I didn’t understand what was going on. Sally, apparently acting on Rosalind’s orders, had put me in a difficult, but not impossible—or fatal—position. Then someone with a pair of Chapultepec & Castle drones had tried to kill me. How many enemies did I have?
I shelved that thought—afraid I wouldn’t like the answer. Then I was pleased to hear a familiar voice.
“Jack,” shouted my phone. “The cavalry’s here.”
“It’s about time.”
“Determining Sally’s route seemed like a higher priority,” it replied.
My phone was perched on an open window of my rented dirigible’s gondola. I decided not to quibble about its judgment.
“Can’t you just follow her tracking unit?”
“Sensors indicate that said tracking unit is eight hundred feet below, moving toward the Gulf of California at the same speed as the river’s current,” said my phone.
“So much for that idea,” I said. “Can you get me out of here?”
“Affirmative.”
I was glad to hear that answer, since I was feeling decidedly off from all the blood that had been rushing to my brain. My phone carefully judged its altitude and shifted my ride sideways towards me. The blimp’s gas bag hit the bungee cord twenty feet above me and I started to swing toward the gondola. I missed the first time, but on my second swing I managed to fall into the gondola’s open door.
“Thanks.”
“Glad to help.”
I sat in one of the pilots’ chairs, glad to be alive.
“Take us up,” I said. “I want that bungee cord.”
“As you wish,” said my phone, making me homesick for my van.
After we rose to the level of the bridge’s roadway, I untied the cord and stowed it on the seat behind me. It might come in handy in the future.
I took a moment to look over at the dam, right side up this time.
“That’s quite a structure,” I said.
“Build in five years using over three million cubic yards of concrete,” said my phone. “With miles of tunnels inside.”
“Nice to know you can still access Wikipedia.”
“Sorry,” said my phone.
It sounded like its feelings were hurt, and rightly so.
“No, I’m sorry,” I replied. “I’m just grumpy from hanging upside down.”
My phone made a mollified chirp.
“Can you tell if the hydroelectric generators are running?” I asked.
“Yes, audio sensors indicate two of them are in operation.”
I had a thing for power plants after following my mother around for years, first to increase plant efficiency and second, to convert them to use congruent energy. Now that the latest wave of the congruent revolution had provided small-scale personal generators for every home and business, big power plants were no longer needed. Hoover Dam was an exception, however. A small community of natural power fanatics swore that old fashioned electricity from flowing water was qualitatively better than current made with help from wormholes. The debates between the advocates for Niagara Falls electricity and Colorado River electricity filled half a dozen chat groups. As I saw it, they were harmless fanatics with zero understanding of physics, but they weren’t hurting anybody. More power to them.
“Cool. Remind me to come back later and get a tour.”
Hoover Dam was one of the few places where my mom hadn’t worked.
“Certainly,” said my phone.
“Which way did Sally go?”
“Back to town.”
“Then get us back there, too,” I said. “Home, James, and step on it.”
“Did Master just give this unit a name?” asked my phone, in a mocking, astonished voice.
“No,” I said, “and you’re not getting a sock, either, Dobby.”
“Crap,” said my phone, still mocking.
We turned northwest toward Las Vegas and my phone kicked in the afterburners. We were really trucking.
“Jack,” it said. “Call for you. From Poly.”
“Put her on.”
“You’d better get back here in a hurry,” said Poly. “Jean-Jacques and Cornell are both in place and about to go at it like it’s the World Series of Poker. Terrhi’s excited and we’re ready for the Hu Zahn Fierst spray once things get started.”
“Be right there,” I said. “As soon as I get around McCarran International’s protected airspace.”
“Great,” said Poly. “See you soon!”
“Just don’t draw to any inside straights in the meantime.”
Chapter 28
“If you could read my mind love,
what a tale my thoughts could tell.”
— Gordon Lightfoot
I had my rent-a-blimp drop me off on the SLN Capital hotel’s observation deck and told its simple minded autopilot to dock outside the balcony of the penthouse on top of the three-sided tower at the Grand Pyridian. It was a quick elevator ride down to the thirty-fourth floor where the poker game was being held. I double-checked the number and went into the room next to where J-J and Cornell were playing. Poly, Martin, Shepherd, Terrhi, and Dulce—in a cocktail waitress’s uniform—were inside. Spike had wisely been left back in Terrhi’s suite at the Royal Dauushan.
Everyone was watching the wall screen where a real time closed circuit broadcast from a camera hidden in a light fixture in the next room was showing. Poly turned away from the screen and hugged me, whispering in my ear that she was glad I’d made it in time. Terrhi was hopping up and down like she needed a trip to the bathroom, but for young Dauushans I think that’s just a sign of excitement.
The video feed showed Cornell, in his usual gray suit, seated with his back to the right-hand wall of the poker game suite. Only a few steel studs and couple of sheets of drywall separated him from the room Poly and Terrhi and the rest of us occupied. The ballroom dance champion bad guy had a clear view of the entrance to his suite and sat in every gambler’s preferred seat since Dodge City’s heyday in the 1880s. He was also less than two feet away from Terrhi, who was leaning against the wall directly opposite. I couldn’t spot Chit and assumed that she was either hidden in Cornell’s hair or below his collar.
