"I am Plesur," whispered the creature, the thing, it. Though the longer he talked to her, or it, the harder it was to keep the fiction going in his head that this was not really a human being. Of course, her -- its-- vocabulary was limited, but apart from that it was a gorgeous young woman, about twenty years old, with long golden hair, deep blue eyes, a pert little nose and a large mouth, loaded with heavy lips that worked like triggers on the heterosexual male mind, stimulating imagination in ways that were extremely distracting.

Throw in the immense breasts, flat belly, firm ass and long shapely legs and it was a composition in flesh designed for one purpose only and designed terribly well.

"Pleasure is the default name, just as it came out of the box," murmured Lindi from the other side of the table, where she was taking notes and running down leads on the 'net.

The blue eyes flicked back and forth between Rook and Lindi, filled with apprehension. Life had been turned upside down that day, evidenced in part by the fact that Plesur was still wearing her jammies. They were pink, with white polka dots on the bottoms. They were also kind of tightly fitted, which kind of riveted the male eye too.

It, she, certainly looked human, but it wasn't. Not quite. It had been born in a laboratory, probably in the Phillipines, cloned from the cell cultures of a long dead celebrity sex symbol. It had been born almost full grown. These things didn't get to be children, not at all. And its intelligence was designed to be lower than the human norm. It was smart enough to learn to speak, to perform simple tasks and do what it was designed to do-- to provide sexual pleasure to its owner. It had no education, and was gifted with fake memories to avoid emotional breakdowns. Of course it had no fertile eggs in its ovaries, these things could not breed. That would destroy their market value. It had a life span of about ten years and could be purchased, new, for around N$400,000. Used models went for less, depending on how much time was left on their clocks.

Of course, it went without saying, that they were illegal in the United States and had been even before they were first invented. They were also illegal in Europe and most other advanced economies, but not in China or Japan. Illegal or not, they were still quite common among the wealthy classes in every land under the sun. Pleasure Models came in a lot of different styles. Rook had seen dark-skinned types with gorgeous African features, and some exquisite Chinese varieties. There were male models too, though he'd yet to run into one of those. But this one, the "Pammy" was the best known and probably the most popular in America.

Rook pointed to himself. "I am Venner. I ask you questions, okay?"

"Okay," the lips pouted so extravagantly as to be almost a caricature. The eyes were guarded now, but confused as well.

"Are you feeling okay?"

She, it, nodded. Christ, this was difficult. Rook kept telling himself that it wasn't human but the pretty features, the sexy mannerisms like the toss of the hair and the sudden expansion of the chest, kept throwing him off. Maybe he should leave this one to Lindi. But, of course, it was his job, not hers, not yet.

"You were in the locker."

The eyes went blank. Locker was not a word in its vocabulary.

"The cage?"

A shake of the head, still no understanding.

"Down in the sub-basement."

A sudden smile, explosive, like a baby girl being offered some candy. "Basement!"

"Okay, yeah, in the basement."

"Yes. With blanket." The word blanket was said with a velvety tone that implied that it, she, really liked the blanket.

"Emotional intelligence of a five year old," sniffed Lindi. "Likes her blankie."

"Yeah, look, this isn't easy."

Lindi chuckled. "Getting a hard on, boss?"

"Shut up."

"Okay, okay...." Lindi was still grinning as she turned back to the screen in front of her.

Venner studied Plesur. It, she was fiddling with a scrap of paper, a docket slip itemising her entry into the HudVal PD evidentiary system.

"Do you know when you went to the cage? The basement?"

A shake of the head, no.

"Was it this morning?"

A smile. "Yes, 's'morning."

"Okay. Did Plesur go to basement some other time?"

A serious look. She was straining to understand him.

"Did you go there before today."

Again the sudden shaft of sunlight across the sultry face, the pout replaced with a dazzling smile.

"Yes. She come. Man say, "get blanket", we go to basement. She come."

Venner shivered suddenly, as if chilled by good luck. Here was a bolt from the blue, a sudden break in the impenetrable wall around the case. It brought on vertigo for a moment or two.

Bingo, bullseye, eureka, he thought. What were they getting into here? He exchanged a look with Lindi who flashed him a thumbs up.

"Who is She?" he said very carefully.

The eyes brightened until they sparkled. It was a remarkable effect. The emotions in a Pammy were simple and powerful. When Plesur smiled you wanted to smile too. When her eyes shone you just wanted to hold her, kiss her, be with her.

Heretical thoughts skittered in Rook's mind, and were tamped down. This was business, not pleasure, not pleasure at all. If anything this was life and death and very dangerous for all concerned.

"She is nice. Like Plesur."

"Like you?"

"Kinda." A litte smile this time, self satisfied, almost smug. Rook realized that Plesur thought that Plesur was actually "nicer" than "She," whoever she was. Of course, in this instance, "nice" meant inordinately voluptuous and extremely beautiful.

Plesur's eyes sparkled, Rook sensed the thing was laughing, not at him, or in any malicious way, but with a simple, pure sense of joy at being what she was, incredibly "nice."

Rook understood. They had to be capable of laughter, and sorrow. They had to have the prime human emotions, because it made them what they were. They had to be able to enjoy pleasure in order to be able to give it.

Rook looked over to where Lindi was busy with cams and recorder. She felt his gaze and looked back.

"My aunt Maria, in Florida. She bought a David, second hand."

"David?"

"Same thing, but a guy. She got rid of it though."

"How come?"

