Book 4: 3rd World Products, Inc.

by Ed Howdershelt

  After a glance at Sandra, Kent shook his head.

  "Then try to cut my shirt."

  He did so, making an effort to pinch some of the fabric away from me. His fingers couldn't quite reach it. Sandra also tried to feel my shirt.

  Her amazement at the gap between her fingers and the shirt caused her to try several times, then she took the knife from Kent and held my hand still as she dragged the blade across my palm.

  "Try yours, Kent,” I said. “Just say ‘p-field on'."

  He did so and took the knife from Sandra, then seemed to have difficulty deciding just where to try to cut himself. He settled for his forearm and pushed the point against his field. It stopped a quarter-inch from his skin. He carefully pushed a bit harder, but couldn't penetrate the field.

  "Damn,” he muttered, then he handed me my knife.

  After another moment of studying the PFM, Sandra looked at me and asked, “Does the Army know about this device?"

  "It does now. Kent has one and you've seen it."

  Looking at Kent, she asked, “Did you clear this with the brass?"

  "Not yet,” he said, “It was a weekend."

  She looked up and said, “Well, you'll have to get it cleared by brigade or above before you use it to fly on this post."

  "Got a video camera?” I asked.

  She looked at me and said, “I could probably scare up the one we used when you arrived. Why do we need it?"

  "I could give an impromptu PFM demonstration. You could tape it. That might help bypass some of the usual skepticisms and trepidations and Kent could do a live demo later."

  Davidson gave me a wry grin and asked, “Doesn't ‘impromptu’ traditionally mean ‘without preparation'?"

  "Ma'am?” I replied, attempting to appear mystified by her question.

  "I noted Kent's time in service,” she said, “I also noted the expiration date on his ID.” Turning to Steph, she said, “You spoke of starting a PFM company. Should I assume you've already offered Kent a position of some sort?"

  Steph nodded. “I have."

  Nodding herself, Sandra turned to me and said, “So the word ‘impromptu’ doesn't really apply at all, does it?"

  "Well, you could pretend you don't know about PFM's and Kent could surprise you by jumping off the flitter."

  After a moments’ thought, she said, “No. If there's any fallout from this, I wouldn't be able to deny knowledge under oath. On the other hand, they'd understand fairly readily if a civilian failed to realize that he should ask permission before using his PFM on a military installation, so don't ask."

  I nodded. “Yeah, ‘the civilian failed to realize’ would probably cover it well enough."

  "We'll pick up a unit camera on the way to the parking lot,” she said. “We'll say we intended to record the flitter flight and film from the time we step aboard until we land. That ought to be enough fill and cover."

  And thus it was. Sergeant Copeland again joined us and we rose to three thousand feet before I dove over the edge of the deck and said, “Parasail on green.” My launch was accompanied by a yell from Tiger as he also launched and a shout from Copeland, who somehow hadn't been informed that anyone would be bailing out.

  Circling, I caught a glimpse of Tiger's green wings on the far side of the flitter.

  I keyed my implant and asked, “Sue, how's everybody taking it?"

  "Well enough,” she said. “They're all on their feet and the camera's on you. I'll stay within a hundred yards of you."

  "Sounds good. I'll switch to the kite near the ground. If they have any questions after that, Kent can handle them."

  After some time under the parasail, I said, “Glider on green,” and circled the parade field across from Davidson's office twice, then flared on approach, turned off my kite, and dropped perhaps two feet to the ground.

  Sue retrieved Tiger, then brought the flitter to within a few feet of me. When the flitter landed, Sandra hopped off and kept the camera on me as she quick-marched up to me.

  "Any last words?” she asked. “The battery's low."

  Shrugging, I said, “Sure. PFM's are a helluva lot of fun."

  She laughed. “That's it?"

  I tried to look thoughtful, then said, “Yup. That's just my 'civilian' point of view, of course."

  Turning off the camera, she handed it to Copeland, who was staring at me. He seemed to do a lot of that; he kind of reminded me of a very alert Doberman, but in his line of work, that wasn't a bad thing at all.

  She asked, “What do you think of PFM's, Sergeant?"

  He instantly responded, “If a cat can do it, anyone can. I'd try one right now, ma'am."

