CHAPTER 9 – ESTABLISHING ALLIES
Back in the United Kingdom, Richard Hugh had been trying to get information out of Dennis Uppington, without much luck, in large part because the circumstances had not been conducive to mutual trust. Richard sighed. He hoped Emma was having more luck prying information out of Chief Stolemaker. So far they'd only managed to get half briefed, if that. As the saying went (or might go), a little knowledge is a dangerous thing with murderous moles running about.
Nothing else seemed to be lining up all that well, either. Richard had taken Percy Terwilliger's car from Emma so he could return it, and had transferred Uppington's company car to her. It had seemed a good idea at the time: it gave Emma transportation, it left Dennis in need of a ride, and it meant the civilian vehicle wasn't borrowed any longer than necessary. But how in the world was he going to return Percy's car and not have Dennis foul things up? Percy was apt to enthusiastically inquire after the chief, if nothing else. For that matter, how would he handle Mrs. Buckley, Percy's neighbor, if she caught him escorting another blood-spattered person about? Dog blood looked identical to human blood, after all, and Dennis had caught his share of it after the explosion. For that matter, now that he thought about it, he couldn't reasonably haul Dennis around on public transport after they dropped the car off, thanks to the dog blood, not to mention Dennis's stubborn, undisciplined, immature nature.
"Are you okay over there?" Dennis asked from the passenger seat.
"I was thinking about the dog, if you must know," Richard said. "The one I blew up."
"I don't know how you knew it was a bomb."
"I didn't."
"So why did you toss the package away?"
"Because you and everyone else had been so smug at that meeting this morning and I wanted to get a little of my own back," Richard said. "Childish, I know, but you were standing there looking so self-important I couldn't resist."
Dennis narrowed his eyes. "Well, what are you doing in Africa, anyway?" he said. He looked like he was mustering all his courage and doing something he thought was very brave.
"Not that it's any of your business, but my wife has an idea that the Anglican church has sold out here and in America, and she's supporting more orthodox leaders, which are heavily in Africa just now."
"Are you serious?"
"Very, or at least Emma is."
"Wow, if your wife is supporting African Anglicans, more power to her, that's what I say. The Global South is doing great things these days."
Richard fidgeted. Here he was with his first good opening with Dennis, and it was based on his wife's religious convictions. It didn't seem cricket to use it, even for a good cause. Now what?
Dennis pulled out a cutting edge phone, and tried to look like he wasn't worried about Richard objecting if he used it. He punched buttons and read messages, punched more buttons, read more messages. He shook his head and rang off. "I wonder why Dr. Orchard didn't tell us where the money was going? I mean, he didn't flat out say that it was going to subversive or terrorist groups, but he let people think that. I know that's what most of us thought."
"Thank you very much."
"Oh, not that it made any sense, I mean. I mean... Uhh…"
"Personally, I'm wondering a lot of things about Dr. Orchard at the moment," Richard said. "Why he gave you that note, whether he wrote it or was just passing it on, that sort of thing."
"Like whether he knew if I'd be carrying a bomb," Dennis said, showing a flash of anger mixed with healthy vigor.
"Well, that, too, of course," Richard said, trying not to look too surprised at Dennis showing some real, manly spunk for a change, instead of his usual puppy dog defiance. "I know we've been over some of this already, but refresh my memory, please. The package you brought wasn't the one he handed you?"
"No, I traded that one for the bomb."
"At a blind drop."
"Yes, sir. The package was sitting where the note said it would be, and I left the package Dr. Orchard gave me in its stead, just like the written instructions said to do."
"Did the packages look the same?"
"Same wrapping and color. Different shapes and sizes, though not by much. The one I left was less square. It was more rectangular, I mean." He showed the size with his hands.
"Have you ever been to that blind drop before?"
"I've never been to any blind drop before. I'm a psychologist, for pity's sake."
"Speaking of that – you being a psychologist and not a field agent, I mean – could you tell me what you accessed just now, to see where Emma's money was going? More specifically, will anyone be able to tell that you accessed the information?"
"Not exactly."
"I don't follow you."
"I, uh, well, I wasn't sure if I wanted people to know I was looking that information up, so I slipped into the network through someone else's connection."
"Who's the lucky person who doesn't know he's been snooping on me and mine?"
"I don't think you know her. Janice Pendergrast. A real pain in the rump if ever there was one."
"Is that a technical psychological term? Pain in the rump?"
"Close enough," Dennis said. He sighed and settled deeper into the car seat. "Do you want to know the really sad thing?"
"I guess I might as well. Since you're clearly planning on telling me."
Dennis ignored the barb. His voice matched his slumped posture. "Janice comes across as someone who could be really nice, if she wanted. And pretty. It's like she works at being unpopular and unattractive."
"Feminist, I take it."
"By the book, the radical revised edition. I've heard she practiced in front of a mirror until she learned to walk like a boy instead of a female. Mustn't admit to having feminine hip structure, you know. Like there's anything wrong with feminine hip structure."
"Let's get back to the drop site, before I forget why I was interested in it. Specifically, did you know anything about that site before today?"
"No. Why?"
"Because it's known to be used by stealth communists, who don't publicly admit to their ideology. They claim privately that there's time enough for that after the world's been torn down and rebuilt to their specifications a couple or three times. In the meantime, what we don't know, we can't fight against, or something like that. That's not to say it has to be anything to do with them. Some drop sites are so logically drop sites that more than one group adopts them. This could be one of those places."
"I'll bet you're right. Your hunch, I mean. I… I'll just bet I've just been duped into helping the people I most despise in all the world. Hang that Orchard."
"Careful. We don't know that he knew what he was getting you into. He might have been duped, too. Or not. At this point, we have to keep an open mind, at least until we can get a handle on more info."
"So how do we do that?"
Richard considered that question carefully. He changed course, and soon pulled up in front of a modest block of flats. "Do you know Felicity Findlater, from the labs?" he asked.
"No, I don't think so."
"We're not doing her any favors, coming to her home, but right now we have to have some help, inside help. Let's hope she hasn't left for work early, or traded shifts with someone. She's rather famous for swapping shifts with people. In any case, let's hope she's reachable. We've got to put together a team, and she's my pick for co-captain," Richard said. He made a point of eyeing Dennis's wretchedly dirty clothing. "And besides, she has an in with the costume department."
Dennis turned green and swallowed hard. "It was too bad about the dog."
"It was worse than too bad. I liked that dog. She trusted me. I'm almost as upset by her death as- Unless my eyes deceive me, there's Felicity, walking toward us, groceries in hand," Richard said. He tapped the car horn twice – short honks of what he hoped were the right length. He rarely asked for help, after all, much less by honking – and usually when the need arose he was driving a preprogrammed, super-duper modified gover
nment car, one that timed honks for a person, amongst other things.
Felicity ignored the honks, or appeared to, until she got to where she could make out who was in the driver's seat. She glanced at the passenger seats before walking to the driver's door, which made Richard think he'd slightly flubbed the horn signals.
"Hello," Felicity said.
"Let us help you in with your groceries," Richard said.
"Park over there. Spot 32," she said.
Not Exactly Allies Page 9