Book 3: 3rd World Products, Inc

by Ed Howdershelt

  If someone can park close to a building on a campus, they're usually a somebody on that campus. Barbara's car was only a few slots from the end on the first row. That, to me, meant that she was giving up something at the college in order to join 3rd World. I was somewhat impressed that she'd been able to make the decision during her discussion with Linda that morning, but then I remembered that 3rd World Products, Inc. has a tendency to pay people very well, indeed, and not just in dollars per month.

  Barbara hesitated before getting into her car, then she surprised me completely with a hug instead of a handshake.

  "Thanks,” she said. “It was the kind of day I'll remember forever. We don't get enough of the good kinds of days like that, and this was one of those."

  "Anytime,” I said. “Linda has my number."

  "I probably won't risk it,” said Barb. “I've been pretty happy as a lesbian."

  I gave her a 'one that got away' snap of the fingers and looked disappointed. She chuckled skeptically and got in her car. Just to tweak her a little, I locked my eyes on her legs as she got into the car and said, “Great legs, Doc."

  She gave me an odd look, then a grin, and said, “Uh, huh. Thanks, Ed. Bye."

  Ten minutes or so later Steph and I were descending toward my house in Spring Hill. Another fifteen minutes passed before I had a fresh coffee, Monday's mail, a seat on the couch, and Tiger on my lap. About the time I was trashing the last high-interest home loan offer with a local car lot's offer to give me '$4000 in trade, no matter what I currently drove', Steph fielded a call from Linda and patched it into my implant.

  "Hi, Linda. Is the sailor running for the hills yet? I told him a few things about you."

  "No, he isn't, and I've told him a few things about you, too. He's currently rooting through your file, in fact."

  "Damn. I'll have to remind him not to salute, now."

  Linda said, “Sure, mister. I'd pay to see that happen. Well, Ed, you just received a glowing review from a confirmed lesbian. That's something that a man can almost take to a bank, you know. I think I may actually be impressed."

  "Just impressed? Not jealous? Rats. Oh, well, you ordered me to behave myself, ma'am. I guess I owe it all to you."

  "Yeah, right. Here's an update on One Earth, Ed; the cops and a big bunch of feds in Grand Forks think they've found a warehouse where the virus has been manufactured. They're ramping up for a raid."

  "Kewl. Estimated casualties if the virus is still there and it gets loose?"

  She sighed. “Based on the sample Stephie retrieved, we're guessing big numbers, Ed. Big numbers. Containment could be a big problem, too, especially if the place is rigged to blow, and the cops seem to think it could be."

  "What do we know about the virus, Linda?"

  "It kills in about four hours, Ed. It's an Ebola mutation."

  "How the hell does anyone know it kills in four hours? We haven't had the sample that long ... Oh, hell, that's just some lab rat's best guess, right?"

  "Right, but a guess backed by some tests."

  "Fast or slow, same ending. How big a building is it, Linda?"

  "It isn't the whole building that we're concerned with,” she said, “Just the Western corner of the top floor. We think. Actually, they think. I'm not trusting the intel on this one, Ed. It's all hearsay. Nobody has anyone solid on the inside."

  "I need to know how big an area we're talking about, Linda."

  Puzzlement was strong in her voice. “Why, Ed?"

  "Just a minute and I'll tell you what I've got in mind. Steph and Elkor, at normal air pressure, how much area can our diving field handle?"

  Linda asked, “Diving field? Oh, hell. Why not? There's one for everything else."

  Elkor said, “Presuming that you wish to contain and eliminate nothing larger than a virus in an urban environment and using reference measurements that will be immediately understandable by all persons involved, my field could safely contain up to four city blocks, Ed. That would include all buildings of four stories or less in height."

  "Wow. Damn fine. Thanks, Elkor. Did you patch that info to Linda?"

  Linda said, “He did, Ed. Wow, indeed. What the hell have you people been doing that requires a field this size?"

  "It isn't quite that big when it's at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. The water scrunches it down some."

  "I suppose it would. Still, that's a hell of a field, isn't it?"

  "Just like Elkor's flitters. Better than they have to be. I can zip in and set the generator up on top of the warehouse. We can shape the field a bit and enclose only that building. Sound good so far?"

