Book 4: 3rd World Products, Inc.

by Ed Howdershelt

"Really? That must have been interesting."

  "'Entertaining' would be a more proper description, I think. Ed was of the opinion that you'd probably visit."

  Glancing at me as she put the bottles down, Myra asked, “You were, huh? Do you use ice in your gin, Ed?"

  "Doesn't matter to me with this stuff. Wasn't that in my file, too?"

  She smiled at me and said, “Nope. Sorry. I'll add it later, though, if it's important to you. We'll need a couple of glasses."

  I went to the bathroom for the glasses on the sink and unwrapped them as I returned, then set them down by the bottles. Myra mixed a couple of liberal drinks and handed me one, then sipped hers.

  "Hmm,” she said, “It's better than I thought it would be."

  Sipping my own, I realized just how liberal she'd been with the gin and added some extra mixer.

  "So,” I said, “What brings you to my room, Myra?"

  She met my gaze for a moment, then said, “Talk. Company for a little while. You don't like me much, do you?"

  "I don't dislike you much, either. You're breaking about even, I guess."

  Myra sighed and chuckled. She smiled slightly as she said, “Well, hell. I'm used to doing a little better than that with men. I must be slipping."

  It was a fishing statement. I was supposed to say something mildly encouraging or switch the subject, thereby giving her some idea of which way to angle things, but I passed up the opportunity by taking another sip of gin.

  Waving her to the lone sofa chair in the room as I sat on the corner of the bed, I said, “You're going to be with us while Karen trains. You'll observe everything we do and you can ride along if you want. That takes care of your official reason for hooking up with me, so why are we drinking your gin in my room tonight, Myra?"

  Myra settled into the chair and made a small, phony show of trying to pull her skirt down when it rode up her legs to mid-thigh. She apparently gave up after a moment, leaned back in the chair, and looked at me.

  "Maybe I just like you, Ed. Maybe I like being with you."

  "If that weren't the whole of it, what would the rest of it be?"

  "Why wouldn't that be the whole of it?"

  I shook my head. “That just doesn't feel quite complete to me, Myra. You're an 'agenda' person. Nothing happens without a purpose in your world."

  "Are you saying you aren't an 'agenda' person, too?"

  Sighing, I said, “Y'know, damn it, I'm absolutely sure I didn't say that. Lose the debating tricks and answer the question."

  Myra sipped thoughtfully for a moment, then asked, “Well, for one thing, I'd like to know how the hell you flew from the flitter to the building tonight, Ed."

  "I just did. It's a private thing. Your people can't duplicate the method, so there's no point in talking about it."

  "How do you know we can't?"

  I turned to Steph and asked, “Care to render a second opinion?"

  Steph looked at Myra as she firmly said, “No. They can't."

  Turning back to Myra, I said, “That makes it gospel."

  "Gospel, huh?” asked Myra. “What if we'd like more than her word for things?"

  Shrugging, I said, “Then you can all piss up a rope, ma'am. Steph and I came up with that trick all by ourselves and it takes special hardware that's flatly not available to anyone else."

  "She's just a flitter computer, Ed. We have access to flitters, too, so what makes you think we can't eventually come up with anything you can?"

  I grinned and said, “You're free to give it a shot. Why are you here, Myra?"

  Myra shrugged and said, “I'm here because they told me to go with you and take notes. Beyond that I really do like you, Ed, even though you're apparently trying your best to make that difficult."

  She crossed her legs to punctuate her second statement. Yeah, I looked. Very nice.

  "Yeah, well, I find you superbly attractive and generally likeable, too, Myra. Maybe we can get together sometime when I'm no longer an assignment."

  "But not until then, huh?"

  I shook my head tersely and said, “Nope. Not until then."

  She swirled her half-finished drink for a moment, then asked, “Superbly attractive?"

  Nodding, I said, “You're definitely that, ma'am."

  With a grin, she asked, “And generally likeable?"

  Again nodding, I said, “Yup. Unless you're just acting in the line of duty, of course."

