THE CAB IS REGISTERED TO MR. ABU KARTUM. HIS PICTURE MATCHES THE FACE IN THE CAB IN ONE HUNDRED FORTY OUT OF ONE HUNDRED SIXTY FACE ID POINTS. PROBABILITY IS NINETY-NINE POINT EIGHT PERCENT THAT IS HIM. HE HAS NO POLICE RECORD. MEDIA REPORTS SHOW HIM TO BE VERY ACTIVE IN THE ISLAMIC COMMUNITY HERE, WORKING ON CHARITABLE AND SOCIAL ACTIVITIES. HE IS RAISING SIX CHILDREN, HIS OWN FOUR AND HIS BROTHER’S TWO. HIS BROTHER DIED FROM A PULMONARY DISEASE PROBABLY ACQUIRED AT THE CHEMICAL FACTORY HE WAS EMPLOYED BY.
ENOUGH. “Abby,” Kris called softly. “Check out the back.”
Abby opened the rear passenger door and dug around inside. Up the street, some men who’d been holding up a dilapidated building got energetic and meandered toward Kris’s team.
THE CAB HAS NOT HAD ANY WORK DONE ON IT SINCE BEFORE TOMMY BOUGHT TICKETS ON THE BELLEROPHON. HE DEFINITELY NEEDS TO REPLACE HIS SECOND AND FOURTH SPARK PLUGS.
Kris nudged Jack toward the cab. He came, backing slowly, eyes on the suddenly active twos and threes around them.
Abby stood up, a small briefcase in her hand. “Your last fare leave this behind?”
The cabby blinked. “I think she had something like that. Give it to me. I’ll turn it in to the dispatcher, and she can get it back tomorrow if she calls.”
“She won’t call,” Abby said, dashing quickly for an alley. She returned empty-handed. “Cab looks clear to me. Pile in.”
Abby and Penny helped Tommy in. When Kris joined them, the cabby frowned. “I don’t go for those sorts of things.”
Jack slipped into the front seat as a small explosion came from the alley. So much for the briefcase. “Good. We don’t either. I strongly suggest you start moving, or all sorts of things are going to start happening.”
The poor man’s eyes widened as he surveyed how the streets had changed in the time he’d been negotiating his latest fare. He scowled as he took in the automatics in Abby and Penny’s hands. Muttering what sounded like a prayer, he put the pedal down. They bounced into and out of potholes, slipped right and left, and slid into a curb as the cabby grumbled, “My Miriam tells me not to take fares in Katyville. She tells me every day before I leave. Do I listen to her? Do I? Tomorrow, I listen to her.”
He didn’t slow down until they were down the hill and into streets with lights shining. “You a gang or something?” he asked into the rearview mirror. “’Cause I don’t do business with gangs. You can get out now. Don’t pay me. I won’t take your money.”
“We’re not crooks,” Jack said, head swiveling just as if he was sitting next to Harvey in the limo back home. How he switched gears like that was a marvel to Kris.
“Crooks had our man,” Abby said, indicating Tom. “We got him back. We’re some of the good guys.” Abby looked at the others in the backseat with her. “At least today we are. You can take our money.”
The cabby didn’t seem persuaded, but he asked, “Where do you want to be let off?”
“The elevator, Mr. Kartum,” Kris said.
The cabby took a left. In a moment they were on an expressway; five minutes later, they were at the station. Was hell only five minutes away from shiny, new, and prosperous? Kris had some checking out to do back home.
As they disentangled arms and legs and got Tommy slowly out, the cabby named his price, exactly what the meter showed. “Pay him well,” Kris told Jack. The agent produced a large roll of Wardhaven bills.
“Keep the change and forget this fare,” Jack said.
Abu took his pay, eyed it for a moment, then looked at Kris. “I know you. Your face, it’s familiar. Where have I seen you?”
“It’s better you forget my face,” Kris said, taking an offered coat from Abby. The maid undid something, and suddenly it was full length. “Don’t even mention us to Miriam. It will be all right in the morning. Oh, and your second and fourth spark plugs need replacing.”
“That would explain why it’s been guzzling fuel worse than a thirsty camel.” He sighed. “Allah go with you, for He is merciful,” he said and pulled away into the rain.
“We better get Tom to a doctor,” Penny said, putting her coat around the man.
