“Do you think they’re really going to keep bailing us out?” Cassidy asked, her tone wry.
“They have so far. Otherwise, we’re going to be in trouble. I’ve visited Barstow before, but I was here for academic conferences, not looking up ident-scrubbers.”
“Too bad,” she remarked. “That probably would’ve been more useful.”
Derek could tell from the gleam in her eye that she was joking, and so he merely lifted his shoulders. It was during that lull in the conversation the waitress returned with their drinks, and she set them down, said their food would be ready shortly, and disappeared again. It seemed obvious enough that she wasn’t in the mood to loiter or ask too many questions, which was fine by him. He really didn’t want anyone overhearing what he and Cassidy had to say to one another.
His handheld beeped, and he looked down to see a new message. Working on it. Will get back to you soon.
Thanks, he typed in return before sliding the handheld into his pocket. He looked up at Cassidy, who was watching him, gaze expectant.
“So?”
“Looks like he — or she, or they — hasn’t given up on us yet. I assume we’ll be contacted again when they have something. In the meantime, enjoy your margarita.”
She hadn’t touched it yet, was obviously waiting for him to be ready. Then she reached out and wrapped her fingers around the stem and lifted the glass in the air. “To tilting at windmills,” she said.
The reference surprised him, but he raised his glass as well and clinked it against hers. “To dreaming the impossible dream.”
A grin, and then she swallowed some of her margarita, eyes widening as she did so. “Damn…that is really good.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I suppose I am.” She drank some more, then set down her glass. “Gaia is surprising me. I thought it was crowded and over-regulated, and no one ever got time to enjoy anything because everyone was working all the time, but….”
“Like most over-generalizations, that’s partly true…but only partly.” He allowed himself another swallow of his margarita, savoring the sweet-sour flavor and the warm, aromatic undercurrent of tequila. “People do tend to work long hours, and there are cameras everywhere, watching much of what they do. On the other hand, there is still open land and trees and flowers and….”
“And margaritas,” she finished for him, sipping at her drink again.
“Not everywhere, but in this part of the world, definitely.”
For a moment she was silent, appearing to savor her margarita, and he wondered if he should warn her to slow down, that tequila could sneak up on you, especially on an empty stomach. But she was a grown woman and could make her own decisions. Besides, she’d be counteracting the tequila with some chilaquiles in the very near future.
“I think I get it now,” Cassidy said, but she didn’t get any farther than that, as the server came back with their food.
“Anything else?” she asked brightly, although it seemed clear that she hoped there wouldn’t, in fact, be anything else.
“I’m fine,” Derek told her, and Cassidy chimed in,
“No, I’m good.”
After they were alone again, Derek prompted, “What do you get?”
“Why you’re fighting so hard for this. Why you didn’t just pack it in and let me take you away to someplace that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with Gaia.”
“Because of the margaritas?” he quipped, although he could tell from her expression that she didn’t appreciate the joke.
“Because of the margaritas and restaurants like this and all that green land we rode through. And those purple mountains around Tucson. The way the city lights reflected on the water at Lake Michigan. All of that.”
He looked at her, and his heart broke a little. Because that was exactly it. For all its flaws, this was his world, and abandoning it would have left a scar on his soul. And that was also why he wanted so badly for the truth to be known, because he understood that most people had no idea what their government was actually doing, save the usual propaganda about keeping Gaia safe while increasing its wealth and power in ever-expanding colonies throughout the galaxy. Maybe he would end up changing nothing, but at least he would have made the attempt.
For Cassidy to look at him and understand that, to realize what was so important to him — well, he’d never been with anyone before who had that kind of insight. Perhaps it was only her perspective as an outsider that allowed her to see things in an entirely different light…but he didn’t think so. Not entirely, anyway. And that made the situation a lot more difficult, because he understood now, more than ever, how special she was, and how much he wanted to survive all this. Not merely because of a need for vindication, but because he wanted a future with her in a way that he’d never wanted one with any other woman.
“Yes, because of all that,” he replied quietly. “And a lot more.”
Their gazes locked, and he could see the hope and need and worry in her because it so clearly echoed what they were both feeling. Then she broke the contact and gave a half-hearted laugh. “I suppose we’d better eat this before it gets cold.”
“Yes,” Derek said. “I suppose we should.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
They did eat, and the food was amazing to Cassidy, layered with so many different flavors and textures that she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to identify what they all were. Derek ordered a second round of margaritas, and somehow they’d both known to let the conversation flow to more casual subjects — the food, the places he’d traveled, the way he’d spent the holidays at his maternal grandmother’s house, acquiring her love for the cuisine of the area, as it sounded like his mother’s family had lived in the Tucson area for generations.
“That’s how I learned to speak Spaniola,” he said, as they lingered over some divine, rich dessert he called flan. “My mother only used Anglic, but my abuelita — my grandmother — she wanted me to have something from that side of the family.”
