Futura: Parallel Universes. Book 2

by Valerio Malvezzi

  The interlocutor will seem to feel the blow because he will turn from the sign on the card to look at the Italian magistrate.

  The woman will quicken her step to stand behind the blond man.

  “Or rather, you will move on that trail. I cannot appear; my name is certainly marked. I’ll put you on the right path, I’ll tell you what to look for, but then I won’t be able to come with you.” The man will study her. “Do you hear?”

  “Of course.”

  They will stop in front of a ladder leading to a flying bus stop. The people around them will walk hastily along the crowded street.

  “I want one thing to be clear,” he will say.

  “What?”

  Whiley will put his hands in his jacket pockets, glancing around, then look her in the eye.

  “I’m not giving you a present. Behind this, someone’s willing to kill for reasons I don’t even know. We don’t know who he is or why he does it. And if you agree to help me, you could put yourself in danger.”

  The woman will cross her arms over her chest. The wind will disarrange her hair again. For the first time, the shadow of a smile will appear on the tired, thin face. “You really want to make him pay for it, don’t you?”

  People will walk alongside them, heading to the escalator, down the sidewalk.

  “Look, I won’t promise you anything,” the woman will say, looking at the people passing by, “but I don’t give up easily. And I think people really need to know this story.”

  Whiley will look around. People will continue to pass on the sidewalk. The display board at the top of the escalator will announce the arrival of the next bus.

  “Well, then...” he will say, turning.

  “Mr. Whiley.”

  The man will stop to look at the young woman, with her thin, pale face.

  “I believe you. And we’ll go as far as we need to. We’re going to find out the truth. And we’ll publish it.”

  The man will lower his head, taking the woman by the arm and moving her aside a couple of steps.

  “And Poland is a Catholic country, if I’m not mistaken,” the little man will add, “and I would never want this track to be lost due to your... as it were... excess of caution.”

  “You are asking me to participate in the arrest of a citizen who is probably Polish, in our country, without a specific charge, if not the sale of illegal software, in an area obviously outside your investigative jurisdiction, based on a couple of holographic interceptions, and to allow you to take him to Italy for questioning,” replied the Polish magistrate of the same rank. “And if it then turns out that he was simply a seller of pirated software?”

  The Italian magistrate will bend forward, towards the monitor. “I understand your doubts... However, I must insist. The truth, my dear colleague, is that at the moment we only have this lead, and we cannot afford to rule out any possibility. You understand that our government is putting pressure on us to find him as soon as possible those who are planning to attack the life of the Holy Father, and I understand that yours joined the project to establish a special inter-force unit, just last week.”

  The Italian will get up to mask his nervousness. “I wouldn’t like to be forced to ask our Minister of the Interior to proceed toward a formal request for cooperation under Treaty twenty-nine. I’ve decided to proceed more informally, dear colleague, and to avoid excessive bureaucracy, at least between us. Then, of course, I prepared my written request.”

  The hologram, projected on the blackboard, will seem to reflect on the words of the Italian colleague. “Colleague, there are no grounds for the arrested person to be taken to Italy, for now, at least,” he will finally say. “However...”

  “But...”

  “However,” the Polish man will continue, “in view of the fact that we’ve been looking for this individual for months, and that your investigation could allow us to stop illegal trafficking in our country, and due to our good relations, we can agree to a joint arrest operation. But…”

  “Ma’am, you’d better clarify one thing at once. I really appreciate your courage. But I would like to make it clear that this game is to be played by my rules.”

  “What would they be?”

  “Two conditions. First, you will only publish the article in a couple of cases. You must have my express consent; otherwise, nothing will be done about it, all right?”

  The woman will look at him and move her head, brushing her windswept blonde hair with one hand. “All right. And the second condition?”

  The man will look her in the eye. “My name must never come out.”

  The woman will raise her chin, holding his gaze. “Mr. Whiley,” she will say, “I have never revealed any of my sources.”

  Whiley will look at the thin woman in front of him, wrapped in her green coat, chin raised almost defiantly.

  “That’s fine, I think.” He will turn, looking at the arrival board for the next flying bus on his line. “You have two hours to decide. I’ll call.”

  The woman will take his elbow. “Mr. Whiley, first you said that the article should only be published in two cases, that I’ll need your express consent,” the woman will note. “And the second?”

  The man will drop his leather cap over his eyes. “If I’m dead.”

  The black woman will be in the house, watching from the window as the little girl plays in the yard with a doll. She will hold her communicator, looking at the man’s transparent face projected onto the smooth pale pink curtains at the window. The image will take on a color mixed with the real one, a man in a bar, sitting next to holographic gaming machines.

  “You’re late, as usual,” the woman will say accusingly. She will have the earpiece in her ear, and the conversation will be screened.

  “Thank you, colleague. I really appreciate it,” the little Italian will emphatically interrupt.