“Let me look him over first. We have a first aid kit in Kris’s baggage,” Abby said.
Thirty minutes later, they were back at their suite in the Hilton. Abby produced a medical kit that occupied half of one of Kris’s trunks, one of the slightly off-color ones. A qualified surgeon could probably perform emergency brain surgery with the gear in it. Kris wasn’t sure whether or not she’d let Abby do brain surgery on Tom. Then again, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t.
But Tommy didn’t need a brain surgeon, just treatment for shock, exposure, drug overdose, and a raging infection. “Bastards didn’t clean their needles,” Abby growled. “But there’s nothing here we can’t handle,” she said as she started an IV.
“You want to put Tommy in my room?” Kris offered through a yawn. Damn, it had been a long day.
“No. My room is better set up for it,” Abby insisted. “Penny and I can switch off taking care of him tonight. That way we’ll both get some sleep.”
Jack sauntered into the maid’s room? three bug hunting gizmos in hand. “No new bugs. Don’t see any reason not to let them know we’re back home and have Tommy.”
“Let them boil in their frustration. Let’s get some sleep,” Kris ordered. She had promises to keep, but there was nothing she could do about them tonight.
And so she slept in her makeup and body armor.
8
Kris rose to wakefulness through pressing dreams. She had to pluck each star from the sky and put it in just the right colored basket. Then she was in the Prime Minister’s residence, racing down the back halls, trying to open the right door or find just the right word to please her father. And Mother was . . .
Kris came awake. She was on top of covers smeared with the wreckage of last night’s makeup. She tried to stretch, but her body armor had not been designed with that in mind. Kris felt to the back of her neck; Nelly was still plugged in.
NELLY, HAVE YOU BEEN WORKING ON AUNT TRU’S PIECE OF ROCK?
YES, KRIS. I THINK I HAVE THE POWER ISSUE SOLVED. I AM READY TO START A SERIOUS SEARCH FOR ACTIVITY ON THE CHIP.
Kris rubbed her eyes, tried to shake the emotions dredged up by her dreams. I THINK I’M GETTING SOMETHING FROM IT.
THAT CAN NOT BE TRUE. I HAVE IT TRIPLE BUFFERED. I HAVE LET NOTHING THROUGH. THERE HAS BEEN NOTHING TO LET THROUGH.
Kris was not so sure of that. NELLY, WE AREN’T HAVING THE QUIET WEEK OR TWO I WAS EXPECTING. WE ALSO DON’T HAVE TRU A SHORT DRIVE AWAY FOR CHECKING UP ON YOU. THIS IS NOT A GOOD TIME TO BE DOING SOMETHING THAT WILL MESS YOU UP.
I UNDERSTAND, KRIS, Nelly said.
That taken care of, Kris rang for Abby and breakfast.
“Ouch. That hurts,” Kris squealed. She had never had much body hair. After Abby got done peeling this body suit/armor off, she wouldn’t have any!
“Should have done this last night,” Abby muttered.
“Tommy kind of had first call on your services.”
“Must have been powerfully busy to forget what happens when you leave this rig on too long. And letting you sleep in your makeup. Only sluts do that.”
“Last night, I was a slut. Remember?”
“Young lady, you must learn to switch your roles faster.”
“Like you do?” Kris slipped that one in fast.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Abby said and gave the suit a vicious yank.
“Eeks,” Kris yelped, and glanced down. Nope, no hair at all. Kris let some time pass. Abby went back to gentle pulls that almost didn’t hurt. “I made myself three promises last night,” Kris said softly.
“What might those be?”
“First, get Tommy back to the Navy where he belongs; then, find out if Wardhaven is quite as civilized as I’ve been told.”
“That’s two,” Abby said, looking up from where she was working the body stocking down Kris’s thigh.
“Find out who Abby really is.”
Abby chuckled under her breath and concentrated on easing Kris out of her armor. “You find out who that woman is, and you tell me. I’ve been wondering about her most of my life.”
“I’m going to find out who you are.”
Her maid settled cross-legged on the floor and let out a sigh but kept gently tugging at the stocking. “You know who you are, Miss Longknife?”
“No, but I’m learning.”
“Why not let Abby worry about Abby, and you worry about Kris?”
“Because I don’t like all the hats you keep pulling out of rabbits.”
