The Tender Shore: A Matt Ransom Mystery

by Bobby Underwood

  "Hot damn, where'd you get this?"

  "Edna." I got out and threw Ray the keys. His eyes got big.

  "Really?! Oh man!" He was strapping in when he turned to me. "Shit. If you're lettin' me drive, there must be something ugly I gotta do."

  "You've got the easy part, Ray, trust me."

  "Yeah, I bet! Last time you said something like that, I got conked on the head. It was sore for a week."

  "Really, TC, it's okay." I said, doing my best Magnum impression. I'd given Ray a TV acquired on the black market a couple of years back, and he'd become hooked on the classics. I explained the plan.

  "So tell me again, how come I gotta be the one who opens the locker?"

  "They won't be expecting you, Ray, and you're no good with a gun, so it's safer for me to watch your back and pick them up, take them out if necessary, than the other way around."

  "Then how come I gotta take this," he asked, holding the Nakra I'd handed him.

  "Just a precaution. In case I miss."

  "Miss? You better not miss, man."

  There was a throaty roar and a squeal of tires as I heard Ray say, shoving the gun in his belt, "This sucks, Thomas." It was hard to argue with him when he was right.

  It took us about twenty minutes to weave our way through a Miami which was getting ready for fun. Hot girls were everywhere, all of them tantalizingly dressed. They had a lot to show and weren't trying to keep it a secret. Bare legs of all shades were sliding out of sleek and exotic glider or ground vehicles in front of fashionable clubs. Seemingly endless lines of hot and sexy girls less affluent or hooked up waited outside for their shot to party and get laid. It was Miami.

  We finally pulled up to the bus depot. Streamlined glider coaches hovered above the terminal. I asked Ray if he knew what to do and he nodded unhappily. I took the eye from my pocket and gave it to him. There wasn't much else to say so we locked up and went inside. It wasn't sprawling like the train stations you saw in old photos. Grand Central in New York and a few in Europe were all that remained of those. It made it easier to spot the two keeping an eye on the lockers. He was husky and had that government look about him that was hard to miss. Plus he was pretending to read the paper, like a 'B' grade detective in a two-hundred-fifty-year-old movie. Of course it wasn't real paper anymore, just a synthesized amalgam. His clothes were average work clothes, but he'd gotten vain and kept his high priced loafers. Sloppy.

  It took a minute longer to spot the second one. She was a man magnet, exuding a raw sexuality that was bursting to get out and be devoured. Every male eye in the place covertly kept track of her, while every female eye covertly kept track of their guy keeping track of her. It was the perfect set-up because no one would be watching the male half of the team, the primary shooter. She was there to watch, and make sure everyone's eyes were on her. It wasn't hard for her. She was brown skinned and a lot of it was showing. She had a pretty spectacular upstairs that was almost entirely exposed and her curvaceous downstairs swayed naturally and provocatively beneath the thin fabric of her short dress when she walked. She looked like a high priced call girl who had unexpectedly found herself on the streets, but in reality she'd probably gone to Yale or Harvard.

  I nodded to Ray. He took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. There was a large sago palm adjacent to where the shooter was sitting, and I leaned against the wall beside it, out of his line of sight. The classy hooker bent over to fix her sling-back shoe and all eyes were on her. It was the signal. She'd seen Ray head for the locker. Her partner folded the paper and sauntered towards the lockers. Ray had the eye out and the scanner verified it was Danny's. Once the Mars G-Man heard the click of the lock when Ray punched in the right code, he moved with more stealth than a guy that size was supposed to possess. But I was quick also, and had surprise on my side. Before he could get his gun out I laid the Howzer solidly against his skull with enough force that he went down like a sack of flour.

