The Heaven's Day Heist or Beck's No Angel

by "A Clockwork Tomato"

Author's note: This story takes place around Heaven's Day in the same year as Big O Act 11, Daemonseed.
For the illustrated version, go to: /dcv5vyr

As a rule, Angel found burglary stressful, but she as in a good mood as she moved silently through the dark and empty mansion, grateful for a task that, however illegal, held no risk of encountering Roger Smith.

She wasn't sure how many more of those encounters she could take. That last one, with Eugene Grant and his house of horrors, had taken a lot out of her. The one before that, with the rented submarine, was even worse.

She and Roger were powerfully attracted to each other. Sadly, they were rivals. No matter how much they wanted to be in each other's arms, they ended up at each other's throats. Actually, it was worse than that. If she looked at the situation honestly—which she steadfastly refused to do—she'd have to admit that they weren't rivals at all. They were enemies.

Tonight she was alone, dressed to kill in her pink leather catsuit, luxuriating in the absence of Roger Smith, of his supposedly secret giant robot, Big O, and of that redheaded little squirt, too; the android servant girl. What was her name? ... Dorothy something.

Honestly, that was over the line, even for a louse like Roger Smith! Angel hadn't met her yet, had barely set eyes on her. Maybe she should. If Dorothy turned out to be a clinking, clanking collection of caliginous junk, Angel's raging jealousy would be assuaged. That would be nice.

Angel found the study and walked in through the open door. She stopped dead. There was someone in here!

The desk lamp was on, illuminating the wall safe and a man with one hand on the combination lock and another holding a stethoscope against the safe. He was concentrating, his eyes closed, working by sound and feel alone. He was a very tall man with blond hair. He wore a double-breasted suit that would have been snappy except for its loathsome yellow color. It made Angel's pink catsuit look restrained by comparison. Angel recognized him, of course. He was Jason Beck, the self-styled Master Criminal. He was also Angel's ex-boyfriend. When had he broken out of prison?

Beck breathed a little sigh of pleasure and pulled the lever on the safe. It opened. He peered inside.

Angel backed out of the room and walked a short distance down the hall. Rapping gently on a door, hoping it would sound like a loud knock on the front door, she pitched her voice low and called out quietly, "Hello? Is anybody home? Anyone home? Pizza delivery! I have a large pizza here with pineapple and double anchovies for a Mr. Beck!"

Beck bounded out of the study, grinning. "Angel!" he almost shouted. He grabbed her and kissed her with real enthusiasm. After resisting briefly for form's sake, the enthusiasm became mutual.

When they came up for air, she said, "Not that I'm complaining, Beck, but you were only in prison for a few weeks!"

Ignoring this, Beck looked her up and down. "You look great, Angel. I love your outfit." He reached for the large brass ring on the zipper of her catsuit, but she batted his hand away.

"Shouldn't we scoop up the loot?" she asked.

"Yeah, all right. God, it's good to see you, Angel. How've you been?"

"Don't ask. What are you doing here?"

"Picking up Heaven's Day gifts for the whole family, of course!"

"And who might they be?"

"Me! And you, I guess. Come on."

Beck put on a pair of black kid gloves and covered the desk with the contents of the safe. About $50,000 in cash, a manila folder of stocks and bonds, a manila folder of 8x10 glossy photographs of an intimately compromising nature, and some jewelry.

He asked, "What do you think the jewelry's worth, Angel?"

"Why ask me? You know gems better than I do." But she took a look anyway. "They're all fake."

"They sure are," said Beck. "Not even good fakes. I wonder what happened to the originals. Oh, well." He opened up a suitcase and set out bundles of currency to match that in the safe.

"What in the world?" asked Angel.

"Counterfeit," explained Beck. "First rule of residential safecracking: Never let anybody know they've been robbed if you can help it." He put the counterfeit money into the safe.

He counted the compromising photographs and then counted out an equal number of sheets of glossy photo paper from his suitcase. These had some yellow and brown blotches but were otherwise white. "They must have had a bad day in the photo lab," he explained cheerfully. "None of the photos had fixer applied properly. What a tragedy!"

Angel suggested, "Put the least interesting photos in with the fakes."

"Hey, cool!" Beck selected a couple that promised more than they delivered and were clearly taken at a different time from the rest. He put them in with the fake photos and removed two fake photos to make the total come out even. "I wish I knew where the negatives were."

He put the jewelry and the stocks and bonds back into the safe. Fencing registered securities was a mug's game.

He raised an eyebrow at Angel, who said, "Go ahead and lock it." He closed the safe and spun the dial, leaving it at zero, where he'd found it. Taking out a black silk handkerchief, he wiped down the dial and handle to remove any fingerprints left by his briefly ungloved hands.

