City of Iron

by Williamson, Chet

  The waiter returned with their entrees, and their conversation shifted to the excellence of Scottish cuisine as opposed to English. But after a while, Laika asked, "You don't believe in anything paranormal, then? That someone could actually be psychic?"

  "No," Joseph answered flatly. "There's never been any evidence of it—of ESP or ghosts or anything of the sort."

  "But haven't scientists been convinced of—"

  He interrupted her with a laugh. "Scientists are the easiest people in the world to fool. But as soon as a magician shows up on the premises, the psychics suddenly lose their powers for fear of being exposed—'Oh, my, I feel negative vibrations in the ether. Antagonism and doubt are weakening my powers. . . .' Yeah, damn right they are."

  "How about aliens?"

  Joseph shrugged. "That's always a possibility. No one can say there's nothing in the universe but us—that would be the most amazing thing of all. But as far as having any evidence of it . . . well, I've seen the real files on Roswell, and there were no dead aliens."

  "What was it all about, then?"

  Joseph chuckled. "I'm a trained agent—you can't get it out of me that easily. All I'll say is that it was absolutely terrestrial in nature . . . though equally astonishing. But it's classified." He gave her a respectful nod. "Even to my team leader. So what do you believe in? Your tone is slightly disapproving toward my heresy, as one who occasionally reads her horoscope."

  The stem answering look on Laika Harris's face told Joseph to be careful. His intensity at work was so great that he tended to get too relaxed during social engagements, which was why he planned so few of them. He had to remember that Harris was not his friend or his date, but his leader, according to the mission dossier.

  "I read my horoscope when I come across it, but I don't believe it. I guess I have fewer . . . doubts about things than you do. Maybe it comes from my religious background." She smiled thinly. "I was taught to believe in the supernatural from an early age. My father was a minister. So I tend to be more what I suppose you'd call gullible. Though I'm kind of lapsed now."

  Joseph nodded. "The Company can do that to you. I started off lapsed. Both my parents were devout secular humanists, of that faith so loathed by the religious right."

  "So you never had the option of belief," Laika said without a smile.

  The comment took him aback for a moment. He had never looked at it in that way. "No," he said slowly, "I suppose not."

  Their conversation flagged then, as a party of four sat at the next table. They finished their meal in relative silence and headed back to the safe house.

  Lying alone in bed, Joseph thought about Laika's comment again and wondered if it were true. He had not come to a conclusion by the time he drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 6

  The following morning, Laika and Joseph headed toward the highlands. Joseph, who had lived for a time in England, offered to drive the Peugeot, and Laika accepted.

  She was doubly glad as they drove up the narrow roads on the western bank of Loch Lomond, hugging rock walls on one side and coming within inches of trucks and occasional tour buses on the other. Still, they made good time and had lunch in the tourist town of Fort William, which, like the rest of the highlands, was sparsely populated during the chill of mid-April.

  The further north they drove, the more beautiful the scenery became, and soon the long expanse of Loch Ness was on their right, appearing between the patches of trees that lined the roadside. A soft drizzle sprinkled the windscreen. "See any monsters?" Joseph asked.

  Laika smiled and shook her head. "I wasn't really looking."

  "Sure you were. You can't drive by Loch Ness, even if you're as big a skeptic as me, and not look at those deep waters with just a touch of expectation." He glanced out the right-side window and looked back at the road again. "But you're always disappointed." He gave a dry laugh. "So Loch Ness is a perfect place for Kristal and his humbug."

  Three miles south of Drumnadrochit, they drove past a jacked-up minivan with frosted windows that was parked on one of the few dirt pull-offs along the shoulderless road. A heavily muscled man of medium height was leaning over the right front wheel well, using a tire iron on the lugs of a punctured tire. He glanced up for a second as they drove by.

  "Let's turn around," said Laika. "We'd better help him."

  "Why?" Joseph asked. "We're due to meet our third in twenty minutes in town."

  "That was our third," Laika said. The face that had looked up at them had matched perfectly the photograph of Anthony Luciano in her dossier. "Turn around."

