If there was no such door, this wouldn’t help me. I simply had no clue how such wings would have to built like and how they had to be attached to my body to keep me in the air. A pity!
It was no problem, though, to spread a nano membrane from wrist to hip. No problem to extend this glide chute one or two arm lengths further, no problem to control the glide with my arms. A base to build upon, I told myself, and focused on my pursuit again.
The glide membranes at least helped me to extend my jumping arcs, so that I could save power in my jumps.
Even this way, it remained strenuous enough, so that I quickly discarded thoughts about the easiness with which I had expanded my options literally on the fly. That’s what my Analogy was for, wasn’t it? I came up with the idea, my nanos implemented it. Period.
Jana drove westward, and the houses quickly became smaller. Ahead of us lay the Bay Bridge and thus the center of old San Francisco. From there, I had escaped only a year ago.
No, she turned north. Again, I had to jump and sail across the multi-lane road to not lose her—how long had I already been running after her? With relief, I noticed that she headed for the yacht harbor.
She simply left her car with running motor at the parking lot access, let a few dollar notes drop on the seat, and briefly nodded at the approaching young man. With unladylike long strides, she hurried down to the moorings. Still on the gangway to the large yacht, she took off her jacket and blouse, then tore the high heels from her feet and dropped all on the quarterdeck. Before she disappeared inside through the mirror-glass door, she even dropped her skirt.
And now?
Trusting in my abilities, I simply followed her as long as the door was still open. This deck was high enough to escape to the ceiling. For the time being, that wasn’t necessary, though. Jana lolled on a couch, wearing nothing but her thigh highs, and tapped the keys of her phone. I memorized the number and pricked my ears.
“Hello?” a sleepy voice answered.
“Hello. Are you alone?”
“Yes. What’s up?”
“I need an orchestra, on short notice.”
“Special instrumentation?”
“Universal. New music.”
“Oh. Okay. Where?”
“West coast, undisturbed.”
“I’ll take care of that.”
“Thanks.”
Orchestra, so. She probably referred to Dragon technology experts, who should examine the expected discovery from the Japanese consulate.
She was already dialing the next number, with a Texas area code.
“Yes, what is it?”
“Sunrise must be advanced. Prepare proposals for acceleration, I’ll call in a few days. Bye.”
This call had been even shorter. Sunrise? In this context, to me it sounded like a seize for power in Japan.
“Oui?” Oh, a female voice.
“Bonjour, Cherie. I’ll soon need a lot of sunburn. The output must be increased.”
“I’ll shee to that. I miss you so mush.”
“Miss you, too. Kisses!”
Jana played absently with her pubic hair now, spread her thighs and slid to the side on her couch.
“G’day?” Another girl?
“Hi, Mike.”
“Sweetie! What can I do for you?”
“Suits. Up and running, with all bells and whistles.”
“We’re working day and night.”
“We need results. Urgently.”
“I know, sweetie. We’re making good progress.”
“And that’s better so.”
“Next week I’m in Palmdale, sweetie. Will you come along?”
“Maybe.”
Sunburn from Belgium, suits from a source with Australian phone number, aha. And what could be found in Palmdale?
Jana surely considered herself smart not to trust those numbers to her phone’s memory. She just deleted the list of last dialed numbers. No matter, I had memorized them.
I spared myself the effort of searching for files aboard. From my point of view, Jana wasn’t the type for working with paper.
As she had finished her phone session now and unabashedly massaged her crotch with wide open door, the interesting part of the evening seemed to be over. I could take my leave.
Chapter Fifty-Four
The restoration work in the Japanese consulate was obviously not entirely finished yet—at least, steel rods, cement sacks, and tools were still lying around the concrete mixer. This was good for me, as it significantly reduced the surveillance installations’ effectiveness.
At the door, or more precisely, above the door, I was waiting for a change of guards again and then wove my way through the door together with the guards, above their heads.
After a brief detour, during which I placed a message about the cultists in the consul general’s office, the way further inside was obvious.
It had to be expected that there were new checkpoints before and after the construction site, each at the turn of the hallway. No problem for me.
The wall was already rebuilt, so only plaster and paint were still missing. That was good, because I couldn’t move on dusty ground, and I didn’t want to imagine what I would’ve done with fresh paint.
One obstacle still lay ahead of me, and that was the door to the room with my target. The door was locked and in plain view for the guard at the second checkpoint, who even had a note on his desk that told of an inspection tour every ten minutes.
Good. Under the ceiling, I waited for his next tour and prepared a new trick.
The guard approached the few steps, rattled the locked door, returned to his place, and wrote down the time. While he was turning his back on me, I let a curtain made of nano material drop down in front of the door. In the same way as a camouflage suit, it showed an image of the empty hallway behind.
The deception was static, but it didn’t have to last long. In no time, I had opened the door and snuck through.
The three projector posts were inconspicuously standing in a corner, together with a lamp and a rolled-up screen. Micro fusion reactor and tablet computer were missing. The former might be exchanged, the latter could easily be locked away, for example in this steel locker?
