3rd World Products, Book 16

by Ed Howdershelt

  “Ah. Yes,‘m. Okay. An old girlfriend.”

  “Thank you. I was just curious.”

  “And I was just protecting my assets.”

  Tanya snickered and choked lightly on her juice, then asked, “So that control woman did see us?”

  “Angie didn’t say. Seems likely she heard us, at least, if she had to try to keep a straight face.”

  Sipping again, Tanya asked, “Is that a problem for you?”

  I shook my head. “Can’t see how. How about you?”

  Shaking her head, Tanya said, “I can’t see how, either. I guess it might matter if I worked there. Hey, you called her ‘Fearless Leader’. How many of those do you have?”

  “Two. Linda was the original, but she retired. Colonel Angie was best qualified to inherit the title.”

  “I thought you were retired too.”

  “I am, but if either of them had a crisis, I’d help.”

  We lay there sipping and chatting for a time, then Tanya said, “I’m curious about something and I don’t know how to ask, so I’m just going to ask, okay?”

  “If it’s that personal, I might not answer.”

  With a little moue, she replied, “Okay. If I read things right, Linda was your boss and Angie became your boss. And you’re always calling me ‘ma’am’ or ‘milady’. What’s your thing, Ed? Are you into being dominated by women or something?”

  “Well, they do seem to have all the pu…”

  She grinningly slapped my leg. “I warned you. That was a serious question.”

  “I was gonna say ‘pulchritude’.”

  “Sure you were. What exactly is that, anyway?”

  “Beauty. Loveliness. Desirability. Everything that makes men hot for women.” In a confidential tone, I added, “You seem to have a lot of it, ma’am.”

  Smiling, Tanya said, “Thanks. I’ve noticed your interest. Back to the question now?”

  “Ah. No, I’m not into being dominated. Nor do I want the bother of dominating someone else. Linda and Angie were my bosses because someone had to tell me what needed to be done where and do all the talking.”

  “All the talking?”

  “Oh, yeah. Talking to the chain of command, explaining to investigators and politicians…” Something clicked in my head and I said, “Just a minute,” and called up a screen.

  Tanya asked, “What is it? You look as if you’ve just seen Jesus or something.”

  “Not even close. More like Senator. It just occurred to me there was a subpoena for me, too, but it never got to me. Linda intercepted it at the airport.”

  Letting my core do the search, I found a numbered subpoena with my name. Tracing references from that turned up a list that turned up more lists. Hearings had gone on most of the year concerning ‘presumed intelligence transgressions’. Presumed guilty, too, apparently.

  I tapped keywords here and there as the core sifted. Mostly petty crap, nothing about anything major, like assassinations or kidnappings. Lots of apparent expense fraud, but most of it proved out with receipts or statements of necessity. No references to me with regards to budgetary or procedural misdeeds or actions in the field.

  Then the core spit out a specific incident in which a Senator and two of his foppish flunkies ended up in a canal during a ‘fact-finding’ visit to our main offices. I’d been detailed to escort them and they’d become assholes the minute they got away from everyone with heavy rank.

  When I’d had enough of their shit, I pretended to trip along the top of a canal embankment and the assholes had tumbled down to the water in front of two dozen or so people.

  Their testimony claimed I caused the incident deliberately and called it assault. Not one witness came forward to back their version. No surprise there; except for them, everyone else on hand had been spooks or military.

  Marking that place in the file, I looked up the Senator and found him in a cemetery. One of the aides was dead, too. Bryce Gate. The cause of his 1984 death in Britain was pneumonia. Really? Healthy enough to run all over Europe as a Senator’s aide, but died from pneumonia in a modern western nation with the kind of medical care politicians get?

  He wasn’t even thirty when I’d knocked him into the canal. Neither was the other one. I looked up his name and found passport photos and news articles. Brian White. Never heard of him, but I remembered him. A prissy, arrogant human pet and the Senator’s step’n fetchit boy. Always whispering to the other aide or to the Senator, usually just after having met somebody. Lots of shared snickers and tittering laughs.

