Dr. Jenkins started to laugh, and then caught himself, realizing that Peter was serious. "You know," he said, "there was a strange man who tried to push into my room last night. He reached in and turned off the lights, and then just ran away. I thought he was some kind of nut." He looked at Jeremy and Peter seriously for a minute. "I'm not sure if I'm supposed to believe you," he said, "but thanks, Jeremy." Jeremy felt ashamed of himself, but he smiled.
Dr. Jenkins looked aside for a moment as he opened a hole message from Peter.
"London?" he asked. "You're sending me to London?"
"The flight is prepaid. It's not bad this time of year," Peter said. "And I think you ought to go. Now. I'll reimburse you for any out-of-pocket expenses. And in fact, we should be leaving as well, unless you can remember anything else from Dr. Berry or Mr. Lenzke."
"No," he said, still glancing at the message on his desktop, "I'm afraid not. If I come up with anything, where can I reach you?" Peter showed him his I.D. card again, and he copied the address into his mail utility. He took a last swallow of coffee, and then rose to leave. Jeremy and Dr. Jenkins followed.
"Oh, there is one other thing," he said. "I'm not sure if it's relevant, but I heard Dr. Berry and Mr. Lenzke say something about selling short on Cheung Kong. I don't know what that means, but that's what they said."
"Thank you very much, Dr. Jenkins. If you think of anything else, please send me word. Right now, you've got a plane to catch."
As Peter and Jeremy walked back out of the apartment and down the brick walk, Jeremy asked Peter if he'd learned anything important.
"Absolutely," he said. "I don't have an agent in Taipei. It's sounding more and more as if Lenzke's running a rogue operation inside my agency. If he's been running the net spy program behind my back, there's no telling what assets he's got out there."
"And what's the significance of Cheung Kong?" Jeremy asked.
"It's a major Chinese stock. You sell short when you expect it to go down."
Chapter 19
Jeremy and Peter stood in silence on a street corner, waiting for the hovercar to come back. Jeremy was beginning to wonder whether the enemy was really the agency, or maybe just Lenzke. Peter was tough, but he wasn't convinced he was heartless or cruel, and he wasn't at all sure, now, that he was responsible for the things MacKenzie and Hanna had told him about. From a calculated, operational standpoint, he was wrong to give Dr. Jenkins those plane tickets -- it exposed the agency to more risk of detection by Lenzke and Berry. Furthermore, whatever risk there was to Jenkins' life was worth the additional information he might be able to feed to them.
After all, he thought, he just signed the guy's death warrant yesterday.
But that was yesterday. Something was fundamentally different today. Something had clicked in Peter's mind, it seemed to Jeremy. Yesterday, Lenzke was a trusted subordinate. Today, he's the loose cannon who's doing God knows what. If Lenzke had been running a secret operation, maybe it was Lenzke that Duncan was after, and not Peter at all. Maybe, in fact, Peter and Duncan were allies in this fight, or at least co-belligerents.
Peter believed in order and procedures, but he submitted that order to appropriate authority. So Jeremy reckoned. Lenzke, on the other hand, seemed to believe in procedures only because they suited him. What he really believed in was power. The Community was his practice run, and now he's trying for the world. To Lenzke, his ideals, his plans, were more important than such abstract concepts as right and wrong. What would that kind of man do with power, Jeremy wondered. He was the type who would manipulate people -- even governments -- to do his will.
The more he thought about it, the more Lenzke's fingerprints seemed to be all over the evils that Duncan wanted to stop.
"You're going to have to fire me, you know," Jeremy said aloud. "I haven't filed all my contact reports either. I've had contact with some people in the network."
"I know," Peter said coldly. "Tonight was your last chance to come clean. I'm glad you chose to trust me, Jeremy." The hovercar pulled to a stop at the curb. Something approaching a smile crossed his face. "For the first time, we're really working together."
* * *
Peter gave a voice command to the hovercar to take them to Boise. Jeremy didn't bother to ask what was in Boise, or why they were going there at 2:00 in the morning, but the two-hour journey would give him time to tell his story, including everything he knew about Hanna, MacKenzie and Duncan. Taking Lenzke down was the number one priority now, and Jeremy suspected that Duncan knew more about Lenzke's operation than Peter did. Besides, he had a growing suspicion that Peter wasn't the bad guy.
