Pulling down my briefcase, I took out my coffee mug, coffee, and my shaving kit and set everything by the console. After putting a hefty dollop of instant coffee into my mug, I field-swept the air for moisture, but found enough for only about a third of a cup. We were way too high to open the canopy.
"Well, damn," I muttered.
Sue said, "Let me reach outside for a moment," then a cylinder of water formed in front of me and spilled gently into my cup.
"Thank you, Sue," I said as I heated the water with a field tendril and stirred. "I may start carrying a small bottle of water in my briefcase on general principles."
After sipping almost a third of the coffee, an urgency presented itself. I set the cup down, picked up the Dr Pepper bottle, and headed for the edge of the deck, tossing the bottle ahead of me to flash and disappear.
Reaching for my fly, I said, "Sorry, milady. Gotta go. Can't wait for a potty stop."
Sue giggled and asked, "Should I look away?"
"Your choice."
The stream hit the field periphery and produced a continuous flashing for perhaps thirty seconds. After zipping up I pulled a moist towelette from my shaving kit to wipe my hands, then tossed it and the wrapper over the side.
Well damn. Forgot to put a new disposable razor in my kit and my electric razor displayed a rather low charge. Might be enough, though. I created a field-generated mirror on the console and began buzzing off my stubble.
"Sue, if we travel much we may have to install a sink. Our first stop will be where I can wash up in a public restroom."
Water began forming in a shallow field trough to my right. I looked at Sue and she grinned as my briefcase descended, opened, and my soap and towel drifted out to lie on the seat next to mine. My briefcase then disappeared.
I looked at Sue and grinned back at her, trying to look appropriately abashed.
"Sorry, milady. I quite stupidly forgot for a moment that you're a creature of magic. Thanks again."
"You called me 'milady' again. Should I presume that to mean anything?"
Glancing at her, my gaze met Sue's for a moment, then I smiled as I said, "Yes, milady. It means something."
My razor's buzzing slowed, then stopped. I looked at it and muttered a bad word. Sue giggled and reached for the razor, but I held it just out of her grasp.
"Wait one," I said, "You're going to tell me that you can run or recharge this thing, aren't you? That means that you'll use a field. If you can do it, I should be able to do it, right?"
With a small smile she said, "Theoretically."
"Theoretically, huh? How would I have to do it?"
"You'd convert field energy to electrical energy of precisely the correct voltage, amperage, and polarity and feed it into the battery very carefully. Very carefully."
"Well, la-de-damn-dah, lady. Make it sound as complicated as possible, whydoncha?"
I pointed to the socket in the bottom of the razor and asked, "Wouldn't it be simpler for me to just whip up some 110-volt AC? Then polarity and precision voltages won't be an issue. Can you access records of Steph teaching me to make ice? We could try that feed-through instruction technique for making electricity, too."
Less than two seconds passed before Sue nodded and said, "Ready when you are, but don't be surprised if your first efforts won't power your razor."
I shrugged.
"Even if they don't, they may charge it enough to shave before we land, and if I can't produce the juice without a lot of practice, I'll graciously capitulate and ask you to zap my razor. I wouldn't want to look like a slob standing next to you."
"Thank you," she said, "I'm taking some precautions by adjusting your implant to make that sure any electricity you may produce can't flow back into your implant. Make two evenly-spaced tendrils and extend them into the razor's socket, then we'll begin. Remember that those tendrils are the same as uninsulated wires."
I'd been briefly zapped by house current a couple of times, so I separated the tendrils by an inch or so until they had to be closer to fit into the socket. A tingling began in and around my implant and I struggled to quickly get a handle on the technique of producing electricity as the charging light on my razor began to glow green.
Some sort of indefinable understanding seemed to click into place and I said, "I think I've kind of got the hang of it, Sue. Back out gradually and we'll see if I can keep the juice flowing well enough."
I felt the tingling lessen a bit. The green light stayed on. The tingle lessened more, then the light abruptly went off. I tried to feed more power to it and brought the light back on. Sue backed off a bit more and the charging light faltered, but didn't completely go off.
