3rd World Products, Inc., Book 5

by Ed Howdershelt

  Moving to take the sign off the cars, I said, "I had a nine o'clock appointment."

  He grabbed the other end of the sign and we carried it to the median as he asked, "An appointment? With who, sir?"

  I didn't correct his English. "Major Cohn."

  The Marine rubbed the back of his neck and swore softly as he looked at the smoking rubble. "He's dead, sir. We found him in what's left of the commo office."

  "I still need to send a message. Who's taking his place?"

  Shaking his head, the Marine said, "I don't know, sir. I can try to find out."

  "Nah. Other people need you guys right now and someone's waiting for instructions. I'll head over to the embassy and send it from there."

  With a salute, he said, "Yes, sir," and went to the jeep as I headed for my car. The Marine guard saw my local civilian license plate and stopped me.

  As he checked my ID, he studied my car and asked, "Where'd you get this car, sir?"

  "Rented it from a dealer."

  "You're supposed to have US plates, aren't you?"

  "Nope. I don't own it."

  "You got paperwork for that .45?"

  "In my briefcase. In the trunk."

  A car horn sounded behind me and I looked in my rearview mirror. Big black car, diplomatic plates. The Marine handed back my ID and let me pass. I crossed the main road and took a few side streets to get to the embassy, where Eve MacLennie escorted me to the comm center after I cleaned up a bit.

  * * * *

  "...to get up, Ed," Sue was saying, "Linda's waiting."

  Feeling rather groggy, I glanced around. No Sue in sight. Keying my implant, I said, "Yeah. Okay. Tell her to hang on another minute while I hit the bathroom."

  I took a leak, washed my face, combed my hair, and went back to the bedroom before I keyed up a field screen as I put my pants on and zipped up.

  Linda eyed my upper torso and said, "Glad to see you're keeping fit. I need you in Washington at ten."

  "D.C. or state?"

  "D.C. Get the details from Sue. Gotta run. Later."

  Nodding, I replied, "Yeah. Later," as she tapped off. The wall clock read eight-thirty. Damn. I felt as if I needed another hour or two in the sack. Coffee time.

  After mixing an instant coffee, I took it to the back porch and sat down on my modified weight bench. When half the coffee was gone, I set it down and did twenty quick presses with fifty pounds on the bar, then grabbed the upper bar -- hence the word 'modified' before -- and did twenty quick semi-prone chinups.

  "Time check, Sue?" I asked.

  Sue appeared beside the bench. "Eight-forty-seven. Why don't you wear a watch?"

  As I got up and headed for the yard, I said, "Gave up on 'em after number ten or so. They just stop or their batteries die or they get broken. Only ever had one that lasted longer than a year; it was a self-winding Timex they don't make anymore."

  At two strides a second, it takes a bit more than a minute to jog around my back yard. I did ten laps and grabbed my coffee as I went back into the house.

  Sue ran a field around the lid of a can of chicken soup as I entered the kitchen. The lid lifted away and she handed me the can as I took a vitamin pill.

  I said, "Thank you, milady," then squeezed the can top to make pouring easier as I headed for the shower, eating the soup straight from the can.

  Drifting along beside me, Sue said, "Some people would think eating soup from the can is rather unsophisticated."

  "They aren't here to cook my breakfast."

  "I'd make your breakfast."

  "No need, thanks. You haven't given me a hard time about my canned soups."

  "If I did, would you let me make your breakfasts?"

  "Nope. I like canned soups. They're quick and easy." Tossing the empty can in the bathroom trash, I added, "And there aren't any dishes to wash."

  Sue gave me a look that said she had more to say about the matter, but she vanished as I turned on the shower. Some minutes later, as I made a coffee refill for the road, I noticed my backpack floating toward the front door.

  "Wait one," I said, tossing can of chicken noodle soup that direction. "An emergency lunch, y'know."

  The soup can stopped in mid-air and Sue appeared. She put the can in my backpack without comment -- in a manner which was itself a comment -- then went outside.

  Tiger watched her go, then looked at me as I asked, "Do you want to come with us?"