  Okay, I didn’t like them, partly because they were causing our groups a lot of hassles and partly because they were supercilious assholes living large on the public dime. That wasn’t really enough to tie any of them to something like Mike’s car crash.

  But it was enough to invite more investigation. I searched for info about White’s whereabouts at the time of Mike’s death and discovered he’d resigned his job with the Senator to go to work for a documentation law firm in Verden, Germany shortly after his canal swim.

  He was a lawyer? No. Just experienced in Embassy and State Department procedures with connections in various offices. Yeah, he’d have been useful to them. Real useful.

  Verden. Where the hell was that? Near Bremen? I called up a map and found it about twenty miles out of Bremen. That made it about forty miles from Hannover. Close enough to drive, so close enough for consideration.

  Rooting further, I found he’d left his job in Verden the following year and had to call in some favors to stay in Germany under the NATO/SOFA umbrella. He’d taken a similar job in Berlin and kept it for two years, then he’d been busted for prostitution at a disco. Charges had been dropped, but his job had dropped him.

  That didn’t mean much; high profile law firms often care more about keeping their public and political skirts clean than employee problems and whether charges are true. White now had a record of sorts, so he was tainted.

  Gathering general data on the dead aide and the Senator, I bundled that with what I’d found on White and sent a copy to Linda’s pad with White’s stuff on the top of the pile.

  Momentarily at a standstill, I pushed the screen back a bit, adjusted my position, and sipped coffee.

  Tanya softly asked, “What was all that about?”

  I turned to see her staring at me.

  “I looked up my subpoena, traced its roots, and boiled some stuff down to notable incidents that would have involved me personally. Only one seemed to stand out, so I fished up some info and sent it to Linda for a second opinion. After I take a think break, I’m going to do some more fishing.”

  Checking our location, I amended, “Correction; we’re almost to Aspen. I’ll do some more fishing later.”

  Putting up the bathroom field as Tanya hopped out of bed and looked over the side, I went to take a leak and clean up.

  Tanya hurried in to use the pot while I was rinsing odd things. She asked, “Do we have time for a shower?”

  “Oh, probably. Whatever your watch says, it’s two hours ago here.”

  In the mirror I saw her look at her watch and ask, “So it’s only three here?”

  “If your watch say it’s five, then, yes, milady.”

  “Smartass.”

  “Yes, milady. As you say, ma’am. You can’t reach this far to slap my leg. Or anything else.”

  “I’ll be able to reach you later.”

  “Ah, but I’ll be doing my best to ring your bells, ma’am. You really wouldn’t want to interfere with something like that, would you?”

  She laughed, “We’ll see, won’t we?”

  Stepping into the shower stall, I turned on the water and said, “Just remember I can stun you, sweetie. Where do you want to go first? Shopping?”

  “Of course, shopping. I’m not dressed for this place.”

  “Got enough money?”

  “I have my cards.”

  “Back at Wendy’s you said you were hurting for money.”

  “W
ell, not hurting, exactly, but I’ll have to be careful.”

  Having a silent toilet means not knowing when someone’s finished and about to join you in the shower. I was actually a little startled when she appeared around the stall edge.

  Tanya joined me and picked up the shampoo. I took it from her and poured some in my hand, then put the bottle back on the rack as I said, “We’ll find an ATM and I’ll front you a few bucks. Pay it back when you buy the board.”

  She grinned. “You’re so sure I’ll buy the board, huh?”

  “Yup. You’ve ridden it. Now you can’t live without it.”

  Laughing, she embraced me as I blopped shampoo on her head, spread it around, and washed her hair. We barely managed to get through the shower without having sex. When we emerged to get dressed, the flitter had parked itself in stealth mode fifty feet above South Mill Street. To our left was a name clothing store.

  Tanya said, “I’ve heard of them. They’re expensive.”

  “Today you’re buying memories. Unless it’s ridiculous and insulting, screw the price. Do we want to be seen on the flitter or on our boards? Endure the questions and all that?”

  Shaking her head, Tanya said, “I don’t.”

  “Mount up, then.”

