DATE:  Wednesday, April 1, 1998
Place: 


---- Recall start ----

Seattle
Contents:
Danielle

>> Danielle pages: OK. You get paged with a number in the Seattle area code. 
   Don't recognize the number. If you call back, it picks up before the first 
   ring is finished. "Roslyn Rest Stop on I-90. 10:00 o'clock. Come alone." 
   *click*
>> Long distance to Danielle: JJ Malone nodnods. "Okay. Roslyn's Rest Stop in 
   Seattle?"
>> Danielle pages: Roslyn in a city on I-90 in the Cascades away from the 
   city. In fact, it's pretty remote.
>> Danielle pages: It's about two hours from Seattle. About two hours from St. 
   Claire.
>> Long distance to Danielle: JJ Malone packs the guns and her caution and 
   drives up there with the intent of being early and scoping the place out.

It's a small little place. A pair of restrooms, some dilapidated picnic tables
   and benches... well worn with weather and still frosted with patches of
   snow. There are three 18 wheeler trucks, idling, presumably the drivers
   are inside the cabs, asleep. A Dodge Volare is parked near the restrooms,
   but the owner of the car claims it pretty soon after you arrive.
JJ Malone does a subtle look around the place, first visually, then with his 
   gifts, especially Sense Silver, muttering under his breath about 
   incommunicative phone calls and no way of contacting the person back for 
   more information, and having to come alone.
Nothing turns up for the Ahroun during his sweeps. They only take about 10-15 
   minutes to complete. There's little here except for the throaty sound of 
   the idling diesel engines, the rush of the passing vehicles on the 
   interstate which is a mere stone's throw away, and a severe case of 
   boredom. However, promptly at 10pm, one of the cabs to the semi-tractors 
   opens. Nimbly a young black woman, 30ish, slender, but attractive heads for 
   the ladies restroom. Just before the woman enters the door, your pager goes 
   off. It merely flashes the "Garou" code. The sound gives the woman pause, 
   and she looks at you strangely for a moment, before she approaches.
JJ Malone smacks the pager off with irritation even as the woman begins 
   turning. But, seeing her approach, he gets out of his beat up rice-burner 
   to be standing warily when she approaches.
Danielle is wearing a comfy pair of jeans, a heavy down quilted coat and has 
   her hair pulled back in tight neat braids. She eyes JJ a bit suspiciously, 
   and then says, "You JJ Malone? You look like... him." Her voice is a rich 
   sounding low alto.
"Might be," the dark-haired 'man' answers, pulling a cigarette and lighter 
   from his jacket pocket with forced casualness. "Who's wantin' to know?"
The slender woman swallows. "Name's Danielle. I work on some errands for some 
   of my friends in Seattle. Said I was supposed to meet someone named JJ. 
   Said he'd be wearing shades, even though it's pitch black night out." She 
   lifts her chin. "But, that's alright, I'm not real anxious to be here. 
   Sorry to bother you, mister." She starts to walk back towards the truck's 
   cab.
JJ Malone's still suspicious, but he says, with irritation underlying his 
   tone, "Who would it be that sent you?"
The woman unzips her coat, as she whirls around. "Friends of Cockroach," she 
   replies, just barely over the sound of traffic. Her hand reaches into the 
   coat.
JJ Malone's own left goes under his coat in an eyeblink at the sudden 
   movement, bringing out and cocking a matte-blackened Sig, bringing it to 
   bear on her. "Nice and easy, lady," he intones quietly but dangerously, 
   indicating the hand under her jacket. "Situation's tense enough as it is, 
   and my finger's itchy about being asked to come all the way up here with no 
   kind of explanation."
Danielle frowns heavily, and her hand freezes, midway into her coat. "Don't 
   freak, man. It's just an envelope. Really." She starts to pull her hand 
   out, slowly. "Don't fucking shoot me." You can percieve the corner of a 
   business sized manilla envelope.
JJ Malone's stance eases only a notch, making a gesture with his right hand 
   that she should pull it out, with the unspoken 'nice and slow' unnecessary. 
   "I won't if you don't give me reason to. If you know friends of Cockroach, 
   I think you can understand why I might be twitchy. Names, though. I'll need 
   to check out your story."
Danielle continues to pull out the envelope. Her face shrugs into a neutral 
   stance and she makes to hand over the envelope to the ahroun. "I'm just a 
   mule, man. A courier. I got the package from some guy named Jack. 'Least 
   that's what I call him." The flap of the envelope has been sealed with a 
   tamper-proof tape. On the front is a label that reads "JJ Malone".
JJ Malone glances over the front of the envelope, then its seal, then looks 
   back to Danielle. "Stay there," he finally decides on, with all the 
   courtesy of the brusque. He puts the gun down within easy reach, and goes 
   to open the envelope, keeping half an eye on the woman.
Danielle glares at the other figure, but she settles her hands on her hips, 
   and sighs exasperated. "You got the package. I don't know anything else 
   about it. Jack said show up at 10, give you that envelope and get out of 
   here." Inside of the envelope is a letter and a series of black and white 
   photographs. Some of them are annoted and have a figure circled.
"And Jack's not here, and I am," JJ retorts cuttingly with equal exasperation 
   underscored by the oppressiveness of an ahroun's temper in abeyance. "And I 
   say stay there." He skims through the pictures first, then the letter more 
   slowly, trying to get a sense of what it is that's been delivered.
The letter concerns one Ashley Turner, heiress to a huge fortune founded on 
   shipping and trasportation interests. The pictures seem to be of Miss 
   Turner, she's been circled with blue China marker in several of the photos. 
   Interestingly, all the photos are from different years, but Ms. Turner 
   looks strikingly similar in all of them.
JJ Malone begins frowning as he sorts through the photos again, then puts them 
   back in the envelope, and picks up his gun once more. He doesn't hold it on 
   Danielle now, just out and in such a way to suggest readiness. "You're sure 
   you don't know anything about what this is," he prompts with suspicious 
   disbelief.
Danielle snorts at the Garou, although she's slightly cowed by his anger. "You 
   know more than I do!" she protests. "Jesus, this is the last fucking time I 
   agree to do this." That's more muttered than spoken aloud.
JJ Malone re-holsters the gun under his jacket, and reaches, slowly, into his 
   pocket for his wallet. He pulls it out and pulls out a bill, offering it 
   out to the woman. "Tip for the courier. Sorry about the gun." He doesn't 
   sound too sorry, but it's an attempt.
Danielle snatches the offered money, and turns around in a huff, but silently. 
   She heads back for the semi-tractor cab, and climbs in on the passenger 
   side. The headlights come on and the truck lurches into motion, pulling out 
   of the rest stop east bound -- towards St. Claire on I-90.
JJ Malone notes the license plate and any identifying number on the truck that 
   could be used to track down the drive this particular night to a determined 
   sniffer, then climbs back into his car with the pictures and pulls a pen 
   light out of the glove box. He goes back and re-reads the letter more 
   thoroughly this time, then studies the pictures as if to memorize them, 
   marking person and date.

---- Recall end ----