He replaced the godawful oil painting that concealed the safe and asked, "So what were you looking for, Angel?"

"The contents of the desk."

"No fooling? Nobody ever keeps anything good in their desk." But he gallantly picked the lock for her and stood back. "Ladies first. Watch out for booby traps. I'd hate anything to happen to them."

"Ha, ha, very funny," said Angel. But she looked around and found an umbrella in the umbrella stand and used it to open a drawer, standing as far to one side as she could. No traps.

She examined the drawers one at a time, pulling them all the way out and setting them on top of the desk. To Beck's disgust, she found what she was looking for attached to the outside of the file drawer, at the very back. It was a book.

"Idiots," he said. "They should've just shelved it with the other books. Needle in a haystack. What is it?"

"None of your business," said Angel. It was a code book; the one Alex Rosewater used to communicate with at least three groups of Megadeus researchers.

Just because Angel was Alex Rosewater's private secretary didn't mean he gave her access to the stuff she really wanted. He knew perfectly well she was a spy; she'd told him herself. He kept the codebooks far away from her.

Now that she had one, she'd be able to decipher the stream of encrypted messages crossing her desk.

"I'm all done here, Beck," she announced. They put the drawer back. Angel set the code book down to do this. Beck glanced at it and said, "Cipher Q, this year's edition. Nice."

"You're such a show-off, Beck," said Angel, not wanting him to know how impressed she was. How on earth had he learned about Cipher Q?

They took a look around for anything that might have gone astray, and left the room.

"Your place or mine?" asked Beck.

"Your pick-up lines are as bad as ever," said Angel. "Don't they teach you anything in prison?"

Beck scowled. "Not much."

"Sorry."

Beck's smile returned. "Let's try my place. It'll do for now. It's a dump, and there's this guy in the next apartment who's driving me crazy, but it's home."

"Driving you crazy, how?"

"He thinks he's a musician. He imagines he can play the saxophone. He even has this delusion that he can improvise."

"Poor Beck. How you must suffer!"

"And he wears plaid pants. Plaid! There oughta be a law."

"So why haven't you moved out?"

"Aw, he's got the sweetest girlfriend. She's nice to me. Too bad she's blind."

"Actually, I can see how that would help."

"Knock it off, Angel," he said, his glare returning.

Angel raised an eyebrow. Beck wasn't usually this touchy; not with her. She added, "And it might explain the plaid pants."

Just like that, his smile was back. "Hey, I hadn't thought of that!"

"And you're recommending that we go to your place because ...?"

"Because your phone is bugged and I think it's the new model. You know; the one that picks up sound all the time, not just during phone calls. Plus, I found this great little restaurant around the corner."

Angel made a face. She'd always assumed her phone was bugged, but that only actual phone calls were compromised. Not that she ever let anyone visit her; Beck was going to be an exception. "All right. What name are you going by?"

"Jason Rosewater. Alex is my cousin, you see, but he's mad at me right now, so I'm down on my luck until I grovel my way back into his good graces."

"Interesting. So who should I be?"

"You can be my sister Angelica. You're tall enough and you've got my hair."

Angel stamped her foot. "I have your hair? That's the nastiest ... oh, never mind."

"Too bad about your fashion sense, though."

"I'm not touching that one. Older sister or younger sister?"

"You'll slug me if I guess wrong ... twin sister."

"Okay. I'm Angelica Rosewater, and you're my evil twin Jason. I hope I can get used to calling you Jason. But wait a minute, Beck! If I'm hanging out with you, I'm out of favor, too. How can an adorable armful like me be on the outs with Cousin Alex?"

"Because he hates women, that's how."

"Fair enough."

R. Dorothy Wayneright was going to make Roger Smith accept a Heaven's Day gift if it killed him. After all, he was the man she loved.

Norman had told her that Roger disapproved of Heaven's Day, claiming that it was a cynical invention of the Paradigm Corporation. As far as Dorothy could tell, this wasn't true, and it didn't matter anyway. Who cared what the Paradigm Corporation thought? Heaven's Day was really about love and togetherness, with feasting, merry-making, and gift-giving. It was about family, not employers. Even more than that, it was about couples acknowledging and celebrating their love for each other, giving gifts that, however lavish, were mere tokens compared to the precious feelings and attachment they symbolized.

It would be strange, even weird, for someone as head-over-heels in love as Dorothy to ignore this custom. It didn't matter that she was an android and Roger was human—at least, it had better not. Roger loved her as much as she loved him. He'd shown it in innumerable ways. Dorothy knew this. So did Norman. Only Roger failed to grasp the situation.