  Davidson smilingly nodded and said, “Me, too."

  Walking up behind her with Sue, Stephanie asked, “Do you mean that?"

  Both turned to face her.

  "Yes,” said Davidson. “I meant it."

  "Me, too, ma'am,” said Copeland.

  "In that case,” said Steph, “Please stand by for a moment. Ed, would you join me aboard the flitter?"

  Steph disappeared and reappeared by the flitter's console. I looked at Sandra and Copeland and shrugged, then followed her aboard.

  "What's up, milady?"

  "I just want this to appear to be a major decision."

  Chuckling, I asked, “Then it isn't, I take it?"

  She returned my grin.

  "Not really. I believe in redundancy and something could happen to Kent. Col. Davidson is at a point in her career very similar to Kent's. ‘Up or out’ is the Army's policy, even when there's no ‘up’ currently available. Using a PFM may gain her enough notoriety to open a general's slot later, but if that doesn't happen, I could hire her when she retires."

  "And Copeland? Why does he need one?"

  Shrugging, Steph said, “He goes where she goes. I noticed that they seem to have a bond."

  Nodding, I said, “Yeah, I think you read that right. If she expressed an interest in visiting hell, he'd grab his gear and get the door for her."

  Steph nodded and we shared a grin as two bright flashes arced across the parade field and a pair of PFM's came to rest in Steph's hands. She stepped gracefully off the flitter instead of disappearing and reappearing and held the PFM's out to Sandra and Copeland, who took them from her in an almost reverent manner as Kent grinningly watched.

  "Col. Davidson,” said Steph, “Sergeant Copeland. These PFM's are being issued to you for demonstration purposes. They will not function for anyone else. I'll require a signed receipt from each of you—and from you, Col. Meyer—so that I'll be able to write them off my taxes..."

  Copeland blurted, “You pay taxes?"

  "Once my company is operational,” continued Steph, “Of course I will.” Turning to me, she said, “Ed, I have an appointment elsewhere, so I'll leave matters to you."

  With a mock salute, I said, “See you later, milady."

  Steph smiled, said goodbye to all, and then disappeared. Copeland looked toward the flitter, possibly expecting her to reappear there and fly away in it, but Sandra looked at me.

  For long seconds neither of them spoke, then Sandra said, “She could have issued these to Green Berets or regular airborne personnel. Why didn't she?"

  Shrugging slightly, I said, “She doesn't tell me everything, but one possible reason is that Kent showed up at the right time. You were a reasonable backup candidate, and Sgt. Copeland goes where you go, unless we read him wrong."

  "Backup candidate?"

  "Yup. If Kent doesn't stay in, current plans have him joining Steph's company. You're a light colonel, so you'll probably soon be facing a rank-ceiling, too, and I think Steph'll make you the same kind of offer if the Army won't cough up a star. In the meantime, you're all good choices for demonstrating PFM's; possibly better choices than people from elite outfits."

  Sandra met my gaze in silence for a moment, then Kent looked up from studying his PFM and said, “I'd like to know more about that protective field."

  Sue
suggested that we go back to the office, where during the next hour or so she showed them on a large datapad screen some of the tests that had been performed.

  None of them seemed to have any reservations about contraception. Kent and Sandra were childless career types. Copeland had three kids in Georgia and wanted no more.

  After show and tell, it was near enough to noon that Sandra suggested we do something about lunch. Copeland bowed out, saying that he had a few things to take care of, so the rest of us went to the Officer's Club and discussed my availability for further demonstrations once the PFM's had been approved.

  Sandra offered me a tour of Ft. Bragg, but I demurred. I'd already seen how much the common areas had changed and just couldn't seem to dig up much interest in revisiting other points around the post that would also undoubtedly have changed considerably over the years.

  Kent and Sandra walked us to the flitter and Sue and I made our goodbyes, then we lifted on a course back to Florida.

  Chapter Sixty-four

  At five until three, I called up a datapad and poked Linda's ‘flapping lips’ icon. She answered almost immediately.

  "Hi, Ed. How was Ft. Bragg?"

  Sighing, I said, “Jeez. That's how it is when you work for an ex-spook, huh? Lemme guess; someone spotted a flitter."

