by Ellen Clary
Amy’s thoughts wandered to that holy-man wannabe, Ezekiel William Jebediah, and the peace she had felt disappeared. She struck at the water with a violent splash, then laid face-down on her board, her forehead on her crossed arm, leaving her legs in the water to keep from completely pitching over. She softly struck at her board with her other fist. Picturing his kindly-appearing eyes and his old-man bearded face did not help at all. You bastard, she thought. This is all your fault. You and your kinda-sorta, messed up, pseudo-religious high-mindedness. You don’t even think about the effect of your influence over people. Or maybe you do, and you think you’re above it all. You’re asking people to give up the quality of their lives, or their actual lives, for you. A lifesaving medical procedure and you say, “Oh no, that’s not scriptural.” There’s blood on your hands, asshole. If it weren’t for you, then Randall would be alive today, maybe a little less messed up, and I don’t know what his mom is going to do. Many of the world’s religions were polytheistic of varying flavors, but it was the monotheistic ones that always seemed to have the over-the-top leaders. The only-my-way types. Amy groaned. This is such a waste of my time.
A higher swell hit the side of her face, jolting her out of her internal rant. She really needed to focus on something else, she thought. Anything but Ezekiel Three-First-Names. She hadn’t really realized just how much she blamed him for Randall’s death. She usually thought that people made their own choices, but Ezedude seemed, in her mind, to have abused the power that people accorded him.
Okay, either surf or think of something else. Right. What about that fourth driver? she thought, realizing that thinking about work was probably better than thinking about Ezekiel. We really haven’t ruled out the fourth driver, even though the connection was tenuous at best. We should probably do the exact same thing that we’ve been doing for everyone else. Ask for a DNA sample as a rule-out.
A pelican flew by, looking at her with a curious look, and she decided that it was time to do what she came to do. She swam out to rejoin the lineup and catch a wave with her fish board.
She realized that what she loved most about surfing was that, despite how difficult it was to master, when she started to paddle hard to catch the wave, it completely took all of her concentration, the world disappeared, and all she could feel was the raw power of the wave as she joined it. When everything came together and she caught and rode the wave, there was nothing quite like it. Surfing had such a powerful draw despite the fact that, while sitting on her board, she didn’t travel to any exotic place, and she didn’t see that much except for the horizon, or the bluffs over the beach, or the inside of a wave. It was the power that the ocean wrapped up in one wave—once she felt a short, overwhelming burst of it, all she wanted was to feel it again and again. She had never really used drugs enough to be addicted, but supposed it was a similar experience.
CHAPTER 18:
Fourth Car Surveillance
AMY SAT in the van with Yolanda. They had tracked the Applied Sciences car that had been out on a delivery.
Yolanda asked, “So how did you convince Catherine to let you out in the field just after coming off rehabbing from your last in-the-field misadventure?”
Amy looked at her sidelong. “Well, she wouldn’t let me do it without you or Steve or a cop.”
“So it was my winning personality and charm?” Yolanda said, making a face.
“Yep,” Amy said, inclining her head in agreement, and then looked back out the windshield.
“So we’re assuming that this guy isn’t armed and isn’t going to just shoot you the second he gets suspicious?”
“Come on, when was the last time you read about a delivery person shooting someone? It’s the other way around.”
Yolanda acquiesced and said, “Let’s go over this again.”
Amy said, “After Mr. or Ms. X gets out to deliver something and goes inside the …” She paused to double check the sign. “Durango Research building, Lars and I walk casually up to the car and try to get a scent match. If he or she appears again, we move on and go around the block before coming back to the van. If I get a match, I tell you.”
“Okay, and don’t try anything fancy. I’m right here watching, but a bit far away to ride in as cavalry,” Yolanda said.
“Just a sniff test—really,” Amy said.
Yolanda asked her, “What signal do you want to use to get Gimli and me to approach?”