The old question, "What do you give the man who has everything?" didn't apply here, because there was something Roger didn't have: a clue. Dorothy was hoping that a Heaven's Day gift would give him one.

She took a cab downtown to the Heaven's Gate shopping district. It was thronged with holiday shoppers.

Dorothy had plenty of money, and not just because Norman insisted on paying her far more than her nominal status as a maid warranted. He also covered most of her expenses, including replacement "uniforms." In reality these were stylish black dresses that cost twice as much as one of Roger's handmade suits. Norman even covered such things as synthetic oil for her lubrication system. While in theory Dorothy was staying at Smith Manor to work off the negotiator's fee she owed him, she'd already paid that off. Roger never charged orphans much.

Interestingly, Roger had never complained or even commented on Norman's outrageous presumption at installing Dorothy as if she were Roger's equal, assigning her a lavish guest bedroom (though she never slept), seating her at the dining room table for meals (though she didn't need to eat), and generally treating her as if she were, say, Roger's sister—or his fiancée. It was Norman who appeared with drinks, answered the phone, cooked and served meals, ate in the kitchen, cared for Roger's wardrobe, and generally played the servant's role. He did this with a commendable lack of irony, considering that his primary role and loyalty were in taking care of Big O, not Roger.

In Gucci's department store, Dorothy examined the selection of ties. They were certainly expensive enough! Sadly, Roger's taste in ties ranged only from solid black to black with one white stripe. Even diagonal stripes might be too avant garde for his really lousy taste. Dorothy sighed inwardly.

The clerk didn't like the idea of a black tie as a gift and claimed they were all funeral ties. Dorothy insisted, and eventually found a nice black and white silk tie that was an improvement on the more or less identical ones Roger was currently wearing, without giving him a pretext for complaint.

The clerk took her money and deftly gift-wrapped the tie.

Back on the street, she realized that she was practically the only one not wearing a winter coat. As an android she didn't need one, but she would prefer not to stand out, or worse, draw solicitous attention from well-meaning strangers. Perhaps she should buy one, since she was downtown already? But she forgot all about it when she heard Roger call her name. What was he doing here? He looked very handsome in his wool overcoat, but unhappy.

"Roger, what is it?"

"I'm on my way back from work," he said grumpily, indirectly offering her a ride.

She walked beside him and said, "You seem mad about something."

"I don't care much for the scenery in town."

"You don't like Heaven's Day?" Since she was openly carrying a Heaven's Day gift bag, she wondered if he'd tone it down.

He replied, "There's no logic to my behavior." He added, "It comes from emotions you wouldn't understand."

Dorothy did not reply. Roger must be really upset. He knew from experience that it angered and wounded her when he claimed she had no emotions. And that she retaliated.

They reached the elevator to the parking garage. When the door opened, Roger walked in and Dorothy held back. It was mostly full and she weighed almost 300 pounds. She didn't like the odds.

Surprised, Roger asked, "What's the matter? Dorothy, there's still room."

Wordlessly, she stepped inside. The elevator's overload alarm buzzed. Dorothy turned and fled.

Her sense of panicked humiliation didn't last long. She found a nearly empty escalator leading to the main entrance and took it. Roger followed her and was a dozen steps behind her.

"Dorothy, I'm sorry," he said. "I completely forgot."

"It's all right," she said. But she was unable to keep the misery out of her voice.

They passed a musician in plaid pants playing the saxophone with a conspicuous lack of prowess, but well enough that a couple of kids were watching in fascination. Roger stopped but Dorothy kept on going. She knew Roger wanted to make a full apology and treat her with unusual gentleness because of his blunder at the elevator. She wanted this as much as he did but was too upset to face him. Roger growled in frustration but then pulled out a ten-dollar coin and tossed it into the bell of the saxophone, saying, "Here's to a future big musician."

Dorothy flagged down a taxi and went home.

"Mr. Rosewater? Is that you?" came a young woman's voice from the open door of apartment 301. Beck's apartment was 303. Angel jumped a little at the voice, because to her, "Mr. Rosewater" meant her hated boss and all-around Paradigm bigwig Alex Rosewater. It was alarming to hear his name at unexpected moments.

Beck had been about to open his own door, but put his keys back in his pocket. They set their suitcases next to the door—Angel's overnight bag from her car and Beck's suitcase full of loot—and retraced their steps.

"Hey, Laura," said Beck.

The unseen speaker continued, "It sounds like you have a beautiful girlfriend with you." There was a smile in her voice.

Angel smiled back and said, "Close. I'm his beautiful sister Angelica."

Laura appeared in the doorway. She was a pretty young blonde in her late teens or early twenties, with a cane in her left hand. Her eyes were closed. She didn't wear dark glasses the way some blind people did.