  Myra snorted a chuckle, swept a hand in a gesture that included her whole body, and said, “No, this is me and I'm just being me. What you see is what you get."

  She'd presented me another line. My eyes were supposed to track her gesture and I was supposed to suddenly envision her in a manner appealing to me and give some thought to 'getting' her. What the hell ... Of course I did, but it didn't sway me to change my mind about socializing with her.

  After sipping her drink, Myra said, “We should try not to be so stiff around each other, Ed.” Lowering her voice slightly and grinning, she added, “We can have social intercourse, if nothing else."

  Keywords, now. 'Stiff' and 'intercourse' in the same sentence, spoken in front of someone else as if in confidence and intended to slightly titillate, yet spoken with full knowledge that I was aware of the ploy. I hate that stuff.

  Slowly shaking my head as if in disbelief that she'd try something like that, I asked, “Myra, do you ever try that stuff on the agency guys?"

  She snickered and said, “Yeah, and it usually works, especially when I wear short skirts and tight blouses."

  "No doubt it does. Great legs, ma'am."

  "Thanks,” she said with a grin, then she turned serious and very deliberately put her drink down in order to point a finger at her left thigh as she said, “Ed, I'll be direct. I know what you're thinking, but you need to know that I don't spread these legs for the agency. That's definitely not in my job description."

  There was no way that she'd forgotten about Steph being in the room, yet she'd again said and done something designed to lead both my eyes and my mind.

  Pulling my eyes away from her legs, I said, “Glad to hear it, Myra."

  "I mean it, Ed. I don't do that."

  With a shrug I said, “Well, I mean it, too, Myra. I'm glad to hear it."

  "You don't sound very sincere."

  Shaking my head, I said, “Oh, I'm sincere, ma'am. If I wasn't, and if I wanted to play games with you, I'd have made a show of telling you why I'm glad you don't spread those lovely legs for agency purposes."

  She smiled. “I think I can guess. You're hoping I'll spread them for you."

  I gave her a fat Texas accent and a big grin as I said, “Oh, hell yes, ma'am! That'd be real nice of you. Real nice! By God, I'd really look forward to something like that, ma'am. I shorely would, I swear!"

  Her gaze narrowed sharply and her low tone was ominous.

  "Are you making fun of me?"

  "A little, but I meant what I said about your legs. Those are damned fine legs, lady. It would be my absolute pleasure to lick my way up them sometime. Slowly and thoroughly, all the way to the top. But not while you're my company tag."

  Many people try to cover their reactions by freezing momentarily. I watched Myra's eyes and saw her mind envisioning my tongue on her legs. She uncrossed her legs slowly and sat a little straighter in the sofa chair before speaking.

  Myra's gaze remained narrow as she said, “This could be the only chance you'll ever get, Ed. Are you going to pass it up?"

  "Regretfully, yes.” I let my eyes travel the length of her and shook my head slightly as I said, “Very damned regretfully, in fact, but yes."

  "Why?” she snapped at me.

  I sipped my drink, then said, “Selena and Toni."

  Grinning hugely, Myra said, “Oh, right. Sure. I saw how Toni couldn't keep her eyes off me at the beach. Selena, too, when she thought nobody'd notice her looking. Do you really think you'd lose them because we had a little fun together?"

  I didn't return
her grin as I said, “If we all agreed to include you, no, but if I fell into bed with you without consulting them, probably so. Since you work for the NSA, you either aren't into female playmates or couldn't afford to let it be known if you were, so I won't count on anything happening with the others. Or with me, if they aren't in attendance."

  Myra gazed steadily at me as she considered matters for a moment, then she drained the rest of her drink, put her glass on the table, and levered herself up and out of the deep chair to stand in front of it.

  Nodding briefly, she said, “Sure. Okay. I'll let you get to bed, then."

  When I stood up, too, Myra waved me to stay where I was and said, “I can find my way out. See you in the morning."

  She walked to the door, then glanced back over her shoulder at me and said, “Keep the gin. A guy like you deserves some kind of reward."