When Jeremy finished telling Peter all about his contacts with Hanna and MacKenzie, and everything he knew or suspected about their operation, Peter sat back in the hovercar and stared blankly into space. He remained that way for so long that Jeremy thought he had fallen asleep with his eyes open, or was in some kind of trance. But he suddenly turned and looked at him.
"What is your analysis of our situation?"
Jeremy shook his head. "I think we're toast. I'm not exactly sure what Lenzke's up to, but the conspiracy sounds so carefully planned, I doubt he's failed to protect himself against a straight-forward attack from you."
"Agreed," Peter said. "He would have anticipated that, and he would have someone in place to take me out of the way if I came in and tried to shut him down." Jeremy was amazed at how matter-of-factly he referred to his own death.
"And another thing," Jeremy said, "if he has agents in the field, and if he's ready to make his move soon, we've got very little time to stop him, if that's possible at all. I think we have no choice but to go outside the agency for help."
"Agreed," Peter said in that dry, analytical tone. "And the only logical choice is your friend Duncan. None of the other intelligence agencies are likely to have as much information on him. We need to contact him right away."
* * *
Hanna curled up around her body-length pillow, covered with a quilt her grandmother made for her on the day she was born. She had the top bunk. MacKenzie, on the bottom, felt more comfortable with the latest high-tech sleepwear -- a computer-generated and maintained bubble of air, warmed to her specifications, and slightly scented.
Hanna jolted awake.
EMERGENCY Message from Jeremy. cc MacKenzie. Chat mode requested.
She sat up in bed, unsure what had just happened. She was in the habit of turning off her mail routines before she slept, but the settings she selected allowed "emergency" messages to get through. She had never been awakened by her implant before, and she was very confused. Was that Jeremy's voice? she thought, and then wondered if it was just part of her dream.
EMERGENCY Message from Jeremy. cc MacKenzie. Chat mode requested, the implant repeated.
Accepted, she sent immediately, and nearly jumped out of her bed to wake MacKenzie. She tried to shake her awake, and then, realizing that it was futile, turned savagely on the alarm clock.
"Brew, you stupid thing," she yelled. Much to her surprise, the unorthodox voice command worked. She could hear the daily dose of beans rattle into the grinder: the engine began to hum like an old jet plane, and she saw the "hot water" light turn on.
Hi Hanna. Sorry to wake you. Something big is happening soon, and we need to work together. Are you anywhere near Duncan? Can you wake him?
Work together? Hanna sent. What do you mean? Had he forgotten that they were on opposite sides?
I'm sitting in a hovercar with the director of the agency. He's not the problem, Hanna, I promise you. We're dealing with a rogue agent. He's been running the net spy operation and he's got some plot he's hatched with Doctor Berry. We need your help to stop him.
Just a minute, Hanna sent. MacKenzie was just getting up as the water began to pour through the freshly ground beans and the delicious smell filled the room. Hanna tried to explain the situation to her as quickly as she could, but MacKenzie just shook her head and said, "Give me access to your mail ac
count." Hanna agreed and MacKenzie quickly read the chat dialog between Hanna and Jeremy. In a moment she was pouring herself a mug of coffee and monitoring as Jeremy and Hanna resumed their conversation.
Jeremy, I hate to ask this of you, but we need some sign that this isn't a set up. Some sign of good faith.
MacKenzie gave Hanna the thumbs up. There was an awkward silence for a moment as they waited for a reply. On the other end, Jeremy was talking it over with Peter.
We believe the agent's operation has something to do with China. I can't tell you more right now.
Hanna's heart skipped a beat. "Wake up Duncan," Hanna said to MacKenzie. "Hurry."
* * *
"Boise?" Duncan said. "Boise? What in the world is in Boise?"
