By then the others—including the one Roberta had kicked—were on their feet and backing away from us. One turned and ran from the scene as the driver screamed about the damage to his car and hurried to get back in and get it away from the ball.
As he reached for the gear shift, I let the sunball dissipate and the guy screeched again at the small crater in the hood of his car, but he took the opportunity to slam the car into drive and burn rubber through another U-turn and away from us.
One guy barely managed to get most of himself into the car as it started moving and accelerated. They blew past the running guy over a block away without stopping for him.
When I turned around, I saw that everyone but Sue and me had their stun wands out. All of them were looking at me.
Mark Saunder stared at me and quietly, intently asked, “What-the-fuck-was-that?!"
Meeting his gaze, I said, “A teaching tool. Maybe they learned some manners today.” Gesturing ahead, I said, “The light's green. Let's go eat,” and started walking as I whispered, “Five suit off."
Sue and I were a third of the way across the street before the others got moving and hurried to catch up. Roberta seemed a little pissed about something, so I asked what was wrong.
"I could have handled them,” she snapped as we reached the other sidewalk.
Shrugging, I replied, “I know that. You had a stun wand."
"So why did you jump in with that ... that thing?"
"They pissed me off, too, y'know. Now drop it."
Moving to grab my arm, she glaringly said, “You don't give me orders.” Nodding at Deanna, she added, “That's her job."
Stopping, I pried her fingers off my arm and said, “Yeah, fine. Next time you get to zap all the bad guys. Now get off my ass about it."
Deanna touched Roberta's shoulder and quietly said, “He was just helping out. Let's go to dinner."
Roberta seemed to have more to say to me, but she remained seethingly silent as we all started walking again.
Chapter Fifteen
Typical of a town like D.C. at half past five, the restaurant's bar was packed, but there were half a dozen dining tables open. A hostess led us to one of them and hovered to take our drink orders before leaving us to look through our menus.
I set my coffee mug on the table, but put my hand over it as the waitress reached for it and said, “I'll get you a refill."
"No, thanks. I'll be drinking a beer with dinner."
Roberta had calmed down considerably after a whispered conversation with Deanna on the sidewalk. She still looked a bit tense, but she didn't seem pissed off at me anymore.
Mark Saunder abruptly said, “If you can do something like that fireball in the street, it can't be classified. What was it?"
"It was a field effect, Mark. I have a prototype PFM."
"What else can it do?"
"Stuns. Stuff like a warehouse model does."
He waited until the waitress had put our drinks down, taken our orders, and left us before he asked, “Can I see it?"
Sipping my gin and bitter lemon, I glanced at Sue. Through my implant, she said, “Look at your left forearm."
I felt something clasp around my arm and slid my jacket sleeve back to show them the silvery field on my arm.
"That wasn't there before,” said Mark.
"Are you sure about that?"
"I am,” said Roberta, “Absolutely sure. Your sleeves were up and your arms were bare. Not even a wristwatch."
"Three suit on,” I said loudly enough to be heard.
They displayed all the usual shock and surprise when I disappeared.
I turned off my three suit, reappeared, and pushed my sleeve down as I asked, “Are you still absolutely sure?"
There was silence around the table. Deanna eyed me somewhat intently for a time as she sipped her drink, then she spoke quietly.
"Linda gave me the impression that you might turn down our invitation."
Shrugging, I replied, “I'm here."
"She said you were something of a loner."
"Mostly I am. Especially when I'm working."
Mark asked, “Why's that?"
Meeting his gaze, I said, “It's the way I like things."
"Sometimes it's good to have help."
Touching Sue's hand, I asked, “Better help than Sue? Very unlikely, Mark.” Glancing at Sue, I grinningly added, “But I won't say ‘impossible’ because I don't want to feed her ego."
Sue's comment was a weary sigh and a wry look.
Deanna said, “I saw the mountain footage from yesterday. How did you make that happen, Ed?"