What was it like to have that kind of history, to know that your people had lived somewhere for hundreds and hundreds of years? Cassidy couldn’t begin to imagine it. True, her father had boasted sometimes about their Welsh heritage, about how the people of that land had been great warriors and poets, but he’d certainly never bothered to take his daughter there so she could see for herself. Then again, that would have been violating his “don’t set foot on Gaia” policy. Had he been running from something, or was it simply that he didn’t want to go back to a place which reminded him of where he’d met his long-lost wife?
Cassidy had forced her thoughts away from such things, as there wasn’t much she could do about it at this stage of the game. Better to concentrate on Derek’s face and the sound of his voice, then take a rather wobbly walk with him back to their room, where she was fairly certain of what was going to happen next.
And that turned out to be the case, because once they were inside, he went and immediately opaqued the windows, then turned back to her and pulled her against him, his mouth tasting of the creamy sweetness of flan and the tang of margaritas. She wasn’t sure who reached out to undo the fastenings of the other’s clothing first, and it didn’t really matter — the garments fell to the floor with a sort of dreamlike flutter, and then she and Derek were on the bed, hands reaching out to touch the other, to break the tension that had been building for the past day or so.
She wanted to taste all of him, and so she took him into her mouth, caressing him with her tongue, teasing him to the brink, until he let out a laugh that was half groan and pushed her up against the pillows, fingers stroking her, moving into her, and that wasn’t the only thing that was moving, since he began to kiss his way down her stomach until his tongue reached where his fingers had been only a few seconds earlier.
Nothing to do then but let him make love to her with his mouth, wrenching a climax from her even as she reached up to grab one of the pillows and muffle her cries with it — after all,
she didn’t know how thin the walls in this hotel might be. As the orgasm continued to ripple through her, he moved, pushing against her, sliding into her, hips rocking in a rhythm that seemed to come naturally to them, even though this was only their second time together.
She could feel him tensing, could feel him reach his own climax, the heat of his orgasm within her. Just that sensation at her core was enough to make her come again, and she let it run through her, bring every nerve ending to sudden, flaring life as she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him even farther in, wanting to hold him there, to keep him inside her for as long as possible.
Eventually they did break apart, but only so they could reach out and hold the other close, until they fell asleep like that, sated with food and drink and sex.
* * *
The beeping of Derek’s handheld woke them eventually, and Cassidy pushed herself up on her elbows, blinking and trying to reorient herself. A vid-screen was installed on the wall across from the bed, and in the lower corner, green numerals were blinking “19:48.” So they’d been asleep for some hours.
Derek managed to push away the covers and stumble over to retrieve his pants and the handheld concealed in one of the pockets. “It’s them,” he said briefly after looking at the screen. He flicked a button, then said, “I’m here.”
From where she sat in bed, Cassidy couldn’t see the message. Maybe she should have gotten up and gone to take a look, but she figured Derek would tell her soon enough. Besides, it felt so nice in here. She hadn’t even gotten a chance to enjoy the bed at the hotel in Chicago.
“Got it,” Derek said. “And they’re expecting us?” A pause, and he added, “We can be there in half an hour.”
We can? she thought blearily, but nonetheless she forced herself out of bed and tottered off to the bathroom, where she set about freshening herself up as best she could without taking a shower. A minute or so later, Derek came to stand in the doorway of the bathroom, watching as she set down her lip color and then ran a brush through her hair.
“Looks like you figured out that we have a command performance,” he said.
“It sounded that way,” she replied, attempting to mimic his casual tone. Never mind that they’d both been panting and moaning in each other’s arms only a few hours earlier. “So what’s the plan?”
“Our sponsor has a contact for us, someone who can take care of our little biometrics problem. Once that’s settled, we’ll see about booking passage to China.”
“About that,” Cassidy said, then hurried on when she saw a flicker of dismay cross his features, “are there even that many flights there? I was always under the impression that the only people going in and out were scientists, engineers, government contractors…you know, people like you.”
“It’s true,” he agreed. “But there are people going back and forth in an official capacity, and Barstow stratport is the natural departure point for the west coast of Normerica, so there’s usually at least one leaving every day. I checked, and it goes out tomorrow morning around nine hundred. We need to be on it.”
“And no one is really going to question our particular ‘official capacity’?” she inquired, giving her hair one last flick of a brush. Nowhere near as glossy as she’d appeared in Chicago, but she supposed that wasn’t too much of a problem. Ident-scrubbers couldn’t be all that picky.
“I doubt it. All the news agencies send people over from time to time, even if the only thing most of them do is hang out in Shanghai and drink, then send back fake reports about how well GARP is handling everything.”
“Typical,” she said, and he couldn’t help grinning.
“Well, I suppose they have to do something to justify their salaries. Anyway, the scrubbers are expecting us, so we should get going.”
“I’m ready,” Cassidy told him, and hoped that wasn’t a lie.
