The chief, who until now didn’t see where Ned was headed, chimed in, “Like Tinkertoys and materials like that, right?”
“Never heard of ‘em,” Two Loons groused, certain the others were pulling the feathers in his hair.
Leo Lincoln turned to Two Loons. “Actually, boss, that’s not a half-bad idea.”
He explained what little he knew of the construction set.
Cody, who was better acquainted with the toys, thanks to some children he had belonged to prior to obtaining full animation and joining the Raiders, expanded on Leo’s knowledge.
Two Loons and Leo grew excited about the possibilities such technology might hold. Feeling a sense of urgency, they excused themselves so that they could powwow about the prospects with their various teams.
Cody chuckled. “I haven’t seen those two that animated in months.”
Deirdre frowned. “It’s partially my fault,” she said guiltily. “I don’t give Two Loons and Leo nearly the credit they deserve. Sometimes I forget how hard they work.”
“You guys need me?” Cody asked. “I’d like to consult with Harper before he and his team head to Reno. I spent a few months tip taxing about the town, and I’d like to brief them on what I learned.”
“I saw Harper up at Coinhenge earlier,” the chief answered. “He’s got some improvements in mind for the CBS.”
Ned said, “You’re not sore about staying behind, are you Cody?”
Cody shrugged. “I understand.”
“Your spying on The Hugh is as important as any other mission,” Deirdre assured him. “The intel we get from The Hugh has been extremely valuable.”
“I get that. It’s just that sometimes I miss the action, you know?”
“Don’t worry,” the chief said ominously, “there will be plenty of action down the road.”
Cody nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
Deirdre said, “Even though you’re not taking part in Operation Jackpot, you’re still invited to the powwows. We appreciate all your input. Team leaders will be assembling on Coin Beach at sundown.” She shot him a dimpled smile. “You’ll be there, right?”
Cody threw back his shoulders and grinned big and dopey. “Yes, Ma’am.”
Cody Quarter wondered if Deirdre knew he had a silver dollar-size crush on the little dime. Women coins knew that kind of thing, right? he once asked his eagle, Erasmus. Erasmus answered by laughing so hard he nearly laid an egg.
The two coins couldn’t have been more different, and Cody knew it. Deirdre was intellectual and often moody; Cody was like Kipp, an easygoing, swashbuckling quarter of action, only less gregarious than Kipp. Cody and Kipp had never met, but the two Washington quarters had heard of one another. Both coins were their bullion base’s wrestling champions, Cody having taken the Coin Island title away from Camille Quarter in a legendary bout a year earlier. Try as she might, Camille had yet to win it back. Ned and Hannah, who were rarely on base, had barred themselves from the rankings. Coins on every bullion base looked forward to the day when Kipp and Cody would face off in the ring.
Deirdre, however, was not impressed by such macho theatrics, at least not openly. If she bothered attending wrestling matches at all, it was only grudgingly, and at the insistence of Chief Iron Tail, who demanded she show a little base spirit now and then. Deirdre preferred to leave the team-building business to Ned or Cody, but knew the chief was right.
Aware that a lot of coins considered her stuck up and as approachable as a rattlesnake, Deirdre tried in her way to demonstrate some esprit de corps. She worked hard on her whistling for one. She also took private drumming lessons from Two Loons. Before Darla left to take over the Grand Canyon base, she coached Deirdre on her dancing and showed her how to shake her ten cents of booty. Deirdre was clumsy at such frivolity, and her self-conscious awkwardness showed, but that only endeared the socially inept dime all the more to Cody.
Alone now, Ned suggested that the chief, Deirdre, and Hannah take a stroll where they could speak in private. The four coins rolled down a path along the island’s western shoreline that faced the park. Because that side of the island had escaped the demolition from Hurricane Shadow, it was quieter and had no construction crews working on repairs.
“Welcome aboard,” Deirdre said to Hannah. “I’m sorry we kept you out of the loop about Pete. We were wrong to do so, and I apologize.”
“Apology accepted,” Hannah replied coolly.