  Ray barely knew what happened because in that same instant the working girl produced a gun from somewhere and fired. We both hit the floor. I rolled and came up ready to fire but she was already out the door. It wasn't at us she'd been shooting. She realized instantly that they'd blown it, and she cut their losses. Her partner wouldn't be answering any questions that might betray who they were. There were women screaming and general chaos as I hollered at Ray to stay with the locker while I ran after her. She jumped into the passenger side of a sleek Jaguar glider waiting for them outside. There had been a third member of the team, a driver at whom I'd only got a fleeting glance before they were in the air and gone. Something I'd just seen struck a chord, but I couldn't stand around and wait on it to come to me. Ray was standing by the locker glaring at me when I came back. If looks could kill, I'd have been worried.

  "See TC," I smiled. “A piece of cake."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  For in accepting the miracle of woman and drowning happily in her love, man has unknowingly accepted God, for she is the greatest evidence of His love

  Stacy got her first real taste of being Edna when I called and apprised her of the situation. I could hear the wail of sirens piercing the Miami night and growing closer as I gave her the rundown. It felt a bit strange explaining to Stacy in cold and blunt terms the situation on the ground. She suggested I remain with Ray since Civil Enforcement was almost there anyway, and give them only a bare minimum of facts. There was confidence in her voice when she said she would take care of it. Several minutes later, a CR I'd met casually at a conference a few years back was skeptical that two New Chicagoans just happened to be hanging out at a Miami Greyhound terminal right next to a guy no longer breathing because he'd been shot by a person witnesses were describing to CEs as a hooker. It probably didn't help that Ray was holding a sealed file with Provisional Mars Government written in bold red letters on the cover, and in big block letters underneath:

  C O N F I D E N T I A L - Level 6.

  All CRs knew level 6 was as high up as it got. What I believed was called a floppy disc a couple hundred years ago was also in the locker, but I'd stashed that in my pocket.

  He didn't believe us and I didn't blame him. But he was proceeding cautiously because of who I was. I wondered if he had also heard Annette's rumor that I wasn't human. While he asked delicate and circuitous questions designed to get at the truth, Ray began to sweat bullets. Finally, the CR's telecom beeped. He looked up at me and then walked away to listen in private. Ray turned to me and stabbed me a thousand times with his eyes. I smiled. I'd have to make it up to him somehow. The CR came back and told us we were free to go. He knew our story stunk, but he also knew he was never going to find out what really happened here because it went higher up the food chain. Ole Stacy was doing just fine.

  I dropped off a somewhat subdued Ray and headed for LeAnn. Home for me wasn't a location, but a person. LeAnn's love had always been a lighthouse during a storm, guiding me safely back to her tender shore. It was dark as I drove through the city now, the Miami night alive with energy and the promise of sex. It was electric, bringing to mind a night in Paris dancing on a party boat floating in the River Seine, and making love in a park on the way back to our hotel. I was lost in sweet memories when I arrived home, but quickly returned to the present.

  Apparently, the girls hadn't shown me everything in those packages. LeAnn, Annette and Stacy were all wearing snow-white USC Cheerleader outfits. USC was unable to survive the global riots of 2158 as many other universities had. Its location in central Los Angeles had not helped, and the quake which dropped a huge portion of California into the Pacific the following year while an attempt to rebuild the campus was underway had given it its death blow. The old college try had fallen short. Being a fan of Notre Dame and the Irish, I'd never been crazy about the West Coast teams, but those outfits were so cute I might be persuaded to change my allegiance. The top was long-sleeved with a thin turtle-neck style collar, and in dark red on yellow-gold spelled USC across the lovely rise of their breast
s. It was tapered and hugged the curves of their waists. The long sleeves made the top even sexier than bare skin would have been, adding an element of mystery. The matching swan-white skirt was pleated and very short, the hem trimmed by red-gold-red against the bright white. They looked wholesome and sexy at the same time. God, they were beautiful. Especially my cheerleader.

  "Well, well," was all I could think of to say as I let out a low whistle. Their smiles told me it was the right call. They knew they looked hot, and now they'd gotten confirmation. LeAnn leaned into me for a kiss, her soft breasts pushing gently against my chest. I was anxious to play college professor and sweet adoring student willing to do anything for a passing grade, but we had company. "USC?"

  "Only one Notre Dame left," LeAnn laughed, "and we wanted to all be the same."

