3rd World Products, Inc., Book 5

by Ed Howdershelt

  Barbara broke in with, "Excuse me, but what the hell are you talking about? What steam?"

  I pointed downward and said, "There's a lake under this mountain. We were going to flood the place, but I decided against it. Not dramatic enough. When we're finished, there won't be a mountain."

  For a moment, Barbara looked as if she thought I was crazy, then she turned to Alanah, who met her gaze in a matter-of-fact manner. After another moment, Barbara turned to Linda.

  "This guy really thinks he can make a mountain disappear?"

  With a straight face, Linda said, "Apparently so. We're going to humor him and let him try. Can't hurt, can it?"

  Alanah laughed, caught the disbelieving look on Barbara's face, and laughed again.

  When Barbara's look turned to me, I said, "And mimsy were the borogoves, ma'am. Three of them, in fact. Borogoves, that is, not mimsies. Big green ones."

  Linda grinned and Alanah snickered. Barbara blinked at me and her gaze narrowed with irritation.

  "Hey, it shouldn't be too difficult," I said, "Sue's going to do most of the heavy lifting."

  Barbara returned a sharp, "Sue again! Who the hell is Sue?! Where the hell is Sue?"

  Appearing by the console, Sue said, "I'm Sue," as Barbara shrieked and unassed her seat, assuming a defensive posture with her back to the barrier dividing the flitter and leaving a trail of tea from the crushed can in her left hand.

  To Linda and me, Sue said, "We expect to be ready in a bit more than an hour," then she vanished again.

  I looked at the tea trail on the deck and said, "Flitter, one of your passengers just had a little accident with a can of tea. Would you clean the deck, please?"

  "Yes, sir."

  The tea vanished as neatly as Sue had. I stood up and went to gently take Barbara's arm to guide her back to her seat.

  Recoiling slightly, she snapped, "Hands off! I can manage!"

  Raising my hands, I said, "Relax. I thought you were still spooked, that's all. It was intended as a gesture of support."

  In only a slightly gentler tone, she said, "When I need that kind of support, I'll tell you."

  "Uh, huh. Well, in that case, ma'am, lose the attitude or you'll be riding in the back of this bus with the others."

  I returned to my seat and said to Linda, "Anyway, that's the new plan, Fearless Leader. It should be a real good show, so do be sure to tune in, don'tchaknow."

  She nodded and smiled. "Will do, Dragonfly. I'll make sure a few other people see it, too. Is there anything else?"

  "Not a thing at the moment."

  "Okay, bye," she said, and poked her 'off' icon.

  Daylight ahead became brighter and we abruptly left the tunnel into bright sunshine. I told the flitter to drop the barrier and Barbara -- who'd been leaning on it -- nearly fell into the arms of one of the startled guys in the back.

  Flipping the cooler lid open, I asked, "Who wants a drink?"

  For a moment they simply stood staring at me, then Steve puffed himself up and angrily advanced as he growled, "Who the hell are you and why did you stun me?"

  I sent a numbing tendril to tap his knee. Steve grabbed a seat back to stay on his feet as his knee folded.

  "Cool it or I'll zap you out again. We were in a hurry. I told you to jump down to the flitter and you didn't do it."

  Gesturing at the other two guys, I said, "But they didn't have any trouble with it." Thumbing at the ladies, I added, "Neither did they. Just you."

  Gesturing at the cooler, I said, "And now that's all behind us and the bar's open, so let's relax and get comfy. We'll head home after the show."

  Steve said, "I still want to know who you are."

  The guy standing by Frank asked, "What show?"

  "I'm Ed," I said to Steve. "That's all you need. First names only for now."

  "I'm Carl, then," said the guy by Frank. "What show?"

  "The bunker mountain is going to blow up."

  Frank's eyes bugged. As he hurried forward, he hissed, "What?!" Stopping a seat away from mine, he asked, "Blow up? Are we talking about a nuclear weapon?"

  "Nope. Take it easy. Just steam, no radiation. The cooler's about to close. If you're gonna get a drink, grab it now."

  Steve blustered, "Now, look, you... We demand to know..."

