Hardbingers rj-10

by F. Paul Wilson

  Gia's hand stopped in midreach for her coat.

  A second day off… like yesterday. The explosion had occurred the night before, and Jack had been intent on keeping Vicky out of school. He'd said it was because he was leaving, but had there been more to it? In the demimonde he moved through he often picked up rumors and tidbits of news before they hit the papers.

  She'd have to ask him when he got back. Right now she was going to catch a cab and head for Vicky's school.

  8

  As Jack waited for his bag, he couldn't help thinking of the last time he'd been in a baggage-claim area… how he'd left to get the car… how he'd returned to a charnel house.

  But that had been LaGuardia and this was Atlantic City International: pretty far down on the list of terror targets, he imagined. Still he couldn't wait to get back to the car and wrap his fingers around the grip of his Clock.

  He found his bag and carried it to his car. He dropped it in the trunk, opened it, and removed the Altoids tin he'd bought at a convenience store near the airport.

  The first thing he did when he got behind the wheel was check for the Glock in the clip under the front seat. Still there. He patted it. Welcome home.

  Then he opened the tin and tipped out the Starfire within. Here was why he'd checked his bag instead of carrying it on. If the security folks at the gate were doing their job, they'd have wanted to examine the contents of a metal case they couldn't see through, small though it might be. But checked bags weren't put under that kind of scrutiny.

  He turned the round over in his hand a few times, then pocketed it.

  Next up, call Gia.

  He'd planned to wait until he was back in the city and just a few minutes from her door. But en route he'd seen the headline about an apartment in Bay Ridge in his neighbor's Miami Herald. He'd borrowed the front section and learned that the FBI had broken the story about the connection between the apartment and the explosion. The article also mentioned the Arabic scrawl Jack had seen on the wall. It translated as, God is Great. Jihad forever.

  Swell.

  The mood back in the city would be tense—only a tiny fraction of what it would have been had the cockroaches succeeded—but Gia might be worried for herself and Vicky and the baby. He figured she'd be more comfortable knowing he was around.

  He tapped in her number.

  No answer at home. He didn't leave a message but called her cell phone instead. Again, no answer. This time he left a message.

  "Hi, Gi, it's me. Things didn't work out with the trip so I'm headed home. I'll explain everything when I get there. See you in a few hours."

  He broke the connection and sat there.

  Odd. He could usually get hold of Gia at one of those two numbers. She wanted to be always available should the Vickster need her. The only time she'd leave it home or turn it off was when she was with Vicky.

  A vague unease settled on him. He started the car and gunned it toward the exit. A two-hour drive lay ahead of him, longer if he hit construction.

  The unease grew stronger.

  9

  "A woman and a child?" Cal said.

  The thought turned his stomach.

  "Not just a woman," the Oculus said, his expression bleak. "A pregnant woman."

  Cal groaned. Even worse.

  He and about a dozen other yeniceri had gathered on the first floor and stood in a semicircle before the Oculus. Miller had been called but wasn't answering his phone.

  What was happening? Cal wondered. Some of the Ally's Alarms over the past few months had been pretty damn strange. More than strange—disturbing. The young girl, the Arabs—okay. That was the sort of thing he expected, the kind of work that made him proud to be a yeniceri. The girl and a lot of New Yorkers were alive today because of those two Alarms.

  But this…

  "Are you sure we aren't supposed to stop this from happening?"

  The 0 shook his head. "I was shown a yeniceri behind the wheel."

  Cal looked around for Miller but he hadn't arrived yet.

  "I don't get it. First that woman back in November, then—"

  "It is the same woman."

  Cal heard Zeklos's voice whisper, "Oh, no."

  He looked at him. Zek's face was ashen, his lips trembled.

  "Thanks a lot, Zek," Hursey said. "Now one of us has to pick up after you."

  "Shouldn't even be here," Jolliff muttered.

  Both were Miller buddies.

