Tek Net (4 page)

“Not at this time, no,” Jake informed her.

“To stay on the good side of the local minions of the law,” observed Gomez after sipping from his cup, “we had better make a report. Damn, I wish to hell we'd been able to track Jill down.”

“You rescued her a lot when you were married, Sid,” Jake reminded his partner. “It won't hurt to let somebody else take over this time.”

“I know, but now that we're damn sure there are some powerful Tek people involved—hell, I'm worried that they'll kill her or at least hurt her seriously.”

“We'll talk to Bascom at the agency in the morning,” said Jake. “Because of the Tek angle, he's more than likely to let us go on working on this.”

“The possibility of turning a buck always appeals to the
jefe
,” agreed Gomez. “I wonder if I really might want a bowl of New—”

“Gosh, look at that, would you?” The android waitress was standing at the front window of the little café, pointing out at the night sky.

Gomez left his seat, moving toward her. “
Caramba
,” he mentioned.

Dropping down out of the fog were three black skyvans. Spot-lights sweeping the beach and the front of the AllNite Neptune, sirens bleating.

Jake joined his partner at the front of the place. “Cops,” he said.

“Trouble,” added Gomez.

6

Sand came spraying up as the first of the trio of SoCal State Police skyvans set down a hundred feet from the front door of the Allnite Neptune Café.

“Golly, this is the very first police raid I've ever witnessed,” said the android waitress.

“Stay inside here,
cara
, and savor it,” suggested Gomez as he followed Jake out into the foggy night.

The other two police vans were landing, swinging their spot-light beams to catch the two emerging Cosmos detectives.

From the nearest skyvan came a lean black officer. “Just what in the hell are you two tricky bastards up to this time?”

“
Buenas noches
, Lieutenant Drexler.” Gomez gave him a lazy salute.

Jake nodded toward the café. “I hear the New England tofu chowder is pretty good tonight.”

Detective Lieutenant Drexler, fists clenched at his side, came walking right up to him. Three uniformed cops, carrying stunguns, backed him up. “You, Gomez,” he said, pointing an accusing finger. “Your wife was kidnapped hours ago, but you didn't even bother to notify us.”

“
Former
wife,” corrected Gomez. “My current wife is safely at home.”

Drexler made an angry noise. “Spare me the bullshit, Gomez,” he said. “You knew that a woman had been abducted. You're supposed to report that sort of—”

“No, all I knew for sure was that her vidphone call to me was interrupted,” he cut in. “I decided to see if I could find out what had happened before I brought in the law. Less embarrassing that way, in case—”

“Yeah, I remember Jill Bernardino,” said Drexler. “She used to be a Tekhead and she got in all sorts of trouble.”

“That's true,
sí
.”

The police lieutenant frowned at Jake. “There's a good chance this whole business tonight is tied in with Tek,” he suggested. “What do you know about it, Cardigan?”

“Not as much as I'd like.”

“Jake is just along to lend me a hand,” explained Gomez. “This isn't official Cosmos business.”

“Probably because that boss of yours, Walt Bascom, can't figure out how to screw a fat fee out of anybody.”

Jake looked up at the misty night sky. “Who tipped you as to our activities?”

“Her husband, right after Gomez harassed him,” answered the policeman. “At least Reinman had the sense to bring us in.”

“And how'd you know we were at this joint?” inquired Gomez.

“Went to Cardigan's place first,” replied Drexler. “That kid of yours, Cardigan, is nearly as stubborn as you when it comes to—”

“If you hurt him, Drexler …” Jake started to lunge for the cop.

Gomez caught him by the arm, held him back. “
Cuidado
, Jake,” he advised. “I'm sure the lieutenant knows better than to try anything rough with Dan.”

“I never touched him,” said Drexler. “But, since he's enrolled at the SoCal Police Academy, it might be a good idea if he practiced being a little more respectful to real police officers.”

“We'll pass that cogent advice along,” promised Gomez. “Now,
por favor
, what do you know about the whereabouts of Jill Bernardino?”

