by Ian Miller
"We'll have to get back out to avoid disqualification, and there's no room for U-turns here. Can you do it?"
"I can do better," the young Brazilian smiled. "I have perfect recall for maps. I've memorized the path. If you trust me, go ahead. "
"You're sure?"
"Third right," Marisa smiled. "If you're in this with me, we'd do it this way anyway."
So Harry flew, and finished the course in a reasonable time. Each crew were given the better of two chances, so Harry returned, and wound the speed up to the absolute maximum he felt he could manage. Despite the walls flying past incredibly closely, Marisa calmly sent out the instructions, and there was no wall contact. When they finished, they were a clear twenty per cent faster than any other contestant. There was a trophy for each, and as long as each one completed the course, neither could fail.
"Thank you," Marisa said quietly, when this was relayed to her.
"What for?" a bemused Harry asked.
"You've won the trophy for us, and saved my chances of staying in the Academy."
"You won it," Harry shrugged. "It's me that should thank you, in fact . . ." he paused then continued, "How would you like to improve your scores in the combats?"
"How am I going to do that?" she asked curiously.
"I'll give you some tuition."
"You're confident," she said, with a quizzical look that showed she was unsure whether to believe him.
"Of course," Harry said, with no attempt at modesty. "Amongst other things, I've been watching the others. They haven't got a clue."
"I don't mind getting help," Marisa admitted, and so she and Harry were to spend more time together near the simulators.
* * *
The Commissioner was stunned when Harry told her of the sabotage.
"I don't know who or how," Harry finished his report, "but someone didn't want us to win. I can't think why either. Surely the trophies aren't that important?"
"The why is straightforward," the Commissioner replied with a frown. "If Marisa Robeiro is sent home as a failure, that'll be the end of South America coming into the Federation, at least for some time."
"She must qualify, now," Harry offered.
"Not if she doesn't survive."
"In the courses?"
"In her spare time," the Commissioner said absent-mindedly. "We can't put her in a cocoon, because that alone would make the Brazilians think we didn't trust them."
"I've a suggestion," Harry offered. "I could stay close to her, but stay at enough distance nobody'd know I was looking after her."
"And you think you can protect her?"
"There's no boast here," Harry remarked. "I'm an expert. In the classes here, I've only been fooling around, doing enough to keep my nose clean."
"Perhaps, but you're not going to be fighting according to nice rules."
"I've spent half my life fighting thugs," Harry replied coldly. "I grew up in Petersham in Sydney. Check your data banks and see what that means."
"Interesting," Natasha nodded. "Tell me, Lansfeld. Why are you offering?"
"Two reasons, I guess," Harry replied. "My family's been fighting corporates and their corruption all my life. They killed my father, and I think I'm fighting the same fight now. Secondly, they tried to knock me out of the contest, and but for Marisa, they'd have succeeded. I owe her, and I pay."
"Is that all?"
"Isn't it enough?"
"I guess so," Natasha said, in a tone that showed she was unconvinced. "If that's what you want, so be it. As you probably realize, you're doing me a great favour, if you succeed. But if you lose . . ."
"I won't," said Harry calmly. "May I ask a question?"
"You may ask. I may not answer."
"After that first combat, Commissioner, did you really think I'd cheated?"
A trace of a laugh burst through the Commissioner's mask. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to get around to asking that. No, Lieutenant Lansfeld, I did not. I needed you to fly with Robeiro, and that seemed the best way to goad you into doing it."
Chapter 10
The contests continued, and as things transpired, in the single combat tests Marisa's score began to rise. It was quite clear that Harry would win this trophy as well, but ironically, very few contestants lasted as long as Marisa had against him. Therefore, because loser's points depended on their ability to survive against the quality of the winner, every time Harry annihilated one of the others with little difficulty, the very long time Harry had circled her disabled craft, suspecting some trap, built up her score. Not only that, but under Harry's tuition, she managed some manoeuvres for which her opponents were quite unprepared, and she began winning some combats in her own right.
* * *
As the contests continued, Marisa's scores rose even further, as she won, in her own right, the navigation trophy. Meanwhile, Harry was finding the task of protecting Marisa childishly easy. She spent almost all her time on the simulators, working her way towards adequate space pilot skills, and Harry found it easy to be at the same simulators.
Inevitably the day came when Marisa elected to go shopping, and suddenly the task became much more difficult. Harry thought he got on the bus unseen by Marisa, but she elected to get off by the rear door. Harry squirmed, trying to remain unseen, then he realized how ridiculous his action must seem. It would have been so much simpler to greet her, and go with her. But now Marisa had seen him, and the puzzled expression on her face showed quite clearly that she felt he had slighted her by not wanting to recognize her. He made a belated wave, and Marisa merely shook her head.
As soon as she was off, and just before the doors closed, Harry dived out the front door, only to find Marisa staring into a shop window a few meters away. She did not seem to be looking, so he continued on, moving quickly into an alleyway.
Things seemed to go better. Marisa at least was going the other way, and he followed at what seemed a judicious distance. When she went into a bookstore, he followed. He thought he got around behind the shelves without being seen, and as Marisa turned to leave the shop, he quickly grabbed a book and made out he was studying it. Marisa glanced in his direction, and he could swear she gave a snort. As she left, Harry finally glanced at the book he had selected. It was written in Arabic.
He emerged more prudently from the bookstore and saw Marisa walk quickly down the street. Then she disappeared into another shop. Harry moved quickly towards it, then noticed, to his dismay, that she had gone into a lingerie shop. Harry kept going, then crossed the street to wait for her to come out. When she did come out she looked both ways along the street, then turned and walked back the way she had come. Harry crossed back and followed her, this time at a more discreet distance. She turned a corner to the left, and Harry ran towards the corner, determined that she could not disappear. As he rushed around the corner, there was Marisa standing, waiting for him.