  Standing up, I said, "No, you look. I was asked to get you out of there and do something about the place. Now you're out and something is being done, so grab a drink, take a seat, and stop bugging me."

  With that, I headed for the rear of the deck and told the flitter to put the barrier back up before anyone could follow. I can't really say why I wasn't in the mood to chat. Maybe it was only because they were a pack of embassy pogues.

  I've never had much patience for the striped-pants guys. They tend to think they need to know every little thing and have a big hand in all decisions, even though their true function seems to be passing the buck of responsibility to just about anyone else foolish enough to take it.

  If you're ever in trouble overseas, make sure you have some favorable media coverage when you go to the embassy for help. It's the only way you can be sure to get any action, especially if your trouble is politically inconvenient.

  The two rifles lay on the deck on the belts and ammo pouches. One was an AK-47. The other was an AK-74, essentially the same weapon with some improvements and slightly different ammo. I noted that the '74 had the same funky, backward-style selector lever as the old '47.

  I picked up the '74 and checked the magazine. Full, and there were eight more mags in the ammo pouches on the web belt. Amazing. A bottom-floor guard with four full ammo pouches. Same for the belt that came with the '47. These people sure seemed to love their toys.

  Sue appeared beside me and rather archly said, "There are over twenty-seven hundred such rifles in the bunker. Why aren't those in the bunker, as well?"

  "I tossed them down the hole during the scuffle, Mother. Don't worry, I won't blow a toe off. Been up front yet?"

  "No, I thought you might like to be present when I introduce myself and conduct the rest of this operation."

  Giving her a grin and a shrug, I said, "I'll even applaud and whistle for you if the cloud reaches forty thousand feet or so. How soon is showtime?"

  "About another hour. Elkor is transporting some ill and injured prisoners to a hospital in Ankara, Turkey."

  "What about the bunker personnel?"

  "We're putting them in a soccer field in Yazd." She gestured behind us and asked, "Why the barrier?"

  Shrugging again, I said, "I didn't want to deal with 'em. Now that you're here to handle crowd control, I guess the barrier isn't all that necessary."

  Sue made the barrier vanish. The five people who'd been talking among themselves saw tall, gorgeous Sue in her little black dress and me holding an AK-74.

  Alanah's left eyebrow went up as she eyed Sue. Barbara's eyes locked on the rifle in my hands. She instantly developed an alarmed expression and went rigid. Frank and Steve simply gaped at us and Carl slowly raised his hands slightly as if to show they were empty.

  "Jesus," I muttered, "What a bunch of putzes." Aloud, I said, "Everybody, this is Sue. Introduce yourselves." Turning to Sue I asked, "Think you could spare me some targets?"

  "How many and how distant?"

  "Oh, half a dozen at varying ranges out to about a hundred yards off the stern. No point in long shots; this rifle may never have been zeroed."

  Sue took the rifle from me, seemed to aim at nothing in the sky, and fired one round. She touched the rear sight of the rifle and made it click twice, then handed the rifle to me.

  With a grin, she said, "It's zeroed now," and picked up the other rifle.

  "Thanks, milady. You're very talented, you know."

  She fired a round and tweaked the sights, then set the rifle down as she said, "I do try to give that impression. Your targets are one foot in diameter. If you hit one, it'll flash."

  Looking beyond the end of the deck, I saw six black dots floa
ting behind us.

  "If I hit one?"

  "Yes. If."

  "If you had any money, I'd bet you."

  "Well, if you paid me, I'd have money, wouldn't I?"

  "Oh, gimme a break, lady. You can root up gold and diamonds with Steph and I don't need the tax hassles that would go with employing an undocumented alien who isn't even human. Now go introduce your gorgeous self to your adoring public. And thanks for the targets."

  The nearest target was about sixty feet away. I leveled the rifle at waist height, eyeballed the shot, and fired twice. The black ball flashed once. I gave Sue a smug grin, then raised the rifle and got serious about hitting the other targets as she went to the front to meet and greet our passengers.

  As I plinked at the targets, Barbara came to stand on my left and watch, counting my hits. When I ran dry and put in a fresh mag, I quietly eased the selector lever to the 'safety' position, then handed the rifle to her.