"Peter and Jeremy, as far as I know," Hanna explained. MacKenzie had brought him, wrapped in a robe, straight from his bed into their apartment. "Look, Duncan, things are coming to a head. There's no time to be cautious, now. It's too much of a coincidence that MacKenzie discovered that the intruders are in China, and then Jeremy tells us something big is about to happen over there."
"Yeah, that's just the point," Duncan said. "It's too much of a coincidence. I feel like I'm being set up. This 'Peter' person would love to hang my hide on his office wall, I'm sure."
Hanna didn't know if this approach was going to work with Duncan -- she hadn't had any meaningful talks with him, so she had no idea where he stood on such matters -- but she couldn't hold it in any more. "Yes, you are being set up, Duncan, but not by Peter or Jeremy. If you believe they're clever enough to contrive coincidences like that, then I say it's time to surrender -- there's no fighting against people like that."
"So who?" Duncan said. "Who's setting me up? Dr. Berry?"
Hanna shook her head in amazement. This is what St. Paul meant about suppressing the truth, she thought.
"No," she said. "Providence. God. Ever heard of Him?"
Duncan stood impassive against Hanna's fit of temper. Then he frowned for a solid minute. Hanna didn't know what to think. She just waited.
"You don't believe in coincidences, do you?" Duncan asked.
"'God foreordains whatsoever comes to pass,'" she recited, "but I don't believe we can understand the purpose behind every seeming coincidence. There comes a point, though, where you have to recognize that God is doing something -- or letting something be done, anyway. Some things we just have to chalk up to 'chance,' but at a certain point, the odds get a little too iffy. Somebody's behind this, and I don't think it's the good doctor."
Duncan stared past Hanna into the nothing beyond. He turned to MacKenzie and looked at her for several seconds.
"And what do you think?" he said. "Can you think of a reasonable technological explanation for this? Is there any way Jeremy, or Peter, or somebody associated with them could have monitored your work this morning? Could they have known we suspected something in China?"
MacKenzie glanced at Hanna, and then gave Duncan a long look. "A month ago I'd have said no way. I took every precaution I could think of to keep my work secret. But I can't be absolutely certain. You have a pretty good mechanism in place to guard the warehouse against intruders, but who knows if they've been able to beat it? And there's always the possibility that they have some other technology we don't know about. It's an odd coincidence -- and I don't believe in coincidences either -- but I'm not as certain as Hanna that you can rule out human involvement. Somebody staged this coincidence, it seems, but I can't say who."
"Okay, technology isn't going to give us a firm answer, so let's turn to the softer sciences. What about Jeremy?" Duncan asked. "Do you know him well enough to say whether he'd lead us into a trap?"
Hanna and MacKenzie shared a troubled look. I wish I did, Hanna thought. Duncan could read her expression.
"Then we need something else," he said. "I have a feeling that we have to move on this one. No, Hanna, I haven't forgotten about Providence," he said, "but I've put a few more miles on my religion than you have, and I tend to doubt things that aren't as sure as sure. Maybe God arranged this, or maybe He allowed it to be arranged. He lets some suspicious characters into His counsel, from time to time." Hanna picked up the veiled biblical reference, and smiled. "So let's proceed, but let's be careful. We'll meet with Jeremy, but we'll propose another meeting place -- one that's a little safer."
* * *
"I know my geography lessons were based on old data, but isn't Boise a city?" Jeremy asked. When he and Peter stepped out of their hovercar at 4:00, he expected to be in a building, or on a street, or in a parking lot. Instead, he found himself in a small clearing in a wooded area. It was a moonless night, and somewhat cloudy. He couldn't see the stars well enough to get any bearing at all.
Peter laughed, and his laughter was a welcome relief from the tension of the last few hours. They had been going over their situation again and again, trying to figure out every conceivable interpretation of the data. Their best theory was that they were in serious trouble: Lenzke had consolidated a power base inside the agency, had rogue agents, and net spies, in the field under his sole control, had outside help, and was about to pull off a major operation that could have serious international implications. Furthermore, if he pulled it off, he would probably make a killing in the stock market and be able to fulfill his dream of running a truly independent agency.
They were past discouragement or depression. They were in that stage of passionless abandon where everything that could be done had been done, and the rest was up to the Fates.