  "Let's not get sidetracked," Cal said. He turned to the Oculus. "If this is the second Alarm about this woman, the Ally must think she poses a serious threat. Any idea what?"

  The 0 shook his head. "None. Perhaps the baby…"

  Yeah. Maybe the baby.

  "Any idea about the father?"

  Another head shake. "Again, none. But for all we know… maybe it he-longs to the Adversary."

  There was a scary thought. But…

  "Yeah. And maybe not." Cal thought of something. "These Alarms aren't infallible, you know. Look what happened last time. You saw a truck hitting this same woman, but it didn't. Zeklos missed her."

  Everyone looked at Zeklos, some with naked hostility. The little man took a step back.

  "It doesn't show the future," the 0 said. "It shows a possible or probable future. It shows me near things and far things, little things and momentous things. On Sunday it showed me explosions on buses and bridges—a future it wanted stopped. And we stopped it. But as you all well know, every so often it shows me a future it wants us to make happen. Like this one."

  "So none of this is carved in stone."

  "I don't think it can be. Because there's always the unforeseen, unpredictable variable of the human factor."

  Again a number of the yenigeri glanced at Zeklos.

  But Cal couldn't stop wondering about the Ally's methods. In fact, the methods used by both sides. Neither employed full frontal attacks, no shows of naked force. Both pulled occult strings from behind the scenes, manipulating events through human agents.

  Why? Why no overt aggression? Did they save that for elsewhere—pitched battles in interdimensional space? Were there rules for dealing with sentient species?

  Cal had come to the conclusion that this cosmic game—and that was what it seemed to be—had no hard and fast rules, but rather guidelines that compelled each side to act without revealing itself. Perhaps they had a scoring system that awarded style points to the side that could gain or keep the upper hand with the most elegant medley of obscurity and elan.

  And perhaps he was way off base. Maybe the human mind was incapable of making any sense of the forces in play here.

  He did know he was a pawn—but a willing, enthusiastic pawn. If he had to be part of this game, he preferred to know the score than be an unwitting puppet.

  The door chimed. Jolliff stepped to the monitors and checked the front door camera. He pressed the unlock button and smiled as he looked up.

  "It's Miller."

  Miller stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

  "Sorry I'm late. Didn't get the message till a few minutes ago."

  Probably with one of his hookers, Cal thought, knowing Miller alternated between two favorites.

  More power to him. A night of heavy sex usually left him mellow. Well, relatively so. Cal sensed that a truly mellow Miller might violate some law of nature.

  The Oculus gave him a quick rundown of the Alarm.

  That done, Cal looked around at his fellow yeniceri.

  "All right. You've heard the Oculus. The Ally wants this woman gone. Does anybody want the job? If not, we draw straws."

  Miller said, "Maybe we should give Zeklos another chance." Then he smirked. "Not."

  This earned a few laughs.

  Then Miller said, "I'll take it."

  Cal wasn't often thankful for Miller's heart of stone, but this was one of those times. He was about to hand him the job when the 0 interrupted him.

  "The Alarm showed you at the wheel."

&nb
sp; At first Cal thought the 0 was simply confirming the obvious choice, but then noticed that he was looking at him.

  His stomach plummeted.

  "Me?"

  The 0 nodded.

  "You don't look so hot, Davis," Miller said with what passed for a grin. "What's the matter? Getting a case of Zeklositis?"

  Members of his little faction yukked it up as Zeklos reddened. Shaking his head the little man turned toward the door, raising his middle finger over his shoulder as he left.

  Cal watched him go, then forced his face into a neutral expression. Inside, he wanted to run from the room.

  Why me when Miller gets off on this kind of thing?

  His tongue felt like tortoise hide as he spoke. "All right. I'm in the hot seat. So be it."

  "Put me down for pickup duty," Miller said. "That way, if Davis misses, I'll close the deal."

  Cal glanced at his watch—10:25—then at the yeniceri.

  "We've got three hours to steal a truck and the cars and put everything in place. Let's move it."