"My assistance is down to forty percent, Ed. Very good. Much better than I'd expected."
"Thanks. New field stuff is always so damned hard the first time or two..."
The light stabilized to a solid green glow. Sue's assistance faded a bit more, then still more, but the light stayed on. It faltered again, then the glow firmed up. I felt the last of Sue's assistance fade away, but the green light didn't.
"What am I producing exactly, Sue? The razor runs on standard fifteen-amp house current."
She quietly said, "You're producing almost twelve amps, Ed. The razor will actually run on two amps or more."
The surprise in her tone almost made me look away from what I was doing.
"Why are you so surprised, lady? I can do hot and cold and I figured out how to lift heavy stuff without ripping the thing out of my skull, didn't I?"
"Yes, but this isn't quite the same, Ed. I expected you to fail the first time."
Laughing softly, I said, "Yeah, I know you did. So did I, really. It's amazing how good it felt to make that little green light come on."
Chapter Fifty-Two
Steph appeared on the flitter. Although she stood quietly behind my seat, I felt her presence and said, "Hi, Steph," without looking away from my electrical efforts.
"Hi, Ed," she said quietly. "Sue told me of your success."
"Were you as surprised as I was?"
"I'll confess to being somewhat surprised."
Sue asked, "How did you know Stephanie was here, Ed?"
"Just did. I never could explain it very well."
I checked the charge indicator -- not enough. The idea of trying to use the razor while the two live tendrils were attached didn't appeal to me.
"How soon do we land?" I asked.
"In eighteen minutes," said Sue.
"Can you charge this enough for me to finish shaving before then?"
"Yes."
Canceling my field tendrils, I handed her the razor.
"Then please do so, milady. I'll use the time to wash up, then finish shaving."
Drinking the last of my coffee, I dipped the mug in the water trough to refill it, then heated it and added instant coffee as I stirred. Once the coffee was ready, I set it on the deck and used the rest of the water to brush my teeth -- spitting over the side -- and washed up, then sat down and sipped coffee until Sue handed my razor back.
The charge indicator read 'full'. I took Sue's hand and kissed it, then grinned as I said, "Thank you. Again. You ladies make field tricks look so damned easy."
Steph and Sue grinned at me as I buzzed off the rest of the stubble and put everything back in the briefcase. I then sat swilling coffee as we began our descent through the clouds above London.
"Sue," I said, "Linda gave me flak about not having gone through customs the last time Steph and I were here, so we'll stay in stealth mode this time. Let me off outside Jeffries' building and I'll go in alone to make contact, then ask you ladies to appear. Park the flitter above the roof of the building. Steph, which floor is he on?"
"Second floor, suite 239," she said as we neared the sidewalk by the front doors.
"All set, then," I said, hopping to the ground, "See you in a few."
The street bustled with traffic, but the sidewalk was relatively empty. A brunette woman, who'd begun passing through th
e revolving door in front of me, looked up from her notepad and stopped before she made it through the door.
She looked fit and primly proper and she stared peeringly at me as I pushed to get the door moving again. When I looked back, she'd turned around on the sidewalk to continue her stare as I entered the building.
Oh, well. I heard a 'flump-whoosh' as the revolving door moved again and glanced back in the polished-stone reflection on a nearby pillar to see the woman following me.
Pausing by the directional signboard near the elevators, I pretended to read it as she approached. When I turned to face her, she stopped cold about six feet away.
"Kann Ich sie hilfen?" I asked her.
"What? Oh. Sorry, I don't speak German," she said.
Nodding politely, I turned back to the signboard. The woman fidgeted for a few moments, then turned and headed back to the revolving door. I pushed the 'up' elevator button and waited, still feeling as if someone was watching me.
A buzzer sounded behind me and I glanced back to see Jeffries coming out of the little gift store annex into the hallway through a Dutch door. The woman was nowhere in sight as he approached.
"That was rather entertaining," he said. "I saw her reaction as you appeared and came in, then I saw her turn around and follow you."
