The Scarab (12 page)

The bridge had been the scheduled
sudden-deceleration test, and somebody had known about it in advance. But which
of the seventeen had set us up?

I didn’t have many conscious
thoughts after that. I reacted for two straight hours. When we hit the Alps, I drove straight through a hailstorm without noticing because it sounded like bad
radio static. Mary Ann informed me that we stayed at fifteen Celsius during the
cabin temperature test. I noticed the fingers of frost creeping toward the
center of my windshield and cranked up the heater. It’s a good thing that we
hadn’t needed air-conditioning this trip because I had forgotten that option on
the prototype, too.

She told me a few minutes later
that somebody had fired a cannon and wounded another vehicle. The ensuing
avalanche had buried both of them. A third GEV stalled out trying to go around
the site and would be stuck there till Spring.

The rest of us were slaloming at
jet simulator speeds. My muscles were vice grips on the controls when Mare
pried me loose. “You can coast for a while, babe. The judges are flashing the
yellow flag. They’re switching to regular speed rules, or we’ll finish the race
today. Let’s take advantage of the flag and switch. Nobody is on our screens
for miles and you’re bending the controls.”

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” Several things
vied for my attention right then, hotel wallpaper, my bladder, and the buzz of
the air-conditioner humming a merry tune. I was fried. Only six kills had taken
place so far this leg, but there had been several close calls. I got a head
rush just standing and plopped back down into the control couch again. Time,
what time was it? I looked Mary over and smiled. Phasing back to the real
world, I made a list of everything I needed to do.

I had to buy a ring, see a spy,
call my lawyer, and be back before lunch. I logged off as pilot, and let Mary
log herself on. After splashing some water on my face, I grabbed a clean shirt.
The one I had been wearing was drenched in sweat. We didn’t have any logo
shirts left, so I wore a plain white T with a pocket that I normally wore to
work.

I grabbed the phone out her purse
and put the room phone beside her. “Call me if you need anything, anything at
all. I’ll lock the door behind me.” I gave her a firm and surprisingly deep
kiss, and sprinted for the door. “Pizza okay?” I asked on my way out.

“That depends,” she said Mae West
style. “Do you deliver?”

I skipped down the hall, chuckling
evilly. In a worst case scenario, I told myself, the Scarab got killed early,
and Mare and I would have to find some other way to spend our time here. Maybe
Mary Ann was right, and I had been worrying too much again. One pepperoni and
diamond pizza coming up!

****

I still couldn’t reach anyone on
the cellular phone on my way down to the lobby, but the concierge solved my
cash flow problems when he told me I could charge jewelry from any of the
convention center gift shops to my hotel bill. I agonized over ring choices
until the noon hour passed me by. Frantically, I had them box up the engagement
ring, put it in my shirt pocket, and I rushed to the pizza joint across the
street, late. The noon hour break had already begun.

A congregation of TV trucks in
addition to the normal sports coverage clustered in the hotel alley. I grabbed
the only pizza they had, green pepper and God knows what, and jogged back over
to the hotel. On the way, I asked one of the camera operators who was packing
up his gear, “What’s the hoohah?”

“Suicide,” he said in a bored tone.
“We thought it would be a live jumper, some failed pilot. But the fruitcake
took off a couple hours ago. The police and hotel security had the stiff
chalked off and the case closed before we even got here.”

I felt an ice ball in the pit of my
stomach. “Who?”

“Huh? The jumper? Dunno. The hotel
says he checked in under a fake name.”

“Playfair,” I said with an eerie
certainty. Someone had been listening in on his phone calls to Maryland. If the black hats had his phone tapped, they also had access to his answering
machine. Mary Ann was in danger.

“Yeah... Hey, mister, you dropped
your pizza box.”

I knocked two guys over on the way
back to the elevator, and called Mare three times on the way up to the room.
Again, with an irritating familiarity, I got no answer. Once the elevator
finally got to our floor, I burst into an empty room.

The place had been ransacked. Our
suitcases had been rummaged through, the cushions ripped up, and even the
potted plant had spilled three gallons of dirt over the white carpet. The
contents of Mary Ann’s purse were scattered over one side of the sofa. The gun
was gone, but the badge, cuffs, money, and credit cards were still there.