  I called up my board and she brought up hers. We had them go to stealth mode as we headed for a bank ATM. The streets weren’t quite empty, but nobody seemed to notice when I popped into being well to one side of the ATM.

  Tanya remained on her board, unseen, as I figured out how to use the ATM. Hey, I know it might sound odd, but I’ve only had occasion to use an ATM once, on a trip to Virginia. After some putzing, a screen informed me there was a $300 limit on outside withdrawals. In Aspen? You could spend that much in ten minutes without trying. Whatever. I took the $300 and headed back to Tanya. Giving her the money, I remounted my board as if in a poor mood.

  She asked, “What’s wrong?”

  Aiming us at the clothing store, I said, “There’s a $300 limit. I’ll put anything else on a card.”

  “I think I’d rather use my own cards if it comes to that. This is already enough to bother me. It could take a while to sell the car, you know.”

  I shrugged. “Don’t care. Hold out for a good price. By the way, the board is only going to cost you a grand, so don’t sweat about money.”

  Tanya stopped her board halfway to the store and I looped around to rejoin her. She looked both happily surprised and a little bit wary.

  “Ed, why is the board only going to cost me a thousand?”

  “I can sell it for whatever I want, ma’am. Ten grand is Serena’s suggested retail.”

  “What about Serena? Won’t she mind?”

  “I doubt she’ll care. She sells hundreds. I sell one about once a year or less.”

  “Shouldn’t you ask her?”

  I mock-wearily sighed, “Yeah, sure, ma’am. Serena?”

  Serena appeared between us, standing on thin air, and asked, “Yes, Ed?”

  “Would you mind if I sell Tanya her board for a grand?”

  Arching her left eyebrow, Serena looked at Tanya and said, “Well, you certainly must be special.”

  Turning back to me, she smiled and said, “I suppose not. This time. If you don’t make a habit of it.”

  Tanya couldn’t see her face and looked a bit worried.

  I gave Serena a small salute and replied, “Yes, milady. Not a habit. Got it.”

  Serena asked, “Will there be anything else today?”

  “No, ma’am. Simply seeing you was a delightful bonus.”

  “That’s nice. Goodbye, all.”

  With that, she vanished. Tanya looked at me and said softly, “Ed, she makes me nervous.”

  Laughing, I said, “I think that’s about par,” and led the way to the store’s entrance. Hovering above someone else’s tracks in the thin layer of snow covering the walk, I let my board vanish and dropped into those tracks. Behind me, Tanya did the same and followed me into the store.

  She said, “I saw what you were doing and figured you must have a reason.”

  “Sure do. Right now we’re just underdressed. What if our tracks had begun in an untrampled zone? Someone here would definitely notice something like that.”

  Tanya grinned, then laughed, “ooOOOoo. Twilight Zone.”

  “Yup. Things like that make people ask questions and watch you to see if you’ll sprout horns or fangs.”

  We were noticed anyway, of course, being dressed for a seventy-degree Florida winter. It was in the forties outside, cool enough for a comfortably vented snowsuit, but not warm enough for what we wore.

  A saleswoman zeroed on us immediately and asked if she could help us. Tanya looked around the store and said, “I need an outfit. Hat, boots, and everything between. I also need a sale. I’d like to keep it all inside $200.”

  The woman gave Tanya a direct look and said quietly, “I’m not sure that’s possible, ma’am.”

  I started to offer a credit card, but Tanya gave me a glance that said, ‘Shut up. Please,‘ and said, “I won’t freeze between here and the next place.”

  Meeting the woman’s gaze, Tanya said, “Look, it might be a small commission, but if you can’t or won’t suit me up, someone else will get it. I’ve worked retail. All stores get stuck with things people wore once and returned. I’d like a new hat, gloves, and boots, but the rest is negotiable.”

  Yes, I was moderately surprised, both by Tanya and the store woman’s answer. She said, “There may be a few things in the back. Come with me, please.”

  As we followed her among the aisles, I whispered, “Tanya, as long as you’re wearing your board control disk, you’ll be able to use a protective field. You don’t have to settle for used clothing.”