  "No," he said, "Cities smell bad. Sue is not pleased."

  "She didn't get her way in something."

  He regarded me for a moment, then said, "I like her."

  I tried to figure out how that fitted into the rest of our conversation for a moment, then ruffled the fur of his face as I said, "I do, too, Tiger."

  "You will continue to bring her home?"

  "She lives here, Tiger. Of course I'll bring her home."

  "No, she lives... everywhere."

  An odd turn of words, a personal belief, or a mistranslation?

  Patting him, I said firmly, "Tiger, she'll come home."

  He said, "Good. Now you go?"

  "Yup. Now I go." With a last pat, I said, "Hold the fort," and headed for the front door.

  As I approached the flitter, I didn't see Sue aboard. Keying my implant, I asked, "You heard what Tiger said?"

  "Yes," said Sue, appearing by the console.

  My neighbor's beagle was going noisily insane at her laundry room door, but he couldn't get out to the yard. Just for the hell of it, I sent a tendril through the door about six inches above the step to stun him cold. The noise stopped.

  "Was that really necessary?" asked Sue.

  With a grin and a chuckle, I hopped aboard, sat down, and said, "Yup. Sure was."

  "Why?"

  "Can't have him passing out only when he's out in the yard barking at me. Consistency, ma'am." Eyeing her long, lovely, cutoff-clad legs, I said, "Not that I mind at all, of course, but we are on our way to Washington."

  "If necessary, I'll change."

  "Don't do it on my account, please. I like this outfit just fine. Linda said to ask you why we're going to D.C."

  She turned on the console and a picture of a guy in his forties appeared on the screen.

  "We're to work with Jack Inger from the State Department."

  "The State Department that started in 1789, or the one I used to say I worked for?"

  "He has credentials from both at the moment."

  "Well, that's just peachy. What's the job and why've they dropped Inger on us?"

  "We're to place ourselves directly above the city and wait to be told where we're needed. Inger will be our advisor in matters pertaining to international relations."

  I just stared at her for a moment.

  "An advisor? What the hell's he gonna 'advise' us about?"

  "As I said, matters pertaining to..."

  "That's blather and bullshit, ma'am. State handles foreign stuff. We're on US soil. Anyone who might try something nasty will also be on US soil when he does it, so where he came from is somebody else's aftermath issue. This setup stinks all to hell. Who stuck us with this guy?"

  "Linda."

  Sipping my coffee, I thought a moment, then sat back in my seat as I said, "Well, okay, then. No sweat."

  It was Sue's turn to stare. "Okay? No sweat?"

  "Yup." I sipped again and put my feet up.

  Stephanie appeared and smilingly said, "I told you so," which had to be for my benefit, since she could simply have linked to Sue.

  "Hi," I said. "Did you have a bet going, there?"

  "No, just a mild disagreement about how you'd handle learning about Inger. Sue thought you'd go ballistic."

  "Nah. Linda has a reason. Can you stay a while?"

  She smiled again and took a seat. I invited her to choose some music for our short trip to D.C. and Laava's 'Wherever You Are' began, thumping out a dance beat.

  "Good stuff," I said.

  Sue said nothing, but seemed thoughtful. />
  At 3rd World's building in Arlington, Virginia, we settled to the roof as a Shakira song pounded to a conclusion. I picked up my coffee and handed Steph and Sue off the flitter as three people got out of the elevator.

  "Flitter," I said, "Shields up and stay where you are."

  When we stepped out of the flitter's field, the people stopped cold as they saw us appear from nowhere on the roof. One was a guard, who motioned the others to stay put and came forward alone to request ID from all of us.

  I showed him mine and told him the ladies didn't have ID's, which seemed to agitate the guy considerably.

  The thirtyish brunette woman in the group behind him stepped forward and said in a slightly chiding tone, "I tried to tell you, Ben. I even used the word 'unorthodox', didn't I?"

  She stepped forward and said, "Hi. I'm Deana Saunder, communications," as the other guy came forward. Indicating him, she said, "This is Jack Inger. State Department."