The money shot any burglar theory.

Not taking the purse said she didn’t
plan to go far. Either she left against her will, or she went somewhere in the
hotel, and the person searching the room took the note to keep me from finding
her. According to the terminal, she had logged off from the morning session
precisely at noon at the Swiss/Liechtenstein border, and then disappeared. The
cryptographic key was still in place and the clock read 12:20.

The lack of blood said that the
black hats only meant to kidnap her for some reason. But the missing gun made
me worry what would happen once they got what they wanted. That meant I couldn’t
let them get it. I checked the now-empty storage rack beside the pilot chair to
confirm my suspicions. All my back-up drives were gone. My hand settled on the
disc in my pocket with a dread certainty.

No clues and no allies, I was more
alone than I had ever been. Day three was going to be a bear.

I had to find Mare. To do that, I needed to make myself
mobile without arousing suspicion. First, I made it possible to log in as the
Ghedra autopilot from the cellular phone. The portable unit had a relatively
small memory, and only a miniscule color LCD display, but I could program a few
basic menu-driven controls. Nobody was going to tap my line into the game. I
started with simple course correction, information screens, and then moved on
to the nasty surprises. I wired speed-dial button number three with the “lead
fire hose,” a maneuver where Ghedra sprayed large quantities of ammunition over
a ten degree arc of fire.

Halfway to the post time, I glanced
over at the muted television and noticed that the room phone message light was
on. I know I hadn’t missed a ring, and the red blinking light hadn’t been on
before. Somebody had probably accessed the voice mail account directly.
Timidly, I picked up the receiver and asked for message replay.

“Speak with no one, not even other
players. Do not attempt to leave. We’ll contact you soon. Remember, this isn’t
your battle, Mr. Hayes. Cooperate and there will be no casualties.”

The message had been computer
generated and only played one time. Once completed, the light deactivated, and
I could find no trace of the threat in the voice mail system. After taking a
moment to bottle up the rage, I went back to work on my jerry-rigging. Work and
the game have always been effective forms of channeling for me. This time,
though, there was an undercurrent that made me afraid. Part of me worried what
they might do to Mary. The other part was afraid of what I’d do when I found
them.

My father had been leaving on a
yacht for a company fishing trip the last time I saw him. It was supposed to be
a reward to about seven employees for a job well done. Exotech also used the
expedition to lobby two judges and a wealthy local industrialist. I also
vaguely recalled a rumor about someone from the International Monetary Fund on
board, but the company denied these allegations. That afternoon, the fishing
craft was seized by members of what was then called the Committee for Social
Justice. The Committee was a collection of masked poor, most of whom had served
in the military. Their demands included several worthwhile reforms. Perhaps
they would have been better off asking for money. Manifestos were sent to the
press, but never published. The government had adopted the policy of no
cooperation. The Committee’s empty headquarters were raided a week later. No
bodies were ever found.

Since the assault had been an
inside job, charges of terrorism and sedition were filed against all the
victims. Should any of them be found, they would be sentenced to death or at
least disappeared for the rest of their lives. As the family of an accused
terrorist, my mother and I were asked to leave the country immediately.
Intellectually I understand it all. A ten year old inside me, though, wanted
both the terrorists and the government to pay. Part of me had planned out in
frightening detail what I would do to these people. My hands shook at the
memory.

I stopped tinkering only when the
launches had begun. Keeping an eye on the TV screen, I hit the launch button
when I saw the green light appear for my team. I accelerated full bore for the
first two kilometers. Once in cloaking mode, I let the more sedate autopilot
program take control, and put away the cell phone.

Grabbing my nylon travel bag, I
loaded up my tools, a small flashlight, the handcuffs and the phone. I hadn’t
planned too far past this moment. It was just as well, because when I opened
the door, I spotted someone lurking by the elevator, watching. They had a man
by the elevators, cameras in the stairwell, and the phones were tapped. How was
I going to get out of here?

I went to the only other exit I
had, the balcony. It couldn’t be too hard to climb down to the next floor where
nobody was watching. They did it all the time in movies. If the glass door
below was locked, I still had the diamond on me. I could cut my way in or
something. This rescue could work.

