said Berny.

‘
It’s
becoming a very strange week, the gold bullion robbery and now
this,’
said Carol.

‘…
Very
strange month if you ask me and talking about strange, guess who
was in the crowd?
’

‘
No, you’re
kidding! Not our lovely Madeline?’

‘
Yep, the
one and only, as you can see on the playback footage,’
said
Berny
.

‘
O-M-G, red
and orange! Actually, it looks okay - she looks gorgeous,’
said
Carol.

‘
It
certainly looks like she was enjoying the game – her mouth’s wide
open – must have been giving the players a piece of her
mind!
’

Chapter 37:
On the move again

Back in the
hotel room, Madeline decided to check her text messages. A
perfectly safe thing to do even if it was potentially in full view
of Nuttall’s communication device built into her. One in
particular, caught her eye:

“
Best for
shops including world famous butchers. You’ll LOVE the nearby
parking. Tuxbon town, ready for all your shopping.”

She’d never
heard of Tuxbon but rearrange the T and B and the message was
clear. Adam (love) was parked near to Barton’s meats (butchers) and
was ready to act. She had a little plan and it began by covertly
removing her laser lens tube – the end section of her laser finger.
Now she deliberately looked at her laser finger, pretending to be
surprised that the end of her finger was missing.

‘Damn, where’s
the laser tube? Must be in the back of the van,’ she said out loud
for the benefit of Nuttall or whoever was listening.

The van with
the screened interior was down on the car park. She climbed in
through the back doors into privacy, isolated from Nuttall’s prying
ears and eyes. It was a satisfying short term relief – she called
Adam on her internal phone.

‘Hi sweetheart…
missing you. Got your cryptic text,’ said Madeline.

‘
Are you…
with others?’

‘No, don’t
worry, I’m in the back of your van.’

‘
Thank god
for that! Hope you’re looking after it. It’s only borrowed you
know!
I’m parked across from Barton’s Meats.’

‘Seen any one
go in or come out?’

‘
No, no one
at all.’

‘If Barton
isn’t there, he needs to be,’ said Madeline.

‘
Agreed,’
said Adam
.

‘Leave it to
me… What’s your plan?’

‘
Oh, I’ll
come up with something,
’ said Adam, overly sure of himself.

‘Sweetheart… be
careful.’