  Joseph made a U-turn, drove back to the van, crossed the lane, and parked several yards from the minivan. The man straightened up, and his right hand went into his windbreaker pocket purposefully. His craggy face was an expressionless mask as he slowly turned away from them, showing them the smaller target of his side.

  Laika got out of the Peugeot, making sure her empty hands were visible. Then she said, "And what in heaven's name brought you to Drumnadrochit?"

  The man's deep-set eyes widened in surprise. Then he gave a snort of laughter and answered, "My health. I came to Drumnadrochit for the waters." He shook his head. "Jesus, I can't believe the passwords we're getting. Cloudy's got a goddamn Casablanca jones."

  "Why am I the only one who never heard this 'Cloudy' nickname?" Laika said, as she walked toward the man, her hand outstretched. "I'm Laika Harris." He took her hand and shook it firmly. "And this is Joseph Stein." She gestured to Joseph, who was walking up behind her.

  "Tony Luciano," the man said, shaking Joseph's hand. "And while we're on the subject of nicknames, I don't answer to 'Lucky,' okay, Laika? Joe?"

  "Fine with me," Joseph said. "And I don't answer to Joe. Any relation to the gangster?" he asked, somewhat tactlessly, Laika thought.

  "Very distant, Joseph," Tony said in a clipped tone. "You any relation to Franken, Stein?"

  He rolled his head as he talked. Cocky, Laika thought. He was on the short side, compared to most CIA operatives, who were usually six feet tall or more, and she suspected he had a Napoleon complex. His personality profile in her dossier had stated, "Can be short-tempered," and she wondered if Stein knew that. If not, he might find out fast. There was a heavy dose of wiseguy to Tony Luciano, and despite his reluctance to be called after a gangland forebear, she suspected he cultivated the image. Otherwise, why bring it up in the first place?

  Then Tony surprised her by breaking the ice with a laugh. "Just kidding. Glad you guys stopped. I hate changing tires alone. Tell you what, Joseph, maybe you could pull that dead one off while I get the spare, huh? Man, it is really gorgeous up here, isn't it? You believe these mountains, these lakes? Italy's nice, I've been to Italy a few times, but you don't have this heather and all. . . ."

  He rattled on as he dug around in the back, uncovering the tire well, while Joseph groaned as he loosened the nearly rusted shut lugs. When Tony finally rolled up the spare, the tire was off. "Hey, good job," Tony said cheerily. "You wanta yank that off and put this baby back on now, while I tidy things up in the van—got all our equipment in there, everything we oughta need and more."

  In a few more minutes, Joseph, his clothes now rumpled and soiled with grease, had the spare on and the lugs tightened. As he dropped the tire iron with a clatter, Tony reappeared from the back of the van. "Okay, everything's shipshape—hey, you got it on, that's great." He picked up the tire iron and gestured to the flat, lying on its side. "Okay, Joseph, just toss it in the back, there, and we'll be on our way. Laika, you want to ride with me? We can talk a little about how we're gonna handle this thing with Mister Mystic, huh?"

  Laika looked at Joseph hauling the spare around to the back and thought that there should be something in Tony Luciano's file about his effortless powers of persuasion. "Sure," she said. "Let's go. Joseph, we'll meet at the hotel, all right?"

  Joseph, a thin film of cooling sweat on his forehead, gave a nod and headed back to the Peugeot. He stopped partway, turn
ed back as though he were about to say something, then shook his head, gave a short, self-deprecating laugh, and walked to the car.

  "I think," Laika said to Toni, "that he just realized how smoothly he was had. What were you doing in the van, anyway, reading?"

  "Would you believe a weapons check?" Tony said in a deadpan voice so that she couldn't tell if he was joking.

  "You think we're going to need weapons for Kristal?"

  "I don't know what we're going to need for this guy," he said, climbing behind the wheel of the van. "What the hell is this all about?"

  "You know as much as I do. Hopefully we'll find out more when we get there." Laika had to move several paperbacks from the passenger seat. "So, you read while you drive?"