Amy tried to think of something she wouldn’t do by accident. Brushing the hair out of her eyes was definitely out, so was scratching her nose, or rubbing her eyes, or petting Lars. “I will put both hands on my ponytail as if I’m going to tie it back even though it already is.” She mimed it with her hands behind her head, elbows up in the air, touching the back of her hair on both sides.
“Okay, hop out now, so you can be ready to walk in case—I think it’s a he—in case he’s fast. He won’t notice if you stay behind the van.”
Amy got out the back of the surveillance van and had Lars hop down to the pavement. Peering around the door, she saw the delivery guy exit out the driver’s door in his white and blue, short-sleeve, button-up shirt, dark blue pants, and those sturdy but ready-for-action, flexible, low-cut work shoes with that stick-on-anything sole. “A ‘he’ indeed,” she said more as a microphone check than anything. She couldn’t make out the title on his shirt, but assumed that it matched the Applied Sciences that was stenciled on the white van.
He was carrying a box that was just past his shoulder width, and she watched him close the door using the box. Amy exhaled, pursing her lips as she was really hoping he would touch the door. Without that, getting a DNA sample was going to be harder.
“Mic check back to you,” Yolanda said into the small transmitter that she had just put in her ear.
“Loud and clear. He didn’t touch the van with his hand, so I don’t know how this is going to go.”
“Good hunting,” Yolanda said, with that old expression that Harris loved using; it was rubbing off on all of them.
As the delivery person got further away and closer to the building, Amy gave Lars the scent from the sniff-o-meter and started towards the van in as casual a way as she could manufacture. “In motion,” she said into the mic, which she thought was a completely redundant thing to say, but good for reference later in the recording.
The delivery vehicle was parked in that haphazard way that seemed universal to the species. She realized that she had to pull this off in full view of Durango Research and was hoping they were completely absorbed in their work. Fortunately, the driver’s side wasn’t facing the building. Lars didn’t particularly like being on-leash while working and was pulling her around some as he wove back and forth, air-scenting. As they walked up to the side of the vehicle, Amy told Lars, /Sniff here./
Lars, who had been looking in the other direction, walked up and started sniffing the ground around it. He looked interested, but wasn’t jumping up and down with excitement. /Sniff the door,/ she said, which she knew she didn’t have to tell him, but she wanted to feel useful. Lars had his nose all over the door, but while he was clearly interested, he wasn’t signaling a match. “Delivery dude has left the building.” Yolanda said in her ear. Amy started to walk in the other direction pulling some on Lars’s leash. “Search inconclusive, moving on. Let’s go, Lars.” She regretted that they hadn’t had a chance to go over the van in more detail, but another day.
Amy had gotten about twenty feet away when she heard a voice call out excitedly: “Hey is that a kelpie?” Ah crud! Look as normal as you can, Amy told herself, and she said into the mic, “Complications, but don’t panic.” Turning around, she saw the delivery guy walking up to her with that delighted expression that dog people get when they want to meet a dog. “Yes, he’s kelpie with some shepherd.” The delivery guy bent down, hands outstretched in what humans and other primates consider to be a welcoming gesture and that dogs over time have tried to adjust to.
Lars charged up to him, dr
agging Amy along and saying, /Here. Here Here./
Really? Oh shit, this is our guy, she thought, and I can’t tell Yolanda right now. Lars loved finding the people he was looking for and started wiggling and bouncing up and down. The delivery guy returned the enthusiasm rubbing his head and body.
Breathe, Amy thought.
She said to him, “My dog wants what you had for lunch.”
“Boingo’s Tacos.”
“On 4th Street?”
“Yep, the best carne asada tacos in town.”
“I think he would agree.”
“I’m Mitch,” he said, extending his hand upward to her.
Err, she thought. Amy reached forward, clasping his hand and said, “Marie,” resorting to her middle name.
“And what’s your name?” he said directly to Lars.
Amy realized that she never had thought of an alias for Lars. Oops. “Right now, his name is Wiggles.”
