He turned that over in his mind. “I guess it’s not impossible. Seems like a risky business decision, though. Maybe they’re buying from them instead. Let’s see... Here. This distributor—”
“Red Auto,” Grace said.
“Right, Red Auto. They deliver to every one of the garages that are getting the cheap parts. And Vicente doesn’t use them. So we can at least check them out. Maybe you’re right and they’re the bad guys, or maybe they’re just the middleman.”
“That would still make them bad guys.”
He sighed. “Thanks for the obvious.”
“I’m here to help. So it’s another highly entertaining stakeout then?”
“Unless you have a better idea. Still got trackers?”
She patted the case on the table beside her. “Plenty.”
Davey frowned. “How much do those things cost each?”
“Beats me,” she said with a laugh. “I swiped the case from Abigail’s room.”
He looked back over at the map and counted the trackers now spread all over the city, and his heart settled in his stomach. No way they were getting even half of them back. “She’s gonna kill us,” he said.
“No.” Grace patted him on the arm. “She’s going to kill you.”
WITH THE KIDS IN WARSZAWA, Abigail in Rossiya, and Matthew downtown, the Sparrow was a quiet place. There was no one to distract Yvonne from her work. She’d spent the last two days communicating between Julia on Venus, the other Lantern crews, and their brokers working out the final few hiccups in the guild charter. Julia’s lawyers and Elwa’s husband were going to take a last look over it before distributing a final copy. Hopefully, that would happen by the end of the week. When they left Mars to fill their ranks with more recruits, she didn’t want any more snags in the process.
She hit send on her final message of the day to Julia and set aside her tablet. She looked around the common room and, despite her previous appreciation of the quiet, now it felt like an oppressive weight. She looked at the clock. Nearly four in the afternoon already. By this time, Elizabeth was usually done with commercial work and had moved on to her personal garden.
Yvonne left the Sparrow and walked across the Cole farm, waving an acknowledgement at a couple of the farmhands as they worked on one of the combines. Considering the number of pieces strewn across the ground, she doubted they’d be finishing tonight. When she reached the house, she rounded the corner to the garden. “Elizabeth?” There was no answer from the rows of vegetables. Perhaps she’d already gone in for the day.
“I’m upfront!”
Elizabeth leaned around the front corner of the house and waved at her. When Yvonne joined her, she found the older woman trimming the shrubs along the front porch. “Sorry you had to come looking for me.” She gestured at the row of plants. “I’ve got so much other work around here that I let these turn into misshapen things.”
Yvonne reached down to the nearest branches. The delicate silver-gray leaves were silky to the touch. Almost at once, she smelled the heady aroma, almost like sage. “What are they?” she asked. “They smell wonderful.”
“Artemisia absinthium. Or rather, this is descended from that species and adapted to Mars.”
Yvonne glanced at her.
“You may know it as wormwood,” Elizabeth said, trimming another branch. “Smells lovely, but it’s bitter on the tongue. It has a few medicinal uses but is mostly famous for being a key ingredient of the green liquor absinthe.”
Yvonne touched the leaves again. “Why do you have it?” Absinthe struck a chord in her memory. Perhaps something from medical history, but she couldn’t place it.
“It looked nice at the plant nursery. There. The wormwood has been tamed.” She stooped to start collecting the cut branches, and Yvonne did the same. “It’s funny, you know, that we even have this plant.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why would we have bothered to bring a mostly worthless plant with us to the colonies, but forget so many more important ones? Take strawberries, for instance. Have you ever had a strawberry?”
“I don’t believe I have.”
Elizabeth straightened. “No one alive has. Because as far as anyone knows, there’s not a single extant strawberry plant in the colonies. And yet we have bitter wormwood.”
“That’s not the only thing we brought that should have been left behind,” Yvonne said, darkly.