  We all shook hands in a fairly cursory fashion. Inger was maybe forty, had hard eyes and a quick, artificial handshake, and made no comment during the brief encounter.

  After introducing Steph, Sue, and myself, I asked Saunder, "What's on the agenda, ma'am?"

  Saunder deferred the question to Inger, who said he'd prefer to fill us in once we were airborne.

  Wryly shrugging a little 'he's like that' shrug, Saunder offered to take us to lunch if the day permitted. I tentatively accepted with thanks and she headed for the elevator.

  "Where's the flitter?" asked Inger.

  I said, "About fifteen feet in front of you."

  Looking very dubious, Inger stepped forward and ungracefully met the flitter's gentle but unyielding barrier field. As he put his hands on the invisible wall, his demeanor seemed to change from terse and aloof to puzzled and irritated.

  As we joined him by the flitter, I told Sue, "For now, milady, he's only allowed aboard when I'm present." Motioning to Inger, I led the way through the barrier field.

  Having already encountered the field, he didn't simply start walking. He put a hand into the space in front of him and eased forward a pace, then another. We heard him gasp softly as the flitter became visible to him, then he stepped aboard with us.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Steph sat on my left and Sue sat on my right. Inger was silent as he took the seat beyond Sue's and glanced around the flitter yet again, his gaze eventually coming to rest on Steph.

  I asked, "Ever been on a flitter before, Inger?"

  He tensed slightly as he said, "No, but I read up on them when they told me I'd be on one today."

  "Flitter," I said, "Granny mode is on for now. Take us up to ten thousand feet, please."

  Granny mode is sixty miles per hour, decided upon as a speed even the most nervous of passengers could handle. Inger held himself together well enough as we ascended, but I could see the vein in his temple pound as he stared over the side.

  Sitting up, Inger quizzically said, "Uh... there's no noise..."

  "Sorry," I replied. "What kind of noise would you like?"

  His quizzical expression got worse. "What?"

  "Noise. You want some? No problem."

  Inger's expression quickly became neutral and he said, "Never mind," as he returned to looking at the city below.

  "Well, I want some," I said. "Flitter, play the Creedence Clearwater Revival greatest hits album, please."

  'Green River' began playing. Inger sat straight again and looked around the flitter, then asked where the speakers were.

  "No speakers," I said. "Fields do it. Why are you here?"

  Eyes change when subjects change. Inger's pupils contracted instantly, although nothing else about him reacted.

  Turning to Sue, I said, "Aw, hell. He just went three feet deeper into spook mode."

  Inger responded, "Now, wait just one damned minute..."

  As we all looked at him, he seemed to give the matter some thought, then leaned his elbows on his knees in a 'just us at the campfire' posture and said, "Okay. I can see you aren't the kind of people who need... um, 'alternative explanations'."

  Uh, huh. That meant we'd likely get exactly that.

  "The fact is," he continued, "Threat levels have been revised sharply upward since yesterday. People from all agencies have been put on alert teams. Some of the usual rules are being circumvented by interagency personnel loans in order to have enough people in enough places at once."

  He stopped talking and glanced over the side again before returning his gaze to us.

  I said, "That doesn't tell me why you're on my flitter."

  "I'm sure you were briefed about..."

  "Pretend we weren't."

  Inger frosted over and said, "Maybe I should talk to your superior officer before we go any farther with this."

  Keying up a field screen made Inger sit bolt-upright in his seat and stare as I poked Linda's flapping lips icon.

  "What the hell is that?"

  "Just watch the screen."

  "Yes, Ed?" Linda answered, then said, "Hi, Steph and Sue. I see you managed to locate Mr. Inger."

  "Yes'm," I said, "Deana Saunder saved us the trouble of looking for him. He thinks he ought to talk to you before he tells us anything useful."

  Although it didn't last long, Inger's shocked, 'you work for her?!' expression was fairly priceless.

  "Ah... Good morning, Ms. Baines," he said, "I was just... ah... being careful. I wasn't told he'd have company."

  "He had the same company in Iran yesterday, Mr. Inger. They're cleared for any 3rd World operations. You may meet someone named Elkor later. He's cleared, too."