“Hello, Mr. Wiggles,” Mitch said, while standing up and starting to scratch the very happy kelpie boy’s butt.
Amy was a little panicked that she hadn’t come up with a cover story, but realized that when you’re walking a dog, you’re just walking the dog and normally don’t need to justify it at all. With any luck she could just wait this out and move on.
“So you must live in the area?”
Boomerang. She remembered the advice: tell as close to the truth as is safe, but dodge important stuff.
“Naw, I’m a student over at the university. Mr. Wiggles here came along for the ride and wanted a walk.”
Mitch was now scratching Lars’s ears, and Lars’s eyes were half-shut in bliss. “We were on the way over to the park to play ball before he got distracted by the smell of a taco.” She said to Lars, /Hello Lars? Ball. Let’s go play ball./
Lars ears lifted some, but he was still enjoying his head rub and didn’t otherwise react.
Amy said to Lars, /You’re kidding. Is this the first time ever that you don’t want to play ball?/
“Well, Marie, I’m in this area a lot if you ever want to hit Boingo’s. You look familiar, are you in this area much?”
“You need to hit the road, woman,” Yolanda said into her ear.
Amy put her hands on her ponytail, but she was well used to such dodges. “I may well see you there, but I must tell you that I’ll likely be there with my boyfriend.”
“He’s a lucky guy, as well as Wiggles here. So do you ever go to the parks?”
Amy laughed genuinely. “We’re regulars at every park.”
She again said to Lars, /Lars. Ball. Let’s go play ball./
Lars leaped up as if he’d never heard her the first time and started pulling on the leash. “Thank you, Mitch, you’re very kind, and now Wiggles is insisting on his game of fetch.”
“See you,” Mitch said and got into his van. “Does he ever play with a golden lab in the parks?”
Amy winced internally, but decided it wasn’t worth correcting him by saying: yellow lab. She also decided a well–placed lie would throw him off.
“Every dog has a lab friend, but his is a chocolate lab.”
“Oh, you mean the brown ones?”
“Yeah. See you, Mitch.” To Lars she said, /Let’s go,/ and Lars pulled on the leash.
Mitch again said, “See you,” waved, and started the van.
Yolanda and Gimli were out of the van and heading towards them.
Amy nearly ran up to her, and excitedly said, “Yolanda! He’s our guy. Do you have him on video?”
“Who do you think I am, an amateur? Of course, I have him on video. Awesome news, by the way, though that was close.”
“I promised Lars a game of fetch. Up for a ball break?”
“We’re walking away from this? I guess that makes sense, we know where he works. Walk with me back to the van, so can I relay this back to Central and they can get a full ID,” Yolanda said.
A horn blew, and they nearly dove to the ground before they saw that it was Mitch waving at them as he drove away.
CHAPTER 19:
Discussing Applied’s Involvement with Herman
DURING THEIR staff meeting Catherine said, “We have grounds to detain the delivery person who said his name was Mitch, but Beth thinks we can catch the bigger fish by just paying closer attention to Applied Sciences. She’s gotten a judge’s approval to bug them; now we have to figure out how. We can bug the phones that we know about, but they have a number of throwaway ones that are harder. I think if we had bugs for general conversation in the building that might help us out, too. But the issue is placing them, as there is video surveillance there.”
Someone said in a stage whisper, “Cat burglar.”
Others joined in. “Cat burglar. Cat burglar.”
Yolanda, knowing what they were getting at, smiled and let it go on for a bit. Finally, she said, “And how might our wee, thumbless, corgi burglar be able to place a bug? Do we tape it to his nose? And he hates it when you call him a cat.”
Steve put a small sticky note on his nose and started poking at Harris with his nose. Harris grabbed the note, shoved back on Steve’s shoulder, and pretended to read the note. “It says right here that we have new technology that might be able to assist Mr. Gimli with his quest.”