Laura turned towards them and held out her hand.

"Just a sec," said Angel. She pulled off her right glove and shook Laura's hand, adding "Pleased to meet you."

Instead of letting go, Laura propped her cane against the wall and added her left hand to the handshake, learning—what?—from Angel's hand alone.

There was something charming about the girl. Angel smiled and asked, "What have you learned?"

Laura said, "You're tall, like your brother, even without the high heels. You're strong and fit. You're, let me see, happy right now. Happier than you expected."

Angel chuckled and said to Beck, "You're right ... Jason. She's sweet." To Laura she asked, "Could you teach me how to do that?"

"I suppose I could try. Would you like some tea?"

Angel beamed. "More than anything in the world."

Beck broke in, "Give us a minute to freshen up, will ya, Laura?"

"Of course. I'll put the kettle on."

Beck unlocked his apartment and they went inside. Beck turned on the radio and waited for the tubes to warm up. He tuned it to a jazz station and murmured, "Thin walls."

Angel opened her overnight bag and laid out white slacks, a long-sleeved pink blouse, and a pair of nearly sensible shoes. She looked at them with loathing. She hated sensible shoes.

She and Beck went way back. Although he was moody, twitchy, touchy, and obsessive, she was fond of him. They'd looked out for each other, done jobs together, fought, made up, and dated. Once, in a fit of optimism, she'd even moved in with him. Though it was a spectacular failure, their reconciliation a few weeks later made it seem almost worthwhile.

Beck gallantly pulled off her high-heeled boots, then gallantly unzipped her catsuit. When she'd wriggled out if it, he took her in his arms and held her. She put her cheek against his shoulder.

And that was the strangest thing about Beck; he was a world-class cuddler. She'd once burst into his apartment, shocky and incoherent after a job gone horribly wrong, and he'd held her for hours, just stroking her hair and murmuring soothing words until she came back to herself.

Tonight, he was in far worse shape than she, his muscles tense, his heart racing. He must have gone through hell. But he began to relax almost at once. He'd once told her that it was always him against the world, except when he was with a woman he trusted. After a minute or two, with a heartbeat that was almost normal, he sighed and murmured, "Laura's waiting."

She dressed and they returned to Laura's apartment.

Beck called, "We're back!"

Laura said, "Come in and take a seat." She was just pouring boiling water into a teapot. That done, she put the teapot and cups on a tray and carried them to the table.

Aside from a little fumbling when searching for the sugar bowl, Angel wouldn't have known Laura was blind, except that she kept her eyes closed. Her use of gestures and other mannerisms implied that she hadn't been blind from birth.

Laura kept up a stream of small talk, never asking them a question that wasn't entirely innocuous. Angel could see why Beck liked her.

She explained that Oliver was a street musician who also worked temporary jobs when he could. Laura made a little money through various kinds of piecework. "I used to make baskets and that sort of thing, but I got so bored!" she told them cheerfully. "Now I'm learning how to knit. I'm still slow and I make mistakes, so money's tight right now."

Sometimes a passenger train clattered by on the elevated rail line outside Laura's window, rendering speech impossible. Other than that, the apartment was comfortable, even cozy, though the building was old and shabby.

After about fifteen minutes they made their departure, but not before Laura got them to promise to come back for cocoa in a couple of hours if they were still up. She'd be waiting up for Oliver, who was playing sax at Heaven's Gate this evening. She wanted Angelica to meet him.

Back in the apartment, Angel said, "Well, that's a switch."

"What is?" asked Beck.

"A girl eager to introduce me to her boyfriend."

Beck said, "If you expect me to make a blind joke, forget it. Anyway, she read you better than that."

"Thank you, I think." She opened her mouth to continue, but Beck held up a hand.

He said, "My amazing mental powers inform me that your next words will be, 'Can we eat now? I'm starved.'"

Sometimes Beck knew her too well. "Can we eat now? I'm starved. You mentioned a restaurant around the corner?"

"Right this way."

At dinner, Dorothy asked Norman to explain Heaven's Day. As always, she was seated as usual at the foot of the dining room table, as if she were the mistress of the house, and Norman served her food and drink as if she were human, which she ate as if she were human. She had no digestion at all and her senses of taste and smell were rudimentary, but the social act of taking meals together was important.

Norman explained, "For many years now, Paradigm has been giving alms to the citizens on Heaven's Day. At first it was bread and wine."

As if to demonstrate, he filled Roger's empty wine glass. He continued, "And as Paradigm's prosperity grew, it soon became money and goods."

Dorothy asked, "And everyone takes part in this exchange?" She hoped Roger would take the hint.