“Thank you,” Deirdre said, and turned to Ned. “What Pete and his pals pulled off was a great coup for us. As our CBS has been intermittent ever since the dog pounced onto the island, I didn’t have an opportunity to properly congratulate him.”
“He knows,” Ned said. “Pete’s a trooper. I sent him on to Reno to do some recon. He called me yesterday from a spittoon.”
“Good grief,” Deirdre said. “People still use those foul things?”
“In parts of Reno, yeah. I couldn’t see him because, well, you know Pete. He sorta blended in.”
“Oy vey,” the chief said. “What was he doing in that dreck?”
Deirdre chuckled. “It didn’t have anything to do with a certain googly eyed silver dollar, did it?”
“Sadie mistook the spittoon for a vase,” Ned replied with a grimace. “Anyway, Pete said that it looks like the reports are true, and that The Six is amassing his forces around downtown Reno.”
“Good,” the chief said, itching for a fight. “The more the merrier.”
Deirdre said, “As you heard, we’re sending Harper and a team of coin commandos there tomorrow to scout out the place. I’ve also ordered a squadron of silver dollars from both the Grand Canyon and Death Valley bases to make some passes. We’ll be keeping them in the vicinity right up to D-day.”
“D-day?” the chief said.
“Dollar day, Chief,” Ned said. “Franny’s a silver dollar.”
“Oh, right. ‘D-day’ isn’t until February. Don’t we run a risk having so many coin commandos in the area so early?”
“We run a risk not having them there,” Deirdre said. “If The Six is planning this far ahead, then so must we.”
The coins glanced across the channel and saw The Hugh and his dog stroll up opposite them on the other shore. The man lifted his camera and snapped some pictures.
The chief gave a tug of his head and they backed away behind some tufts of weeds.
“Have you had any more trouble from The Hugh since Shadow went on his rampage?” Hannah asked.
“No, thank goodness,” Deirdre answered. “He didn’t show his face for two weeks afterwards. Cody worried about the human and went to check on him.”
“Was he okay?” Hannah asked, worried. “He didn’t suffer a relapse or anything, did he?”
Deirdre might have been the Director of Coin Intelligence, but Hannah always felt herself to be Coin Island’s den mother, and as far as Hannah was concerned, The Hugh and his dog were family.
“He was fine, just busy. Cody says money is always an issue at The Hugh household, and between cranking out more articles and stories, he took on some handyman jobs in the neighborhood—painting, yardwork, and that sort of thing. He must have sold a couple of articles since then because he’s been showing up regularly again. Cody’s going to pay him another visit shortly.”
The chief turned to Ned, a grave look on his face. “Anything new on the collector?”
“Since I told you about his little torture chamber you ordered me to stay away from there, remember?”
“You didn’t answer my question, Four.”
Hannah said, “Chief, The Four might have a penchant for disobeying orders, but he can’t go anywhere without me. We haven’t been back since.”
“Fine,” the chief said evenly.
Ned studied Iron Tail’s expression. The chief looked a little gray, as if he was low on wampum. Ned had come to suspect that the chief’s visions drained him somewhat. He also knew by now that every furl on the old Indian’s brow told a story.
&nb
sp; “You had another vision, didn’t you?” Ned said.
The chief sucked in his bottom lip and bit his chin. It was another give, and so Ned waited knowing the chief was about to fess up. The chief, Ned thought, would stink at poker.
“The blue-eyed one,” Iron Tail said.
“You saw him?” Ned asked.
“I never see the face. Only the eyes. They are growing bigger and brighter.”
“And you think it’s the Stryker boy?” Hannah asked, dubious. “He seemed like a nice kid to me.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” Deirdre said.
“Sure,” Hannah said, “but he’s just a boy.”
“The visions deal with the future,” the chief reminded her.
Ned said, “And we don’t know if they belong to a boy or a man, right?”
The chief nodded at Ned, but it wasn’t a nod of agreement. It came with a grim, penetrating look that ordered, ‘think.’ Ned did, and said with surprise, “Or a girl.”
