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Jack still had a wild hair to steal the helicopter. I was ambivalent about the idea, other than being unsure that any of us could fly it. But Jack insisted it wouldn't be a problem, so we headed off into the trees, and I drug the protesting Cuauhtemoc along behind me. I guess the fire fight had upset him a little, but after talking to him a little while, he calmed down. Well, that, and Niko gave him the stink-eye, which I think scared him into thinking we'd leave him if he didn't shutup.

Once we arrived at the helicopter site, Jack snuck up ahead and scouted the place briefly. Niko went to wait at the edge of the clearing for Jack, while the rest of us loitered behind and kicked back. These guys were obviously not geared up for a fight and Niko could probably take care of them all before I even had the chance to get my weapon out and summon my catboys. So, George, Cuauhtemoc and I sat down and played cards while Niko started roaring in the background and gunfire started going off. Cuauhtemoc began to look nervous again, but I gave him a reassuring smile, and that, plus George and my extremely calm demeanor, was able to reassure him.

In the end, Cuauhtemoc had somehow beat the both of us at a game of Hearts, when things had finally quieted down and Niko came to find us.

In the clearing moments later we stood, staring at a new person who had apparently been trussed up in one of the tents. Her name was Ahren, and apparently this was _the_ Ahren E, fashion designer. I had some of her stuff at home in my closet, actually. I hadn't realized she was a Scion, but I guess it makes sense.

Anyway, Jack insisted boldly that he could easily fly the helicoptor while pretending like he was an idiot retard. I chose not to say anything about it though, and we all piled cautiously in. Even though I knew he was full of it, I couldn't help freaking out a little when he would wave the controls around while talking to Ahren and the thing would tilt side to side jerkily in the air. Cuauhtemoc had fainted long ago so we all had a nice, peacefully quiet, if uncomfortably “bumpy” ride to a city farther north, where Ahren said she could get her private jet to take us back to the US of A.

Once back in the states, we, along with Ahren, met up with BOOBS. BOOBS told us that there was a Norweigen elf guy who happened to be in London, who had information about our poem thing. So we figured we'd go check it out.

We found this elf dude, Lars Elstad, in the British Museum, in some super secret/secure reading room thing. After talking to him, he told us if we could locate a particular document for him, he'd give us all the information about it that it had. The document was called the “Diamond Sutra,” the oldest book ever. Apparently it was out for restoration, and while copies of the text existed online everywhere, Lars really wanted to look at the book itself. Eh, yeah sure, I had no problem with that.

As we headed over to the main office of Cravis, Gently and Macon, the company doing the restoration, I briefly pondered the possibilities of attempting to manipulate the information about the poem out of Lars. But, he was an elf, and I'd never talked to an elf before, and magical beings tended to be much harder to work, so after while I discarded the idea. Maybe I'd give it a shot if he decided to be difficult about things once we got him access to the book. Scroll, really.

An hour later, we stood outside of the main office discussing quietly about gaining access to the building, and through that, their computer database, and in doing so, allowing George to hack it to find out the info we needed about the location of the scroll. As we decided upon this plan of action, without anything more than bumming a $10 off of Niko and subsequently tearing it in half, Jack turned without saying anything and walked into the building.

George got a phone call in which he apparently walked Jack through some computer stuff to gain him access to the network, and then about twenty minutes after he had gone in, out Jack strolled, looking pleased with himself.

Well, okay then.

Off to a cafe we headed in order to let George sift through their database and discuss what we'd do. We eventually narrowed it down to two restoration locations within the city itself, and decided to go on a cat-burgler mission that night to see just what exactly these two places had to offer.

The first one we looked at was dark, with an all-glass exterior, and looked extremely average. No big fancy security, no guards, no nothing. Except a cop sitting in the parking lot in his cruiser, probably munching on some scones and tea or something. Two cops, actually, now that I looked harder. “I got this,” I said casually, “just give me a few minutes.” I headed off down the street to locate a car parked on the side of the road a couple of blocks away. I found a small, orange Citroen sitting there and thought it would do nicely.