* * *
Derek didn’t know why he’d expected the identity-scrubbers to be located in some back-alley warehouse or dingy apartment in one of Barstow’s less reputable neighborhoods. Too many cop vids when he was a child, he supposed, before one of his parents came along and told him he should be watching something more educational. Even when he hadn’t been allowed to watch his fill, those sorts of shows could color your imagination for years to come.
In reality, the address they’d been given was in a glossy high-rise building, one that contained a number of data-related businesses. Because he had no idea whether the scrubbers had subverted the security in the entire building, Derek had cautioned Cassidy on the way over that they shouldn’t discuss anything of their reasons for being there while in the public areas of the high-rise. They should be safe once they were inside the suite the scrubbers were using, but until then, it was smarter to keep their mouths shut.
She’d understood at once, and stood quietly at his side as they went up to the tenth floor, then followed the signs to a door near the end of the corridor. The glowing hologram on the door said that the organization in question was called PLM Enterprises, but that didn’t give much indication as to the true nature of its business.
His finger didn’t even make contact with the touch pad by the entrance before the door opened and an unsmiling young woman in a severe-looking suit stared out at them. “We’ve been waiting for you,” she said, and something in her tone seemed to indicate that they weren’t very happy about it, either.
Nonplussed, Derek followed her into the office, Cassidy only a pace behind them. The door shut on its own, and they all walked down an austere hallway unrelieved by a single picture or wall sculpture. At the end of that corridor was a set of double doors. The young woman opened the one on the right and said, “Go on in.”
There didn’t seem to be anything to do except follow her instructions. Derek entered the chamber, which was large and far warmer and darker than the rest of the office suite. Here, the walls had been painted a dark red, and everywhere were banks of computers, vid-screens, heads-up displays…and a slightly more ominous-looking screened-off section in one corner, which was where he guessed the retinal and thumbprint alterations were done.
A chubby Hispanic man in his late forties, not much taller than Cassidy, came out from behind the screen. The loose-fitting clothing he wore somehow made him look even chubbier. Unlike his assistant, he smiled when he saw Derek and Cassidy, then said, “Right on time. This won’t take long.”
“It won’t?” Cassidy asked, sounding dubious. Her gaze shifted to the screened-off area and then moved back to the stranger.
“No. And it won’t hurt, either.” Incongruously, he winked. “If I may have the I.D.s you’re currently using?”
Derek removed the wallet he’d purchased back in Chicago from his jacket pocket, then extracted the I.D. Cassidy did more or less the same thing, retrieving hers from the bag she carried. The strange man, who didn’t seem inclined to introduce himself — probably just as well — gave them a quick once-over, murmured “nice work,” and slipped them into the breast pocket of the pale blue lab coat he wore.
“Who’d like to go first?”
Neither of them said anything. Cassidy shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking even more uncomfortable, so Derek said, “I will.” He glanced over at her and added, “Nothing to it.”
“So you say,” she replied. But he could see the way she fidgeted with the strap of the bag she carried and guessed that she was less than thrilled by the prospect of having someone poking at her eyeballs.
It wasn’t something he looked particularly forward to, but if that was what it took to get them on a stratliner and bound for China without inviting any unwanted attention, so be it. “Let’s do this,” he told the stranger.
Another one of those cherubic smiles, and the man led Derek behind the screened-off area, where there was the sort of reclining chair you’d see in a dentist’s office, along with a variety of other equipment he didn’t recognize. The stony-faced young woman who’d let them in was standing there as well, although D
erek couldn’t quite figure out where she’d come from. A door on the far side of the cavernous room, he supposed. Now she was wearing a pale blue lab coat as well, covering the suit.
“Fingers first,” said the man, and before Derek could even react, the woman had taken his left hand, smeared some icy-cold liquid across his fingertips, then set about applying what appeared to be a complete set of false prints to his fingers. This took her only a minute or so, and then she shifted to his other side and did the same thing to his right hand.
Once she was done, the unnamed man, who Derek assumed was in charge, picked up one hand, then the next, peering at the doctored fingertips the way Derek had seen his colleagues staring at field samples they’d collected. “Looks good,” the man murmured. “Let’s test it.”
The young woman retrieved a portable biometric scanner and held it out toward Derek. “Place your thumb on this.”
He did as requested, and immediately the words “Philip Chung, 34, Santa Fe” flickered into existence above the scanner. All the information already connected to the false I.D., which seemed to have been joined flawlessly to the fake fingerprints he’d been given.
“So far, so good,” said the man. “Next step. I’ll have to put these drops in your eyes….”
Derek did his best not to blink as the stranger let a precise drop of clear fluid fall into one eye, then the other. This was the part he really hadn’t been looking forward to; he’d never required surgery to correct his vision, so he’d never had much experience with people poking around his eyes. But he held himself still as the young woman approached on his left side, holding a tray on which rested a clear plastic receptacle. In that receptacle were two filmy objects that he guessed were his new retinas. He swallowed and forced himself to stare up at the ceiling.
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