  "Only when the road's wide and straight. I tried it here, but no luck."

  As they drove, Tony kept looking constantly toward the loch, and once drove slightly off the road. "Take it easy," Laika said. "What's so interesting over there?"

  He glanced at her. "What, you never heard of the monster?"

  "You're a believer?"

  "Hell, yes. There's all sorts of evidence, you know—sonar, lots of people seeing it—there's something under there, all right."

  "Well, why don't you keep your eyes on the road, and I'll do the watching. I'll be sure to tell you if I see anything."

  Tony took one last quick glance out the window, sighed, and faced front the rest of the way to Drumnadrochit.

  The little town was packed with visitors, even though it was the off-season, and Tony pulled through a throng of tourists bundled against the chilly winds blowing off the loch and into the parking lot of the Drumnadrochit Hotel. "Check it out," he said with a touch of awe, looking at the fiberglass version of the Loch Ness Monster that broke the surface of concrete between the hotel and the Original Loch Ness Monster Exhibition. "Is that where Kristal's doing his trick? At the exhibition building?"

  "No," said Laika, recalling the dossier. "It's in the new one up the road—The Loch Ness Experience. Just past the official monster visitors' center. There's a large hall there, and that's where Kristal will perform."

  There was a packet waiting for "Mrs. Sechrist" when they checked into their rooms—Laika and Joseph into a double as Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Sechrist, and Tony into a single as Thomas Capele. The rooms adjoined, and after they were checked in, Laika moved her things into Tony's room and he carried his soft-sided suitcases into the double room, which he would share with Joseph. Then Laika opened the packet and they sat down and made their plans.

  "Kristal is coming in tonight," she said, scanning the information sheets in the packet. "He'll be with his assistant, whose name is supposedly Harmony. There will also be three roadies in a truck, but what it's carrying we don't know. They'll be going through a rehearsal of sorts tomorrow morning in the hall. It'll be closed to everyone but Kristal and Harmony. You're the one who'll spot the scam, Joseph. Any suggestions?"

  "We have to see the rehearsal," Joseph said. "Odds are I could watch and figure out how it's done during the show, but we're not supposed to get involved. So the thing to do is figure it out beforehand and tip off somebody else."

  "Like a reporter," Laika said.

  "Exactly."

  Tony cleared his throat. "Assuming he's a fake."

  "Don't worry about that," Joseph answered. "This guy's as phony as a senator trying to pick up a stewardess."

  "All right, then," said Laika. "Tony, you and I will have to get a video transmitter planted in the hall tonight. You do hardware, I'll do lookout."

  "How's security?"

  "Tight tomorrow, but normal tonight." She looked at Stein. "Joseph, you hit the bars and restaurants, schmooze the press boys, see if there's anybody out for blood. Tony and I will get some rest and hit the street at 0300."

  Chapter 7

  Nobody looked at them twice. Hell, there wasn't even anybody to look in the first place. Tony Luciano had walked out of his room at 0255 and met Laika behind the hotel, and together they dogtrotted through the back alleys of Drumnadrochit. Tony thought that he could find a bigger town than this under any rock, but he didn't mention it to Laika. No words would pass between them.

  They were wearing the black that operatives usually donned during a night infiltration mission, and Tony felt nearly as dangerous as he really was. Despite his feeling that he should leave covert ops behind and really push for a desk job, he had to confess that this was what he liked doing best.

  There was something about creeping through the night with a satchel full of toys and tricks, especially when you weren't expected to kill anybody or risk getting killed yourself. It reminded him of when he was a kid, and used to sneak out his window at night, dropping down off the porch roof onto the ground, and just rambling through the neighborhood like Batman or one of those other haunters of the night he'd read about in comic books. The killing part was what he'd never gotten used to and hoped he never would.

  The Loch Ness Experience building was several hundred yards from the hotel. It was in the shape of a squat T. The cross of the T was a museum and display area facing the road, and the upright was the auditorium, where a multimedia presentation was shown. A small parking lot was behind the building, and a large van and a small enclosed truck were parked there, both rentals.