Norman replied, "That's right." Then he went on to the punch line, as they'd arranged. "Another tradition exists where you give presents to the one you love."

Dorothy asked rather pointedly, "Will you be giving presents to anyone, Roger Smith?"

Roger choked on his wine. "Preposterous! Do you think I'd waste my time doing that? After all, Heaven's Day began as a celebration for when Paradigm was founded. Why would anyone who has forsaken Paradigm even think about celebrating a day like that?"

Dorothy set her napkin on the table and stood. "I'll say goodnight now."

Roger was surprised. "Huh?" As she left, he turned to Norman and said, "Now that's odd. Norman, could I have said something wrong?"

"No, sir. Nothing in particular, other than the usual."

Dorothy clung to her anger. Roger's rejection was hard on her. As an android, she could not weep, and this gave her an almost superstitious fear of sadness. Anger was safer, though it tore at her soul, sometimes.

Angel was a heavy sleeper and woke just once during the night. Beck was gazing out the window. "What's up?" she asked.

"Just thinking," he said without turning around. "Go back to sleep."

She shifted to a more alluring pose, not that he was looking. "No. Come back to bed."

"No!" he said with a flash of anger. "I can't sleep now!"

"Good."

He turned around, bristling. The honeymoon was over already, apparently. Before he could say anything nasty, Angel asked, "So what can possibly be more alluring than a beautiful woman?"

"Ten million dollars in diamonds."

Her jaw dropped, then she breathed, "Say that again."

"Ten million dollars in diamonds." Anger forgotten, he was enjoying her reaction.

She tried to think. Ten million dollars in diamonds! "When?"

"Heaven's Eve."

"Where? Never mind. Who?"

He turned away, his shoulders slumping. "Just me, now. It was gonna be four of us, but the other three got shot during the escape."

"Oh, Beck! I'm so sorry!" Alarmed, she asked, "Not T-Bone and Dove?" She liked Beck's henchmen, semi-competent goofs though they were.

"Naw, they're safe in the slammer. It was some other guys."

She whispered, "Say it, Beck."

Quietly, he confessed, "It was my fault. I screwed up. They're dead because of me." He hung his head.

"Thanks. Count me in."

"Angel!"

"I'm serious. Count me in! I'm on two weeks' vacation and everything. No, don't argue! Just listen. The diamonds; think about the diamonds, Beck. How they glitter when they're all spread out. How they feel when you run them through your fingers. Ten million dollars. Putting one over on the whole world. You're set for life. All the crooks practically worshiping you. It feels good, doesn't it? I want you to have the diamonds, Beck. I want you to take everything you want. Ten million dollars."

Beck's eyes had taken on a far-away look. He wore a goofy smile. She suspected she did, too.

"Now hang onto all those feelings and take a good look at me. Really notice the beautiful woman in your bed. That's right. Ten million dollars. Now say the magic words, 'Why not both?'"

Beck was grinning now. "Why not both?"

"You see? That's how a master criminal thinks. It's always about having both. Now."

He soon proved that he'd learned this lesson really, really well.

It was around noon on December 23. Angel opened the door to their apartment. They were going to have lunch at their favorite restaurant. She heard a familiar voice from next door. Familiar, but unexpected. She shut the door hurriedly.

Beck whispered, "What the hell?" almost inaudibly.

"Roger Smith is talking to Laura and Oliver," she whispered.

"Is Dorothy with him?"

"No idea."

"Their door open?"

"Yes."

Beck muttered curses and complaints to himself. They couldn't get to the front stairs without being seen, and they might be spotted if Roger came out while they were headed for the back stairs. Both of them were well-known to Roger Smith. Even a quick glance at their backs would give them away.

"Which one of us is he looking for?" asked Beck.

"I can't seem to hold his attention, so he must be looking for you."

Beck opened his suitcase, took out his stethoscope, put it on, and held it against the wall. Angel picked up a bathroom tumbler and did likewise and heard the conversation in the other apartment.

Roger was saying, "You're a talented musician and you have a beautiful girlfriend. You're bound to be successful someday soon."

With a smile in her voice, Laura replied, "You're a smooth talker."

Equally cheerfully, Oliver said, "Now, you two make a great couple!"

Roger said, "Huh? You've got the wrong idea."

"Hey, that's not nice to say, right?"

An unfamiliar alto voice (presumably R. Dorothy Wayneright's) said levelly, "I'm used to it."

The conversation moved on to Oliver's music, some mysterious card that had been delivered to all the houses nearby, and the elderly singing in the burned-out church next door. Angel could make no sense of any of this.

Eventually, Roger and Dorothy departed. Oliver saw them out, and Angel didn't really relax until he returned, closing the apartment door behind him.