"Over sexed. She thought she'd like having someone who wanted to bang her no matter what she looked like."

"Yeah?"

"But it got so it frightened her. She said it was like having a huge dog that wants to hump your legs all the time."

Rook made a face.

"It's a problem with the male ones. You can tone it down, but then they get apathetic. If you want a lively one you have to expect a lot of humping."

Plesur was studying him. She had a question of her own.

"Where is Man?"

Man?

"Oh, grief," Rook rubbed his chin. How to tell her the truth. Especially since Plesur, herself was an illegal form of life. Expensive, but doomed. As soon as the case was disposed of, she would be put to sleep with a lethal injection.

That is, she should be put to sleep. But it was one of those funny little facts of life, that this very rarely happened. Someone or other, higher up the food chain would wangle a way to take her home. The last case Rook recalled that had involved a Pleasure Model had been over a judge, murdered by his wife's brother. The wife had been enraged by her husband's purchase of an African type Pleasure Model and his keeping it in an apartment out by Crown Meadow. Somehow or other that particular Model had been quietly signed out to Commander Brinkley who took her away. No further actions were taken. Much later Rook heard on the grapevine that Brinkley had kept it for a couple of months, until his wife threatened to expose him, and then he'd sold it on to a local developer. Brinkley had retired about six months later, and everyone had assumed that the sale had simply secured him a comfortable retirement. As far as Rook knew there'd been no repercussions. Brinkley had had political protection all the way to the governor's office.

"I'm sorry, Plesur, but Man is dead."

"What is dead?"

Oh great. Did they really have no comprehension of death?

"He has gone away."

"Back soon?"

"No."

Plesur's pretty face crumpled into tears. Venner handed her some tissues, then pushed his chair back. She sobbed the unrestrained tears of a child.

"She?" said Lindi.

"You heard her, sounds like there was a female visitor."

"Girl friend?"

"Could be."

Lindi gestured to the screen. "So I'm running through the security footage, see what we may have." She snapped her fingers, pointed.

"Lookee what we got here. Female, parked in the Service Section about an hour before the Dazzle. Left while the Dazzle was still on, because there's no video of her car leaving. "

"We have ID on the car?"

"Yep. Here."

Rook let the Nokia Supa check that out.

"Let's see her."

"Right." Lindi hit some keys to bring up some enhanced views and a few seconds later they were staring at a very attractive woman, with a lean jaw, small, pert nose somewhat similar to Plesur's and huge mirror shades covering the rest of her face. She wore a pink Yankee cap, had pale blonde hair tucked out of sight, or almost.

"Athlete of some kind," said Lindi, recognizing her own kind. The blonde woman wore a track suit, black with white vents and high-end running shoes, Bistek brand. Over her right shoulder she carried a backpack.

Lindi's screen was alive with section close-ups. She was studying details. "Must be a runner, those are mijattu foam-thread socks."

"Yeah?" Rook had heard of those, but as yet he hadn't bought any since they cost N$50 a pair."

"Incredibly good at absorbing shock. Really the best thing for running on any hard surface." Lindi had slipped into her personal trainer mode.

From the way the woman was keeping her hat brim low, her face turned down and away from cameras she obviously knew about, she was doing her best to avoid surveillance. The big sunglasses did their job, too, but despite it all her firm chin and slightly hollow cheeks, were clearly visible.

"Age analysis?"

"Looks thirty-ish, but is most probably older. Must be some surgery involved."

Plesur was still sobbing, occasionally breaking out with "Where is Man?"

"What do we do with, uh, her." Lindi sounded both lame and uncomfortable. Rook grinned at her a little fiercely.

"Good question. I'll have to get hold of the Chief."

"Plesur?"

Plesur was still sniffling, but she stopped long enough to look up.

"She?" Venner touched the screen, right on a big close up of the woman in the pink ballcap.

Plesur's pretty face lit up with another big smile. "Yes, She. She is nice."

"Thank you, Plesur."

The Pammy stared back at him, another gap in comprehension exposed, as in why did he need to thank her. Or was it something else? God, she was beautiful, with all that cleavage exposed, it really made him uncomfortable. Maybe he could persuade Lindi to lend Plesur some clothes, anything other than the skin tight pink pajama top. It wasn't good for clear thinking, and clear thinking was what was needed right then and there.

"Bad news, I'm afraid," whispered the Nokia Supa in that cool scandinavian way.

"Yeah?"

"Car registration appears to be fake. The plate number is delisted. Belonged to a Tommy Demarco, who is listed in Missing Persons, Disappeared five years ago."

"VIN?"

"Yeah but not for this car, for a Delmongo Superor."

"A what?"

"Pimp special, huge, right up to the legal limit on weight."

"Hmmm. Interesting. Take a look at that picture, see if you can find anything."

He turned to Lindi, "You got that?"

"Yeah, and we have confirmation of that from our own Dbase."

"So this is "She" and her ride has fake plates and no reg VIN. What is that about?"

"She's in the business."

"So Sangacha wasn't satisfied with his Pammy, he had a regular pro come visit him too?"

"Seems that way, unless we're missing something here."

"Plesur? Are you hungry, thirsty?"

The blue eyes were on him again.

"Yes," a nervous lick of the sexy lips. "Hungry."

"Okay, we'll get you a sandwich, and some soda."

Rook stood up joined Lindi outside, shaking his head.

"Rough, huh," Lindi nudged him.

"This is crazy. If she's not human then I'm a monkey."