"I'd have to ask Linda before I discussed it, ma'am."
That made her eyebrow go up as she gave me a tense look. She evidently felt she was entitled to the details.
Speaking softly, but intently, she said, “I could call her for you. I'm sure she'd still be in her office."
I shrugged again and said, “Maybe she won't mind that we're sitting in a restaurant instead of your office.” Looking around the table, I said, “And maybe my social skills are rusty. Maybe I should just clam up, have a nice, quiet dinner, and hit the road when it's over."
Putting her drink down, Deanna sighed and said, “Oh, hell, I didn't mean to turn that into a challenge. You're right. We're not in my office."
Our salads arrived. I doused mine with Thousand Island dressing and dug in. There was some superficial chat about the city, where else we'd all been, and what we'd done before joining 3rd World Products.
When I didn't say much about myself, Deanna said, “I looked you up yesterday, Ed. Were you really a mercenary, or did you just work for them?"
"I was a sergeant. A field medic."
Glancing at Deanna instead of me, Mark asked, “Where?"
"Africa,” she said. “Before that, he was with your old company in Europe."
Turning to me, Mark asked, “You were CIA?"
"Just a local hire. Courier work. Like that."
Deanna snorted a small laugh and grinned as the waitress brought our food. I said, “Deanna can fill you in sometime,” as the waitress sorted the platters among us.
By the time we'd all finished eating, I was ready to get back to the flitter and go find a nightclub. I faked a small yawn and said something about it having been a long day.
Turning immediately solicitous, Deanna said, “I'm sorry! I never thought to ask ... With all the flitters tied up with building searches, you can't fly home tonight. Where are you going to stay, Ed? Do you have a room yet? Do you want us to..?"
Raising a hand, I said, “I'm all set. No sweat."
Mark asked, “You aren't just saying that, I hope?"
Shaking my head, I answered, “Nope. I'm all set if Linda decides I'm staying over."
Giving me an ‘are you nuts?’ look, Roberta asked, “If she decides you'll stay over? I'd think she would, since there are only three flitters to cover a hell of a lot of buildings."
Looking at Sue, I asked, “How's progress?"
She instantly replied, “There are four hundred and seventy-one buildings still to inspect. If you want to sleep in your own bed tonight, we could leave in about an hour, providing Linda has no other reasons for you to be here."
Various sounds of astonishment and disbelief emanated around the table as I answered, “Sounds good. Has anyone suggested leaving the probes in place for future searches?"
"No, but I'd planned to do it anyway.” She faced Deanna and added, “Your offices will govern their local use."
Nodding, Deanna replied, “Uh ... My God, Sue, that would be excellent! You're saying we could run a search like today's anytime we wanted?"
"Yes. I've also added certain people to search parameters for publicly-owned properties. No search warrant required."
Roberta still seemed stunned by the time required to search nearly five hundred buildings. Deanna muttered, “My God,” again and looked at Mark with an expression of subdued astonishment. He met her gaze with one j
ust like it.
Standing up, I gestured a flourish at Sue as I said, “Like I said, it would be damned hard to find better help.” In a stage-whisper to Sue, I added, “I think you've impressed them, milady. Do you want to stay and schmooze a while? I'm going back to the flitter and..."
As I reached for my coffee mug, Roberta said, “Wait a minute, Ed. Do you really have to go?"
Trying to look apologetic, I said, “Roberta, I run a couple of small businesses when I'm not running Linda's errands. I've found it's best to at least check in on them once a day."
Sue said, “I think I'd like to stay a while."
"Good ‘nuff,” I said, and grinned as I added, “Everybody promise you won't talk about me when I'm gone, okay?"
We shared a laugh, and after a round of handshakes and goodbyes, I headed for the front restrooms with the intent of taking a leak before I left.
As I walked past the bar, a blonde woman who looked to be somewhere close to forty looked at her watch, made a face, and bitterly muttered, “Well, fuck you, Frank,” as she opened her purse and set forth toward me at a march step.