  "It sounds wonderful! Will it stop people, too, or just germs?"

  I asked, “Elkor? What about that?"

  "No, Ed. At that density, it will stop only the virus and atmospheric exchange. It wouldn't contain an explosion of any magnitude or stop people from escaping the area, but it would hinder their motions greatly and at a base thickness of twelve feet, there would be some danger of suffocation while they were passing through the field."

  "The cops can drag them out if necessary. How greatly would it hinder their motions, Elkor? I'm trying to figure out something."

  He gave me a field density measurement that didn't mean a damned thing to me. I asked for clarification using consistencies that I'd recognize. We came up with a resistance similar to slogging through chest-deep water, and maybe a little worse than that. Linda asked if my personal field would be effective against a virus and Elkor reassured her that it would be.

  Linda asked, “What's a delivery time on your generator, Elkor? How soon can it be in Grand Forks?"

  "That information, in conjunction with other such data, could compromise my location. Instead, you must tell me when to deliver the generator to Grand Forks or to coordinate with Ed and Stephanie."

  "Sorry, I forgot about the hidden location thing. Okay, Elkor. Ed, you coordinate things. How soon?"

  I asked, “Steph, how far is Grand Forks, to the nearest hundred miles?"

  "Eighteen hundred and twenty-six miles, Ed. That's as imprecise as I care to be."

  I said, “Eighteen hundred miles is about half an hour at max warp, Linda. I want to grab a couple of things on the way, so make it about an hour. That gives you time to warn the locals, too. Don't trust to their common sense or procedures and tell them to stay the hell off their phones and radios about all this. No cell phones, either."

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  In a cool tone, Linda asked, “Are you giving the orders now?"

  "I'm going in with the hardware and I'm a quiet ops type to the core, ma'am. My five suit's tuned to me, so I can't lend it out. We do it my way or someone else goes on the roof some other way. Who else can you afford to risk?"

  "Don't talk like that, damn it. Are the 'couple of things' you mentioned going to obviate the need for a search warrant?"

  "Damn, you're smart, lady. I should have married you before you met that brass-hat sailor. Tell the fire department to wait for word that there's a barbeque grill out of control on the roof of the warehouse. If somebody happens to have a bear in the air at the time, the chopper can spot the fire and call it in. There will also be shots fired, if you bring me an untraceable pistol. Oh, yeah, and just to make things look right to the press later, get me some burgers, dogs, buns, and stuff like that to drop with the grill. Charcoal and fluid, too. You're a lot closer than I am, so you'll have time to stop somewhere for that stuff. We'll make it look as if one of their own blew their cover with a cooking accident. If we're wrong about the place, we can just tell whomever not to allow cooking on the roof anymore."

  "Just don't bump into the air-bear on the way in, Dragonfly. I'll have some kind of a gun for you by then."

  Her calling me Dragonfly had made it unofficially official that my plan had been accepted pending revisions and adaptations.

  "Good deal, Fearless Leader. No blanks. Shell casings have to look right later. I'll put a few rounds in something that will stop
them."

  "Good enough. Is that everything?"

  "If it isn't, I'll say so on the way. We can rendezvous above the Thompson exit of I-29 and we'll go in low and slow so we'll look like ground cars if anyone is watching. Assume the bad guys are listening on all freqs and make sure the cops and fire guys keep quiet and on standby only. Steph?"

  Her image appeared beside me. She said, “In the driveway, Ed."

  "Thank you, miLady. We have ourselves a Dragonfly Run. We may pick up, deliver, or just have a good look around, but we'll be doing it about an hour from now. Gimme a minute or two to saddle up and we're out of here."

  I made a fresh mug of coffee and filled a thermos as well, patted Tiger and apologized for leaving him behind, took a leak, swapped my golf shoes for a pair of LA Gear knobby-tread semi-sneaks, dug a plastic butane lighter from my backpack, and then hopped aboard the flitter.

  The ratty, rusty charcoal grill I'd spotted in a local creekbed the week before was the first thing we loaded. Steph swished it in the stream, then cleaned it somewhat more with her field and dried it before bringing it aboard. Not far from US-19 and S.R.-50 a partly-crumpled 'one-way' sign that had been lying in the ditch for a week was brought aboard.