The chief waggled an eyebrow, prompting Ned to continue.
“Pete mentioned that the old man’s niece he saw at The Six’s bullion base had blue eyes too. But, Chief, you don’t think—”
“I don’t think. I see. That’s why they’re called visions, nudnik.”
“How’d you know she had blue eyes, Chief?” Hannah asked.
“The timing. I saw two pairs of blue eyes, and when The Four mentioned those of the Stryker boy, I had a hunch that the other pair had to have made their appearance as well.”
Deirdre said, “Have you ascertained if they are good or evil?”
The chief shook his head regrettably. “Only that they have a role to play.”
“So one or both of the children might be a good thing,” Hannah said hopefully.
“Bubbeleh, visions are warnings. They never portend anything good. For all we know, they could both be rotten to the core.”
“Aw, darn it,” Hannah said.
“Chief,” Ned asked, “The Six doesn’t have your visions, does he? You have to be descended from the great Coinim, right?”
“That is how it’s always been, yes. Nicolai doesn’t receive visions, but he may know someone who does.”
“Another descendent of the Bison Clan?” Deirdre asked.
“Not necessarily. We go way, way back, and there have been a few forks in the road, if you catch my drift.”
Drift, his remark did, right over their heads and out across the lake. The coins exchanged confused looks, and blinked.
13
jackpot
September 1964 — Grand Canyon Bullion Base
Damian Dime sat gazing into a gently swirling eddy alongside Havasu Creek, waiting for The Six to appear. He sighed with boredom and frustration. How much longer did Nicolai expect him to hang around?
He heard a rustling sound behind him and spun. A lizard scampered under some brush. Damian scanned the bank to make sure no one was watching, and returned his gaze to the river. He envied that lizard that could come and go as he pleased, beholden to no one and nothing.
Did The Six not appreciate how delicate his situation was? Did he think it was easy to play both sides of the coins? Darla Dime and Kipp Quarter were gullible chumps, but they weren’t morons. It infuriated him that he had to live at The Six’s beckon call, while at the same time having to answer to two coins who should be answering to him.
Some days like today were worse than others because he knew Darla and Kipp were expecting him in the Mercury dime’s office on level two. Darla told him it was important and asked him politely to please be on time. Damian hated her politeness and found it nauseating. He felt it belittled him, except he knew she was that way with everyone, and that none of the other coins considered her manner condescending.
The Six’s handsome face materialized before him, the connection better than the last few times they spoke. Previously, The Six broadcasted from the dregs of a tea cup, the soapy water in a sink, and from a toilet that used some disinfectant thingy that caused The Six to appear an iridescent blue. Damian didn’t dare mention that to the nickel, however.
“You’re coming in much better than before, Sir,” Damian said cheerfully, having swallowed his annoyance at having been kept waiting. “Did you find a better transmitter?”
“The man’s neighbor has a dog,” Nicolai said. “It’s an obnoxious mutt, but his owner keeps his bowl supplied with fresh water.”
“Isn’t getting there and back from the kid’s bedroom a little risky, Sir?”
“No more than searching out places in the house. The kid’s dingbat mother has a habit of appearing out of nowhere. Now, what do you have for me, Damian? They could let out the dog any minute.”
“There is a major operation in the works, Six. Several missions have been cancelled, and top coin commandos have been recalled to Coin Island for extra training.”
“But not you?”
“No, Sir.”
“I don’t like it, Damian. Perhaps they don’t trust you. Perhaps they are on to you.”
“It’s my position, Sir. As third in command at the Grand Canyon base I am expected to run things whenever Darla Dime and Kipp Quarter are away. My rank makes me privy to most of what goes on around here, but it also prevents me from joining certain operations.”
“I see,” The Six grunted, not entirely convinced. He knew, however, that the eagle-backed Kipp Quarter was the dime’s pilot and coin-bearer of choice, so the logic was hard to dispute. Coin commanders preferred to fly with the same coin when at all possible, and Nicolai himself hated making even a puddle jump with anyone but Dominique Double Eagle. “Tell me more about this operation.”