J-J sat across from Cornell, his face an unreadable sphinx-like mask. An older woman in a modified Congressional page’s outfit—a dealer provided by the hotel’s casino—was to Cornell’s left. A green-shaded swag lamp above the small square table made it easy to see the cards and mounds of chips in front of the players. J-J had a lot more chips than Cornell. I was glad I didn’t play cards for money. My face is like an open Kindle.
Poly stepped away to talk to Dulce. She gave Ms. Jiménez a small atomizer that I assumed was filled with a suspension of Hu Zahn Fierst telepathic nanoparticles. Dulce palmed it, ready to use it when instructed. Then Poly put a specially designed coaster on Dulce’s drinks tray, next to a glass of Cornell’s favorite scotch.
“Keep your eye on the circular design in the center of the coaster, please,” said my partner. “When it turns green, squeeze the atomizer under Cornell’s nose. Try to combine it with serving his drink so he doesn’t see what you’re doing. We need to have it happen precisely at ten o’clock.”
“Right,” said Dulce. “Green means go. This isn’t going to hurt him, is it?”
“No,” said Poly. “He may be briefly disoriented, but it won’t cause him permanent harm.”
“Good,” said Dulce, looking relieved. “I didn’t sign up for that.”
“Don’t worry,” said Poly. “Your help will probably save lives.”
That made Dulce smile. At 9:57 she took her tray with its signaling coaster and Cornell’s scotch out the door for delivery next door. Poly took a duplicate atomizer and held it under the noses at the ends of three of Terrh
i’s sub-trunks. I watched on the wall screen as Cornell won a large pot and allowed Dulce to hand him his drink. On the stroke of ten I saw her hand twitch surreptitiously and imagined millions of nanoparticles swarming into Cornell’s bloodstream. Poly’s hand matched Dulce’s motion and both the well-dressed goon and Shetland pony-sized girl were simultaneously exposed.
On the wall screen we saw Cornell shake his head twice, then freeze. Next to me, I saw Terrhi’s body go rigid. All nine of her sub-trunks stuck out as straight and inflexible as broom handles. The preadolescent Dauushan’s head started to move rhythmically from side to side and soft hooting noises came from her open mouth. Poly and I had some idea of what she was going through and I mentally apologized to Tomáso and Queen Sherrhi for putting their daughter through such an ordeal.
“Tell me again why Terrhi got the spray, not one of you,” said Martin.
“The telepathic effect is bi-directional,” said Poly. “If one of us inhaled the nanoparticles, Cornell would know everything we know.”
“With Terrhi,” I added, “Cornell only gets a child’s perspective, while we should be able to get enough details about Cornell’s thoughts to identify where the CEOs are being held. That’s really all we need.”
“Whose bright idea was this?” asked Martin, looking at Shepherd, then at Poly, then at me.
“Mine,” said Shepherd in his rusty, blues singer growl.
There was a definite “don’t push it” undertone to his one-word response.
“It was Terrhi’s idea, too,” added Poly. “She volunteered.”
“She’s a kid,” said Martin. “And I don’t like using her for something like this.”
His jaw was set and his expression was hard. I didn’t like being on the receiving end of Martin’s disapproval. I also didn’t like putting my young friend in such a position, but needs must when the devil drives, as the old saying goes.
Then Terrhi’s body relaxed and she started to slump. Poly and I leaned against her, keeping her upright against the wall. On the big screen we saw Cornell shake his head like a wet dog shedding water. Then he regained control of himself.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “My late night yesterday must have caught up with me.”
“Don’t worry,” said Jean-Jacques. “I ordered a pot of coffee from room service. I want you awake so I can take more of your money.”
“I’ll have to fold and call it a night,” said Cornell. “My brain is spinning with crazy dreams about pink elephants. I could swear I hadn’t had that much to drink.”
“One more hand?” ask J-J.
“No,” said Cornell. His eyes were struggling to focus.
“But it’s only been an hour,” whined Jean Jacques.
From the look of the size of the pile of chips in front of him, J-J had made the most of those sixty minutes. Even if Cornell hadn’t been recovering from melding minds with a Dauushan child, he would have been wise to quit.
Cornell stood up, unsteady on his feet, and tossed a low denomination chip to the dealer.
“Put the rest of these on my account,” he said, “and call me an autolimo.”
“Yes, sir,” said the dealer, looking at the puny size of her tip with unconcealed dissatisfaction.
“Aren’t you going to give me a chance to clean you out?” asked Jean-Jacques. He was talking to Cornell’s back as the door to the suite was closing.
“You’ll be taken care of,” said Cornell as he made his exit. There was more than a touch of menace in his voice.
“I don’t like the sound of that,” said Martin.
“Neither does J-J,” I noted, pointing at the WT&F CEO’s sour face on the screen.
