by Robin Craig
The thought made her nervous, as if a grey cast of paranoia had settled over the scene. The woman at the desk had been kind to her but that proved nothing. Lyssa had probably been under surveillance since she entered the building; perhaps she had already been identified, and police or worse were now on their way to arrest her. She had to suppress the urge to flee. She had to see this through, and if her fears were true it was already too late. She forced herself to be calm, to lean back into the cushions, and tried to relax her mind and body.
It was approaching four o’clock when Beldan finished a task, leant back and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked at the task list on his screen and frowned. He pushed an icon on the screen.
Lyssa saw Vickie sit up alertly and touch her ear, then heard half a quiet conversation.
“Yes, she’s still her. Yes, I understand. Yes, Dr Beldan, I’ll let her know.”
She looked up at Lyssa, who was already looking hopefully at her. “I’m sorry Lyssa,” she said. “Dr Beldan won’t be able to see you today. He apologizes for making you wait this long for nothing but he says he can make room for you tomorrow, say 10 a.m.? Are you able to come back then?”
Lyssa turned her face away, not quickly enough to completely hide the look of anguish and fear that washed over it. But it was only a moment. She stood and faced Vickie, her face back in neutral, and replied softly, “Oh. I understand. Thank you.” She swallowed and managed a timid smile. “And thank Dr Beldan for agreeing to see me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’ll be all right? With the money thing?”
“Oh, I’m fed now! If I can’t find some way to survive one night then I don’t deserve to! But thank you very much, again. You have been very kind to an uninvited visitor.”
“You’re welcome. I have my own daughter, you know, and it was the least I could do. We’ll see you tomorrow, then. The lift will take you straight down to the ground and you’ll be able to exit the building.”
Lyssa smiled and took her leave, and Vickie bent back to her own work. Occasionally she looked up to where the girl had sat, a faint frown worrying her face.
Chapter 31 – Shots in the Dark
Lyssa left the building, went over to a nearby bench still warmed by the lowering sun, and sat to think. Her plan had been to get out more money and vanish again, but now she was tied to this location she did not want to reveal her presence anywhere near here. She could not afford the risk of alerting any enemies to where she was and giving them all night to entrap her. She decided to rest for a while and see what opportunities presented themselves; if she had to sleep here she would cope. Food and other things might be a problem, but she had put up with worse. With that decision made, she closed her eyes to rest.
The sun was going down and the chill in the air was getting sharper when Lyssa woke with a start. She wondered what had woken her, and decided it must have been the raised voices over in the park. But they were raised in excitement not anger: it looked like an informal baseball game was about to begin.
She smiled. That meant people around for some hours yet; it meant warm facilities; it meant toilets and possibly even showers would be accessible. It might even mean food and drink. She knew from experience how childishly eager men could be to feed and water a young woman with a friendly manner, especially one who looked a touch vulnerable as well. She also knew the flip side: they would be hoping for sex but would be content with the mere possibility. She was perfectly happy to pay the minimum fee of company, laughter and hope. And if that failed, people at games usually left the detritus of leftover food and drink. Not the most hygienic way to get a meal but it was unlikely to harm her. A few germs weren’t much compared to the other risks she routinely took.
~~~
At the same time as Lyssa was enjoying the game and contentedly munching on a hot dog slathered with mustard, Stanley King was enjoying his new office. He was waiting for one particular file to arrive before going home. He had been promoted to the day shift because this was “his case” and his supervisors had decided he had made a good call. The mystery woman had persisted in remaining unobserved, and such lack of cooperation was guaranteed to make security forces anxious. It was suspicious enough for them to get a warrant to access the GPS tracker of Lyssa’s car. Stanley smiled when the awaited live map finally appeared on his screen. Now they could follow her and work out what in hell she was up to – and now it was safely into the system, he could go home.
No sooner had the map appeared than a yellow icon began flashing, and Stanley stared at it with some alarm. She was parked in the Beldan Robotics precinct car park, and it was after hours, as much as anything was after hours in a place like that. High tech industries were considered likely targets for terrorists with an axe to grind against the high tech society of the United States, and the system had duly alerted him. Maybe there’ll be another promotion in all this, he thought. Assuming she doesn’t blow something up before we get to her that is.
He considered the limited information available; balanced the risks of too little versus too much response; then rapidly composed an order for the nearest response unit:
Subject may be dangerous. Take all reasonable measures to stop and detain. Important that suspect be questioned about activities and contacts: refrain from lethal force unless absolutely necessary.
Then he touched an icon to send the information and the attached orders on their way. He did not need to stay around to see what happened, but he was interested now himself. I don’t have any plans for tonight anyway. And I’m sure a display of dedication won’t hurt my chances of that office upgrade.
~~~
The baseball game had wound up and Lyssa had said goodbye to her new friend, whose gaze had skipped surreptitiously over her body before he had smiled and offered her his card. She had taken it politely and kissed him on the cheek. She had considered making her life easy by going home with him, but she knew that would mean sex. If she had been single she might have been willing if not especially tempted, but now her heart and body were Charlie’s. One of the many good things about geeks, she thought with a smile, is they are too shy to kick up a fuss. And their math is good enough to know that a hotdog and beer don’t pay for sex. Besides, he’ll have a good tale for his friends tomorrow, no doubt with a hint that my kiss might have been the start not the end of his adventure.