  Louder than I’d have spoken, she said, “I’m not settling, Ed. I’m buying stuff I’ll use once, then hang it all in a closet in Florida. As long as it doesn’t look silly, it’ll be okay.”

  “The idea was to make memories, ma’am. Is this what you want to remember? Shopping for a used parka?”

  She stopped and gave me a firm gaze. “It’s the place, not the clothes. It’s being here with you, not the clothes. The key words are ‘not the clothes’. They’re just a way to stay warm and blend in. And speaking of blending in, what about you?”

  I shrugged and turned on my p-suit. “I’ll wear this.”

  “Wear what? I don’t see anything.”

  “That means it’s working right. Touch my collar.”

  She tried, but couldn’t reach the material. The saleswoman had realized we’d stopped and waited at a discreet distance. Now she came to stand by Tanya and watched her try to pick up my collar tab. Reaching forward, she also tried.

  I said, “I don’t care if I don’t blend in. You have one of these, too. Still want to buy clothes?”

  Tanya’s fingers patted my collar down as if she’d somehow disturbed it, then she smiled. “No. I guess not.” Turning to the woman, she said, “Thank you anyway.”

  The woman tried to lift my pocket flap, but couldn’t get a finger through the field.

  She looked up at me and asked, “What are you?”

  Saying, “Just another tourist, ma’am,” I took Tanya’s arm in mine and we headed for the store’s front doors.

  At the entrance, Tanya said, “Show me,” and grinningly presented herself as if at attention.

  I shrugged. “Just say ‘p-field on’.”

  She relaxed and looked almost disappointed. “Oh. Okay, then, ‘p-field on’.”

  Scooping snow off a railing, I continued the motion to sling it at her. The snow splattered around her as she shied away, but none of it touched her. She marveled at that, then swiped some snow at me from the rail near her. Watching it splatter and fall, Tanya laughed like a child and did it again.

  Looking at the entrance, she saw several people watching us and laughed again as she scampered around making footprints and apparently tried to get some snow on her sneakers. Sh
e couldn’t. I followed her as she got farther from the door and prepared to catch her if she slipped.

  She trotted back to me and asked, “Can we go skiing in these fields?”

  “Sure, if you want. Ever been skiing?”

  We started walking toward Main Street as she said, “No. Is it hard?”

  “Well, it’ll take more than a couple of hours to figure out.”

  “I figured out my board in a few hours.”

  “Not the same at all. I guarantee it. But when you fly uphill over skiers on your board, they’ll be green with envy.”

  She grinned and said, “Still, it won’t be skiing.”

  “A suggestion, ma’am; today, let’s just be tourists. Hit some shops, see the sights, all that. With or without me, you can come back here another time.”

  We’d visited two shops and were heading for a third when a silver Aspen cop car stopped not far ahead of us. The guy got out of his car and stood eyeing us for a moment as we got closer, then he said, “Good afternoon. May I see your IDs?”

  We turned off our fields for a few seconds to take out our Florida driver’s licenses. The cop nodded about something unmentioned, then said, “I noticed you two aren’t really dressed for the mountains. Why’s that?”

  Tanya grinned at me and said to the cop, “We’re wearing fields. You can’t see them.”

  Looking highly skeptical to say the least, the cop looked at me with a questioning expression and asked, “Is that your story, too, sir?”

  “It has to be. Look at her, she’s gorgeous. Am I gonna argue and maybe drive her away?”

  Tanya grinned at me again, then said, “Watch,” and scooped up some snow. She poured it over my shoulder and the snow simply dropped around me. She then grabbed a double handful of snow and raised it over her head to let it fall. None of it stuck to her field.

  “Better yet,” I said, extending my left hand, “Try to make a mark on my hand with your pen.”

  Still looking skeptical, the cop took out his pen and clicked it, then watchfully reached to try to mark my hand. The pen stopped a quarter inch from my skin. He tried again, then straightened and put the pen back in his pocket.

  “Really,” I said, “We’re fine.”

  Faced with that readily apparent fact, the cop simply nodded, then said, “Wait here,” and went to his car. After some chat on the radio and using his car’s laptop, he returned to give us our IDs and wish us a good day.