Outside, the air was brisk. I was
glad for the jacket. The metal railing on the balcony was cold to the touch, so
I put on my racing gloves. A gust blew through me as I stared over the edge. It
was a hell of a long way down. I also noticed that the cement on the balcony perimeter
was crumbly with age. It occurred to me in a blinding flash that Playfair might
have died under similar circumstances.

Bad idea.

I jumped when someone knocked on
the hotel room door. The black hats had tracked me down. On my way through the
room, I grabbed the nearest weapon I could find—a screwdriver. Unlatching the
door, I stood off to the side of the door frame, and shouted, “Come in.”

A hand sticking out of a gray
pin-striped sleeve turned the knob and pushed. I grabbed the attached arm and
pulled hard, sending the owner sprawling onto the living room floor. I slammed
the door closed again in case there were others. As the man was getting his
knees under him, I grabbed him in a half Nelson. In the process, I had knocked
off his hat and now recognized our hired detective.

“Where the hell have you been?” I
yelled, shoving him free from my grip. I was shaking from my recent adrenaline
rushes.

“What’s your problem?” He snapped
instinctively.

“I went to get a pizza and somebody
kidnapped Mary Ann!”

His eyebrows went up. He helped me
up, and then compulsively checked his suit for rips or tears. “That’s serious.
Have you called the police?”

“No. She’s a federal agent, so the
FBI should be contacted. Unfortunately, the last guy to try phoning out about
this ended up dead. The lines are tapped, and the hotel is in on it.”

Even stunned, he stayed
level-headed. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Somebody made an offer on my
company last evening, a big one. The deal was only good if I went downtown this
morning and signed the paperwork now. Not to say I doubt you, but these are
some serious charges, Mr. Hayes. Do you have any proof?”

After some hesitation, I replied, “No.”

“Do you know who is involved?”

Again, I gave a grudging “No. I
have some idea where they might be hiding her, though.”

“Have they given you a ransom note?”

“Is this leading somewhere? Her gun
has been taken, so has she. Look around you. Isn’t it obvious? There are
hundreds of people I could name with a bone to pick with me.”

“And you’re always so nice to
people. I can’t imagine.”

I deserved that one. “Sorry for
tripping you, but I thought someone was coming back for me.”

“I don’t blame you. But this sort
of behavior is only making it worse for you if you’re innocent.”

“What?”

Mark Waters leaned forward onto his
knees as he gave me some free legal advice. “I know you a little, but she’s the
only other one that does here. If she has disappeared, and that’s still an if,
your getting thrown in jail won’t help her. Did the two of you have a fight
before she left?”

“How dare you insinuate...”

He put a hand on my shoulder to
calm me. “In 80 percent of the cases, it’s the boyfriend. You look like you’ve
been in a fight recently. The cops would spend the day grilling you first.” He
meant that they would let the real villains get away.

“But I was going to propose.”

Mark shrugged. He was a cynical
bastard. “Maybe you already asked. Maybe she said no.”

“What can I do?”

“Does she have any friends, friends
who will trust you?”

I thought for a minute. “Her boss
in the Patrol.”

“Good. Report this to him, and you’re
covered.”

I took out the cellular phone,
hunted, and hit speed dial for central dispatch in her region. A few transfers
later, I got the good captain. After listening patiently and asking many of the
same questions as Mr. Waters, he informed me that legally it wasn’t a missing
person case for twenty-four hours. “But I’ll call a few friends in the Bureau,
and they’ll stop by your hotel. Stay off the line in case someone calls with a
ransom demand. And Hayes...”

“Sir?”

“If this works out, congratulations.”

“Thanks, sir.”

After I hung up, I asked, “Now
what?”

“One of the conditions of sale for
my company was that I wouldn’t work for any of their competitors for a year,”
Mark began.

“Who?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Bloody wonderful. You can’t help,
and you can’t tell me who is in on it.” I was ready to have a go with the
screwdriver again.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help. I
just said I wouldn’t take money for it,” Mark said, smiling. “I do feel partly
to blame. Now that the authorities have been notified, I can do anything you
want that’s not a felony.”

“Like?”

“You mentioned you had an idea
where they were holding her?”