  The door closed behind her. I swirled the last bit of gin in my glass and drank it, then took both glasses to the bathroom and rinsed them. When I came out, Steph was still sitting in the desk chair, looking at me in a studious manner.

  "Something on your mind, milady?"

  "There's always something on my mind, Ed."

  "Care to talk about it?"

  She shrugged. “Perhaps later."

  I nodded. “Okay. Thanks again, by the way, for helping me with the glider. You have no idea how much I appreciate some of the things you do for me."

  "I had only to add a bit of programming to your implant. What will you do with the glider you bought, Ed?"

  Sitting on the bed, I took off my shoes and wiggled my toes in the rug as I said, “I'll take it over to Wallaby Ranch near Orlando and sell it. They have a bunch of different kites there, so we can lift another design or two and I'll test-fly a few later."

  "You seem a little depressed, Ed. Is the alcohol causing it?"

  I gave her a small grin. “Well, maybe partly, but Myra sure has great legs. I kind of feel as if I've missed a golden opportunity this evening."

  Steph gave me a wry smile and shook her head slightly, then disappeared as I got ready to take a shower and crash.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Myra was the first to meet me at the front desk the next morning. She'd chosen to wear mid-thigh shorts and a light sweatshirt for the day's activities. When Tom stepped out of the elevator and saw her, he whistled softly and grinned at her.

  Stephanie didn't join us for breakfast, but she appeared on my right as we walked to Linda's office. This startled the hell out of Tom and Myra, who were walking behind Karen and me.

  Karen had heard Myra's gasp and looked to see what had caused it. She gave Steph a little wave and a smile and said, “Good morning."

  "Good morning,” said Steph, pretending to be unaware that she'd caused Tom and Myra's metabolic readings to spike.

  Linda's secretary, Anna, greeted us and said, “Ed, Linda wants a word with you before the meeting. Go on in, please."

  I tapped lightly on Linda's door and did so.

  Linda looked up at me rather peeringly for a moment, then tapped up a field and said, “Good morning. Now explain this clip from the front security camera, please."

  On the screen was a video of me making a running dive off the edge of the flitter deck and flying toward the camera, which adjusted its focus to keep me sharply defined as I approached and landed.

  Looking at Linda, I shrugged and said, “I appear to have been flying, milady."

  Punching off the display, Linda flatly said, “Try again."

  "Okay. I admit it. I'm guilty. I was definitely flying. Sorry, ma'am."

  "Quit fooling around, damn it. How?"

  "Steph helped me reprogram my field implant. You can't see the hang glider unless I color it a bit."

  Linda gazed hard at the image for a moment, then tapped the ‘off’ icon and grinned at me as she said, “I'll want to see it later. This was one of your better tricks."

  She punched a button on her phone and said, “Anna, send them in now."

  I took a chair and watched everybody troop into Linda's office. She greeted them, sat them down, and offered us coffee. After we all had a cup, Linda told us that Myra would be joining Karen as an inter-service courtesy. We chatted for a bit about a number of things, then she told Tom to remain behind as she chased the rest of us out.

  As we headed for the flitter, Karen asked me what she should expect.

  Laughing, I said, “Same as yesterday. Range six again, just to make sure yesterday's lesson stuck and to give Myra an opportunity to give it a run. A few times around the track at low speed, then the full speed runs with the stops at each end as before. Range nine in the afternoon."

  Karen nodded and glanced at Myra, then smiled at me.

  I said, “I do believe you're finally getting into this, Dr. Mills."

  Karen said, “The right company can make anything fun."

  In mock shock, I asked, “I'm not the right company?"

  Shaking her head, Karen said, “Of course not. It's all old news to you. Myra, here, will better appreciate the experience, I think."

  Nodding, I said, “Yeah, you're probably right."

  As we approached range six aboard the flitter, I asked Steph to take us up to two thousand feet and stop, then to put up a display of the range. She did so and we went over the course as we had the day before.

  "That's it,” I said, “You and Steph can take it from here."

  With that, I grabbed a Dr Pepper from the cooler, said “Glider one on", and dove off the flitter. Someone shrieked softly behind me as I sailed away and I spent the next hour or so aloft as the ladies repeatedly negotiated the range at increasing speeds.