“Not a hell of a lot,” admitted the lieutenant. “If you'd brought us in as soon as you knew she'd been taken, we'd be a lot closer to finding her by now. I've got a forensic crew out there going over that half-assed park.”

Jake gestured at the police vans. “Maybe you ought to put some of these lads to work on the thing.”

Ignoring him, Drexler asked Gomez, “What did she say to you when she called for help?”

“Hardly anything,” he answered with a shrug. “Only that she thought she was being followed.”

“By who—Tek people?”

“She didn't have time to supply any details.”

Drexler took a step closer to Gomez. “And why in the hell was she there at all?”

“Jill's back writing for the vidwall, lieutenant. I'm pretty sure she was expecting to meet somebody with background information for a script she was working on.”

“The Hollywood Starwalk Park isn't exactly a research center,” said Lieutenant Drexler. “C'mon, Gomez, what was she doing there?”

“I don't know,” Gomez told him. “This was the first time I've even so much as spoken to her in years. If you want information on her recent activities, talk to her husband.”

“She never struck me as the type who'd confide much in her husband,” said the policeman with a short, dry laugh. “Or wasn't that your impression when you were married to the lady?”

Jake said, “Our nearcaf is getting cold, Drexler. Shouldn't you fellows be out looking for clues?”

Making another angry sound, the cop turned away and started for his skyvan. He stopped, turned. “I'm mad now,” he told them slowly and evenly. “But if you guys keep holding out on me—I'm going to shift into being truly pissed off. Then you'd better watch out.”

Jake grinned. “Thanks for the warning,” he said, and went back inside the café.

They were settling into their booth and Gomez was reaching for his nearcaf mug, when Jake's pocket phone buzzed.

“Yeah?”

Bascom's scowling face appeared on the tiny screen. “Is Gomez with you?”

“Yeah.”

“I want to see you two buffoons in my office.”

“We'll be dropping in first thing in the morning, chief,” Jake assured him.

“You'll be dropping in within the next half hour,” corrected the head of the Cosmos Detective Agency. “If not sooner.”

7

Dawn was moving slowly into Greater Los Angeles and the fog was gradually thinning away. Walt Bascom was standing gazing out of one of the high, wide windows when Gomez and Jake entered his office in Tower II of the Cosmos Detective Agency Building. He had his hands clasped behind his back.

“What does he remind you of?” Gomez asked his partner, settling into a chair facing the agency chief's large metal desk.

“One of those heroic statues they used to put up in public parks in centuries gone by?” Jake straddled a chair.

“No, it's more like a wooden figurehead on an ancient ship that—”

“When you two clowns end your detecting careers—which could be any day now,” said Bascom, turning to glower at them, “you can work up this sort of witty patter into an act for the vidwall.”

Jake grinned. “You know, Sid, for a while there I was starting to think he was mellowing.”

“
Sí
, so did I. But this is the old gruff martinet we've come to love and cherish.”

Bascom, slowly and precisely, came walking back to his desk. He was a tan, wrinkled man in his fifties and at the moment, his deep scowl added substantial new wrinkles to the large collection he already had. “Tell me, lads, are you intending to go into the private gumshoe business on your own?”

“Our loyalty is to Cosmos,” Jake assured him.

Gomez said, “I've been thinking of having
Cosmos Forever
tattooed on my—”

“Well, if you're still working for
me
,” said the chief, voice rising, “then why in the holy hell didn't you let me know the minute you found out Jill Bernardino had been kidnapped?”

“It started out as a sort of personal thing,
jefe
. Jill's an ex-wife of mine and—”

“I know who she is, for Christ sake, Sid,” said Bascom. “Didn't I help you bail her out of the pokey at least half a dozen times during your days of wedded bliss?”

“Sure, but still I—”

“More importantly,” continued the agency boss, “there is a Tek angle to all this.” He leaned forward, resting his palms flat out on the desktop. “I've got a hunch your onetime mate's disappearance may just connect with some of the interesting rumors that have been finding their way to me in recent days.”