Exactly.
The memory card was quickly removed, and as quickly, I removed the individual projector elements from the posts. The parts looked rough and primitive to me, but obviously someone without access to nano manipulators had improvised quite skillfully. Considering the available options outside of Frostdragon, the result was more than respectable.
Sadly, I had to destroy this work now. My nano suit formed a score of matching pockets, into which I hurriedly placed the parts. I locked the door behind me, collected my nano curtain, and climbed out past the guards.
All went admirably well until I passed the outer checkpoint, when I heard his colleague not only check the door, but also unlock it.
Crap. If he gave the room a closer look, he had to notice the missing projector elements. I accelerated. Time for plan B—there couldn’t be an invisible visitor. My suit assumed a speckled dark grey while I searched a suitable window.
The alarm didn’t matter now. I broke the lock in two, tore the window open, and jumped out. Outside, spots lit up, and surprised calls echoed around. I scurried through between plaster sacks toward the fence, grabbed the barbed wire with gloved hands, and swung across. Machine pistols rattled, lead whistled in my direction. First, I felt the rush of air, then the first grazing shots bouncing off my suit, and then several bullets’ dull impacts, causing pain in my rear.
Block it.
I let myself drop, rolled off, hoped for the plaster sacks’ cover again, and then I jumped up and ran away crouching down. More volleys followed, but I stayed low under the trellised fence, and the bullets sprayed away from the steel bars into every direction. Ricochets pattered on my suit but didn’t penetrate.
The first guards stepped out of the consulate gate onto the street and aimed at me, so I do
ubled and sped up.
Two garbage containers waited on the opposite side of the street, a makeshift cover for the next twenty meters of my run. Or not?
Tapping steps told of the Japanese commencing pursuit. What now?
Run for your life, Jo! It wasn’t far to the next street crossing, and around the corner I’d be momentarily safe. That was, if I reached it alive—despite my zigzagging, I caught further bullets, in my back, in the arms, in upper and lower leg.
—Danger!—
I know, I know.
What was worse? That I acted somewhat strange, or that they’d get me, and I’d fall into the Cartel’s hands, once the latter’s team assaulted the consulate? See!
I accelerated again, and then jumped toward the building’s corner and some way up. They had expected my direction, but not the upward jump, so the volley went past below me.
Cover.
I became invisible. They should rack their brains where I was. Then I climbed the corner building and settled down on the roof. Time to tend to my pain. Ouch.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Overall, I counted eight, no, nine hits. A part of the impact had been absorbed by my nano clothing, which wasn’t configured as robustly as a real armor suit—a decision that I should reconsider for such missions. My skin, reinforced against knife attacks and plasma bullets, had helped another bit, so several bullets had only grazed me or were stuck. I only had to pick the latter out.
Two had penetrated deeper, one in my bum, the other in my back. My buttocks hurt like hell, but worse was the pain near my left kidney. Loss of blood, impact shock, kidney failure, death—my nanos had spared me all this. However, now the bullet had to go.
I let a claw grow from my left index finger. I put it into the wound channel and speared the bullet with it—the nano blade slid into the lead like a hot needle into butter. Now I only needed a nano barb, and I could pull the cork. Ouch!
The same again for my buttocks. Ouch!
It’s just pain, Jo.
First, I had to heal the inner injuries of kidney and larger blood vessels. Then the remaining scratches could follow.
Meanwhile, I listened to the Japanese’ angry shouts down in the street. They chided each other for incompetency—despite good chances to hit, no trace of blood, but no, the shot must have struck home, and who had let the intruder escape?
By the time I was restored enough to consider walking again, half an hour had passed. I covered a few blocks across the roofs, then I climbed down in the street, became an ordinary visible young woman, and walked toward the Cannery. I was hungry!
“Ey, Shortie.”
The guy assuming position in front of me was playing with a butterfly knife and considered himself incredibly cool. I simply ignored him and walked straight on.
The blade went some way up. One grip, one jerk, one cry, the knife fell down and he held his dislocated wrist.
“Piss off,” I hissed.
He didn’t have to be told twice, and the patter around told me that his buddies weren’t inclined at all to take me up. A pity. I was in a really bad mood and very inclined to make someone pay for it.
“What would you like?” The barkeeper was much more friendly than my grumpy face deserved, but after all, he wasn’t to blame for it.
“Do you have something to eat?”
“The kitchen’s open around the clock. Whatever you want.”
“Good. A T-bone steak with omelet, pasta mista, a grand salad, a fruit plate, a quadruple espresso and a Belgian triple.”
He looked around.
“No, that’s all for me. Trouble?”
“No, no, that’s okay, I’ll hand it in.”
Immediately, he tapped the strong Belgian beer, which I emptied in one long draft. More alcohol simply meant more fuel and taste for me. “Good. One more.”
“Okeee.”