  "You got it. They also said you and Tiger did some flying."

  "Yup. He's got his own PFM. Linda, you remember that science fiction convention I told you about? The one on the fifteenth?"

  "Vaguely. What about it?"

  "How about telling me you're going to want me at Carrington that weekend?"

  In a tone of vast surprise, Linda asked, “You want me to provide you a way out of a weekend date with Selena? Are you feeling all right, Ed?"

  "Yeah, I'm fine, Linda. Sel's mother rescheduled her surgery for the fifteenth."

  Linda's surprise deepened visibly as her mouth opened.

  After a moment, she said softly, “Jesus, Ed. Joanie must really hate you."

  With a little shrug, I said, “Yeah, could be. How about it?"

  Linda cocked her head and asked, “So you're really just trying to give Selena a way out?"

  "Yup. I also want to fix it so I won't be the reason if Selena's not there when her mom goes under the knife."

  Nodding, Linda said, “Well, it's for a good cause, so okay. Be here that weekend, Ed. I'll find something for you to do when you get here. Are we even yet?"

  Pretending to count thoughtfully on my fingers, I said, “Nope. I figure you still owe me two, but they're little ones."

  She grinned. “I never should have let you keep score, damn it. Need anything else today?"

  "Nope. Thanks, milady."

  "You're welcome. Later, Ed."

  Linda disconnected and I kept the pad up for a call to Selena. Sue seemed puzzled.

  "Yes?” I asked.

  "Does Linda really owe you anything, or were you joking?"

  "Just joking."

  "I couldn't tell, Ed. That bothers me."

  "Some jokes are like that. Don't sweat it."

  I checked my watch. Almost three.

  Poking in Selena's cell phone number, I said, “You're new at reading people, Sue. Give it some time."

  When Selena answered, I said, “Hi, there, most wondrous redheaded woman. Got time to talk? I have a problem."

  "Hi, Ed. I'm on my way to class. What's up?"

  Sighing as if disappointed, I said, “Linda just told me I'll be at Carrington during the convention weekend."

  "What? Why?"

  "She just said she'd have something for me to do. That probably means she hasn't got it all set up yet."

  "She knew you had plans, Ed."

  "Yeah, but she wouldn't just blow them off, Sel. You know Linda's not like that."

  "Yeah, I know. I have to get to class, Ed. I'll call you later on the pad. Thanks for letting me off the hook, by the way."

  "You're too smart for me, lady. I may have to trade you in."

  Selena snorted a laugh and said, “Don't be in too big a hurry; you'll be rid of me soon enough."

  "You'll only be in Tallahassee. Not far at all."

  "It's far enough, dammit. All my friends are here. Look, I really have to get in there, Ed. Later."

  "Okay. Bye."

  I was aware of Sue's gaze as I dissolved the datapad.

  "Yes, ma'am? A question?"

  "Just thinking,” said Sue. “You timed your call to Linda, expecting it would be a short one, then you called Selena when you knew she wouldn't have much time to talk."

  "Yup."

  "What if Joanie relents and reschedules again?"

  "Very doubtful, but if so, then I'll call Linda, thank her, and pick up Selena on the way to the convention."

  "Just like that,” Sue stated rather flatly.

  "Yeah, ‘just like that',” I replied. “What's wrong with it?"

  "Do you ever wonder if people sometimes resent being handed your ‘solutions’ to various problems, Ed?"

  Giving her a direct look, I said, “No. If they don't like my solutions, they can say something other than ‘thanks, Ed'."

  "What if they'd prefer to devise their own solutions without your assistance?"

  Shrugging, I said, “No problem. They're free to do so, just like I did just now. The biggest part of my scheduling with Linda for the fifteenth had to do with covering my own ass, Sue. I can't fix Sel's problems with her mother and I can't see letting something as trivial as an SF convention cause an all-around confrontation."

  As we neared Spring Hill, I felt another presence nearby and looked around for Steph, but the seats and the deck behind me were empty. Sitting still for a moment, I closed my eyes and tried to fix a direction to the feeling. There. Got it.