  Tony and Laika walked along the edge of shadow until they reached the building. They looked around, but saw no one outside or watching from any of the windows that faced the lot. Moving from one pool of darkness to another, they approached the vehicles until they heard a low-pitched ding, like a small bell being struck once. A digitally produced voice followed:

  "You are too close to the vehicle."

  "Thanks for the tip," Tony whispered, and backed away, glancing at Laika. With what he had inside his satchel, he could shut that voice off in seconds, but Laika shook her head, and she was the boss. Besides, if this Kristal suspected that somebody was messing with his stuff, he'd probably say that the spirits weren't with him today and forget the whole thing, or postpone it for months.

  They went up to the back of the auditorium. There were two doors, one large enough to drive a truck through, and the other far smaller, like a normal house door. Tony spotted the alarm system immediately. It was an old-fashioned, wire-borne type, and he took his evasion box from his satchel. In another minute, he had intercepted the signal and deactivated it, while Laika scanned the area, watching for any sign of movement.

  Then Tony looked at the lock on the door. No tubular here, just a plain old vanilla pin-tumbler. He selected a simple rake pick and put one end into a radio-sized electric device. Then he slipped the other end of the pick into the lock and flicked a small switch. There was a low hum and a soft clattering sound as the pins in the lock bounced. In a few seconds they were aligned and Tony felt the lock open.

  "Bingo," he whispered, so softly even Laika would not hear. He turned the knob and pushed inward. He didn't look back as he went in. He knew Laika would remain at the door and alert him to any interlopers.

  Inside, Tony found himself at the back of a small stage.

  An enormous movie screen hid the rest of the auditorium, and the area backstage was dimly lit by a single forty-watt bulb. He listened for a moment, but heard nothing, and let the door close softly behind him.

  In his crepe-soled shoes, he walked to the edge of the screen and peered around it. The auditorium was empty. Nothing was on the stage in front of the screen. That meant they would load in whatever they needed in the morning.

  Tony walked down one of the side aisles to the auditorium double doors and gently pushed, but they were locked from the outside: no one would be coming in. Nevertheless, he listened at the crack of the door, but heard no radio, TV, snoring, or coughing—none of the telltale sounds of a night watchman.

  Satisfied, he began to look for places to put his three cameras, each of them only an inch square. The walls of the auditorium were acoustical, rough-textured plaster, and he cut out three holes with a
keyhole saw, one in the left wall, one in the right, and one against the back wall, all three well above eye level. He inserted the cameras, drilled small holes in each of the removed facings for the lenses, and then replaced the facings, sealing the edges with a fast-dry putty the same off-white color as the walls. He was finished in forty-five minutes.

  When he looked, he could see no difference between the replaced patches and the rest of the wall, and the pinholes for the lenses were undetectable. The Office of Technical Service strikes again, he thought with a grin, and rejoined Laika outside, leaving the building like a ghost.

  The following morning, Laika, Joseph, and Tony sat in front of a row of three small monitors showing the interior of the auditorium from different angles. The screen had been pulled aloft, and they watched as three men brought in a large box on a hand truck. It made a hollow sound when they removed the truck from beneath it and it hit the floor. "Plastic," Joseph said. "Molded plastic."

  The surface of the box was smooth, its color a mottled tan. The top of the box was six and a half feet from the stage floor, and from what they could see of it, the top was slightly indented, with a small hole in the center. "Air hole," Joseph murmured. "Of course . . . they'll seal the edges, keep all the light out . . ."

  The men opened the front panel of the box, revealing an empty interior. Then they went offstage and brought out a small table, a chair, a dressing screen, and an artist's easel, which they set ten feet to stage right of the box. From behind the cameras, a short but powerful-looking man with a long mane of silver-white hair came walking down the aisle from the back of the auditorium. He was wearing a blousy shirt and designer jeans. In his wake was a young woman with a peasant blouse falling over a pair of loose harem-style pants. A scarf billowed around her neck, merging with her long, blonde hair.

  "Kristal and Harmony," Joseph murmured.