By the time the first plate of my order arrived, I had consumed two quadruple espressos and three glasses of beer. The inevitable ketchup, served unasked for, went amply around my steak, then I tended to the task of devouring my serving before meat and eggs could become cold. I almost managed it.
I took some more time for the noodles. Meanwhile, the salad could wait.
“Girl, you’re digging into it like you’re starving,” the barkeeper finally commented.
I only pointed at the tap and nodded.
Sadly, he tapped some of the beer past the glass. Why?
The guy in leather, who usurped the counter right next to me and made the barkeeper flinch anxiously, provided the explanation. “Old boy, we need to talk.”
His elbow above my plate disturbed me. I figured that he’d answer my polite request either with an insult or a violent threat, so I dropped this intermediate step.
Instead, I fetched the not-yet-cleared steak knife and rammed it into his intrusive upper arm. He squealed, and when I twisted his arm and tossed him into his mate, he screamed again.
Before the two could overcome their surprise, I took them by their hairs and dragged them to the door. There, I pulled them up one by one and kicked them outside.
“I want to eat in peace. I won’t hear anything, or you’re due. And keep that gun pocketed if you want to live, as I’m faster.”
“Who are you?”
What would it help him to know? Nobody knew me around here anyway. “Velvet.”
He rolled his eyes. “Bloody hell.”
For all I cared—I returned to my pasta. That is, I wanted to return to my pasta, but the barkeeper just cleared the half-full plate away when I reached the counter.
“You get a new one, okay?”
“Oh. Okay, fine. Thanks.”
“It’s my turn to thank. You’re invited, Velvet.”
“You know me?”
“I’ve heard of you.”
“What’s the word?”
“There’s a woman who can’t be found if she doesn’t want to be found. A woman who successfully finishes impossible jobs—and who’s faster than her own shadow with the knife. I didn’t believe it—until now.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
From the strawberry stall, I could well keep an eye on the Pier 39 entrance. While I by and by devoured my third serving of red berries, I pondered last night’s events.
The riot around the Japanese consulate couldn’t have escaped anyone’s attention, including Jana and her lover. Would that suffice to make them cancel their plans for an assault on the consulate?
My plan B had simply been Dragon piss—I had painfully learned this lesson. I should have had an alternate escape route that would have offered me more cover. Perhaps I should simply have hidden inside the consulate, despite the alarm. I could have manipulated the lock for the room in question, so that the guard’s key would have jammed. I could have sent the two guards to sleep, so that they couldn’t have triggered an alarm. I could have this, I could have that—nevertheless, I had escaped unseen again this time.
So the legend of Velvet had emancipated itself. With Fiona, I hadn’t delved into the topic—I simply had assumed that the secret agent business was better informed. That any average barkeeper and any average racketeer along the west coast knew and feared that name wasn’t exactly what I had wanted.
Couldn’t be helped. I smiled at Alan, who was purposefully approaching me.
“Hello, well—”
“Velvet,” I helped him. “Hello, Alan.”
“I wasn’t sure whether you’d want me to publicly call you so. After all, there was some ruckus last night, and at the same time, rumors have it that a certain person is in town.”
“Well—yes, I’ve heard about it, too. Let’s go for a walk.” I held the half-empty basket up to him. “Have a taste.”
“Thanks.”
We found a quiet place overlooking the Bay.
“Japanese consulate?” he asked. I nodded. “Why?”
“Let me start from the beginning.”
Now he nodded.
“Okay. I’ve pa
id the local Cartel capo a visit and gathered some useful information. Within the next weeks, the Cartel expects two ships with Frostdragon goods from Australia, and I’ve brought you the registration data and the dates.”
“Man, great, Jo! Oh, Velvet. That’s a bright spot!”
“Wait. He had a visitor on that evening. While I skimmed his safe, he shagged a woman in the anteroom.”
“While you—? Damn, I thought you had visited an empty office.”
“No. Too easy, too boring. I knew that woman.”
“Where from?”
“From Dubai. It was Jana, the Cartel security head.”
“Crap. She’s here? Did she get wise to us?”
“No, it’s not about you. She learned that the Japanese had installed a new security device in their consulate general, and she wanted to have it.”
“Damn. What device would that be?”
“An impenetrable force field. A grav field, to be precise, similar to the envelope field that keeps the plasma inside a micro fusion reactor.”
“You know your ways. And how did Jana learn about it?”
“I didn’t hear about that, and Jana only knew the fact that it existed.”
“Well, now she knows more.” He tried to feign easiness and took another strawberry. “How do you know the details?”
“Jana doesn’t know any details, and she won’t learn more about it soon, although she’s already called her experts in. I stole the device last night.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
With two firm pats between the shoulder blades, I helped Alan to spit out the piece of strawberry he had choked on. He coughed for another while. Finally he looked at me with still wet eyes.
“That was you last night in the consulate?”
“Yes.”
“There’d been a wild shooting, as I’m told.”
“They dealt out a lot of lead, but do I look like a backstop?” I slowly turned around once. Of course, there was nothing to see.
Lover Page 13