The gloom was deepening, with the last rays of the sun still lightening a sky now darker than the earth, and the cold was deepening with it. But her jacket was warm enough. She could not pay for anywhere tonight and it would be hard to explain what she was doing if some guard found her asleep in the gardens. They would be more likely to find her if she was sleeping in her car, but she could move it somewhere secluded. If challenged she could plead her appointment tomorrow and that she had been too tired or drunk to drive after the game; the worst that could happen would be some overly strict guard would insist she move on.
She was walking through the gardens toward the car park when she froze. She didn’t like the look of the three black-clad men standing too relaxed at strategic locations. They all smelled of officialdom and worse, officialdom with a purpose. She casually changed direction to angle out of sight and two of them casually sauntered off in their own directions. Oh crap. She wondered whether Beldan or his secretary had betrayed her, but that didn’t make sense: if they were going to do that all they had to do was keep her there waiting with nowhere to run.
She looked around. There was no way she could get to her car and even if she did, they’d have her. With rising panic, she began to trot through the trees, casting her eyes about for inspiration. Inspiration, unfortunately, was currently unavailable. She could hear running feet and looked desperately toward the Beldan tower, in time to see Beldan himself step out of the lift on the ground floor. She realized this was her chance, her last chance; dropping any pretense of innocence, she ran.
The glass doors opened and Beldan stepped outside into the chill evening. Whatever t
houghts he was having were forever lost in the surprise of seeing a young woman running along one of the paths through the trees, pelting straight toward him. He heard shouts behind her, the crack of guns, a whistling of bullets through the undergrowth as the woman put her head down and changed to a zigzag, random except for its net direction toward him. He bent his own legs to run then stopped. He’d had occasion over the past months to see many faces of fanaticism, rage and madness: and this wasn’t one of them. The woman’s face showed nothing but desperation with a layer of fear: fear not so much of the men behind her but that her desperation would not be enough. He crouched into a defensive posture. But he did not run.
The woman was close now and a black figure appeared behind her in the distance. There was another crack, and he flinched as something zinged past to shatter on the wall behind him. Then the woman arched her back as if she was hit, cried out as another projectile hit her in the shoulder, then fell to her knees. But she would not give up. He could practically feel the grim and deadly force of will that kept her going, dragging her unwilling body up to him. Then she reached out her hand toward him, saying “Please…”
He had not reached his position as head of such a company as Beldan Robotics by lacking either decisiveness or courage. Perhaps the woman was an assassin; but he did not believe it. All he saw was desperation and courage and pain, not the rage of a terrorist or the clinical precision of a hitman. He reached out and grasped her hand. She looked up at him with her last strength and whispered, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”
He looked at her in surprise but then she let out a long sigh, her head collapsing to the ground and her hand going limp in his. He looked at her body lying there, looked up at the two men in black now striding toward him. One held his gun casually in her direction as if hoping she would give him an excuse to use it by daring to move. Beldan put his finger to her wrist and was relieved to feel a strong if slow pulse. He let her hand go and stood up, arms relaxed at his side but hands balled into fists.
“What the hell?” he demanded.
The lead man lifted his jacket to display the silver badge of the Domestic Security branch of the FBI. “Sorry sir, are you all right?” he enquired.
“Yes, yes, I’m not hurt. What in hell was that all about? Who is this woman?”
“You don’t know her?”
“No… no I don’t. But a young woman came to see me earlier today. I didn’t have time to see her and my secretary arranged for us to meet here tomorrow. I guess this could be her.”
“I see. What did she say to you just then?”
Beldan had little doubt the man was honestly doing his job as a servant of the law. But he had had too much recent experience of servants of the law honestly trampling all over the innocent. If he later got into trouble with the law for withholding evidence, tough. Anyway, he had damn good lawyers on his side if it came to that. “Nothing really. I think she was asking for help. She said ‘please’ but after that it was just…” he shrugged. “Inarticulate, really.” Close enough to the truth, anyway! What in hell did she mean?
“Sir, may I see what is in your hands?” the man enquired politely, though with an edge in his eyes Beldan did not like.
“My hands? Are you kidding me?”
“Sorry sir, it’s just procedure when physical contact is made in cases like this. I am sure it is nothing, but my supervisor will tear strips off me if I don’t check. Just a formality, but…”
Beldan frowned and glared at the man, who did not flinch. He sighed with irritation and shrugged. Pick your fights, Alex. He extended both hands out to the man and opened them, palms up. “Happy?”
“Yes sir. Sorry I had to ask. Thank you for your cooperation.”
“I’m sure. Now,” he asked, looking at the girl, “can you tell me why you were chasing her? What will happen to her?”
“All I can tell you is she is a suspected terrorist. We’ll take good care of her, don’t worry.”
“You shot her!”
“Knockdown darts only, sir. You don’t think we’d have risked hitting civilians otherwise, do you?”