  "Fourteen hits," she said, taking the rifle with very apparent confidence, "Not bad at all... for a civilian."

  Marine or not, it was obvious that she hadn't handled an AK very often, if at all. She raised the rifle, aimed at the nearest black dot, and squeezed the trigger.

  Nothing happened, of course, and for a moment she seemed surprised as hell as well as mystified. She jacked the bolt open a bit to make sure a round had loaded, then let it shut and gave it an extra bump to make sure it seated firmly.

  After glancing at the selector, she raised the rifle, aimed and squeezed the trigger, and again nothing happened. This time she swore softly and examined the rifle more closely.

  I reached to flick the selector lever and said, "Try it now, ma'am. The switch is backward from what you're used to."

  She gave me a seriously dirty look and again raised the rifle. This time it fired and the target flashed. She hit eleven more before she ran out of ammo.

  As I took the rifle back and slapped in a full mag, Barbara said, "That thing's too heavy. I still prefer the CAR-15. Why aren't we using both rifles?"

  I gestured at the other rifle. "Go for it."

  While she checked the '47's magazine, I flicked my selector to automatic and aimed at the third target out from the flitter. It's fun to fire any rifle on automatic, but I'd always preferred the slower cyclic rate of the AK over that of the M-16.

  On the other hand, accuracy suffers. Only two of the rounds hit the target as the AK hammered itself dry. Automatic fire may be scary as hell for oncoming troops and may be fairly useful for inspiring caution in charging hordes, but it's pathetically ineffective against single stationary targets.

  Barbara grinned up at me and shook her head.

  "I know," I said. "I just felt like squandering a few rounds."

  "Well, you definitely did that. Two hits. That sucks."

  "Put yours on oughtagetit and try to do better, lady."

  She did, hitting the same target three times.

  "Three hits, we have a winner!" I said like a corn-pone carnival huckster, "You just pick yourself any little ol' thing that catches your fancy off'n the top shelf, little lady. Any little ol' thing at all."

  Grinning, Barbara reached into an ammo pouch for another mag and slapped it into her rifle. "You call me 'little lady' again and I'll hurt you. Too bad they aren't moving targets. Then we'd see who's the shooter here."

  "Think so, huh?" I keyed my implant. "Sue? Did you hear that? She thinks moving targets would be more fun."

  Barbara gave me an odd look as Sue said, "Done," and the targets began bobbling around, moving several of their diameters in pretty much any direction at random.

  "Thanks, milady."

  To Barbara, I said, "There you go. Fire when ready, LT."

  She stared thoughtfully at me for another moment, then turned to aim and fire. Between shots, she spoke.

  "How do you do that?" Bang. "Talk to her, I mean." Bang. "She's way up front..." Bang. "And you were almost whispering." Bang.

  When she glanced up at me, I said, "That's classified, LT," and noddingly indicated the targets.

  A few shots later, she switched to the hundred-yard target and popped it once before she ran out of ammo.

  "It's harder than it looks," she said. "Are you allowed to tell me anything about... well... like who you are, who you're with, or anything else like that?"

  "Guess I could," I said, raising my rifle, "But there's no point, is there? When this is over, you'll be back on duty and I'll be back in the States."

  "I was thinking about maybe getting together later."

  Giving her an apologetic grin, I said, "Sorry. I already have a couple of girlfriends, ma'am."

  Looking vastly skeptical, she asked, "A couple?"

  "Yup. It's just them and me." With a shrug, I added, "Or just them, if I'm not there. That sort of thing."

  With a chuckle, she set the muzzle of her AK on the deck and leaned on the butt. "I see." Chuckling again, she said, "Just so you know, I kind of have a boyfriend and don't need a new one. I was just thinking we could... never mind."

  Uh, huh. People don't say 'never mind' like that when they mean it. I fired my AK dry, then sat on the edge of the deck and sipped my coffee before reaching for another magazine.

  Barbara came to look over the side. She took her low-heeled pumps off and set them aside, then very carefully sat down beside me, staring down past her toes at the ground.

  "How... uh, how high are we?"

  "About a quarter of a mile, looks like."