I returned to the parking lot, rolled my shirt up so that my boobs were almost hanging out, and walked up to the cop car and banged on the window. “Is there something I can help you with ma'am?” the cop in the driver's seat said as he glanced up at me, and then his eyes slowly slid down to my breasts to stare.

“Yes, I'm sorry to bother you,” I began, an innocent and sheepish tone to my voice, “but I seem to have locked my keys in my car, and I was wondering if you could help me?” I leaned forward so that my boobs were almost in his face.

He stammered a bit as his eyes remained fixated on my boobs, and told me to get in the car, excitement barely concealed in his voice. I went over to the passenger side and sat on the second cop's lap with my boobs pressed up against this guy's face, while the first cop drove us all over to the poor, innocent, little Citroen at my direction.

The great thing about cops is that they typically know exactly how to do the same stuff that criminals tend to do. Like breaking into cars. And hot-wiring. I smiled as I let a nipple peak out and poke the second cop in the cheek. He stuck his tongue out and flicked it a little bit as his hand slid down the back of my pants, inside of my underwear.

I squirmed in his lap a little, getting him all hard until we pulled up behind the Citroen. I hopped right out and he stood up awkwardly after, me, readjusting himself, and reaching into the car and retrieving his lockpick set. I walked over and sat on the hood of the car with my legs open while the he walked over and began to work on the passenger door of the car. The driver-cop got out of the car, leaving it running, and came over as well to chat me up.

“Your nightstick looks big and hard,” I said, sex nearly oozing from my lips, “I bet you use it on lots of people.”

British guys are goofy. They obviously like fucking, but seem to have this strange way of being embarrased about it a little bit. He stammered a little bit while glancing askance at the second cop, who looked over from what he was doing briefly, his eyes wide. He turned his wrist one last time and the lock popped open unceremoniously, because the first cop had already begun to lean up against me to put his hands on my ass, pulling me forward, and jamming his tongue into my mouth.

The second cop dropped his lockpicks on the ground and came over, and I pushed the first cop back and said to him, “You say only criminals can get in the back seat of your car?”

“Well yes, that's really the rule, you see…” His dick was hard against his pants, poking hotly against my inner thigh as he leaned against me.

“Well then,” I smiled evilly, leaned back, and slapped him straight across the face. He looked shocked momentarily until I grabbed a handful of his uniform and pulled him back up against me, kissing him again. “I assume assaulting a constable is sufficently naughty to satisfy your requirements.”

“Why, you cheeky little lass…. mmmm, but I do quite think you are right. Garrick?” he said, picking me up bodily as his partner scrambled to go open the backseat door of their cruiser.

Geoffrey, the first cop, laid me down onto the back seat of their cruiser, and several minutes later, was nailing me missionary-style, his bare ass hanging out of one door of the backseat, while I had Garrick's dick in my mouth as he leaned out of the other door.

British guys are funny. And fucking cops is damn hott.

And thus, I acquired a Citroen.

When I returned to the boys, they had finished searching the place and had not found any sign of the Diamond Sutra. So, off to the next place.

At the second place, a security guard sat behind a desk in an office building that was sort of an interior mini-mall. Jack stayed outside, and I came in with the rest of everyone, and told the security guard in a very worried and desperate sort of manner that I worked for some doctor's office in the building and that we were here to search for a patient's records who had gotten very sick very suddenly. He easily let us though and we headed down and broke into the Cravis, Gently and Macon office. Well, Ahren did the breaking. Apparently she was good at this sort of thing, which suited me just fine.

After searching in-depth however, it couldn't be found. Crap. Our assumptions had been off.

The next day we headed back to the main office of Cravis, Gently and Macon, and I interrogated that dude Nigel that Jack had driven crazy the previous day with his odd antics. I found out from Nigel that the CEO of the company, Chester Knively, had most probably taken a personal interest in the Diamond Sutra, and that we would have to weasel the information out of him personally in order to get access to it. I got a phone number for him from Nigel, and a schedule of events that he'd be attending, as his primary purpose seemed to involve drumming up business for his company by attending parties.

Well, well, well… this should be fun!