Then Terrhi seemed to regain control of herself. All three of her eyes fought to focus, their pupils growing and shrinking rhythmically. She stood up without any assistance and shook her torso, sending what I assumed were stray thoughts flying everywhere. Poly and I had to step back to avoid being knocked over. With one last shake of her head, Terrhi stood tall, opened her mouth, and uttered a single word.
“Wow!”
“Are you okay, honey?” asked Poly, hugging the little girl and rubbing one side of the top of her head where her upper ear attached. Terrhi always loved that.
“I had such a cool dream,” gushed Terrhi, her three eyes not quite focused. “Vast fleets of starships flying millions of troops to thousands of planets, bringing in a new age of peace and prosperity for the galaxy under Terran rule.”
“Has she been watching Star Wars: Return of the Empire again?” asked Martin.
“Shush,” said Poly, glaring at Martin. “What else do you remember, sweetie?”
“The rest of the Nine were unhappy,” said Terrhi. “And The General was most displeased about the queen.”
“What?” I said. “The Nine?”
“Shush!” said Poly. “Let her talk.”
“But this time it’s different. They’ll never find them, or guess our true intentions,” said Terrhi, her piping voice a conspiratorial whisper. “It won’t be much longer now.”
Shepherd was staring at Terrhi with concern. I don’t think he liked what she was saying any more than I did.
“Where are your mom and dad, Terrhi?” asked Poly. “Did Cornell’s thoughts tell you.”
“They don’t have the brain power to figure it out,” Terrhi said, in a fair imitation of Cornell’s sneering voice. “Not a damn one of them.”
That made the gears in my head start to spin, but my thoughts were derailed by Terrhi’s reproduction of an evil villain’s laugh that I thought had gone out of style fifty years ago, back when Roger Moore was still playing James Bond. Cornell must be one screwed up, power-mad dude. Then I heard my name and my ears perked up.
“Buckston’s going to get what’s coming to him,” continued Terrhi. “I’ll make him cry ‘Uncle!’”
Terrhi stopped channeling Cornell and shook her head again, setting her sub-trunks waggling.
“Uncle Jack, Aunt Poly, Cornell’s thoughts are creepy.”
“We’re so sorry you have them inside your head,” I said, moving over to rub the other side of the top of her head.
Poly and I both hugged her.
“It’s so nasty black and angry red and orange-y power-hungry in there,” said Terrhi.
“I’m sure,” said Poly in a reassuring tone. “He’s a bad, bad man.”
“Do you remember anything else that might help us?” asked Martin.
Now that the deed had been done, he wasn’t above benefiting from it.
“I did get images of icebergs and octopuses,” said Terrhi.
Classic conspiracy motifs, I thought. More under the surface than above, with plenty of tentacles.
“What about where they’re holding your parents and the CEOs?” I asked. “Can you remember anything related to that?”
Terrhi stood motionless for a few seconds, sucking on three of her sub-trunks. She must be really upset. I’d never seen her do that before. She needed a good cuddle and playtime with Spike. Finally, she spoke.
“I can’t remember words, Uncle Jack, but I do remember sounds.” Terrhi paused. “Under everything connected to where the CEOs are being held was a hum and a whoosh sound that never stopped. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
I patted Terrhi’s head.
“It does to me, sweetie,” I said. “I think I know where to look to find them.”
Terrhi hugged me this time.
“Thank you, Uncle Jack. I want my mommy and daddy and Uncle Diágo back.” She snuffled. “Spike told me he misses them a lot.”
My heart was ready to melt into my abdomen. Terrhi was trying so hard to be brave. I couldn’t disappoint her.
Poly’s phone buzzed.
“Hell
o?” she said. When she heard the voice on the other end she grinned and announced, “It’s Chit!”
“Put her on,” I said, thinking how much I’d missed hearing my little friend’s irreverent comments.
Poly pushed the speakerphone button.
“Izzat you with Ms. Polywog, Bucko?” asked my friend. Her voice was softer than usual and sounded like she was in an echo chamber.
“Yeah, Half Pint,” I said. “It’s me. The Big Bad Wolf and the Smooth Domed Fuzz are here, too.”
Shepherd and Martin gave me looks that would have incinerated me if I was a normal mortal. It’s not my fault that Martin shaves his head.
“Where are you?”
“I’m in the liquor cabinet on Cornell’s autolimo with the door closed. He’s sleeping and mumbling about squirrels and playing fetch.”
“Leave it to you to check out the liquor cabinet as soon as you were in the vehicle.”
“If you’d spent the last day tracking someone who’s spent all his time playing poker or sleeping, you’d be ready for a drink, too, buddy boy. You could look up this gig as an antonym for exciting in the dictionary.”
“Poor Chitlin’s,” I said. “I hope you got some rest. Where’s Cornell headed?”
“Back to his room at the Big Dam Lodge to sleep off whatever sort of Mickey Finn ya gave him,” said Chit. “What’s the story there?”
Xenotech What Happens: A Novel of the Galactic Free Trade Association (Xenotech Support Book 3) Page 22