Heads tilted, listening. Continuing to pantomime reading, Harris said, “It’s not a bug as much as a moth.” He fluttered the paper a little, noticed that Amy was making similar fluttering motions with her hand, and tried to ignore her.
“Is this like your spy pigeon?” Yolanda said, referring to one of his ongoing projects.
“No.” He paused and the room was silent with that intrigued, disbelieving feeling in the air.
Folding the note into a vague paper airplane, leaning back over to Steve, and holding it near his neck, he said, “The legs of the moth can attach to a special collar that Mr. Gimli, or, what’s his tag alias say?”
Yolanda grinned. “Muffin.”
He went on, “That ‘Muffin’ will be wearing. When, ahem, ‘Muffy’—”
“He will bite you for that particular nickname, you know,” Yolanda said.
“—gets beside the window that we want to bug, you tell him to pause, and then you press a button on the controller and the moth releases and flies to the nearest flat surface and attaches.”
Yolanda frowned that special frown that she kept for such occasions. “And, ahem, who presses this button?”
“Mom, of course,” Harris said, trying to refrain from ducking.
“And, ahem, where is ‘mom’ located?”
“Line of sight.” This time he did duck as Yolanda threw a small pad of paper at him. The room started to titter.
“Give me a break. Shall I just wave to the camera saying, ‘I’m signing autographs right after the show, and come on down?’”
“Well, we’ll have to practice to see how we can hide you.”
“Me,” she said in that flat, you are a lunatic way. “Do you have an invisibility cloak in there, too?”
“Yeah, but I lost it.”
“Harris, is this some sort of whacked invention of yours?”
“No, it’s former military.” Yolanda kept looking at him. “Really!” he said. Yolanda picked up on the hand fluttering that Amy and the others were making now. Starting to sound a little desperate, Harris said, “Okay, okay, I think I can make this work, but we need to practice some.”
Yolanda, shaking her head, said to Harris, “We can practice when you decide to play mom.”
“Er, he won’t talk to me.”
Yolanda looked straight at him, one hand open, palm upward, gesturing at him. “And why should he talk to you given how much trouble you’re signing him up for?”
“But if you have to do the communication with him while I do that moth release, then two of us need to be there, which increases the complexity.”
Director Catherine said, “Okay, I think we have enough information right now. I want you both to work on this and see if we
can come up with a workable solution.”
Harris said, “Thank you,” while Yolanda gave him an unimpressed look.
Amy asked, “Has anyone talked to Herman and Lincoln recently?”
Catherine said, “Herman is out of the hospital, after having the nanobots in his system zapped. Lincoln is still there because he has nanobots that assist with his digestion and they need to figure out how to replace them once they zap the hostile ones.”
“I’ll drop by and see Herman sometime.”
Catherine smiled and said, “I think he’d like the opportunity to have a comprehensible conversation with you. We will likely need to talk with both of them further, as we’ve learned that Nanology is a client of Applied Sciences.”
Harris said, “No surprise there, they probably delivered the original data units.”
Catherine said, “And now Nanology has to decide how much they want the disks back. They know they will be sold, but they are of questionable worth encrypted. Nanology, of course, wants to stop working with Applied Sciences, but we don’t want them to be tipped off yet, so you all get to go figure out how to place bugs using a corgi.”
Harris looked thrilled, Yolanda less so.
CHAPTER 20:
Amy and Beth Speak with Herman and Lincoln
AMY STEPPED out of the car and into Quincy Park. She said to Lars as she let him out, “Well, here we are again.” The air was heavy with blooming jasmine and honeysuckle and the sounds of play: children running, playing tag, and calling out, the bounce of a basketball striking asphalt and occasionally the backboard. The kelpie boy barked in excitement. Amy said, “No searching today.” He looked like he was physically deflating. “But we have the magic ball.” She showed him a tennis ball and he brightened. She didn’t tell him that she wasn’t going to be throwing the ball very far since he risked plowing into someone; it was more of a distraction.