  “But let’s be clear that the responsibility and direction of the operations are ours because they’re conducted on our territory. Your men may be present at the capture, and we’ll cooperate with a joint surveillance team.”

  “It seems fair. We agree.”

  “But no interrogation in Italy. We’ll take care of it.”

  “I ask that at least one of our Counterterrorism Directorate investigators be present, with the power to question him. That’s all. If he’s really a small fish, and it has nothing to do with our investigation, all is well, and the credit remains all yours. Ok?”

  The man on the board will raise his arms. “All right.” He will sigh. “And now do you want to tell me in what node you tracked the subject?”

  “Wroclaw,” the Italian will say cheerfully. “I’ll immediately give you my team’s data, with their credentials and all the documents for the request for joint interception action.”

  “Doctor Bordini,” the man on the board will say.

  “Yes?”

  “You owe me. If you remember, in the Federation.”

  The DA will smile under the thick dark mustache. “Certainly, colleague. Count on me in the future. And thank you, thank you again.”

  “We’ll be in touch soon. I’m waiting for the data to connect our surveillance teams, names, qualifications, and everything. We’ll put our people in touch. We’ve little time to organize the operation. I’ll take care of the authorizations for joint action.”

  “Count on it. I’ll have them sent soon. Our director of Investigative Operations will leave today. Thank you. See you soon.”

  “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” The little man will turn off the communication, inhale and sit in the armchair, turning it towards the door. He will look at the tall man sitting behind the solid wood desk.

  “Thank you, Doctor,” he will say.

  She will watch the little girl walk on the porch, a few steps from her, under the wooden roof, and sit on the steps, talking to the doll in her hand.

  “I’m not interested in your apology. I’ve made excuses all my life, so don’t think
about getting out of it with your usual bullshit.”

  The little girl will move the doll on the parapet handrail along the porch under the roof.

  “What the fuck are you saying? But when did I ever buy myself a new dress or a pair of shoes? And I haven’t danced in years, if you want to know! The last time was when I followed you to that shitty place...”

  The black woman, wearing a cream sweatshirt, a pair of tight pants, and athletic shoes, will put a hand in her back pocket, lowering her voice.

  “Yes, you know... that place where you went to see your bitches. You remember that blonde with her boobs redone... and now you’re going to tell me you don’t even remember how that night ended...”

  The little girl will look up and smile at her mother, giving her a nod with the doll in her hand. The woman, returning the greeting, will walk away from the window.

  “That’s not the point. The point is, you’re six months late, and I can’t go on like this. I also had to pay the installment for Niki’s after-school care this month, and in the evening I have to pay someone to watch her for me, if I can even find someone. Not to mention that bastard, your friend. At least tell him to stay calm about the rent for this dump... Can you at least do that?”

  The woman will look at the kitchen clock. It will be just past four thirty. “I don’t think you’re listening to me... You have to stop fucking with me. You’ve been telling me for six months ‘next month, next month’... And what is this amazing business that you’re involved in?”

  The woman will move a small vase of flowers and fill it with water before putting it back in place on the shelf in the kitchen.

  “Oh, then you’re good. Look, since you’re in position, try to keep your word for once. I’m not asking for me, but for Niki.”

  The magistrate will inhale again before speaking.

  “Cervetti.”

  “Yes, Doctor?”

  “Now, stay on him.”

  The white-haired man in the gray suit will be drinking tea in the inner garden of the Hotel Plaza Athenee, on Avenue Montaigne, Paris. Sitting at a small table under a wisteria, he will observe with interest the elegant man in a light-colored sports suit sitting in front of him. It will be late afternoon, and the place will be pleasantly cool and quiet. “I didn’t think you were still in Paris, Robert,” he will say, sipping the drink. “When I saw that you contacted me asking for clarification on my course, I thought you would be really interested in the subject.”

  “What do you want in life, if you never finished studying?”

  “What is it?” the old man will ask, changing tone.

  “I need you to contact the bearded young man for me,” Holden will explain. “You know, I don’t like having too many contacts in holographic space with my suppliers. You are certainly less sensitive to certain—how do I put it—attentions.”

  “Got it,” the other will say, sipping his drink. “And about what should I contact our friend?”

  Holden will put a disk the size of a nail on the tablecloth, and the elderly man will make it disappear into the pocket of his jacket.

  “Let him have this, discreetly,” Holden will say. “He will understand.”

  “I have a lesson in just over half an hour. I’ll tell him right away that it would be best for him to follow today’s topic.”

  A couple of elderly tourists will enter the garden, sitting at a small table.

  “Great tea, don’t you think?” the older man will say with a smile, taking a pastry from the silver jar. “Especially with these. You want one?”

  The woman will lower her voice. “I’m ashamed of sending her around in my colleague’s daughter’s hand-me-downs. Try to find some dignity somewhere, and use it. And most importantly, get the money, which you’re certainly wasting on some of your usual bullshit...”