  I opened my eyes to find myself looking beyond the flitter at what appeared to be empty sky. Wrong? Nope. Felt right. I gave a little wave and keyed my comm implant as I patted the seat next to mine.

  "Hi, Steph. I saved you a seat."

  Something shimmery happened to the edge of our field as she appeared by the console and said, “That's Elkor's flitter. I'm about to do some prospecting."

  The edge of the field stabilized and seemed to merge like a huge soap bubble with the field from Elkor's cargo flitter.

  Steph smiled at me and said, “I wondered if you'd be able to detect me beyond two fields. That's a fascinating talent, Ed. Would you and Sue like to join me?"

  "Well, gee, lady, let me check with my social secretary.” I turned to Sue. “Care to go prospecting, milady?"

  Sue laughed and said, “Whither thou goest, I go. For the next year, anyway."

  "Sounds good to me. Glad to have such decorative company, too. See if Tiger's interested."

  Nope. Tiger was bored; ready to go home. Truthfully, I sometimes got bored as hell aboard the flitter, too, but I could entertain myself with a datapad when the action was slow.

  We stopped to let Tiger into the house, then Sue guided our flitter to follow Elkor's to a spot not far from the Louisiana coastline and the wide mouth of the Mississippi River.

  I'll admit it. I was mystified. Steph had said ‘prospecting', not ‘marine salvage'. This area was one of the most well-charted regions on Earth and the water wasn't all that deep. If there was anything worthwhile down there, it seemed likely that someone would have already gone after it.

  Watching a lone shrimpboat head toward shore, I keyed my implant, then asked, “Uh, Steph..? You said ‘prospecting'. I kind of expected us to end up in a desert."

  Disappearing from Elkor's flitter, Steph appeared in the seat next to mine and said, “I have reason to believe that scanning riverbeds may be worthwhile."

  Calling up an oversized field screen, she caused a picture of the Mississippi River to appear, then highlighted several areas along its meandering path.

  Elkor's flitter descended abruptly. As soon as its field disconnected from ours, it disappeared. Some moments later I saw a slight disturbance
below as it plunged into the waters of the alluvial basin.

  Steph said, “The flitter will scan the riverbed to a depth of one hundred and fifty feet."

  I didn't have to ask why she was probing so deeply; the Mississippi partly followed a fault line and was known for frequent course changes and for carrying and depositing massive quantities of soil.

  Touching the map, Steph said, “Floods along this river have washed away entire towns. Boats have sunk; often those of traders. During the Civil War, a boat carrying military plunder reportedly sank a few miles south of Vicksburg."

  Touching a spot just below St. Louis, she said, “In this region, construction dredging discovered several automobiles, all of which had been manufactured prior to 1931. Bullet holes and human remains were found in several of the cars and a safe was found chained to the remains of a flatbed truck."

  "Probably from the booze wars,” I said. “The Eighteenth Amendment—Prohibition—created criminals where we'd only had drunks before. What did they find in the safe?"

  "Jewelry, two handguns, and the remnants of money and documents."

  Grinning, I said, “Ah-hah. Sunken treasure. Is that what inspired your sudden interest in the Mississippi?"

  Returning my grin with a wry one of her own, Steph said, “Rivers are much easier to search than oceans, and while they may not hold as much treasure, I expect to be able to justify my efforts. The results of my scans will be made available at prices that will vary according to purpose."

  "So the real treasure is in the number of times you can sell the info. Sounds good. How long will it take to scan the whole Mississippi River?"

  "Including tributaries and allowing time for retrievals of minor valuables not buried too deeply, I'd say about a month."

  When I laughed, she looked at me questioningly.

  "Quote;” I said, “'I'd say about a month.' Steph, you're a marvel. I remember when you couldn't make a guesstimate."

  "The correct word is 'wouldn't', Ed."

  "Uh, huh. A month doesn't seem like enough time, ma'am. You sure you didn't misplace a decimal or something?"

  Steph gave me a wry, dry look and Sue snickered. Raising my hands as if to protest, I stepped back toward the cooler.

  "Yes. Well,” I said, reaching into the cooler for a Dr Pepper, “Sorry. Of course I'd never seriously question your math, milady. Do please forgive me. What have you found so far?"