“They are calling it Operation Jackpot, and it involves a coin expo in Reno.”
Nicolai Nickel smirked. “What’s the target?”
“I expect to know shortly, Sir. There’s a conference going on as we speak. I’ll be attending as soon as we finish here.” Damian could think of no more tactful way to hint to The Six that he was keeping him from doing his job.
“You are missing little with your tardiness, Damian. The target is Franny the Peace Dollar.”
The revelation caught Damian flat-rimmed. “Franny? But she’s not in Reno, Sir. Unless you moved her and I wasn’t informed.”
Try as Damian might, he couldn’t hide his consternation from Nicolai’s perceptive eye.
“Relax, Damian. It is excellent news, and I have you to thank.”
“Sir?”
“After you informed me that Deirdre Dime was collecting intel on me and our operations from civilian coin bystanders at locations we have raided, I thought we might turn it to our advantage.”
As the nickel’s words sank in, Damian smiled. “You planted your own agents to act as witnesses,” he said. “A disinformation campaign.”
Nicolai nodded, pleased with himself. “I had my operatives circulate the story that an exceedingly rare Peace Dollar had been captured by a numismatist who was planning on auctioning her off at the Reno Expo.”
“So it’s all a ruse? Reno, the Peace Dollar, all of it?”
“The Reno Expo is real, and we will be there, but not the Peace Dollar.”
“It’s devilishly clever, Sir, but I thought your intention was always to lure The Four to you.”
“And I shall, but it’s clear by now that The Four is never going to accept my cordial invitation. Apparently, Chief Iron Tail is more persuasive than I gave him credit for.”
“So you plan on kidnapping him?”
“I was hoping for a more diplomatic meeting, but the stubborn coins have left me no choice.”
“But won’t they find out that the Peace Dollar won’t be there?”
“She’s not the only 1922 Peace Dollar, just the rarest. Several valuable Peace Dollars will be auctioned off at the expo. The Four won’t know his Franny won’t be among them. More than a couple of my plants have confirmed the story to Deirdre’s spies. The Four won’t allow this opportunity to pass without attempti
ng a rescue.”
“What can I do to help, Sir?”
“Keep me informed of their plans. We won’t have another opportunity like this. Deirdre Dime will have figured out what went wrong, and she won’t fall for the same ruse twice.”
“Yes, Sir. Anything else?”
“I don’t like these reports I’ve been hearing about some masked pennies who think they are crime fighters or something.”
“I’ve heard such rumors, but I dismissed them as typical coin whoppers, or at most copycats. Between your teams and those of The Four raiding numismatists, banks, and other places around the country, it was inevitable that rumors would spread, or that some chump change would try to imitate us.”
“Must I remind you, Damian, that coins can’t imitate us. If the stories are true, these coins are exceptionally animated, which means they were trained either by me or The Four.”
“Traitors?”
“Not necessarily. Over the years we have had many coins go MIA on a mission, as I’m sure Coin Island and other bullion bases have as well. It’s possible that these coins are like ronin.”
“Ronin, Sir?”
“Wandering samurai without a master.”
“But why wouldn’t such coins return to their base? When Kipp Quarter went MIA and then made his way back, he received a hero’s welcome.”
“Not all coins have his sense of loyalty and dedication. Admit it, Damian, at times the urge to roll away from your responsibilities and live as a free-wheeling coin must be considerable.”
“Never, Sir!”
Nicolai grinned. “You’ve been a good samurai, but don’t think I’m not aware of the temptation. It’s only natural. Your degree of animation has given you tremendous freedom. In the land of the blind the one-eyed coin is king. Imagine the fun you could have traipsing through the marketplace dazzling every coin you meet, no matter their size or value.”
“Serving The Six is all the honor or excitement I require, Sir.”
“And well it should be. One day your loyalty will be repaid a thousand fold, and you will see that fulfilling a great destiny is far more satisfying than showing off to a bunch of ignorant coins who have more in common with a lead slug than they do you or I.”
Coinworld [Book Three] Page 13