"Let's get out of here," said Beck quietly.

They went to the restaurant. The lunch rush almost over, they had no trouble getting a corner booth with no one nearby.

Beck groused, "What the hell was that about?"

"I have no idea. It didn't sound like a negotiation," said Angel. "More like detective work. He does that sometimes."

"And he has Dorothy with him. I don't like it," Beck continued, "She's sharp. She notices things."

"I know Roger, but I've never met Dorothy. You know all about her, don't you? You were up to your ears in Wayneright's and Soldano's scheme."

"Wait, you know old Crowboy?" he asked, interested. "How well?"

"Well, if you must know, we've never had a meal together or been invited into each other's homes or made it to first base, but we've crossed paths on three jobs and he's seen me in my underwear."

"And his response was...?"

"Nonexistent. He has this reputation as a lecherous louse, too. I wanted to scream! I mean, really, Beck, have I gone that far downhill?"

Beck was lost in thought and didn't answer. Angel kicked him under the table.

"Ow!"

"Well?"

"I wish you wouldn't do that, Angel. But, hey, it reminds me of the day we met, remember?"

"God, I wish I could forget! I took a vow never to wear open-toed shoes again. My toes ached for a week."

Beck rewound the conversation with an effort and said, "Angel, you're more beautiful than ever. I mean it."

Their food arrived and they ate in silence for a while. Eventually Beck said. "Oliver said they made a great couple."

"I know."

"They do, you know. Don't kid yourself. Dorothy is beautiful. And she's in love with Roger."

"Seems like a waste, though, doesn't it? I mean, it's not like she's physically capable of ... how should I put this?"

"You're dead wrong, Angel."

"You're joking."

"I'm serious. Wayneright's androids are perfectly capable of affection, attachment, love, sex, orgasm, the works. Everything except reproduction."

"I didn't realize Wayneright was such a dirty old man."

"He wasn't. Those designs are old, Angel, really old. He just followed them faithfully."

"Why?"

"And here I thought you knew everything. Good, maybe Alex isn't up to speed either. The thing is, Angel, that Wayneright's androids aren't based on computers, they're based on recordings of a real human mind copied into an artificial brain. Computer-y functions are almost an afterthought."

"Again, why?"

"Beats the hell out of me in general, but Wayneright in particular had a recording of his eighteen-year-old daughter's mind from forty years ago. He wanted to bring her back to life."

"What, so he'd have an eighteen-year-old android daughter to go along with his sixty-ish human daughter? That's an unusual hobby."

"The human Dorothy has been dead for almost forty years. The old geezer missed her."

"That's more like it. So wait, are you telling me that Roger Smith and this android girl are lovers?"

"Naw, I'm telling you he doesn't know a good thing when he sees it."

Angel considered this. "That would explain a lot."

Beck smiled slyly at her. "So how big a crush do you have on old Crowboy?"

"How much of a crush do you have on Dorothy?"

Beck was surprised. "How did you know?"

Angel smiled sweetly. "I didn't."

Beck rolled his eyes and waited.

Eventually she sighed and admitted, "A big crush."

Beck said thoughtfully, "Maybe we could get them to break up. We could catch our respective crushes on the rebound."

It was Angel's turn to be surprised. "Does she like you?"

"Naw, she hates me. One of my men killed her father. I mind-controlled her twice. The second time I tried to make her kill Roger for me. And I framed Roger for one of my crimes. So it's gonna take more than a dozen red roses and a box of chocolates. Still, a master criminal like me can't get discouraged over trifles like that."

"This is a weird thing to be planning together, Beck."

"You're telling me. I love you, Angel, and I wore out my super-genius brain cells to find a way we could stay together, but it was no go. So it's on to Plan B."

"That may be the nicest thing anyone ever said to me," she said, smiling. "Plan B. B for Beck."

"Yeah. All my plans are Plan B. Hey, are we having dessert?"

"I love you too, Beck."

"You'd love anyone who's going go give you a Heaven's Day present from," and he lowered his voice to a whisper, "ten million dollars in diamonds."

She shivered. "Say it again."

"Ten million dollars in diamonds."

Angel stood up suddenly and grabbed him by the wrist. "No dessert. No time. Let's get out of here." God knew what might happen if he said it a third time. She started dragging him away. He barely managed to leave money on the table to cover their meal.

It was Heaven's Day Eve. Norman was concerned that he'd been too clever by half. He'd told Roger an outright lie: that Dorothy's birthday was on Heaven's Day, to trick him into buying a gift. He'd done the right thing and bought a lovely and fashionable winter coat with the startling price tag of $1500. So far, so good. The coat was being altered to Dorothy's measurements now at a dressmaker's shop near Heaven's Gate.