"We're a few miles outside of Boise," Peter explained. "I like to come here from time to time to get away. There's a path just up that hill," he said, pointing off to his left. "I'd take you if there was enough light to see." Jeremy looked to his left, but he couldn't see the path. They sat in silence for a minute on the hood of the hovercar.
As Jeremy's eye grew accustomed to the dark, he began to get the feel of the landscape.
"You know," he said, "this place reminds me of a park I used to visit back home."
"In the Community?" Peter asked.
"Yeah. I went there with my wife on Sunday afternoons."
Peter ordered a cup of hot tea from the hovercar's mini-bar and sat down on the grass.
"Tell me about her."
Jeremy hung his head for a minute and collected his thoughts. "We were married for about a year before she died," he began, "but I knew her a lot longer than that. She was my best friend. We did everything together." Jeremy leaned back against the hood of the hovercar and looked at the sky, lost for a moment in the memory.
"Wait just a second, Jeremy," Peter said. For a second he almost sounded like a friend, but that phantom had passed. The head of the agency was speaking again, and Jeremy quickly sat up and looked at him, expectantly. "Was your wife's name Amy Mitchell?"
"Yes," Jeremy said. "Of course. But if you recognize the name, you must be thinking of someone else. Amy lived her whole life in the Community."
Peter held out his hand, signaling Jeremy to be quiet for a minute. He turned away, and then stiffened.
"You killed the man who murdered your wife, right?" Peter asked.
"How did you know that?" he asked, wondering if Lenzke had told his story.
"I didn't, but I remembered something from a report Lenzke filed a few months ago. He was working on a secret project -- advanced implant technology."
Peter slammed his hand against the roof of the hovercar with a curse. "I really shouldn't tell you about this, but I have to. We were working on a direct link to the human brain -- an advancement on the net spy technology. It was a very scary thing, let me tell you. Instead of sending verbal messages, it implanted the message straight into the subconscious mind. We could literally put thoughts into people's heads, but we had to abandon the project after an agent was killed. Give me another minute," he said, now obviously scanning something on his implant.
"Yes, here it is. Listen to this: 'Communication with agent Stormwater's impl
ant has not been perfected. As a test of the brain feed, we directed him to perform surveillance on Sue Anderson. Stormwater's brain misinterpreted the signal and killed Anderson. Stormwater himself was killed by Anderson's husband.'"
The similarities were too striking to ignore. Weatherstone had become Stormwater. Amy, a three-letter woman's name, became Sue. Mitchell, a common surname, became Anderson. This was obviously an unartful re-write of Jeremy's experience.
Jeremy's hot blood was rising again.
"How did you make the connection with Amy's name?" he asked. "The report doesn't mention her."
"An earlier version of the report had her proper name. Lenzke corrected it, but somehow I remembered the original. I think he wasn't as careful about the names because the players were all in the Community. No one would have suspected that."
So Weatherstone wasn't truly responsible for his crime, it seemed. His brain misinterpreted a directive that Lenzke had fed him through his implant. But the thought that he had killed the wrong man didn't lead Jeremy to remorse. Weatherstone had been one of Lenzke's pawns. And that's what happens to pawns, he thought as his mind descended into dark thoughts of revenge.
Chapter 20
"They're willing to meet," Jeremy said as the sunlight began to give color to the cold countryside around the hovercar.
"Read it to me," Peter said.
"To Jeremy from Hanna," he said, reading the message out of his inbox. "The three of us, Duncan, MacKenzie and I, want to meet with you and Peter, but we want to meet you virtually, as net spies. That way there can't be any tricks. You pick the location, and we'll meet you there at 9:00."
"Clever," Peter said. "It's a good suggestion, but it exposes us to some risk." Jeremy looked confused, so he explained. "All the VR tanks are in the Washington office, and that means we might run into Lenzke, or one of his cronies." Jeremy's expression said that he would love to meet Lenzke this morning, but Peter read his thoughts and shook his head.
"This isn't the right time for that. There are more pressing concerns, Mr. Mitchell, than your private dispute with Lenzke. Is that clear?"
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