by Jeffrey Cook
Mina was still trying to catch her breath. “Abuelo ... the same people ...?”
“Not the exact people, but a related cartel. I was sure of it. More sure, and more specific about who, the more I looked into the case, and the Inquisition files. But I couldn't prove anything, and trying to would have put the organization at risk. The cops kept me away from the case, and the Inquisition gave me an enforced vacation ... and it was the right call. I don't know what I'd have done without some time in Florida to cool down and get my mind right. We eventually got the guy who crippled Jonas, three years later, on an unrelated case that I wasn't even involved with.”
Mina nodded sympathetically, then said, “And you think I ...”
Agent Park put a hand on her shoulder. “If this case wasn't an emergency, they'd have done the same. Recruited you, then had you trained somewhere else. They'd have found a way to cover it with your parents. Putting you on this isn't policy, but even if I disagree, I have to acknowledge that this is about as bad as it gets.”
“Really?” Mina asked, trying to get her mind off the personal level.
He nodded. “Sure, there's plenty of black-market chips. Some of the good ones are even pretty sophisticated, but having actual programmers hostage gives them potential to produce things on a new level. Worse, in the short term, those people handle the programming for everything. They can access information on almost every security system on the West Coast, or the inner secrets of the political machine, shipping and travel schedules for everything and everyone going through the region, plus the Inquisition.”
Mina blinked. “I hadn't thought of that.”
“Yeah. They've had access to data on how we operate, how to identify agents. We have to get this shut down, and fast. Not going to give you much time to learn or grow into the job, I'm afraid.”
“Thanks for being honest,” Mina replied, sincerely. She still wasn't entirely comfortable with what she was being asked to do, after all. She hesitated a moment, pondering approaches to trying to convince her fellow agent that Scott couldn't possibly be responsible. She'd been brought in, after all, for her direct, applicable knowledge, and that was one thing she was sure she knew. She decided that wouldn't help her case any, nor convince Agent Park that she could handle the unusual assignment after all. “I'll do everything I can to help solve the case,” she offered instead.
* * * *
Her next delivery was in the International district. She was still restricted to her bike, since her father had the van out on park business, but the district was readily accessible by biking to the nearest light rail station, and taking it a bit further north. After the intense workout, she was glad for the opportunity to coast down the steep hills leading from the station down to the shops, while simultaneously dreading the trip back uphill.
This time, it wasn't about training. She was supposed to make a couple of quiet deliveries to shops in the area as anonymous birthday presents and the like, allowing her to closely monitor the traffic around a particular teriyaki and pho restaurant. Mina quietly reported in as soon as she reached the correct block. “I can see Lucky Pho from here. You really think they'd be keeping them at a restaurant, with all those people coming and going?” she asked.
“Not our highest priority watch,” the Director answered. Of course it wasn't, Mina thought. They wouldn't put the rookie on those. “But it's still on the list. Delivery trucks and large groups wouldn't draw attention. They shouldn't have a basement, but the area reports suggest that it was built on top of the older international district—a lot of which was quakeproofed enough to still be stable if someone dug down to it.”
“Okay, so supplies and potential places to hide people. What else put them on your list, exactly?”
“This is part of a longer-term operation, Agent Cortez. At least one of the Lucky Pho partners definitely has a hand in some of the smuggling through the ports. We want to figure out whom he's working with but haven't been able to get too close.”
Mina nodded unnecessarily. Apparently, the AIA checked in periodically on several similar suspicious places all around the city. At such times as they had enough proof on site, or they tracked down one of the higher ups through their surveillance, then they'd get the FBI, local law enforcement, or someone else involved to actually conduct a raid. AIA agents themselves almost never got directly involved, except as part of their day jobs. “Haven't been able to get close to a restaurant?”
“Not in any meaningful way. We know the food is terrible, the service is worse. They seem to actively discourage too many customers, and yet remain open year after year. The story on their taxes is that they keep getting bailed out by rich relatives. We just wanted to figure out who, precisely, this rich uncle is.”
“Understood. So no stopping in for lunch between deliveries. Got it.” She could hear the Director's exasperated sigh. Apparently she didn't take much to the efforts to lighten the tone. Mina elected not to push her luck any further. “Anything else I should be looking for?”
“We're pretty sure they're running protection rackets through the area. Small-time stuff, trying to earn a little money on the side. If you see them out and about taking up a collection, don't let them get a good look at you. You're there on legitimate business, but we'd rather you not be seen at all, especially close to any of their operations.”
“Understood. Starting to move now.”
Mina went on comm silence. The Director could check her locations if she wanted to, but otherwise, Mina was on her own doing Inquisition work for the first time. The district was busy. Small import shops, groceries, and Asian-language vid-and-file stores lined the way along with a variety of restaurants. There were plenty of other people on bicycles, along with plenty of wandering college students, so Mina blended in relatively easily. She took her time about the first delivery, weaving through people to buy herself more time to keep an eye on Lucky Pho.
She took the elevator for one of the post-Decimation-era foot bridges spanning the street, then paused midway across. There were plenty of others climbing the bridge's steps, admiring the scenery, and reading historic placards.