“
Qué pasa?
” Gomez straightened up in his chair, watching Bascom.

“Nobody has many details as yet, but it seems that certain potent European Tek cartels have something large and unsavory in the works.”

“Yeah, that fits in with what we've been picking up tonight,” Jake told him. “The odds are that one or more European Tek outfits are involved in whatever's happened to Jill.”

“And we've also been hearing about some large-scale Tek venture starting up overseas,” added Gomez.

Bascom seated himself, steepling his fingers. “It's likely that Jill stumbled on some facts about this latest Tek shenanigan while doing her research on the Sonny Hokori documovie.”

“You already know about the Hokori project, huh?” said Jake.

“When will you toddlers accept the fact that I'm infallible and omniscient?”

“Okay, so tell us where Jill is,” requested Gomez.

“Well, maybe not a hundred percent omniscient just yet,” conceded the Cosmos chief. “But inching ever closer.”

“Why exactly,” asked Jake, “are you taking such an interest in this particular mess?”

“I could say because I used to know poor Jill and I'm concerned for her welfare,” answered Bascom. “But that's only part of it. However, when I found out what you fellas were poking into, it struck me that the agency ought to be able to parlay this into at least one substantial fee.”

“We were thinking along those same lines,” said Gomez. “You have connections with several sneaky and sly government intelligence agencies—the kind that the President and his spokespeople are always denying exist. They'd pay for information on a new and unsuspected Tek plot.”

“Very good, Sid,” said Bascom. “Apparently you're not quite as dumb as your behavior earlier tonight led me to believe.”

Jake eyed him. “You've already set up a deal with somebody back in DC, haven't you, Walt?”

“Hey,
amigo
,” complained his partner. “Before you
hombres
start toting up how much we're going to make on this caper—how about defending me against this slur on my IQ?”

Jake grinned and ignored him. “Well, Walt?”

“Yep, I've been in contact with a chap in Washington. He runs a very secret and powerful intelligence agency.” He rubbed his hands together, producing a dry, rasping sound. “They're going to pay us a really impressively large fee. If, that is, we provide them with some solid stuff before they can dig it up themselves.”

“
Muy bien
,” observed Gomez. “But suppose it turns out that Jill was actually just carried off by a jilted boyfriend?”

“Well, in that event we'll still collect a hefty sum from Ernst Reinman. I contacted him a couple hours ago and persuaded him that Cosmos could find his missing wife long before the police,” Bascom informed them. “It's possible Reinman is dipping into the Starvation Center coffers, by the way, since he sure didn't balk at the hefty price I quoted him.”

“You mean,” asked Gomez, frowning, “we'll also be working for Jill's present husband?”

Bascom said, “Exactly, and I had to do a terrific selling job to convince him you were qualified to work on this one, Sid. He doesn't think much of you—either as a sleuth or a human being.”

“
Ai
, my former
esposa
told him considerable falsehoods about me.” He sighed. “You would think, though, that once he encountered me in the flesh and face to face, he'd have sensed my saintly aura.”

Yawning once, Jake rose up. “We've got some further leads to follow up on,” he said. “I think, however, that I'd like to grab a few hours' sleep before continuing.”

“Sleep as long as you like,” said Bascom. “Just so you report back here by tomorrow afternoon with a hell of a lot more information than you've come up with so far.”

The faceless man said, “It would be a real good idea, Cardigan, to forget all about Jill Bernardino.”

Jake sat up in bed, grabbing his stungun off the night table.

The man, whose head was a blur of pink and orange dots, had appeared unbidden on the vidphone across the early-morning room. “Nobody wants to die,” he added in a rumbling doctored voice. “Think about it, asshole.”

“Who you working for?” asked Jake.

The screen went black.

Leaving his bed, Jake moved to the phone. Resting the gun on his bare knee, he punched out a number on the keyboard.

Seconds later a smiling copper-plated robot showed up on the screen. “Cosmos Detective Agency/Security Department,” it said. “Top of the morning to you, Mr. Cardigan.”