The Nexus (19 page)

A minute later the hooded guy came into the office.

They spoke to each other in Korean.

“You are back early,” the boss said.

“They saw me,” said the other guy.  He pulled back his hood.  He was a young Korean with disheveled hair.  The dishevelment looked deliberately styled, not just a consequence of the hood.

“You allowed them to see you?”

“Our source said that the department does not patrol that entrance.”

“And you believed the source?”

The young man hesitated.  “If we are not going to believe the source, what is the use of having one?”

The boss sighed.  “I suppose you are right.”  He lit a cigarette.  “Still, it makes sense that the department would keep watch over one of the only entrances to their headquarters.”

“Perhaps.  Then again, why draw any attention to the place by posting guards?  No one knows there is supposed to be such an entrance.  No one even knows there is supposed to be such a department.”

The boss nodded impatiently.  “I assume you did not find the entrance?”

“It would not matter if I had.  Only department members have the capability to trigger the door open.  You need more information from the source.”

“The source is afraid to say more than has already been said.”

“The source is only saying that that so you will pay more money.”

“Perhaps.”  The boss went to the corner and switched off the phonograph; then he took a wax cylinder out of it, put a different wax cylinder in, and switched it back on.  A different muffled classical tune came on.  “Perhaps we must change our focus.”

“I have been telling you that for a month.”

The boss didn’t argue.  He shook a finger at the hooded kid.  “I should listen to you more often.”

“Then listen to me right now:  Do not take this so far.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have some good resources.  Use them to keep your little...side business transactions going.  You do not have to take the whole department down.”

The boss shrugged.  “Perhaps I
want
to take the whole department down.  In the future no one will remember me for those little business transactions you are talking about.  But if I expose an entire secret branch of the government...!”  He blew smoke dramatically at the ceiling.

“They will not remember you if you are caught and imprisoned before you accomplish anything, either,” said the kid.

The boss smiled.  “Then I suppose I must not allow myself to be caught.”

DURING the second week of training, Bear finally had the new girls bout in The Ring.

It went about as expected.  Amber, all grace and smooth moves, danced around and attacked at ideal times.  Jill stumbled back and forth and flailed futilely at Amber whenever she thought she could get away with it.

“Stop it stop it stop it!” Bear cried after about twenty seconds had elapsed.  “Jillian!  Have you learned nothing from me thus far?  Show me that you heard my words, and were not simply counting the wrinkles on my face!  Now...again!”

Amber forced an embarrassed smile before she attacked again.

It didn’t go much better the next twenty seconds than it had the first.

Director Holiday appeared and interrupted the bout.  Bear was annoyed.  Jill was relieved.

“You’ll have to continue your training later, I’m afraid,” said Holiday.  “Right now it’s time to participate in that for which you are being trained.”

“Ah, such flowery language!” Bear said, shaking his head.  “What does the director mean?”

“He means,” said Jill, “it’s time for our first mission.”

Holiday’s mysterious smirk became a sly smile.  “It’s time to break in those new uniforms, ladies.”

“Director?” said Bear.  He gestured at Jill.  “Please make sure this one is well armed.  If she is forced to fight without a weapon...well, I am much too busy in the foreseeable future to attend a funeral.”

“Very funny,” said Jill.

Amber had not the slightest smile on her face.  “Our first mission,” she whispered.

DEBRIEFING happened fifteen minutes later in a conference room off the garage.  Corey and Bradley met the director and the girls there, soon followed by Dizzie and Mandy.

“As you know,” Holiday began without preface, “approximately one week ago, Corey Stone and Bradley Park arrested a vendor of illegal materials—a man who calls himself Mr. Love.  We had reason to believe Mr. Love was in contact with a much larger and more dangerous criminal ring.  Since that time the department has been in the process of tracking down Mr. Love’s clients.  They have been questioned and fined on charges of deliberately obtaining materials known to be illegal.  Amanda Farrell,” he gestured toward Mandy, “was the lead analyst in finding said violators.  Amanda, would you briefly explain the process?”

Mandy stood, looking as intellectual as ever.  “Mr. Love’s apartment and place of business is accessed by an alley entrance.  A traffic camera just outside the alley gave us a clear view of any vehicles which parked at his door, and the license numbers were then traced to the owners.  However, on a number of occasions over the last month, Mr. Love had a visitor who arrived in a car with the license numbers obscured.”

“Sherlock should have alerted us,” said Corey.  “Any time any traffic camera spots a vehicle whose license numbers aren’t visible, Sherlock is supposed to red-flag it.”

“He did,” said Mandy.

“Then why did no one follow up on the alert?” demanded Bradley.

Many sighed, obviously annoyed at this sidetrack.  “A non-visible license numbers is a very common alert from Sherlock.  Typically it’s only because of a dirty license plate, or a shadow, or something equally harmless.  These red-flags are nowhere near the top of the list for analysts to follow up on, particularly on busier days.  We usually bypass the alerts and move on to more dangerous ones.”

“Was there no other way to determine who the driver of the vehicle was?” asked Bradley.

Mandy shook her head.  “We have footage of the client walking from his car to Love’s door and back, but it’s inconclusive.  He wore a hood which shadowed his face, and didn’t speak within the range of the microphones on the security cameras; so Sherlock’s VOFARE was unable to make an ID.  We tried following the route he had driven to reach Love’s place, but he took too many side roads—roads without any camera surveillance.  He remains the one client of Mr. Love’s we have not arrested.”

“But now you’ve found him,” said Jill.