“And I’m sure strawberries are the least of what’s been forgotten. We can take these cuttings to the burn barrel out back.” Yvonne followed her around the side of the house and back behind the garden, where they both dumped their armfuls. “Thanks,” Elizabeth said, brushing her hands off over the barrel. “How’s the Guild coming along?”
Yvonne looked back toward the Sparrow. “I think we finally have everything ready to go. We’re waiting on everyone to get one more look at the last round of revisions. Matthew’s going to read over it one more time tonight.”
“And what do you think of the charter?”
“I’ve only been in the freelancer business for a couple of years. I’m hardly qualified to have an opinion.”
Elizabeth grunted. “My son doesn’t seem to think so.”
“Your son has many talents but having a good business sense is not one of them.”
They returned to the house and entered through the back. The screen door slammed with a bang that always made Yvonne jump, no matter how many times she heard it. “Sorry,” Elizabeth said. “I should replace those old springs. Everything around here is getting old, myself included.” She turned the radio on as she entered the kitchen.
Yvonne wasn’t surprised that news reports droned on endlessly about the occupation of the Kyoto factory. “Speaking of something that should have been left on Earth.” She sat at a barstool and watched as Elizabeth dove into the pantry.
“We haven’t had a war since Earth, and now rather than unite against a common enemy, we’re at each other’s throats and dividing into factions.” She set a container of dried rice on the counter and stopped. “Wait. What are they talking about?”
Yvonne refocused her attention on the radio.
“—sident Barclay revealed the existence of a joint Highland Treaty Organization project known as the Phobos Platform. Inspired by the Vatican’s once-secret defense system known as the Four Horsemen, the Phobos Platform has been under construction for many months. Built inside Mars’ low altitude moon, The Phobos Platform will be an array of thumpers on its Mars facing side. They will have the ability to strike at any threat across almost the entire Martian surface. The platform is expected to be online by the end of the month. Phobos, a familiar sight that crosses our skies twice in a day, will soon be known as a symbol of peace and security. When asked about how the platform is being paid for, President Barclay deferred to Minister of Defense—”
Yvonne shook her head. “Now I’m left to wonder if the invasion of Kyoto was planned long ago.”
“Politicians are opportunists at heart,” Elizabeth said, “and will seldom let a crisis come to naught. If it wasn’t already planned, it was certainly well-timed.” She filled a stockpot with water. “And just for the record, I voted for Barclay’s opponent.”
Yvonne turned her attention back to the radio. A century of relative peace, gone in the space of a week. “The HiTO is pointing a gun at the head of an entire planet,” she said. “I hope their security up there is good.”
“I HOPE YOUR SECURITY up there is good,” Matthew said as he barged into Ryan Thompson’s office.
For his part, Thompson only looked tired. “What are you even doing here? You’re done. Ms. Sharon is coming home tomorrow afternoon.”
Matthew sat in the chair across from the desk and tossed his campero onto it. “Unfortunately, you’re the closest thing to a friendly face in these parts. And that’s saying something.”
“You’re too kind.”
“I am. And I meant what I said. You guys better have good security up the
re on your fancy new weapon.”
Thompson spread his arms wide. “Cole. I’m the Minister of Law. Domestic threats are my domain. I’ve got nothing to do with that budget sink.”
So there was disagreement on the Phobos Platform inside the Arizona government. Interesting. “Nonetheless, yours is the only office of rank that I can walk into without getting arrested.” Thompson intertwined his fingers and a muscle on his neck twitched, but he didn’t say anything. “You haven’t answered my question yet.”
“I assume it will be well-defended. Military installations tend to be.”
“I don’t think you’re getting me,” Matthew said. “Your enemy is a terrorist that recently turned an atomic bomb against its creator. If you think Logan isn’t salivating over the gun you have pointed at his prime target, you’re not thinking straight.”
That got through to him. For the briefest moment, Thompson’s facade cracked as lines of worry creased his forehead. Then it was back to business. “I’ll mention it to the president.”
“You should tell him the whole project is a disaster waiting to happen.” He grabbed his hat off the table.