“Any of those hats not what you needed at the moment?”
“I admit they’ve all come in handy.”
“Then why look a gift hat in the mouth?”
“Paranoia runs deep in my family.”
“Right,” Abby said, making one last tug that brought the stocking off Kris’s feet. “I forgot about that survival trait. What say we compromise?”
“How?”
“I’ll keep saving you. You keep paying me.”
“You girls decent?” Jack called from the living room. “Breakfast is here.”
“I’m starved,” Abby said, bringing Kris a plush white robe.
“Can’t argue there,” Kris said, cinching the robe tight.
Jack was standing beside a serving cart heaped with griddle cakes, eggs in several manifestations, and three different kinds of meat: bacon, sausages, and fried fish. He was going over the ensemble with the three bug hunting gizmos. “Seven bugs. Good Lord, don’t they have any patience around here? Or fumigators? Shall I squish ’em?”
“Seven,” Kris said, giving Abby a questioning glance. “From only five interested parties?”
Abby rolled her eyes at the ceiling.
“Eight,” Jack answered, stooping to examine something on the wheel of one cart. “I think we’ve got a new model this morning. Could be a new player or just a better try from one of the old, familiar crew. Again, do I squish them?”
“Why bother?” Kris said, grabbing a plate. “Dorothy is ready to click her ruby slippers together and go home to Kansas. Nelly, book us passage on the next ship out of here headed for anywhere near U.S. space.”
“Kris, I can’t.”
“Why not?” Kris said as heads peeked out from Abby’s room, both Tommy and Penny.
“All ships on approach or waiting to dock at High Turantic are now boosting for the nearest jump point. All docked ships’ departures are delayed indefinitely. We are under quarantine.”
Tommy hobbled into the room, Penny an arm around him for balance . . . or possession?
Kris sighed. “And why are we suddenly under quarantine?”
The screen in the living room came to life. Suddenly breakfast was being shared with people in blue moon suits and others in regular clothes—dying horribly. A map appeared in a separate window highlighting Bremen, a small town some five hundred kilometers north of Heidelburg. “Last night,” Nelly said as the news flashed before them, “an outbreak of anaerobic Ebola virus was reported in Bremen, a small town on North Continent. Following Society of Humanity regulations, the authorities on Turantic quarantined the town. However, since air traffic from the nearby town of Coors had continued unabated during the virus’s incubation period, the full planet must be quarantined.”
Kris studied the map, her lips tightening into a deepening frown. “Anyone else see something wrong with this picture?”
“You have to quarantine anaerobic Ebola,” Tommy said. “It spreads like wildfire.”
“Yes, but we’ve never had any kind of an Ebola outbreak on Turantic before,” Penny said in puzzlement.
“There are reports in minor media formats,” Nelly said. “Suspicions, really, that this outbreak was not an accident or natural event.”
Jack whispered something to his wrist unit. An information cell opened beside the map of Bremen. The town was a mining site, offering few amenities. The agent shook his head. “This has the smell of a planned event. That town is too far into the temperate zone to get the virus from an imported pharmaceutical species. It’s the end of the road as far as trade is concerned. A town with nothing more than a clinic for the copper and lead miners shouldn’t have a sample of the virus for accidental release.”
Kris stepped closer to the screen. “Nelly, what are the metal reserves for the mines around Bremen?”
Nelly added them to the cell about the town. “Pretty close to petering out,” Kris said with no surprise. She left unsaid that a town like Bremen, surrounded by played-out mines, was not much of a resource to lose if you had to have a town suddenly wiped out by plague. Paranoia, thy name is Kristine. She sighed.
“There is a problem here,” Jack said.
“A problem.” Kris snorted, turning back to the cooling breakfast.
“They are quarantining Turantic under Society of Humanity regulations,” Jack said matter-of-factly, picking up a plate. “The quarantine will have to stay in place until bureaucrats from the Agency for Disease Control do the required inspections and give Turantic a clean bill of health.”
“There is no Society anymore,” Tommy said, joining them.
“And no Agency for Disease Control with general recognition in human space, so whose bureaucrats will raise the quarantine?” Penny asked.
Tommy looked pale, weak, and in general like he’d lost a wrestling match with a cement truck. His plate, however, quickly gained a pile of food.
“Uh, Tommy,” Kris said, “you should probably know. There are two or three bugs live in this room. Some people seem to be very interested in our conversations.”