  I pointed at some people who were milling around below us, well to our left. Some of Sue's evacuees? No way to tell... wait one. A car and a canvas-back truck came barrelling across the narrow valley toward the people.

  The car slid to a halt in a cloud of dust that drifted over the crowd, then five people jumped out of it as the truck stopped near the car. About thirty soldiers got out of the truck and spread out around the crowd, herding the people into a cluster.

  A couple of the soldiers grabbed someone from the crowd and brought him to the guys by the car. Some moments later one of the guys hit him and knocked him flat. The two soldiers kept him covered with rifles as another person was singled out.

  Whups. Not 'covered'. The body jerked twice, then the two soldiers turned away from the unmoving man on the ground and stood by as the next guy took a couple of punches and fell. The soldiers aimed rifles at him as the guy who'd hit him stepped up and kicked him.

  It was a rough interrogation session, probably sparked by what was going on inside the bunker. Whatever. I slapped the new magazine into my rifle, jacked a round into the chamber, and aimed at the car, allowing a fat aiming guesstimate to compensate for our height.

  Three quick rounds later, the soldiers were diving for cover, the interrogators were hunkered beside the car, and a guard who'd thrown himself flat on the ground got up and ran. I shot at him, but at that range, I didn't really expect a hit.

  Barbara loaded her rifle. One of the guys hunkered by the car got up and ran and she tracked him with round after round. She kept him going for over a minute, peppering him with near misses as he changed direction a few times and continued running. When he fell right after a shot, I thought she'd hit him, but then he got up and hauled ass again.

  "Damn," muttered Barbara. "Thought I got him."

  I watched three guys pile into the car and drive away in a big hurry as I said, "Me, too. Maybe you clipped him," and fired at the car.

  "I'd settle for that, from way up here," said Barbara.

  "Me, too." My next round hit the car's back windshield. I could tell because it stopped reflecting a stark sunspot. Soldiers ran for the truck or the surrounding rocks. The truck began moving and soon matched the car's speed.

  Barbara fired three more times at her guy before her bolt racked open for lack of a next round. The guy suddenly fell flat and Barbara became very attentive. Nope. He got up again.

  "Goddammit," she muttered. "Thought sure I got him."

  "Here," I said, handing her
my rifle. "I was having fun just watching you run his ass all over the desert."

  Barbara grinningly swapped rifles with me and fired at the guy again, emptying the magazine. The last we saw of the guy, he was running hard into the cover of a deep ravine.

  "Well, shit," said Barbara, handing my rifle back. "You'd think at least one of my shots would have hit him."

  I laid the rifles on the other gear on the deck and shrugged.

  "No biggie. At least we broke up the klan meeting." Getting to my feet, I helped her stand up and said, "It's later now. You want that beer we talked about?"

  "There are two magazines left."

  "Save 'em for another 'later'."

  The black, bobbing targets disappeared as she slipped on her shoes and said, "Sure. Sounds good."

  We headed to the cooler past the others, who stared at us in silence as I pulled two beers out and opened them.

  Holding up my bottle, I said, "To us. At least we tried."

  Clinking her bottle on mine, Barbara said, "Damned right."

  As we sipped, Frank and Steve headed toward the rifles. I whispered, "Flitter, isolate those rifles again, please."

  The flitter computer whispered back, "Yes, sir," which made all the ladies snicker and giggle. Frank's effort to touch the rifles made them laugh softly, and Steve's more determined effort made their laughter louder.

  Chapter Eight

  Barbara sat to the left of the pilot's seat as I sat down and put my feet up on the console. The seat to the right was empty, but she'd automatically taken the left seat. She'd parked herself on my left at the back of the flitter, too. I hadn't seen military manners for quite a while.

  Steve came to stand by Barbara's seat and tersely asked, "Lieutenant Klass, why were you shooting at those people?"

  Before she could say anything, I snapped, "Why aren't you asking me? I started shooting at them first."

  His irritated gaze turned to me.

  "You aren't on the embassy staff, sir."

  "Good point. Tell ya what, Steve; we interrupted an interrogation and a murder. They'd already killed one guy and grabbed another one."

  "And you just decided to take it upon yourself to stop them, even though you had no official authorization to do so?"