“I have to keep my job too, you know, if I’m going to be your errand boy. Your part in this is done, Cole. I’m well acquainted with your tendency to meddle, but after today you get no say.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said. He left the room as dramatically as possible, making sure to throw the door wide open and leave it like that. He honestly wasn’t even sure what he meant with that parting shot because he did really intend to wash his hands of the developing political and military debacle. Maybe he was kidding himself. Either way, he imagined Logan thought involving him from the outset was a hilarious joke. The jerk. If Matthew could bill the terrorist for lost sleep, he could go ahead and retire.
On his way out, Thompson’s secretary smiled and waved at him. Matthew tipped his hat politely to her. He was pretty sure that his visits were one of the most entertaining parts of her job.
GRACE KICKED THE DUMPSTER they’d spent the better part of the day lurking behind. “Another waste of time.”
“Easy there, sis,” Davey said. “If someone heard you, it would be awkward having to explain what we’re doing here.” He was still pouring over the tracking data they’d collected throughout the day. Whenever trucks had pulled up to unload, he’d creep out and, in a quiet moment, slip a tracker into their undercarriage. He had to admit, though, that the handful of deliveries Red Auto received hadn’t cleared the waters. Most returned to warehouses scattered across either the industrial district or near the train yard.
It was a little tricky determining warehouse ownership from public records, but by the end of the day, they had figured out that most of them were probably legit. The chance of a legitimate business having a side gig hung over them like a specter. The next step would be to investigate every one of those warehouses, and the distributors too, something Davey wasn’t looking forward to doing.
“Let’s go,” Grace said, a hand on his shoulder. “It’s late. Red Auto is closed for the day. We can come back tomorrow if you want. Nothing says that they get deliveries from the carjackers every day.” Her stomach rumbled loudly. “And yeah. There’s that too.”
“A little bit longer,” he said. “Maybe they deliver after closing.
Not twenty minutes later, a truck pulled up. Davey turned to give his sister a spectacular told-you-so look. She probably couldn’t see it in the dark, but he felt better for giving it. They watched in silence as the bay doors opened and a much smaller group of men came out to unload the goods. “Only some of the employees in the know,” he said. “The truck’s make and model matches the one that took Vicente’s car, aside from the flatbed. I think this is the most promising lead we’ve had all week.”
Grace gave that disgruntled sigh that meant she knew her big brother was right. “I’ll take care of this one.”
He shook his head “What? No way! If these are the jackers, then there’s no way I’m letting you do it.”
“They’re sure to be watching more closely if this is a hot shipment,” she said. “I’m quicker than you. And besides, I’m much more likely to be able to talk my way out of it if they see me, and if they shoot, I’m bulletproof. I have no idea why everyone needs constant reminders of the obvious.”
He took a good long look at her, or rather what little of her he could see in the dim light of the alley. She was competent. He knew that. But then that wasn’t the point. She shouldn’t have to be so competent. Not even fifteen yet, and she never blanched going into a fight. It wasn’t fair, but then fair wasn’t the hand that they had been dealt. “Alright. This one’s on you. Be careful.”
She flashed him a quick smile and slipped across the street towards the warehouse. She kept to shadows, and more than once, he lost sight of her in the night, before catching some glint of movement. In a few minutes, she had reached the suspect truck, though she kept out of sight behind a giant cable spool.
“Watch to see if there is a pattern to their movements,” Davey said as if she could hear him.
When the workers’ backs were turned, she flitted like a shadow across the opening and disappeared under the bed of the truck. Davey fist pumped. Okay. Mission accomplished, now she just had to get out of there. The workers continued to go about their business, and Grace didn’t have an opening for several minutes. And when she did get an opportunity, it didn’t end up working out all that well.
The driver got out of the cab and they ran right into each other.