  She will enter the living room again, looking out through the glass at the little girl on the porch.

  “Then what are you doing there? You told me you stopped...”

  She will raise her head to the ceiling, turning to speak to the image now reflected on the dark cabinet of the living room.

  “And don’t tell me to calm down... I’ll calm down when I see the money you owe me...”

  She will continue to look at the ceiling, noticing a crack on the wall above the dark cabinet.

  “Yes, of course, next week... Why not... On Monday, and be sure to answer!”

  She will close the communication, continuing to look at the ceiling, putting her left hand over her mouth. Then she will turn around, put the communicator on the living room table, and return to the window, moving the pink curtain. At that moment, she will see the man in the leather cap walk down the garden driveway and stop to greet the little girl, crouching down.

  “She’s Betty,” Niki will say, sitting on the steps of the porch, showing him the doll. “And what’s your name?”

  190 days earlier

  The flying dark blue service car will quickly rise from the outer stop of the silos of the airport in Wroclaw, Silesia, Poland. The flying jet will turn in a horizontal position, taking the first ascent connection for the first level of traffic, heading into the city. The afternoon will be cloudy, with intermittent rain, and the driver will quickly move into the overtaking lane, following the laser lines projected into the sky, the flashing light on. The tall, thin man, with a face covered in a short black beard that will make him look older than his age, in the right back seat, will watch the airport terminal disappear into the distance from the window.

  “... They told me to give you maximum cooperation, Commissioner,” will say the brown-haired man in a dark suit to his left. “And of course I’m very happy to cooperate. The data you gave me was very helpful. We identified the holographic intruder’s access node, and my men are ready. I have a whole Special Forces team ready, and our surveillance police are in contact with your headquarters in Rome. We’ll act tonight.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Cervetti will reply. “May I ask you what the procedure is?”

  “The usual. Our holographic operator will receive the information from your informant inserted in the virtual node of Tortuga. As soon as he kicks off the operation, our team will be led from our operations headquarters.”

  “Mobile team?”

  “Naturally. A flying van with six of my Special Forces. The two of us will be on board.”

  “The connection?”

  “We’ll have a mobile surveillance operator on board in addition to the driver.”

  “Signal position interceptor?”

  “Yes. The headquarters will give us the coordinates, receiving the directions of your surveillance officer in Rome. At that point, having defined the zone, we’ll look for the signal.”

  “With a mobile interceptor?”

  Thursday, 4:32 p.m.

  The small, independent home nestled in trees on the outskirts of Chicago will seem to be in an out-of-time corner, surrounded by other low-rise housing in the popular neighborhood. The man and woman will be in the living room, while on the porch, the little girl will play in the waning sunlight, sheltered from the wind.

  “She’s a beautiful little girl,” he will say, looking out the window at her little back and mass of curly black hair. “How old is she?”

  The mother will stand, leaning against the kitchen doorjamb. “Six years old,” she will say, looking out the window in turn. “She seems to like you. Usually, she’s grumpy with strangers.”

  “She didn’t seem grumpy at all. In fact, she seems sweet.”

  “Oh, you don’t know her.”

  Whiley will watch the little girl talk to the doll, sitting cross-legged on the porch. The black woman will enter the kitchen. Sound of dishes. “And her father?”

  The woman will return to the living room. “Let’s say he doesn’t exist,” the woman will answer, placing a tray with two steaming cups on the coffee table. “Ok?”

  The man will close the curtains, spreading his hands. “Anyway, I still
wanted to thank you for last night.”

  “You paid me,” she will answer, sitting down. “And, well, I would say very well.”

  “Yes, but I don’t think just any woman would have done that. Bringing a stranger into the house,” he will say, sitting in turn. “At least, none of the women I know, friends or acquaintances. I mean, no, I mean...”

  “Well, then you don’t have very hospitable friends. Or maybe none desperately in need of money, like me,” she will say, winking to help him out of his embarrassment.

  “Yes, well, that is... Probably. Anyway, I’m sorry I scared you. It’s just that I really didn’t know what to do. I tried. And honestly, if you hadn’t helped me, I’d have figured something out. You hear a lot of bad stories these days in this town, especially in this area, I think.”

  “Yes, with equipment on board the van, which will be driven from our headquarters. We’ll also have two in support vehicles for any need.”

  From the window, Cervetti will watch the colorful roofs of the city flow hundreds of meters below him. “What is the signal detection capability?”

  “In such a restricted area, it’s very good. If your operative from Rome launches a program to slow down the data transfer speed, the neighborhood’s detection capability is a matter of a few minutes. Then we’ll move on to local discovery.”

  “With the operator on board the van?”

  “Yes. We’ll walk around the area until we find the exact building, and then we’ll run in until we get to the target door. If we’re good, we’ll break in before he can sell his merchandise, and we’ll arrest him.”