The only thing she was able to notice from higher up that she hadn't seen from below was a delivery truck pulling up to the back. There were no signs of the truck opening or being unloaded, though three people from inside did come out, and engaged the driver in conversation. Eventually, she left the bridge and continued with her delivery. The first was made easily enough. An older woman at one of the groceries received anonymous birthday flowers. Mina slipped back out post-delivery as the woman and the other store employees nearby started speculating.
Moving across the street, she passed by Lucky Pho's spacious—
and mostly empty—storefront. She did note a few employees moving about inside, but no actual customers. The place was amazingly well staffed for a place without much business. As she passed by the next alley, she noted the delivery truck she'd seen moving slowly down the back alleyway. At the next footbridge, a few blocks later, she went back up, scanning past the low buildings as best she could until she found the delivery truck again, this time parked behind one of the other stores along the street. Once again, no sign of any deliveries being made.
Mina crossed the bridge, moving towards her second delivery. Had she not been looking back towards Lucky on a regular basis, she'd have missed them. Three men, dressed similarly to the people she'd seen talking to the delivery driver. She couldn't tell if they were the same, as she'd been too far away before, but guessed they likely were. Her chip quickly drew her attention to small details that didn't fit right. While each wore similar light jackets, the sleeves weren't quite long enough to entirely conceal hints of tattoos that reached to the wrists on two of them. She also picked up signs off of each that they were armed: well concealed guns, but guns, nonetheless. Remembering the earlier warning, she made sure not to stare too long, while still keeping track of their progress.
The three stopped at a few stores a
long the way, not too far behind Mina, emerging each time and heading further down the street. She lost sight of them amidst making her second delivery, this time dropping off congratulatory 'Just Chipped!' flowers at a vid-and-file shop. She didn't have quite the same chance to quickly slip out this time, as the recipient's mother had to call her from the stockroom to come get the bouquet herself.
Mina and the Chinese girl spent a few moments explaining to her parents that they weren't schoolmates, and no, the flowers weren't from Mina; she was just the delivery girl. Further assurances she had no idea who they were from, but, yes, she was very happy for the family. She turned down the offer of tea, insisting she had to be going. It was just enough of a delay that she nearly bumped into the three men from Lucky, on their way into the shop, as she was heading out. Noting them at the door, she instead quickly ducked back behind one of the shelf units. She turned her delivery jacket inside out. It would look odd, but the lining was a different color and didn't have the Emerald City logo on it. Then she pulled her hood up and tried to keep her head down.
That was all she had time for before the shouting started. She tasted aluminum as her chip started translating for her, with everyone else speaking rapid-fire Mandarin. The woman who had been at the till insisted they didn't have enough money. The oldest of the three men started threatening her. When that didn't change her insistence that they would give the men everything they had, but it wouldn't be enough, his tone changed as well.
Mina was still in her hiding spot, unable to see, but hearing everything. There was a scream, and the sound of a gun cocking, then another.
Chapter Eleven
Peeking around the edge, she saw the youngest of the three men grab the teenage girl. The one who would have been safe in the stockroom had Mina not brought flowers, she reminded herself.
A stronger taste of aluminum and hint of burning in her sinuses told her to stay still and out of the way. She ignored it. This was her fault, and worse, people's lives were in danger. She assessed the situation from her hiding spot, peeking around the corner. Two had their guns out, one pointed at the girl, the other with a pistol held up, simply demonstrating its presence. The last had his hand under his jacket, but hadn't drawn yet. Two of the people in the shop only had to drop or dive to have cover, but the girl was out in the open.
Mina moved around the shelving unit to get close to the one with his gun on the girl while he argued with the woman. When she felt she was close enough, she grabbed one of the display cases and tossed it out on the floor.
Hearing the noise, the man spun. He got halfway through demanding to know who was there when Mina burst into motion. Before his finger could squeeze the trigger, Mina got to his wrist. She applied a wrist lock even as she lifted his arm up and away. His finger squeezed reflexively, sending a bullet whining past her ear. He never got off a second shot before she dislocated his wrist with a twist, then disarmed him with her other hand, breaking his thumb and pulling the gun away. Releasing her grip, she finished him with a quick pistol whipping with his own gun.
Before he'd hit the floor, she was on to the next. This one didn't even get a shot off before she'd taken the two steps to reach him and brought an open hand up under his chin in a perfect sapping blow. As he was losing consciousness, Mina shoved him towards the third, directing his fall to occupy the last assailant. She got to that one before he could get his pistol entirely out, catching hold of his wrist. A quick impulse ran her through the basics of the stance he was starting to shift into. She wasn't sure what style of kung fu he knew yet, but she was sure he had training. Keeping his hand trapped in his jacket with one hand, she kicked at the inside of his ankle, rolling it, putting him off balance. As he started to stumble, Mina directed it, her free hand grabbing the hair at the back of his head and slamming his head down on the corner of the wooden vid-store counter.
Without thinking about it, she took all of the guns, wiped her prints off, and set them on the counter. That was the point she realized there were four shop employees looking at her, stunned.