But Roger has been so busy with his search for the danger to Paradigm that Norman hadn't had the opportunity to ease Roger into a more accurate understanding of affairs. And Norman hadn't breathed a word to Dorothy, either. Frankly, he didn't dare.

It was noon on Heaven's Day Eve, and both Roger and Dorothy were out. Roger was working with Dastun, and Dorothy had not divulged her destination.

Roger suddenly summoned Big O. The danger to Paradigm had materialized near Heaven's Gate. A moment later, Big O was being transported through the underground subway system.

Minutes later, Roger's called on Big O's videophone. Norman answered, "Yes, what can I do for you, Master Roger?"

"I know this isn't the best time, but could you pick up that coat from the tailor's?" He smiled and added, "By the time I'm done, it might be too late."

"Very well, then, sir," said Norman, and closed the connection.

Sliding down the concealed chute in the kitchen, he arrived in the first basement a few seconds later. Walking briskly to his sidecar-equipped motorcycle, he quickly donned his leathers and helmet and sped towards Heaven's Gate.

Angel said, "I admit it, Beck. I'm impressed." It was early afternoon on Heaven's Day Eve. The big jewelry store by Heaven's Gate closed at noon and everyone but the security guards had gone home. The jewelry store had expanded recently. Where it had once had two-thirds of the sixth floor of the building, now it had the whole thing. But the new area wasn't yet on the guards' beat.

The president had moved his office into the new section, and his safe came along with him. He rarely used it and never told anyone when he did. "Security through obscurity," Beck called it.

The office suite was silent and empty. Beck was working on the wall safe already. It was a Burleigh, supposedly uncrackable. Only Beck knew how to open one without the combination.

Beck started working on the safe, taking both gloves off and using a magnet to hold his stethoscope to the safe door. He needed to keep his left hand on the latch lever, since a very delicate pressure had to be maintained throughout.

After trying all the most common combinations, he started the process of very carefully testing for the first number of the combination. This could take up to half an hour, but once he had the first number, he'd have the safe open in a minute or two.

The building shook. Angel looked around wildly and heard Beck say, "Hey, Angel, see if you can figure out what's going on."

Angel went to the door of the suite and listened. Then she went to an exterior window to see what was happening outside. The building shook again, sending the Venetian blinds in a crazy dance that left them hanging askew.

A moment later she fell back in fear. Big O was right outside the window! And what were those things on his shoulders? Tentacles! She'd seen a lifetime's worth of tentacles with that monster of Eugene Grant's under the Natural History Museum.

Her fear turned to anger. She stamped her foot. Roger Smith had messed up her work again! And he didn't even know about the diamonds. It just wasn't fair!

Remembering that she wasn't supposed to know Big O's name, she reported, "The Black Megadeus is battling tentacles out in the street."

"Damn it to hell! Why now? I wish it would play with its little friends somewhere else." But he didn't even turn around. He kept working on the safe.

Angel checked the corridor again. Still empty. She returned to the window. Big O was still nearby. The tentacles seemed to have a central mass now, and it was growing with astonishing speed.

Angel saw Big O take a familiar stance and barely had time to shut her eyes before being dazzled by the beam of the chromebuster, the energy weapon that had destroyed the water monster at Electric City. No tentacle monster could survive that!

But when the beam stopped and she opened her eyes again, hardly any damage had been done.

Big O strode forward with surprising speed, punching the central mass with his right and firing the arm piston. The blast from the piston blew an enormous hole right through the mass, but somehow it healed almost instantly.

Big shards of greenish glass started raining into the street. Part of the dome must have been shattered. Angel prudently took a couple of steps back. From her poor vantage point she should just see Big O rising into the air. This was so strange that she pressed herself against the window for a better view.

He'd been lifted high up in the air by tentacles and was suspended motionless. It was a strange sight.

All at once, the tentacles slowed down. They soon stopped moving, except the ones holding Big O, which gradually sagged under his weight and deposited him on the ground.

Beck said cheerfully. "Hand me the suitcase, Angel."

The safe was open! She strode over, but was disappointed that there was no gleaming heap of gems. They were all packed in little pouches. She handed him the suitcase and he emptied the safe as fast as he could, taking it all, not stopping to examine anything. Soon it was empty. He closed and locked first the suitcase, then the safe.

"Let's get out of here," said Beck. "Hey, what happened to the Megadeus?"

Angel glanced out the window. Big O was gone. Some debris was falling slowly from overhead, and there was something green high up in the central mass, but Beck called her away.

"Let's skedaddle, Angel." They left the office and walked briskly down the stairs. Weirdly, the electricity was still on, but they didn't trust the elevator.