He mimicked my 'Kann Ich sie hilfen?' and chuckled as he extended a hand.
Shrugging, I took his hand. "Hey, it worked, didn't it?"
Jeffries laughed outright. "Don't be too sure. Some old friends of yours have an office in this building, Ed. She's one of them."
I scanned the signboard that I'd pretended to read earlier. In the seventh row of names I saw one I recognized. 'Solutions, Ltd., suite 700'.
"Huh. Be damned. She works for Solutions?"
He nodded. The elevator chimed and the doors opened. As we entered, rapid footsteps sounded in the hallway. The woman appeared in the elevator doorway.
"Mr. Jeffries," she said crisply, "Do you know this man?"
Jeffries smiled and said, "As it happens, I do. He's here to see me, Miss Hodge."
Looking at me, she asked Jeffries, "Do you know his nationality?"
"Yes, Miss Hodge."
When he said nothing else, she glanced at him and asked, "Well?"
"Well, what, Miss Hodge? Is there some reason in particular that you're interested in this man?" He nodded at the door and said, "We'd really like to get underway."
She hesitated for a moment, then said, "I see. Sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Jeffries," and backed out of the doorway, never taking her eyes off me.
After the doors closed, I grinningly sighed as if in relief. Jeffries laughed and pointed at the camera in the top corner of the elevator.
"By now the security people are trying to match your face," he said. "Since they're very good at such things, we can probably expect company soon."
"Is your office secure?"
"Against a determined use of today's devices? Hardly likely." He poked the 'seven' button and said, "So let's introduce you before we go to lunch."
The doors opened on the second floor but we didn't exit the elevator. On the seventh floor Jeffries led the way out of the elevator and down the hall to suite 700, where he said hello to the receptionist through an intercom by the door.
She told him to please wait a moment, then the latch buzzed and Jeffries pushed the door open to proceed. We found ourselves facing two large men and two solid-looking women, one of whom politely asked for my passport, which was in my briefcase and therefore not publicly accessible. None of them were openly armed.
"Sorry," I said, "A driver's license will have to do. Mind if I reach for it?"
"Do so carefully, please," said the woman.
I opened my wallet and handed my license to her. She studied it for a moment, then said, "Florida. You're American. Where's your passport?"
"In my briefcase. Why don't you run an in-house check on my name and see what you find? 1973 through 1981. Africa, mostly."
"You're saying you were with Solutions back then?"
"Yup. Check it out."
"We will. Why are you here now?"
Thumbing at Jeffries, I said, "To see him. You guys just happened to be in the same building. It's a real, live coincidence."
All she said was, "Hm," which made me think she probably shared my own dim view of coincidences in general. She used the photocopier by one wall to copy my license, then handed it back to me and said, "Please make yourselves comfortable out here for a few moments. Would you like some tea?"
"Yes, please," said Jeffries.
"Coffee for me if you have it," I said. "Black is fine."
She nodded and signaled the other woman to go with her as she entered the inner offices. The two big guys took chairs some distance from us, their hands in their laps -- and therefore close to their shoulder holsters -- and looked casually alert.
I turned to Jeffries and said, "I have a new driver these days. Steph turned the reins over to a lady named Susanne."
Jeffries cocked an eyebrow and asked, "The same, um... kind of woman?"
"Yup. Just as talented, too, and stunningly beautiful. Jealous yet?"
Grinning, he said, "Oh, of course. I look forward to meeting her. Stephanie did come with you, didn't she?"
Nodding, I said, "They're both here. Be real nice to us or I'll ask you which one is more beautiful while they're both in the room."
Trying to look alarmed, Jeffries laughed and said, "Oh, no, we couldn't have that. Either of those ladies would be entirely too formidable."
Maybe five minutes passed until one of the women returned. We stood up as she entered the room and she politely invited us to accompany her to the Colonel's office.
Through the door, past several desks, and down a short hall later we stood in front of a door labeled "Col. Adair, Commanding". The woman opened the door and ushered us into the room, then closed the door behind us. A fortyish, dark haired woman in a brown skirt and jacket almost-uniform stood behind her desk.