  Nodding slightly, Inger said, "Oh. I see. Well, then, I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you, ma'am."

  "No problem. Ed, a number of agencies have pooled personnel resources to try to capture terrorist prisoners in a clandestine manner. Should you acquire any, Mr. Inger will make arrangements for them. That's about it."

  "Thought it was something like that. Thanks, Ms. Baines."

  Grinning at my use of her last name, Linda asked, "Is there anything else?"

  Inger said, "No, ma'am."

  "Guess not," I said.

  Saying, "Later, then," Linda tapped her screen off.

  After a moment, Inger relaxed and said, "You could have told me who your boss is. Anyway, that's about the size of it. If we catch any bad guys, I'll make arrangements."

  Sipping my coffee, I waited for the inevitable, and it didn't take long at all to arrive.

  Sue stood up and turned to face us, then said, "Ed, they're going to gather prisoners at Andrews AFB, interrogate them, then send them back to their home countries."

  Inger looked rather startled, but kept silent.

  I shrugged. "Well, that's devious enough, isn't it? Good. No point in jailing them, anyway. They'd just become martyrs at taxpayer expense and their buddies might try to spring them by taking hostages. This way it'll be harder for them to reenter the US and we're only out plane fare. Could even be that their friends will see them as soiled goods if we hold 'em for a week or two before we let them go."

  "Soiled goods?"

  "Yup. They aren't a real sophisticated bunch. Separate them during the holding phase here in town. Take each prisoner aside and offer to send him home if he talks. Give 'em a bus ride to Andrews -- the longest way possible -- as time to whisper about things, then separate them again. Send a few of them home individually, let them go, and watch them closely. Attribute certain information to each of them in a believable manner and wait to see who gets upset about it."

  Sue cocked her head and gazed intently at Inger as she said, "That's almost exactly what they plan to do. Would you care to confirm that, Mr. Inger?"

  Inger said, "I think I should probably ask how you two know what you've just..."

  "Don't bother," I interrupted. "We couldn't tell you." To Sue, I asked, "Got any problems with their plans?"

  "One in particular," said Sue. "Some of those they release will undoubtedly b
e killed."

  "Gee. Too bad. A certain amount of risk kinda goes with their chosen career path, anyway, doesn't it?"

  Sipping my coffee, I said, "In fact, the agencies could go one step farther with things if they're willing to push matters a little. Give the baddies a reason to see a doctor. Shot during capture, maybe. An accidental broken arm or leg or a cut on a vehicle door or some little bug that makes their guts knot up. During treatment, they could bone-tag 'em with trackable isotopes or whatever's state of the art these days."

  Sue's 'horrified' expression was much like Selena's, I noted; she wore it for some moments, then let it morph to anger.

  "I can't be part of something like that, Ed."

  "I damned sure can. Tag and release. No harm done. Works just fine for wild animals and people under house arrest who have to wear ankle bracelets."

  In a flat tone, she said, "Applied in this manner, it's illegal."

  "Legal is whatever governments decide to call legal. Are you for letting those assholes run loose in the world?"

  Giving me her best glare, she said, "You know my legal limitations, Ed. I can't be part of something like this."

  Turning to Steph, I asked, "What about it? Can she?"

  "Under existing laws, no. Shouldn't you be asking how agencies of your government can operate illegally?"

  With a short laugh, I said, "They always have, to one degree or other. Rules get bent all to hell all the time. This may be the first time they've been bent for good reasons, though."

  Steph gave me a fisheye look and said, "I have a business elsewhere. You're on your own with this one," and vanished.

  Inger sounded as if he was choking as I turned to Sue.

  "What about you? Are you gonna ghost out on me, too?"

  "Yes," she said, "I want no part of this." Turning to Inger, she said, "Mr. Inger."

  Taking his wide-open eyes off Steph's empty seat, Inger met Sue's gaze as he whisperingly replied, "Yes, ma'am?"

  "Goodbye," she said, rather theatrically waving a hand with a snap of her fingers as she also vanished.

  "Oh, lord..." muttered Inger, staring wide-eyed at the space where she'd stood.