  "LeAnn knew my size so she got me one too," chipped in Stacy.

  "We had to pick between Kansas, Oregon and Texas, because they had at least three each of those, but Annette and I decided white went with everything."

  I knew they wanted to go out and show off a bit in Miami. No one was going to see them sitting here. I looked down at the file in my hand and took the floppy disc from my pocket. LeAnn took me by the hand and led me to the bed. There was no need to run through what happened since Stacy had no doubt told them. I knew LeAnn had been worried about me, and this had been her way of distracting herself. She was always strong, never nagging, but I knew how deeply she loved me. I knew because I loved her the same way. "Let's see what's in the file," she said. Annette and Stacy slid onto the bed behind me. I opened the sealed file with a group of sexy cheerleaders looking on like it was the results of their finals.

  There was an old Earth file from the last decade of the twenty-first century inside the new sealed one from Mars. I could see right away that it wasn't about the technology of giving a bio-organic a soul. They were reports about the Phage of 2092, which had wiped out much of the population and been the catalyst for the introduction of bio-organics into an unsuspecting world. There were names of several men and two women, none of whom I recognized, and detailed reports regarding their secret meetings and clandestine biological weapons transactions. Assessments had been made connecting them as a group, but before actions could be taken against them they had disappeared. Then the Phage had swept the world, devastating mankind. One of the reports concisely stated after some chemical evaluation that the side effect of sterility after the Phage had been genetically engineered.

  The final document was an overall assessment to which all the major intelligence agencies on Earth at the time had given their signature. It stated that the Phage was a planned attack by a group whose purpose was to decimate the world's population so that bio-organics could be introduced. The side effect of sterilization was a hedge against any surviving humans. Bio-organics could not reproduce, but if humans could not either, no distinction could be made singling them out. There were other more technical reports on the development of the bio-organics that made me uncomfortable. I had gotten over being bio-organic long ago, and had no desire to learn the nuts and bolts of how the technology to create me had come about. The just of it was that it had been developed in secret somewhere on the West Coast, where all terrible ideas originate, and only when Edna had stepped down from Aerodyne many years ago had the conduit to make it a reality come to fruition.

  It had taken me perhaps forty-five minutes to go through the file, and there had been total silence. The implications were staggering. Billions of humans had died so that governments of the world would be forced to turn to bio-organic life to keep it running. The report made it clear that profit was the motive for some, politics for others, since some of those connected to the crime were human, and others were early bio-organics. It was attempted genocide of the human race. But some of humanity had survived. A few had stayed on Earth; three of them were with me on the bed. But most had deserted a planet rocked by cataclysmic natural and manmade disasters, not to mention human folly. Mars was in essence, the 'New Earth' and anyone who had seen this report knew without doubt that Earth had been taken from them by nefarious means.

  "Shit." Annette was the first one to speak, and spoke quite eloquently. Shit indeed.

  "We need to know what's on that disc, Matt," said Stacy. "I don't know how Danny got this or what it has to do with anything else, but we have to find out."

  LeAnn was fingering the floppy disc.

  "Didn't you say Pablo was a computer guy?" she asked Annette.

  "Yeah, he's…shit! Give me the phone." Hardly anyone called it a 'phone' anymore. I found it endearing. She walked out to the terrace and we heard a lot of excited chatter. She came back.

  "Pablo says it's doable. He's on his way. He made some money today." She said it proudly, the way you did when money was scarce.

  "How long will it take him?" I asked.

  "He says only fifteen minutes. A guy's dropping him off." She saw my look of concern and added, "Pablo's real careful. I told him the situation. He'll have the guy drop him off in the general area, and once he's gone, walk over here."