  I held the end that had the state and county ID info on it over the side of the flitter and Stephie sheared it off with her field. It fit inside the grill well enough to replace the rusted-out bottom. I then flipped my seat back and napped until Steph woke me in North Dakota.

  Stephie knew how to wake me up quickly. She had her semisolid image tiptoe to within a yard of my seat. I snapped awake staring up at her with my hand on my folding knife.

  "We'll be at the Thompson exit in five minutes, Ed. I'm pretending to be a small plane at the moment, following the highway into Grand Forks. Linda brought both flitters and twelve security guards and Elkor is here with the generator."

  "Thank you, Steph. Hi, Elkor. Thanks for bringing the generator."

  "You're welcome, Ed."

  "Hi, Linda. All set?"

  "Good to go, Ed. Got all the stuff."

  I stood up and stretched, took another leak, then swilled coffee as we approached Linda's party. When we were close enough, I hopped across the gap between our flitters. Everybody aboard hers was wearing black outfits and carrying Hi-Point 9mm carbines and other gear. At Linda's direction, two of the guys tossed the cooking stuff over to Stephie's deck while I checked the gun Linda had brought me. It was a 9mm Beretta model 92 with a standard magazine, a very nice gun for our purposes.

  On general principles, I told Stephie, “Two rounds at you, ma'am. Ammo check."

  "Okay, Ed."

  I fired twice, startling the hell out of some of the guys who hadn't heard me talk to Steph. She zapped both rounds out of existence with bright little fireballs. The Beretta's action was smooth and the trigger weight was about five pounds.

  As I replaced the rounds, I said, “Thank you, Steph. You know you're one of only two machines in the whole world that I really trust, don't you?"

  "Of course I know that, Ed, and I don't let just anyone shoot at me."

  Linda snickered as she handed me a butane fireplace lighter.

  "Thought you might need this,” she said.

  "Heh. I brought a lighter, too, Linda. Would have been major dumb to forget to bring a lighter, wouldn't it? Are the roof guards keeping a real schedule or just wandering around up there?"

  "We've seen one change of guards on the hour and a walker on the half-hour."

  "Good. Organized routine is always easier to beat. I'll go in right after the next change and set up the grill and the generator, then have a look downstairs."

  "You didn't say anything about going downstairs, Ed. We can secure the building's roof and call in..."

  "I have a five suit and option four. I'll also have a stunner and this 9mm. If I can find and neutralize the target zone, so much the better for everyone. You'll be seeing whatever I see on your screens ‘cause there'll be a probe up by my briefcase. What are the locals providing for this venture?"

  "The cops and fire department special units are standing by a few blocks away. If the info turns out to be good, they'll cut phone service, scramble radio and satellite links, and surround the warehouse."

  A familiar voice said, “Hey, there, Dragonfly. Nice outfit, even without the golf shoes. Kinda clashes with ours, though."

  Navy Captain Emory Wallace stood among the men on Linda's flitter. He was wearing basic black and carrying a Hi-Point 9mm carbine, just like everybody else, and he was remarking on my fatigue shirt and jeans. My surprise had amused him. I looked at Linda questioningly.

  "He's qualified,” she said. “He became a Seal in ‘78 and passed our course in ‘99, and I run his ass off every morning."

  "Well, then, I'm suitably impressed, I guess. How about a just-in-case goodbye kiss, sweetie? You never know how things will go."

  As Linda shook her head resignedly, then gave me a peck on the cheek, she muttered, “You're going to die giving somebody the finger, aren't you, Ed?"

  I glanced at Wallace with a quick wave and a grin that he seemed to take as camaraderie or acknowledgement of some sort.

  Still wearing the grin, I said, “Maybe it'll even be him. See ya."

  I jumped back aboard Stephie and dropped the charcoal bag into the grill, then ripped it open, tossed the lighter fluid can and lighter in, and closed the lid.

  "Steph, open a link to Linda's pad, please."

  "Ready,” she said.

  Linda said, “Ready."