“Call the police,” she instructed firmly. As she was doing that, she heard a buzzing from the oldest man's wrist. A few moments later, there was another voice asking what was holding them up. She repeated her instructions one more time, then followed a hunch. She left the store, and its bewildered owners, and grabbed her bike. Then she headed towards the back alley.
Two buildings down, she spotted the delivery driver, holding up his own wrist near his mouth. He obviously still received no response. With a paranoid glance around, he noticed Mina, then yanked the truck door open and jumped in. The engine was still running, and he quickly tore off down the alley.
Cursing herself, Mina took off after the truck. She could still feel the burning sensation in her sinuses, but the chip still let her call up all of her new knowledge of street maps. She was pretty sure by now that the delivery truck was the failsafe measure for the people running the protection scheme. If something went wrong, duck down one alley, and they disappear into a truck just making its rounds. She'd already drawn too much attention, but hoped if all the thugs could be brought in on other charges, the director or Agent Park could at least have an excuse to interrogate them about what was going on at Lucky.
She quickly reasoned that he would be headed for the freeway. It would allow him to put some distance between himself and pursuit. The local streets had too many people wandering and would require frequent stops. She didn't think she'd be able to catch up to the truck directly, but she might be able to cut it off if she could guess its route correctly. Figuring out his most direct route to an exit, she turned down an alleyway, taking shortcuts on her bike that a larger vehicle couldn't.
Pedaling as fast as she could, she used every alley and quiet side street she could to allow her to not need to slow down. She crossed streets far away from crosswalks and lights with their monitor cameras, and headed down her best-guess intercept route. She saw the truck coming as she emerged back into heavier traffic zones, nearing the on ramp. With her bike, she couldn't cut through heavy traffic to get to him, and knew if he reached the freeway, she would lose him so she headed for the stairs of the last foot-bridge he'd have to pass under.
People jumped out of her way as she biked up the steep stairway. Reaching the top, she could just see the truck reaching the bridge. With no time to stop and assess, she let her chip handle all of the speed calculations and headed for the side of the bridge. Pedaling hard as she could to get up to speed, she pulled her feet off the pedals, stood up on her bicycle seat like some kind of stunt rider, and let her front wheel crash into the railing. The impact catapulted her off her bike and over the edge. She hit the top of the delivery truck, and immediately started rolling backwards to break her fall. The truck's momentum, combined with the instinctive breakfall, almost caused her to go falling off the back of the truck, but she managed, at the last second, to fall forward, finding a few points where metal met metal as finger-and-toe-holds.
The truck picked up speed from the ramp, making forward movement difficult. Still, she managed to find enough hand and footholds to pull herself along. She had to adjust again to keep herself from going careening off the side when the truck merged onto the freeway. Car horns blared as people tried warning the driver someone was on his truck. She did her best to stay out of his mirrors, inwardly cursing the helpfulness of the average driver.
She finally pulled herself to the front edge of the cargo container, near the cab on the passenger's side. She was almost out of breath, her arms and fingers ached, but she found enough adrenaline for one more burst of quick movement. She pulled herself forward and over the edge, managing to grab the mirror and get a hand inside the open passenger window, while her feet found the thin running board. The driver startled, turning her way. As he did, whether out of intent or simply reaction, the truck veered off the road and towards the metal roadside barrier. Mina pulled herself up and through the window just in time to keep her legs from being crush
ed as metal met metal.
The driver started to pull left, away from the barrier. Not wanting him back out in traffic, Mina grabbed the wheel with one hand and yanked it right, keeping them skidding along the barrier. While fighting for control of the wheel, she found the parking brake and yanked on it. With a horrendous grinding, the truck jerked, throwing both of them forward. Mina managed to stay low, crashing against the dashboard, then under it. The driver wasn't as fortunate, and his chest hit the steering wheel. As the truck skidded to a halt, Mina punched the man once under the jaw, sapping any remaining consciousness. Guided by her chip, she quickly policed the scene. Everything she'd touched was wiped, and her hands were pulled up into her delivery jacket sleeves. As other cars were stopping for a look, she pulled her arching body out of the passenger side window, hit the ground, and let herself roll into the shallow ditch. She took advantage of the spectacle of a car wreck to draw attention away from herself, heading the opposite way of most people. Her current colors had been seen clinging to the side of a truck. Using a couple larger cars for cover, she righted her jacket, fixed her hair, and tried to move without too obvious of a limp.
She could hear the police sirens approaching, which brought a new idea to mind. She called Agent Park, instead of the director. She advised him on what had just happened, without going into too many details. She figured he could make sure the driver was taken into custody, for reckless driving, if nothing else, and that he'd eventually be tied to the other people from Lucky. He wasn't happy with the attention she'd brought on herself in what was supposed to be covert duty, but he quickly set about doing his job.
She turned off her comm and started the long walk back to the bridge, hoping her bike would still be in the area. Her comm soon after started signaling she had a call from the director. Agent Park was doing his job. Mina, meanwhile, on her first day solo on the job, had just managed to do pretty much exactly everything she wasn't supposed to.