  People living on the streets or out of their cars, whatever century, had a natural predilection towards privacy, and were usually adept at avoiding the scrutiny of others more fortunate than themselves. Pablo showed up even quicker than expected. He was slight, about Annette's size, and the two of them sort of fit together. He carried a shoulder bag that appeared to weigh as much as he did. He hadn't had a haircut in some time and it sort of gave him a mini afro. His clothes were somewhat worn but clean. Since he had just come from a job, it meant he cared about his appearance. And he wasn't embarrassed to give Annette a little kiss in front of us. I saw something in his eyes like pleasure when his hand went to her waist and he got a real gander at her new threads. I liked him. He nodded to me and after introductions were made all around I handed him the disc. He grinned.

  "Man, this isn't old school, this is old school. I'll need a place to work."

  We decided the kitchen table would be best, and LeAnn made some Kool-Aid for everyone. It was hard to get, even on the black market, and he smiled his approval at the first sip. "Man, you guys know how to live." He pulled out a mishmash of equipment that he connected somehow, then placed the floppy disc inside one of them. He tapped a few keys on his board, and bada bing bada boom, his screen came alive with numbers and symbols. He leaned back, sighing, and rested his hand on Annette's bare leg, sliding his thumb absentmindedly over her soft flesh. She seemed to grow softer sitting next to him when he did. She loved him. And if I hadn't known otherwise, I'd have said he loved her just as much, and maybe had a soul.

  "It's encoded. I can crack it and open the file, but it'll take a while."

  "How long is a while?" I ventured.

  "Maybe fifteen minutes, maybe ten if I get lucky," he said apologetically. He didn't want to let down Annette's new friends. I suspected, living like they did, neither had any friends.

  "No problem. I'll take a shower and clean up. I suspect these USC hotties want to go party when we're done." I deliberately included him in the girl's entourage with me, and left to shower. I found a pair of clean but slightly worn jeans and a plain black T-shirt I threw on so the kid wouldn't feel underdressed. When I returned everyone was looking at the screen.

  "It's some sort of complex formula. It has to do with bio-organics. I think it's the formula for giving a person…giving one a soul." I could tell he'd give a million bucks to be a rocket scientist and understand it all. Annette must have sensed it too, because it was her hand that found his leg this time and squeezed.

  "There's something else, too. Something about some real high-tech stuff being moved from Mars to Earth."

  "What kind of stuff?"

  "I don't know, man. It's way out of my league." I could tell it pained him to admit it. I didn't like feeling stupid either, but I was older, and I'd had more practice. "Wait," he said suddenly. "It's…terraforming equipment."

  I wasn't the only one who got
the implication. You could have heard a pair of silk panties hit the floor. "Anything else?" I asked finally.

  “Looks like it’s somewhere off the coast of South America."

  "Rio?"

  "Yeah. How'd you know?"

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  For light may for a time hide within the darkness, but it must ultimately untangle itself from the shadows, or be engulfed by them forever

  I took the disc with me and hid the file where no one would think to look for it; in Annette's car. I didn't expect any visitors, but it was always better to plan for the worst. The Miami night was charged with fun and promise, and the girls decided to hit a few of the best places, rather than just one. In doing so, we managed to taste the fun without feeling the desperation. Many were out clubbing because they were lost, seeking escape in temporary pleasures from a world much closer to ruin than they would ever suspect. Miami's cool places had survived the centuries, faring better than man had. I drove and Pablo rode shotgun. With no back seat to speak of, the girls rested their feet on the back of our seats and leaned against the open top, enjoying the thrill of being hot and on display in Miami. We cruised over to South Beach, Annette and Pablo steering us to the best spots, most of which they themselves had never been.

  We had a great time at Nikki's, right on the beach. We nibbled on some exotic tidbits from around the world, basking in the Fantasy Island decor. Then we took of our shoes to dance in the sand. Pablo appeared to be the same caliber dancer that I was — which is to say he was a minimalist — so we just smiled and had a great time, moving around just enough not to be too conspicuous. The girls were much more into it, of course, twirling around, bumping and grinding with us and with each other. Other women were showing more skin, but those USC outfits made our trio of babes the sexiest on the sand. LeAnn slid her skirt and the beautiful curves it barely covered against me every few minutes just to remind me what the night held in store for me. She was happy and carefree, dancing and laughing with Stacy or Annette, or both.