  He half hoped a car would hit him as he crossed the street outside. He'd take the pain if it meant he'd be spared what was to come.

  10

  "Gia?" Jack said as he stepped into her front foyer.

  He'd made good time from A.C. and had rushed across town to Sutton Square. When she hadn't answered his ring, he'd let himself in.

  The old townhouse felt empty but he did a quick search of all floors—even the never-used fourth—and found no one and nothing out of place. Nothing suspicious. No sign of a struggle. Her winter coat and her handbag were missing from the front closet.

  What he did find, however, was Gia's cell phone in its charging cradle in the kitchen.

  So, only one conclusion he could make: She'd gone out and forgotten her cell phone. Wouldn't be the first time. No sign of foul play, so why this vague feeling of dread?

  Jack headed for the door. He'd catch up to her later. This cyanide-tipped Starfire was burning a hole in his pocket. He needed a little yeniceri info, and knew just the man to provide it.

  11

  The Oculus called Davis aside as Miller and the rest prepared to debark.

  Of all the yeniceri, he felt closest to Davis. He trusted them all, knew each was ready to die protecting him, but the yenigeri life had hardened many of them. Inevitable, he supposed. Not every Alarm involved violence and death, but the vast majority did. Which meant that these men were, in many ways, contract killers with one client: the Ally.

  Difficult for anyone to retain his humanity under those circumstances, but the rest of their quotidian existence—no family, no permanent ties to people outside their MV unit—exacerbated the situation.

  They were weapons—the Ally's spears. And spears had no branches.

  The Oculi were insulated from the violence. They didn't order it, merely passed on the content of the Ally's Alarms. And they had children. Nothing was so grounding as a child. He cherished his relationship with his daughter. Diana was his jewel. Just as the yeniceri would die for him, so he would die for her.

  But Davis, despite everything, had managed to maintain more of his human core. He had a hard shell, but traces of warmth and compassion remained in the heart beating within it.

  "I'm sorry it had to be you," he said when Davis came to his side.

  "We do what we have to do. It's all for the greater good, a cause bigger than any one person—or any three persons, right?"

  The Oculus sensed that this must be the soul-saving mantra Davis would be repeating over and over to get him through this.

  "We must trust the Ally."

  Davis's expression was bleak. "Yeah. Trust the Ally."

  "You have the vehicles?"

  Davis nodded. "Snatched from the LaGuardia long-term lot. Doubtful they'll be missed too soon."

  "Very well. When you return, come to my office—come alone—and we'll talk."

  He had a feeling Davis would need a sympathetic ear after this ordeal was over.

  The Oculus saw them off, then trudged up to his office. For what, he didn't know. He didn't want to sit and brood. Better to spend the time with Diana, drilling her on her studies. At least that would take his mind off what was about to happen.

  12

  "I neeeed this one Mom look at the cover isn't it neat can I have it please-please-please?"

  Gia looked and saw Vicky holding up a copy of Science Verse.

  She'd had a bit of a hassle taking her out of school. Seemed she wasn't the only parent who wanted to keep her child close today. But after a careful ID check and confirmation from Vicky that this woman was indeed her mother, they'd let her go.

  The question then was what to do? She didn't want to take her out of school just to lock her in the house. Since Vicky had outgrown most of her spring clothes, the obvious choice was to shop. But that presented potential problems too.

  Gia had decided that if they stayed away from the iconic stores—she couldn't afford Saks, Gucci, or Bergdorf's anyway—and avoided Fifth Avenue, they'd be safe.

  Gia didn't expect anything to happen, but she felt more in control with Vicky at her side on Madison Avenue. Plenty of great stores for kids on Madison. They came upon a bookstore called The Tattered Page. Vicky loved books and this one sold both new and used. Who could resist?

  "You want a book about science?"

  Vicky's tastes usually ran to fantasy and funny wordplay. Nobody liked puns more.

  "But he wrote The Stinky Cheese Manl"

  "Oh, well, in that case, we'll take it."

  "Neeeat!"