  I couldn't help it. I said, “Mercy sakes, it looks like we got us a convoy. Wagons, ho, and stuff like that. All ahead road speed, Steph, a foot off the ground until we're five blocks away and covered, then up and over."

  Wallace's voice said, “The guy's a goddamned clown, Linda. Listen to that shit."

  Linda snickered and said in a stewardess tone, “Please take your seat for your own safety, sir, or I'll have to have the flight crew help you to your seat."

  I could imagine Wallace's expression. I could also imagine him doing as he was told. The more serious types are known for doing that.

  Thirteen minutes later we were all in position to use a building for cover as we rose to its roof height and surveyed the roof of the somewhat shorter target building. Steph and I moved as far forward on an adjoining roof as possible and Steph put her findings on a field screen.

  There were two guys in the middle of the roof and one on each corner, all dressed in the expected biker and redneck rags and armed with rifles and pistols. Four minutes to the hour.

  "Four minutes to shift change. Six guys on the roof,” I said, “Guess we were right about the place. Steph and I will go in fast and use stun pulses to drop the new guys, then I'll back that with a hard stun each."

  Linda said, “Got it."

  The shift change brought an extra set of guards. I knew Linda was watching the target roof as closely as Steph and I were as I said, “Confirm eight on the roof, now."

  "Copy eight."

  "Confirm option five on."

  "Copy option fi..."

  "Heh. Gotcha."

  "Not nice, Dragonfly. Hurt my feelings and I'll tell my boyfriend."

  When the stairwell door closed behind the last of the old guard shift, Steph flew close above the building and emitted a pulse. The guys on the roof dropped instantly, as did we. I zapped each of the guys again for luck, then Steph let me off near the center of the tarpaper roof and I hauled the grill off her deck. She rose about twenty feet and taxied to join the other flitters, one of which moved to bring our people to the target roof. It was Linda's.

  "Get your prisoners and get off this roof,” I told them.

  "Oh, aye, aye, sir,” said Wallace. He went to the two bad guys by the grill, cuffed them, and hauled them back to Linda's flitter quickly enough, though. He then went to help one of the other guys drag a really fat baddy to the flitter.

  Elkor descended near the grill and offloaded the fie
ld generator to the top of an air conditioning enclosure, then lifted away from the roof.

  As I headed back to the grill, I said, “Thanks, Elkor. Putting it there will leave air for the grill fire inside the field. Good of you to lend us your stuff, guy."

  "You're welcome, Ed, but if you break it, you buy it. Did I say that right?"

  I laughed softly and said, “Sure you did, Elkor. Who suggested that line?"

  "I found it in some reference data. It seemed appropriate."

  Giving the charcoal a very heavy dose of lighter fluid, I said, “Very appropriate, Elkor. That was a good one for the event at hand. Linda, is everybody off the roof?"

  "All clear, Ed."

  "Wallace, too? Better check. He looked like a wannabe hero to me, ma'am."

  "I'm here,” said Wallace. “And I've already been a hero, Dragonfly. I thought I'd let you take a shot at it this time, so don't fuck up."

  I laughed and said, “Tell him, Fearless Leader. Better yet, let him read for himself."

  "He's already seen your ops files, Ed. You boys quit picking on each other, and that's an order. We have work to do."

  Wallace said, “Aye, aye, ma'am. I'll just go sit on one of the prisoners for you."

  I said, “I knew he'd be useful for something. Elkor, crank up the field, please."

  "Yes, Ed. The field is now on. I would prefer that you proceed with caution."

  Ready to light the charcoal, I said, “Thanks, Elkor. I'll be careful. Option four on."

  All I could see of myself was the Beretta that I held in my right hand and the lighter that I held in my left. The rest of me had disappeared.

  "System check. Can you see me, Linda?"

  "You're on our screen, Ed."

  "In that case, let's do it."

  Half of a quart can of lighter fluid does wonderful job of starting a charcoal grill. There was a really hefty 'whoomp!' that threw the grill's cover several feet during a good-sized fireball, and then the flames leaped ten feet into the air. Bits of burning charcoal were dislodged to fall around the grill. I tossed the fluid can down near the grill and turned to jog toward the stairwell door.