I nodded, and explained the phone
system for the game and how the easiest way for someone to control all of it in
secret would be from the seventeenth floor. “I figure there would need to be
about two technicians per shift to run the equipment, and a couple of thugs.
From what I’ve noticed, the monitoring doesn’t seem to be as active after
midnight. So I’d say there are three to ten of them there. Closer to three
because too many and the secret gets too hard to contain, especially with a
murder and kidnapping involved.”

He nodded. “Not bad for a beginner.
Have you double-checked any of these deductions?”

“I couldn’t scout because the hall
is guarded.”

Mark shook his head. “Reporter.
Besides, there are ways around him. I’ll check the conspiracy theory for you.”

He dialed up room service, claiming
to be from the pizza place across the street, and said, “The programmers on the
seventeenth floor working on the network ordered a couple of larges. Yeah.
Problem is, they get free cokes with the order, and I don’t have a phone
number. How many do I bring?” He held up four fingers. “Any diets? Thanks.”

He handed me back the cell phone
with a flourish. “Four on duty at any given time, probably all men.”

“That’s great. That proves it!” I
said.

“Not quite. You need evidence that
she is on the premises against her will to get a warrant. I couldn’t set foot
there. But...” I paid close attention to what I wasn’t supposed to do. “If
someone were to create a distraction and lure most of them away, someone else
could take a quick look around and find out what room she might be in.”

I nodded. “Of course we would be
waiting right here for the FBI, but if I wanted to go downstairs to meet them
in the lobby, how would I get past the reporter and cameras?”

“First, I’d cover up that scar of
yours, it’s too distinctive. Did Mary Ann use makeup?” he asked.

“Last night.” That was another clue
that clubbed me in the head too late. I handed him her purse. “But base doesn’t
work well on it.”

Mark shook his head again. “Not
base, people can tell it’s makeup. Eye liner will give you a bruise. All people
will remember is that you lost a fight. Wear sunglasses, and it’ll work.”

While Mark demonstrated his bruise
drawing technique, I gave him some advice. “Don’t count your money just yet. I’d
spend some time investigating your buyer if I were you. Anybody desperate
enough to be an accomplice in kidnapping isn’t above reneging on a contract.”

He seemed doubtful. “It’s a pretty
big company.”

“Then investigate the person and
division who made the offer. Not everybody around here is who they seem.”

He persisted in his conviction. “What
could they hope to gain?”

“Wrong question. What are they
trying to hide? Use the phone here to poke around while I’m gone. Just remember
who is listening. Calls forward to the cell phone after three rings.”

“There, your face is done,” he
said.

I looked it over in the bathroom
mirror. “Ouch. Now all I need are some clothes to throw off the scent.”

Reluctantly, he agreed to loan me
his jacket and hat as long as I checked in every twenty minutes. To avoid
eavesdroppers, the signals would be two rings and a hang up if everything is
normal, and one ring if I needed help and wanted him to give me a call. I put
on the sunglasses, picked up the nylon bag, and headed for the elevator. When
he asked where I was going, I responded, “If you don’t know, you’re not an
accomplice.”

The reporter collared me while I
waited for the elevator car to arrive. “You work for Scarab?” He was a skinny,
weasel-faced man with a thin mustache who constantly chewed his upper lip.

I looked both ways. “Nightshift
security. I had to wait for my relief.”

He introduced himself, and I used
Mark’s name. As we shook hands, he slipped me a folded fifty and smiled. “So
you’ve seen the Scarab at work.”

“The race,” I said, sounding bored.
“Sure, they just sit there like someone at an arcade.”

He turned his back on my room and
spoke in a whisper. “Not the game, the women.”

What kind of rumors were floating
around about me. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play coy, Mack. His place
has got to be crawling with them. He’s got a bodyguard, a co-pilot, a mascot—all
women. There’s a blonde he was with all last night, and a brunette this
morning. We can’t find a recent picture of this guy, but from all accounts, he’s
no movie star. How does he do it?” asked the weasel.

“Actually, the brunette’s the
reason I got this bruise.”

The guy activated an obvious recorder
in his leisure suit jacket pocket. “You don’t say. The brunette punched you or
the Scarab did?”

“I fell and hit my head on the
balcony. That’s the story I’ll stick to, even in court.”

As the elevator door chimed open,
he slid in with me. “But off the record? Come on. Nobody close to this hermit
will talk. People have a right to know!”