"Mr. Jeffries," she said, coming around her desk, "Always nice to see you."
She shook his hand, then turned to me. Five-nine or so, with eyes that had seen much. She met my gaze for a moment in silence, then spoke.
"Mr. Howdershelt," she said, taking my hand as she seemed to appraise me rather thoroughly, "It's a pleasure to meet you."
She pointed to a four-inch-thick stack of three folders on her desk and said, "Those are your files. I didn't have time to study them, but I saw some of the highlights." Walking to her desk, she opened the top file, lifted a typewritten sheet of paper, and said, "It appears that we owe you some money."
"Money?" I asked, "For what?"
"Travel," she said. "You were never reimbursed for two air fares to Johannesburg from Nairobi and from Nairobi to London."
"The money didn't come out of my pocket," I said. "Don't worry about it."
She studied me briefly and asked, "If not your pocket, whose pocket?"
"Nobody's pocket, ma'am. It was found money, part of the delivery that was the reason for the trip."
Glancing through the file, she nodded.
"That may explain something else, as well, then. Would that have been the weekend you assisted in delivering several suitcases found at the villa to our Johannesburg offices?"
"Yes."
There was a knock at the door and our lady escort entered to hand Col. Adair an envelope. She looked at me and nodded, then left the room. Col. Adair opened the envelope and examined the contents, then handed it to me.
I didn't reach for it.
"I told you, ma'am, it was from the cash we found."
She laughed. "I commend your honesty, but it's only four hundred and sixty-six Euros and Solutions can spare it. Call it a bonus."
With a glance at Jeffries, I shrugged and took the envelope with thanks. Then came a more difficult part of the meeting. She wanted to know the whereabouts of several people from my era of service. The names she read off a li
st sounded only vaguely familiar. 'Pook', 'DT', 'Shango', and several other nicknames came to my mind, but for the life of me I couldn't remember their complete real names.
Adair sighed and said, "Well, if you happen across any of them, have them give us a call, will you? We've been trying to clear some of the unsettled accounts for years. Even if they're no longer alive, I'm sure their families could use the money."
She set the folders to one side of her desk, then asked if there was anything else she could do for me. I thought she was implying that she wanted to end the meeting and get back to whatever she'd been doing.
"No," I said, getting to my feet, "I guess that's about it. I just dropped in because it seemed likely that a woman would put the place on alert if I didn't."
"I wasn't hinting that you should leave," she said, "I simply thought there might be someone still with us from your era of service whom you'd like to contact."
Sitting back down, I gave that some thought.
"I don't think so," I said, "Carla Mason owns a bookstore in Coventry. Lisa Cameron was killed in Scotland '91. Her brother Richard was wounded in '88 and took a job in London in '89. Fisk and some of the others didn't come back from Angola in the eighties. I wasn't really close to anybody else, Colonel."
Adair fidgeted gently for a moment, then said, "I'm sorry to inform you that Major Mason is no longer with us, either. A drunk driver ran onto the walkway near her store last year. She was returning from an errand when he hit her."
Memories of Carla flashed through my mind for a moment, then anger. Damn. And damn all drunks who try to drive. Too bad they couldn't be shot on sight.
Jeffries put a hand on my shoulder as Adair came around her desk again and looked concerned as she sat next to me.
"I'm okay," I said. "I was just wondering why the hell drunk drivers aren't shot on sight. This is the third time in my life that one of them's killed someone I cared about..." I sighed and shook my head slightly. "Never mind. I haven't seen or spoken with Carla for over ten years, so I guess I wasn't really her closest friend in the world, but still... after everything she'd been through... to be killed by a goddamned drunk... It just doesn't seem right, you know?"
Nobody said anything for some moments, then the phone rang. Col. Adair rose to answer it, told someone to stand by, and then put her hand over the mouthpiece as she looked apologetically at us.
3rd World Products, Inc., Book 4 Page 42