  Gia watched as she opened the book and began reading, watched her smile, watched her eyes dance. She had her father's hair…

  The thought brought back memories of Richard Westphalen. A rich, handsome, suave Englishman whose sparkling wit had swept her off her feet when she'd first come to New York. If only she'd known the man within. They'd married and she'd looked forward to a happy future. She'd been overjoyed when she learned she was pregnant, but not Richard. He revealed his true nature—"a bounder and a cad," according to his aunt Nellie—by virtually walking out on her. He hadn't wanted to be a father and told her flat out that he'd married her for the tax breaks he'd receive by becoming an American citizen.

  He was out with one of his bimbos the night Gia went into labor. Her folks were back in Iowa, she had no close friends, and she still remembered that cab ride to the hospital as the lowest, loneliest moment of her life.

  But when the pain was over and she'd cuddled her daughter, the loneliness vanished and the world became a wonderful place.

  God, she'd loved that little girl then and loved her more now. In fact she loved being a mother, plain and simple. Even loved being pregnant.

  She tried to imagine what it would be like having two children, and wondered for the zillionth time what the new baby would be like. If she—and she couldn't think of her any way but as a she—had only half of Vicky's intelligence and joie de vivre, she'd still be a joy.

  The baby gave her a good kick, then another. She'd been pretty active for the past hour or so. Maybe she sensed that her mother was hungry. Gia looked at her watch: 12:30 already.

  "Ready for some lunch?"

  Vicky looked up from the book. 'This is so funny!"

  "Hungry?"

  "Yeah. I'm starving. Can we go to Burger King? Pleeeeease?"

  "Not today." The thought of burnt meat—blech. "How about Kosher Nosh?"

  "But we were there yesterdaaaaay."

  Vicky was in full whine mode.

  "You can have that hummus and pita platter. You liked it last time."

  "Can't I have a cheeseburger?"

  "They don't make cheeseburgers there. Remember the hummus? You said it was the best you've ever had."

  "Oh, okay. But can I get a big pickle too?"

  "You can have two big pickles if you want."

  Vicky headed for the cash register. "Let's go!"

  Gia followed her with a kicking baby
and a watering mouth. Not for the pickles. For herring… pickled herring in sour cream. Yum. She could almost taste it.

  13

  Cal stepped into the Kosher Nosh and looked around.

  The 0 had described the woman and the child and had said they'd be crossing the street shortly after leaving the deli. Cal just wanted to make sure they were where they were supposed to be.

  "To eat in or to go?" said the bearded man behind the counter.

  Eat? With his stomach feeling like it did? Out of the question.

  "Just looking for a friend."

  "Look away."

  The place was three-quarters full, but he spotted her short blond hair almost immediately. Couldn't tell from here if she was pregnant, but she was sitting with a dark-haired little girl that fit the Oculus's description. The kid was reading to her from a book and they both were laughing.

  Cal felt the room sway around him. Mother and daughter—had to be. Out together and enjoying each other.

  His legs felt unsteady as he saw what might have been. He grabbed a chair and dropped into it.

  That woman… that child… had things been different, had his parents not left him to die in a cold squatter's building, the Twins wouldn't have had to rescue him. He might have had a normal childhood, might have married a woman like that and had a child like that.

  This wasn't the first time he'd thought of this, but most times he could lock it away—dreaming about might-have-beens was a form of self-torture. Useless. Destructive.

  But today, now, at this moment, he could not sweep them under the rug. He was going to destroy a family.

  "Find your friend?" the bearded man said.

  Cal shook his head. "No."

  He could say no more. He turned and staggered back to the sidewalk.

  Miller stood on the corner, waiting.

  "They in there?"

  Cal nodded. "They're there, but 1 can't do it."

  "What?"

  "1 can't. I just… can't."

  "Shit." Miller spit into the gutter. "You're turning into a real pussy, you know that?"

  Cal didn't care what Miller or anyone else—including the Ally—thought, he wasn't getting behind the wheel of that truck.