“I guess not. Well, I hope not! And if she’s innocent?”
“Then she shouldn’t have been hanging around in a technology precinct after dark, running from the law!”
Beldan nodded. “All right – Officer? Agent? I know you’re just doing your job. Can I have your contact details? In case my secretary remembers something. Or in case I want to follow up? If this is the girl who wanted to see me I might want to talk to her.”
“Certainly, sir. If we find she’s a terrorist you might not have the opportunity, but we’ll see what we can do.”
Beldan stood there, arms folded, watching the men pick the woman up and cart her off, neither gently nor with excessive roughness; as if she were a sack of potatoes rather than a human being they felt either concern or contempt for. Then he put his face toward the wind and walked away to where his own car was parked, deep in thought.
Chapter 32 – An Interrogation
Lyssa woke slowly from uncomfortable dreams into an even less comfortable reality. She wiggled awkwardly on a cold, hard, metal seat. Its slats were too thin and far apart, and she wondered if there was some furniture company that designed their wares for optimum discomfort specially for the less public arms of government. Her back and arm were still sore from where she had been shot and she was terribly thirsty. She just wanted to sleep, but the thirst drove her to full wakefulness.
She was in a bare room with metal walls and cameras mounted on the ceiling. The room contained nothing she could call inviting except for two empty chairs, both with rather better padding than hers, opposite her. It was too cold and she looked down at her body. Her own clothes had been removed and she was dressed in a thin, light grey shift entirely inadequate for the temperature. No doubt they had scanned her and visited who knew what other indignities on her unconscious form, but it did not matter. They would not have found anything, for there was nothing to find.
A harsh white light provided the only illumination. She could turn her head but had limited other mobility. Her chair was bolted to the floor and she was strapped to it by a belt around her midriff, with her wrists chained to the cold metal table in front of her. The arrangement let her move her hands far enough to reach the pitcher of water and paper cups on the table, and barely high enough to bring one of the cups to her lips if she bent her head right, but not high enough to touch the crown of her head. Which was a pity, because she could feel the slight weight of some kind of covering on it. She did not think they were just trying to make her look pretty.
She wondered if the water was drugged but decided it didn’t matter: she had to drink sometime, so she might as well get it over with now. Like the room, it was cold. It had an unpleasant metallic taste but she gulped it down.
She looked speculatively at the empty chairs and imagined that their occupants would appear once she’d had more time to start worrying.
Well, they might as well come now, then. She was afraid of what they might do to her; afraid she might never see Charlie again. But whatever happens to me now, maybe I’ve done enough. If only Beldan knows what to do.
Whoever was watching her must have been waiting for enough time for her to start worrying but not enough to start plotting, for the door chose that moment to open.
A large man with a softly warm looking coat walked in, favoring her with an unpleasant expression, and sat down. He waved his hand and a computer screen rose out of the table in front of him. She looked enviously at his coat but said nothing.
He looked her up and down contemptuously as if he had been reading her mind. She realized her nipples were showing through the thin gown and she wished she were able to cross her arms over her chest. Not that his look was overtly sexual. It was more as if her sexuality was a fact that might have been of interest if she had not been less significant than a particularly nasty bug.
After that the man just sat th
ere, occasionally reading or poking his screen, more often giving her one of his large repertoire of unpleasant looks. Psychological warfare, she thought. Keep her cold, keep her uncomfortable, make her feel helpless and hopeless. She knew his theory: the first one to talk was the loser. But screw that, she decided. Let him think he’s won the first round.
“Hello,” she said pleasantly. “May I ask what time it is?”
He glanced up at her, momentarily forgetting to apply one of his collection of stock expressions, but he recovered so quickly she could not be sure she had indeed surprised him. “Oh, so it does talk. Good. You don’t need to know the time.”
She shrugged. “Why am I here? What is it you think I’ve done?”
He sighed and gave her his full attention, stroking his chin with his fingers. “How about prowling around an industrial area you had no business being in, at night, then running away from the law, for starters?”
“How was I supposed to know you were the law?”
“How about, ‘Stop! Domestic Security!’?”
“Pfft! Yeah, like nobody else would try that line to get an innocent girl into their evil clutches!”
“‘Innocent?’”, he quoted with Sneer #5, “You haven’t explained your presence at the Beldan precinct last night, I notice.”
She met the sneer with Innocent Eyes #3. “I know I am a foreign national, Agent. I assume you know it too. But I was under the impression that this is a free country. That place is open until late and there were other people there too. Why do you assume I had sinister motives? I don’t know what you know about me, or think you know. But artificial intelligence is one of my passions. I have always admired this country and I’m here on holiday. Since I happened to be in the area I thought it would be interesting to visit the birthplace of the first intelligent robot.”
The agent apparently also had another repertoire of dramatic sighs. “Miss, as you say, this is a free country, which apparently thinks even people like you deserve rights. So since you are starting to make stories up, apparently I am obliged to tell you that anything you say can be used in a court against you.” The way he said apparently made it clear that if it was up to him, such impediments to the wheels of justice would be dispensed with, and if she so much as looked at him funny she’d find herself in a hole so deep she’d never see sunlight.