Davey reflexively put his hand on the holster at his hip. He couldn’t hear what was going on, but the driver had called a couple other men over. He glanced across the street and decided to close the gap so he could at least be on hand if things got out of control. Then his comm buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and frowned when he saw that Grace was calling him.
“Not a safe part of town for a girl like yourself,” a rough voice said.
“I got... I got separated from my brother,” Grace said, with a touch of pathetic helplessness. “I want to go home!”
“Now, now. Calm down, miss,” a third voice said. “You can just come right on into the building, and after we finish with this shipment, we can call the police. They’ll come right over and sort this out.”
“But my brother...” Grace whimpered. Davey, despite his fear, smiled at the show she was putting on.
“The police will find him too. Let’s get you inside.”
And that was that. Davey was on his own. He watched for the next ten minutes as the men, now that the distraction Grace had provided was over, went back to work. Finally, the truck left and he pulled out his tablet to watch its progress across town. No doubt with their luck, it was going to head to yet another legitimate warehouse in the nearby industrial district.
Davey raised an eyebrow when the blip on the screen turned and left town entirely. By the time it finally reached its destination, it ended up at a complex near the edge of Warszawa’s environmental shield. Whatever the buildings were, the current directories had no mention of them. If he was going to find the chop shop, this was his best shot. He grabbed both of their packs, since Grace had left hers behind and boarded the old rickety grav bike that Vicente had loaned them for the week. After a few laborious coughs, it started and Davey set off into the night.
IT WAS NEARLY TWO IN the morning by the time he crept up to the series of buildings. He’d parked his bike a hill over and crawled through the scrubby bush to approach without being seen. From a rise a hundred meters out, he pulled out his binoculars and turned on the night vision.
Whatever the complex used to be, it had long been abandoned. Most of it had fallen into disrepair over the decades. Only the largest central building appeared to still be relatively intact. If this was an illicit operation, they would almost certainly have guards on patrol. He flipped the night vision over to thermal imaging.
Bingo. One at the gate and a few patrolling the groun
ds. Few enough that he could evade them. He stashed his binoculars and took a camera and snapped a few pictures of the buildings. They would be grainy in the poor light, but he would get more. He was here for evidence, and he wasn’t leaving without it. He closed the gap to the chain-link fence and used a pair of cutters to slice his way through. The nearest building was a half-collapsed pile of rubble. He clung to the shadows of its one standing wall and watched as an inattentive guard lazily passed him. These guys were about to get their whole organization cut out from under them because they weren’t paying attention.
Davey took the next gap in the patrol to cross to the main building. Light shone out of a few high windows, but sadly none were low enough for him to pry open. Which left him few options. Try and find an unlocked door and risk running into trouble or see if there was roof access. He worked his way on down the building, fine with either so long as they got him out of the open.
He got no further than twenty meters before a guard rounded a corner. The deadly cone of light from his flashlight flicked dangerously close to Davey before he slid between two pipes affixed to the side of the building. He held his breath, muscles frozen, as the guard came within two meters of where he stood. If the man turned his head a few degrees to the right, he’d be staring at Davey, and he doubted the shadows would do much to protect him at that range. Maybe he should draw his gun, just in case. His hand crept to his holster.
The man continued without so much as a twitch in Davey’s direction. He let out a slow breath and made to slip out from the pipes. On a whim, he looked upward. The pipes continued all the way to the roof before turning a ninety-degree corner and disappearing. With a little effort, he could shimmy up between them. He worked himself up a few feet to test the theory. No sweat.
Or so he thought. It took longer than he imagined it would, and by the time he pulled himself over the ledge and onto the roof, his muscles were twitching. “That was dumb. That was real dumb,” he whispered. Grace would have berated him for that, but then who was she to talk. She could just magically pull herself up to the roof. After a minute of rest, he rolled over to get his bearings. Skylights not twenty meters away. Perfect to get a view into the building, and at night, he wouldn’t cast shadows. He crept over to the paned windows and hazarded a glance.
After Moses: Wormwood Page 17