Tommy glanced around the room with a glare that should have fused any offending bug if it had any conscience at all, but he seemed to suddenly lose interest in anything else when he spotted a chair, collapsed into it, and began stuffing his face.
Penny quickly filled a plate half as full as Tommy’s. “So, who will cancel the quarantine that will allow you to leave?” she said as she sat beside him.
Kris found every eye in the room suddenly focused on her. “How should I know?” she snapped, settling for a bran muff-fin, marmalade, and a slab of ham. “As Grampa Ray is saying more and more these days, ‘That’s an interesting problem. Wonder how it will solve itself?’ ”
Jack passed close to Kris as he moved to fill his plate. “Did I just hear the clink of a bear trap closing on . . .” he said softly near Kris’s ear.
“No! That couldn’t be . . .” Kris said but bit her tongue as she remembered other ears were listening. She scowled at Jack, shaking her head forcefully. The Secret Service Agent just raised both his eyebrows and went on filling his plate.
“You don’t mean,” Penny started, then seemed to think better of her words. She pointed her fork at Kris, then at Tom, then made a circle that took in the room . . . and the entire planet.
Kris shook her head violently. There had to be some limits to her paranoia.
Beside her, Jack and Abby nodded with the absoluteness of ancient sages.
Kris snagged an apple and took her plate to an overstuffed chair set against what looked like a wall papered with an ancient Chinese river scene. On close examination, it proved to be a computer screen. Abby and Jack settled into opposite ends of the couch. Tommy munched his eggs Benedict in an overstuffed chair, Penny at his elbow in the straight-backed one that was usually Abby’s. For a long moment, the listening bugs picked up nothing but chewing sounds as breakfast held them in its pleasant grip.
Kris broke her muffin into small portions, then slowly chewed them as she ignored the people in front of her and let her eyes rove over the carved filigrees of the wood moldings where the walls, probably all screens, met the ceiling. A chandelier of finely cut glass cast gentle shadows on the walls and even the occasional rainbow. Would a penniless whore like Kris had masqueraded as last night ever see a room like this? Not likely she’d ever catch the eye of a man who mi
ght admit her for a brief moment to someplace like this.
No, places like this were reserved for people with money and power. People who mattered. People like Kris. And to get at a person like Kris, would someone kill an entire town?
“Jack, kill the bugs,” she said as she finished her muffin.
The agent produced a bug burner from his pocket, no bigger than his hand, with two metal horns extending from it. Bursts of crackling sounds marked his movement over the breakfast cart. When he finished there, he took care of one on the end table beside Kris’s chair, then ducked into his bedroom. “We’re clean,” he said when he returned.
“Nelly, what’s the death toll so far in Bremen?”
“Only two, but they don’t know how many have contracted it.”
Kris rubbed the back of her neck. “Ebola takes six or seven days to kill anyone. I didn’t even know Tommy was on leave back then. You can’t blame this on me!” The last words tasted too much of a plea for Kris’s liking. These people were not her judges. She had no right to task them with absolving her.
“Kris could be right,” Tommy said.
“The young, weak, or elderly often fail from it much faster,” Abby said in a tone that echoed of the sepulcher.
Kris was out of her chair, pacing. “We got in yesterday, broke Tommy loose last night, and were ready to bolt this place today. We’ve only had Tommy for six hours! Nobody could arrange a plague in six hours.”
“Yet the dying words of the woman last night were you’d never get out of here,” Jack said as he sat back down and resumed eating. Holding a slice of waffle just short of his mouth, he finished, “Sandfire knows you can move fast. He’s showing you he can react just as fast.”
“Three apartments were rented,” Penny noted. “We busted Tom out of the second one. I think we did get inside their decision-making cycle.”
“Right. That shows we acted faster than he expected,” Kris quickly agreed. “He expected to use that third apartment.”
Abby set down the small plate that had held her meal of toast and fruit. “Still, the timing of the rentals also tells us this plan has been in the works for some time.” A glance around the room got her nods of agreement. She went on. “The Ebola event must also have been planned well in advance. It could have been initiated as soon as you booked passage for here. I suspect if we looked closely at the incident, we’d find the present situation is more window dressing than real. No doubt, that will be corrected in a few days.”
Deserter Page 11