  Flying with a visible glider is exciting enough, but flying with no visible means of support and no singing cables or creaks, squeaks, and groans from tubes and joints is almost eerily exciting.

  Something else was different, too. No shade. The sun beat down on me until I realized that I was becoming uncomfortably warm on one side.

  "Glider green,” I said, and the kite, harness, and all became a brilliant shade of emerald green, shining like one big jewel through which I could barely see the sun.

  Keying my implant, I said, “Steph, this is one helluva toy."

  "I'm glad you like it,” she replied. “That's a nice color, too."

  "You should know. You ought to see it from up here."

  She appeared next to me, floating alongside me, and examined the kite.

  "Yes, it's very nice, indeed,” she said with a smile, then she disappeared.

  When I saw the flitter put up its canopy and zip through the range at what seemed an unbelievable speed, then stop at the far end, I knew it was time to head for a landing in the staging area.

  As I flew over the last quarter of the course, I saw the holographic terrorist being repositioned behind a parked car. Angling slightly to the right, I let my empty Dr Pepper bottle go when I judged the time about right and watched it plummet downward.

  The bottle shattered on the street less than a foot from the terrorist, but he didn't even glance at it. It wasn't part of his program or an approaching flitter, so it didn't register. Oh, well. My aim had been fairly good and a real terrorist would have jumped out of his skin when the bottle hit.

  The flitter reached the staging area before me and the canopy disappeared. All three of those aboard stood watching as I flared to a stop and dropped the last couple of feet to the ground.

  "Glider off,” I said as I turned to head toward the flitter. The grab bar and body harness disappeared, as did the pull of the glider above me in the slight breeze.

  Something to remember about hang gliding is that when your legs have been suspended in a harness for a while, they don't always work quite right for a few moments when you're back on the ground. My left knee seemed numb for a few steps, and when it stopped being numb, it felt as if it was still resting in the harness.

  I stopped walking to rub my knees and stretch, then did a few deep knee bends as
I said, “Steph, that body bag doesn't keep my knees slightly bent. They feel as if they're still in the rig."

  She replied, “I've modified the suspension, Ed. Let me know if anything else should be changed when you fly it again."

  "Will do, milady. Thank you."

  As I approached the flitter I could see that Myra's hands were shaking. She saw me notice them and stuck them in the pockets of her shorts.

  "Steph,” I said, “How'd she do today?"

  "Dr. Mills handled the course very well, Ed."

  "Is she ready to move on to range nine?"

  "I'd say so."

  Taking a seat to the right of the pilot's seat, I said, “Let's go, then."

  Myra obviously felt as if I should have asked about her performance, as well. It showed in the stiffness when she stalked to a seat on the other side of Karen and plunked herself down without so much as a glance my way.

  We were halfway to range nine when I asked, “How did Myra do on six, Steph?"

  Steph seemed to consider the question for a moment, then said, “Perhaps Dr. Mills would be better able to answer your question, Ed."

  "Okay.” I turned to Karen and said, “Same question."

  Mills gave me a wry grin and said, “She threw up almost precisely where I did, but two laps sooner. The rest of the time she kept her eyes shut the way I should have."

  "Did you or Steph ask her the purpose of the course?"

  Steph nodded. “Yes. She said it was obviously for training people to learn to rely on their flitters, since no human could pilot the craft at such speeds."

  I looked at Myra. “Was that before or after the fastest runs?"

  "Before,” said Myra. “I thought the course was scary at sixty, but possibly still something a human could manage. But at one-twenty..? Damn.” She glanced at Steph and said, “No way would a human make the course at that speed. That's when it hit me. It wasn't about piloting the flitter; it was about letting the flitter do what it was built to do. Then Karen told me Steph's fastest time through the course."

  She shuddered. “I almost got off the flitter at that point. When the canopy appeared and I realized that we really were about to run the course at that speed, I felt like screaming."

  Mills said, “You did scream, but not until we got underway."