I stopped to let her go by, but her course toward me varied slightly and she walked right into me, dropping her purse with a little “Oh!” of startlement.
"Sorry,” she said, “I was looking for my keys."
On what I felt was—largely due to her course change—only an off-chance that she wasn't a spook detailed to make a connection with me, I knelt to help her gather her stuff as she apologized for her clumsiness.
The funky lighting near the bar made it hard to tell the colors of her mid-thigh skirt, blouse, and suit-jacket. Four inch heels make it difficult to kneel or hunker without putting on a bit of a show; I noted that she had pretty nice legs.
When all was back in her purse, I stood up and took her arm to steady her as she also stood up. It was time for her to either thank me and split or try to turn the encounter into an event.
I tossed a mental quarter and it came up heads as I met her gaze. She had gorgeous ice-gray eyes, the kind that hit me particularly hard. My shields went up on general principles.
She was really quite attractive and tall enough to meet my eyes with only the slightest upward tilt of her head as I let go of her arm. Her eyes, her steadiness, and her breath told me that if she'd been drinking at all, she hadn't had much.
"All set?” I asked. “No damage? Did we get everything?"
Nodding, she smiled somewhat abashedly as she extended her hand and replied, “Yes, I think so. Thank you."
Her grip on my hand maintained our contact as she drew the moment out a little, then sighed and said, “I'm sorry I ran into you, but I was so damned ... never mind. It's not your problem. Thanks again."
Bait? Or a real reluctance to share her personal troubles with a stranger? I'd know in a minute.
"Glad to help, milady,” I said as she released my hand. “I take it someone didn't show up?"
She hesitated, then said, “He was supposed to be here at six. It's almost six-thirty.” Holding up her cell phone, she said angrily, “He has one of these, too, so unless he's dead or unconscious in a hospital, no excuse will be good enough."
Looking out the windows at the gathering darkness, her gaze narrowed and she said, “Oh, great. It's getting dark."
Biting back the comment that darkness happened at the end of pretty much every day and shouldn't really be a surprise to anyone, I asked, “Want me to walk you to your car?"
Giving me an appraising look for a moment, she asked, “You wouldn't mind? I'm only about a block away."
"No problem. I was leaving, too, by way of the bathroom. Give me a minute to wash up and I'll be right back."
Nodding, she smiled as she said, “Okay. Thanks again."
I flipped that mental quarter again a few times as I took a leak and washed my hands, then rinsed my face and checked my hair. Not enough data about her yet. The results were still inconclusive.
"Man, you must be Irish or something,” said a man who came in and stood at one of the urinals, “That blonde's been turning down free drinks for an hour."
Running a comb through my hair, I said, “She said she's been waiting for someone who didn't show."
The guy laughed, “Then he's a damned fool. She's hot, even if she is a little long in the tooth."
"Ever seen her here before?"
"No, but I don't come here often, either. We're just here tonight because a guy in the office moved up a notch today."
Using my paper towel to grab the door handle, I said, “Good for him. You guys have fun,” and tossed the wadded towel at the trash on my way out.
The blonde was still near the front of the bar when I came out of the bathroom. I walked up to her and asked, “Ready?"
She nodded and walked with me to the door. I stayed to her left and somewhat behind her, reaching past her to open the door, then followed her out.
Once we were on the sidewalk, she turned to me and said, “I guess I ought to at least know your name before I wander off into the night with you."
"Yup. And for all I know, milady, you could be just another beautiful mugger, so we probably ought to trade info."
With a snort of a chuckle, she asked, “A beautiful mugger?"
Shrugging, I said, “Sorry, but one can never be too careful in the big city. I thought phrasing it that way might take some of the sting out of my trepidation."
"The sting, huh? Yours or mine?"
"Either. Both."
I introduced myself. She said her name was Georgia Miles, added “named after my grandmother, not the state", and asked if I lived in the area.
"Nope. I'm up here from Florida. Where's your car?"