“We’re about to,” said Holiday.  “Until recently, Mr. Love has been downright afraid to speak of this particular client.”

“That just goes to show he’s as dangerous as you suspected,” put in Amber.

Holiday nodded.  “Exactly.  Thankfully Mr. Love’s impending court date has loosened his tongue at last.  Apparently this client wasn’t a collector interested in obtaining Love’s videos; he was interested in where Love got them.”

Corey raised an eyebrow.  “He wanted to get a hold of a VCR and videocassettes himself.”

“In all probability, yes.  This confirms our suspicions that the Anterran underground is manufacturing a communications network using outdated technology—technology Sherlock cannot tap into.  This client, whoever he is, wants to make use of Love’s contacts to obtain materials for this plan.”

“What did Love tell the client?” asked Bradley.

“Love was hesitant to reveal his Earthside contacts who had been shipping him the videos.  The client was very persuasive, however.  They had arranged to meet late last week to discuss the matter.”

“But Love was in jail by then,” said Bradley.

“Precisely.  But this morning I persuaded Love to call the client.”

“I don’t suppose you got a trace?” Corey asked hopefully.

Holiday shook his head.  “We weren’t so fortunate, not surprisingly.  However, we have another plan in place.  During the call, Mr. Love apologized for missing the meeting, claiming he thought he was being followed.  He has arranged to meet the client again tonight.  Love won’t make it to the appointment, of course.  You will.”

“Any chance this client suspects that Love has been arrested?” asked Jill.

“There’s no reason he should,” said Holiday.  “Love’s explanation was plausible.  In all probability the client will be expecting Love to meet him as planned.”

Corey stood, ready to go.  “What’s the location?”

“The elevator of a parking garage in a business park in Korean Town.  The time of the meeting is set for 9 pm.”

“We get there early and wait for him,” said Bradley.

Holiday shook his head.  “More than likely the client is planning on being there early himself to scope things out.  You will arrive precisely on time.  The mission is simple:  Bring him in.”

“Right,” muttered Amber with a swallow.  “Nothing to it.”

IN the locker room Jill paused in front of the glass case housing her uniform.  She stared once again into those reflective eyes.

It was time.

The uniform was very light and flexible.  And, Bear would be glad to know, she had two weapons holstered at her sides.  She carried the visored helmet; no need to put that on until departure.

Jill turned around and saw Amber, also in her new outfit.  Even the armor-plated uniform couldn’t hide that girl’s perfect figure.

“Let’s do this,” said Jill.

“I think I’m ready,” said Amber.  She patted the handguns at her sides.  “Safety’s off.”

Jill was about to tell her to put the safety back on until they were actually on their way.  Then she thought better.  “Nice,” she said.

COREY, Bradley, and Amber took their places in one of the department’s black skycars.  Jill mounted her skybike.

They waited.

“How are you feeling?” Jill heard Corey’s voice in her earpiece.  For a second she foolishly thought he was asking her, not Amber.

“Nervous,” said Amber.

“Don’t worry, this one’s a cinch.  It’s an ambush mission—the easiest kind.  And we’re four against one.”

Holiday’s voice came over their earpieces.  Whether he had heard Corey’s comments or not, he began:  “Remember, the client is in all likelihood a very dangerous man.  But we have the element of surprise.  Let’s use it for all it’s worth.  Desiree, are you with us?”

“Hear you loud and clear, sir!” crackled Dizzie’s voice.  “I’ve sent the routes to the vehicle consoles.”

Jill touched the new console the department had installed on her skybike.  A map with automated directions came up.

“Each vehicle will be routed separately,” Dizzie went on, “to keep from attracting attention.  For all we know, this guy will be suspicious; he may have lookouts.  Your vehicle will leave first, Cor.  Your departure time is five minutes.”

It seemed like five hours.  Jill felt perspiration bead on her forehead, felt her heart race beneath the plated armor of her uniform.

“Thirty seconds,” Dizzie’s warning crackled.

She saw Corey and his passengers don their helmets—Corey’s with its silver skull, Bradley’s with its Korean insignias, Amber’s plain black for now like Jill’s.

“Go!”

The black car peeled out of its spot in the garage.  Jill watched until its taillights disappeared around a bend in the tunnel.

“You’ll be ninety seconds behind him, Jill,” said Dizzie.

She looked down into the eyes of her helmet, twin dark reflections of her face.  She turned it around, slipped it over her head.

“Go!”

She kicked her skybike into gear.  At the end of the tunnel, she didn’t wait for the platform to lift her into Pete’s fish cannery.  She jetted straight up the shaft on her own.

They were on their way.

THE business park was on a ridge at the edge of Korean Town.  The buildings were modern, with strange glass-walled angles and vaulted foyers.  Between the buildings were lawn-covered hills with occasional abstract fountains and gardens along the paths.

At seven o’clock sharp the last wave of businessmen and businesswomen had streamed out of the offices to the central parking garage and driven away in their luxury cars.  Dim light showed from the deserted foyers; lamps cast pools of light on the abandoned parking lots and pathways.

The hooded guy walked along one of the paths at the top of the ridge.  To the east the skyline of the Avenue of Towers jutted against the distant shape of the Home Planet.

He turned up the ridge and made his way toward the parking garage.  He walked across the bottom level of the garage beneath flickering fluorescent lights.

He was careful to make sure the security cameras caught him.

“SHERLOCK spotted the client,” Dizzie’s voice buzzed.  “He’s at the garage.  We’re tracking him now.”

“Great,” said Corey.  “We’re around the corner from there.  Let me know if he moves.”

“He’s in the elevator.”