No one paid any attention to them. The walked out the front doors and almost bumped into R. Dorothy Wayneright. Laura and Oliver were standing just a few yards away.

Beck cursed under his breath and pulled Angel behind a jumble of debris.

They heard Oliver ask in astonishment, "Laura! What are you doing here? It's too dangerous!"

"I was worried about you."

She took his hand in both of hers as he confessed, "I wasn't able to get you a gift."

She pulled his hand to her cheek and said, "That's all right. My gift is being with you." He kissed her. They were so adorable! It warmed Angel's heart.

Beck muttered, "You guys have a perfectly good apartment for lovey-dovey stuff!"

Then Angel heard the two words she least wanted to hear. Oliver said, "Roger Smith!"

Roger Smith was striding up to them, a gift-wrapped box in one hand. Smiling and confident, he was the most beautiful thing Angel had ever seen. Her knees went weak.

He smiled at Oliver and said, "I'm about to do something a little out of character. Could you play a special tune?"

Oliver said, "Sure. Special it is!" and began to play a snappy tune on his saxophone.

The music kept them from hearing the conversation, but Roger offered the gift to Dorothy and they had a brief argument which ended when she thrust a Heaven's Day gift at him and he give the present in his hand to her.

Angel was cheered by the argument, but then Dorothy opened her present—a beautiful black winter coat—and put it on. Obviously delighted, she twirled and danced, and Roger looked on with something that looked suspiciously like adoration. Beck was right, damn it! Dorothy was beautiful, and she and Roger were in love.

Looking away discontentedly, she finally noticed that the central mass of tentacles had become a gigantic Heaven's Day tree! It even had growths that looked like decorations. It was beautiful.

Dorothy danced and twirled under the gaudiest Heaven's Day display in history, wearing the gift given to her by the man she loved.

"Let's get out of here," she growled to Beck.

"Not yet."

Sure enough, within a few minutes they had all departed.

"Now," said Beck. He picked up his suitcase and walked off. He hadn't gone three steps before he collided with Dan Dastun of the Military Police. Before he could run, Dastun hit him very hard in the jaw and again in the solar plexus. Beck fell to the ground, stunned.

Six more cops hurried up, surrounding Beck as Dastun shook some life back into his right hand. Noticing Angel, whom he had never met, he asked, "Do you know this man, miss?"

"No, officer. He was just asking me for directions."

Losing interest in her, Dastun directed his officers. "Cuff his hands behind his back. He's an escape artist. Good. Now one of you guys—you, Sorenson—cuff yourself to him. Okay, let's go."

Sorenson said, "He was carrying that suitcase, Major."

"That's mine," said Angel.

"Sure it is. Look, if that's true, you can come down to headquarters after Heaven's Day, and we'll return it to you." Turning back to his men, he said, "Let's go."

Beck had recovered a little. He smiled and winked at Angel, as if to say, "Easy come, easy go." Then he started cursing and complaining to the cops. He'd keep that up all the way to his prison cell, she knew. Then to his cellmates he'd act like nothing had happened.

Angel blew him a kiss. She managed to wait until he was out of sight before she broke down and cried. It was all too much! The diamonds were gone, Beck was gone, and Roger Smith was in love with a mechanical girl.

And she'd spend Heaven's Day all alone. Again.

The next day was Heaven's Day. Beck was back in his familiar cell with T-Bone and Dove. He'd told them as much of his story as he'd cared to—not much—and had become silent and withdrawn. This unnerved his two cellmates. A silent Beck was a dangerous Beck.

Early in the afternoon a guard came by, carrying a cake box. "A lady dropped off a Heaven's Day present for you, Beck."

"A cake?" asked Beck, indignantly. "And you guys mushed it up looking for a file and then ate half of it, didn't you?"

"Perish the thought, Beck. We have an X-ray machine now." He opened the cell and handed the cake box over. Beck opened it, and there inside was a beautiful cake with pink frosting, 'Merry Heaven's Day," and an angel in white icing.

Grinning, the guard said, "But she sent you a file, too." He handed over a manila file folder. Inside was a Heaven's Day card with an angel on the front and note inside that read, "Dear guards: No, I'm not going to write anything incriminating, but you're good boys for checking. Merry Heaven's Day. P.S. You too, Beck."

Beck, delighted by Angel's joke, insisted that the guard accept a piece of cake and wondered how he was going to escape. Surely his capture was a fluke! He'd do better next time. He resolved to spend the next Heaven's Day in the arms of the woman he loved. Or maybe the android he loved. One or the other. After all, he was the Master Criminal! How hard could it be?

[Merry Xmas]