She pointed further along the street away from 3rd World's building, said, “that way,” and we started walking.
"Just touring?” she asked, “Or here on a job?"
Thumbing back the way we'd come, I said, “A friend works for 3rd World Products, but she's in Carrington, North Dakota at the moment, so there was no point in sticking around."
"I saw you with some people in the restaurant. Do they work for 3rd World Products?"
"Yup. One of ‘em offered to buy me dinner.” Grinning, I added, “I guess she felt sorry for me.” With a fakey sigh, I said, “But not sorry enough. She brought her hubby along."
Georgia laughed and asked, “Did you know she was married when you took her up on her dinner offer?"
Shaking my head, I said, “No. I found out about one whole minute later, though. Didn't care. I skipped lunch today and I was ready for some food."
Glancing at her, I asked, “What about you? Local or tourist?"
"Local. I work a few blocks from here."
"Convenient. I used to live in Arlington. I could walk to work at Ft. Meyer when the weather was good."
She stopped walking and peered at me in the gathering darkness for a moment, then said, “This may sound forward, but ... Do you have any plans for this evening?"
"Nope. I was just going to kick back and..."
"Do you want to go hit a couple of nightclubs?"
Shrugging, I said, “Sounds good to me, ma'am. What kind of music?"
Looking thoughtful, she replied, “Music? Oh, well, mixed, I guess. No karaoke, I hope."
"No country or rap, either?"
With a visible shudder of horror, she grinningly answered, “No. Never. Maybe some pop or dance."
"Sounds good to me. Lead on, milady."
Nodding, she said, “Okay. I'll wait in my car while you get yours. You can follow me and..."
Holding up a hand, I said, “My car's in Florida."
Giving me that peering look again, she asked, “You don't have a rental?"
Shaking my head, I said, “Didn't think I'd need one."
Crunch time. If Georgia had been assigned to make contact with me, she'd probably make a show of deciding to take a chance on me.
If she was just looking for some company for a few hours of d
rinks and dancing, being unable to conveniently say goodnight anywhere at any time would likely put her off.
' ... Unless she's actually a heartless bitch, of course, in which case she might just leave me somewhere and haul ass ... '
After a moment, Georgia came up with a third option.
Meeting my eyes firmly, she said, “The Wilson Boulevard buses run until a little after one in the morning, so if we don't get along, you won't be totally stranded. You okay with that?"
With a shrug, I said, “No problem."
"You mean that? You won't give me a hard time if I don't want to bring you all the way back downtown?"
Laughing, I said, “Things a lot worse than being left on a bus route have happened to me, milady. If we don't get along, I may say goodnight before you do."
Another couple of moments passed before Georgia nodded and turned to continue walking. She pointed ahead at a pay parking lot and led the way to a silver Ford Sable sedan, pressing a button on a remote control she aimed at it.
The door locks popped up and the alarm beeped. I opened the driver's door for her, then went around the back of the car as she started it. A few minutes later we were crossing the Roosevelt bridge into Arlington.
We hadn't spoken since the parking lot. As I looked at the river, she asked, “How long's it been since you were here?"
"Since I last drove through?” I asked, looking ahead, “1993. Since I lived here? 1983. I was on my way back to Texas from Africa. Stopped to see my ex-wife and wound up helping her move to a new apartment."
"Africa? Your ex? Does she still live around here?"
"Probably. She liked the place and had a lot of friends here."
"You don't know?"
"We don't keep in touch."
After a moment, she asked, “How many times have you been married?"
"Once was enough. How about you?"
She laughed. “Twice was enough. I'm a hard learner."
We were on Wilson Boulevard, waiting for a red light at the crest of a hill, when the car's engine died. When the car wouldn't restart, Georgia let us drift forward, carefully changing lanes until she was able to guide the car into a bank's parking lot. She tried to start the car again. The engine ground for several seconds. She tried again.
Book 5: 3rd World Products, Inc. Page 17