"If you're too wimpish to follow me into a lingerie store, presumably you'll let me go into the women's toilet alone?"
"I wasn't . . ." Harry started, and stopped in midstream.
"If you want a woman, why not try asking her out for a date?" With that she turned, and strode off down the street. Harry gave up.
For the next few days, again they spent most of their time on the simulators. At first, Harry had been almost nervous when he saw her. What would she say about his previous antics? To his surprise, she said nothing. She responded to his greetings, and almost looked as if she expected him to say something. But Harry had no intention of explaining, and did not realize that Marisa would almost certainly have said yes had he asked her out.
Harry was more prepared for the next outing. He used his diamond card to have a small vehicle waiting near the bus stop, and he followed the bus. He drove past the bus stop and followed Marisa from the far side of the street. This time he felt that things were easier. If anyone were to attack Marisa, they would follow her. Once he was certain she was not being followed, other than by him, h
e felt it was probably safe to leave her alone.
* * *
At last, for those free of disciplinary problems, a weekend of leave was offered. Almost all the trainees took optional air passes and the opportunity to leave Tashkent. Harry had tried to find out what Marisa intended to do, but she remained infuriatingly mysterious. It never occurred to him that the easiest way to follow her was to invite her to go with him wherever she wished. Amongst other things, he was engaged, and it would be quite inappropriate to invite another woman out for a weekend.
So when Harry saw Marisa and a group of trainees begin making their way towards the metro, Harry used his diamond card to give him access to the private vehicle that allowed him to get to the airport first, and he was safely secreted in the balcony when she entered. He felt satisfied with himself. Although he noticed that she kept looking over her shoulder, she did not know he was following. She stood by a wall, and looked around as if she was making a last minute check for followers, then she joined the queue for the flight to Dushanbe. But then, at the last instant, she suddenly left the queue and rushed towards the closing doorway for the flight to Samarkand. Harry was not totally surprised to see two men leave the queue and follow. He waited until he was certain that she was indeed on that flight, then he rushed out to the airfield. There, waiting for him, was a two-seater interceptor.
Harry reached Samarkand a quarter of an hour ahead of Marisa's flight, and he was able to watch her aircraft land, secure in the knowledge that once again his diamond card had secured him ground transport, and a driver who spoke English. The driver had wanted Harry to take the most luxurious vehicle but Harry had wanted a small old brown beat-up vehicle, very short on comfort but with a powerful motor, one that was more likely to look inconspicuous, and, for that matter, would be easier to park. The discussion quickly ended when Harry said the driver could charge for the luxurious vehicle and pocket the difference. When he told the driver there would be a bonus of a thousand fecus if he did exactly what he was asked, with nothing illegal, greed was replaced first with amazement, and then suddenly a genuine desire to please. For Harry such generosity came easily: it was, after all, FoodBund's money.
Harry was well placed to watch the Tashkent flight arrive. He watched Marisa emerge from the airport and board a bus. Her escort followed. Harry calmly followed the bus, at the same time fending off questions from his driver. "Follow that bus!" was clearly a trigger phrase, a signal that a thousand dreams were about to come to fruition. The bus drove at a leisurely pace across the Siab, and Harry was able to take in the view of the sunburned stubble and the dust, all given greater clarity by the chilled clear air. The bus continued quietly, coming to rest at the bus terminal. Marisa stepped out, looked around, then crossed the road towards the great brown walls of the Bibi Khanum.
"What's she going to do?" the driver asked eagerly. Harry realized that the driver had followed his gaze.
"Go sightseeing," Harry remarked laconically.
"But . . .?"
"You really want to do something?" Harry asked as a sudden thought struck him
"Name it!"
"See that man there crossing now, the thick-set man with sandy hair?"
"Yeah!"
"And the shorter one behind with the green track suit?"
"Yeah!"
"Remember them, and watch them. I think they're after the girl."
"Won't take you long to find out," the driver said with a shrug.
"How come?" Harry asked with a touch of surprise.
"She's taken a green tour," the driver said with a touch of superiority. "Here, take a brochure. It's an ancient monuments and souvenir walking tour. They've taken an institutes tour, with the red tickets and the red folders. They're the same to the Gur Emir, but when they turn right to Gorky Boulevard she'll turn left and come back on Ittifak, then turn and go some distance down Pendjikentskaya street."
"What do you mean, some distance?" Harry asked with concern in his voice. He did not want uncertainty.
"She makes her way to the Shah Zindeh, but there's a number of ways to go. It's a maze of small shops and stalls."
"Why does a monuments tour do that?" Harry asked, thus showing his complete ignorance of the tourism business.
"Tourist permits are only issued provided level three expenditure occurs in each destination. You know that, surely? Well, the tourists have to have something to buy, so that's where the stalls are for those interested in monuments. There's hundreds of stalls selling Timurid souvenirs, most of which are made in China. You should buy the genuine Timurid souvenirs."
"Genuine Timurid souvenirs?" Harry asked in puzzlement. "There can't be that many."
"The local craftsmen make plenty, and they're good value . . ." He paused as he saw Harry's look. "Oh, you mean real genuine ones. No, they're very difficult to get. Many stalls will have one, as a sort of attraction to make the tourists think they've seen something but . . ."
"I get the picture," Harry said, as he quickly got out of the car. "If I don't get going, I'm going to lose them. Try and keep me in sight."
Harry quickly ran across the road, and put a small bush between himself and those he was following. Marisa was totally absorbed in the mosque, while the two men seemed bored.
Harry knew that what he was looking at was partly reconstructed, but even so, the sheer scale of the huge brown walls seemed breath taking. He glanced across at the insignificantly frail Marisa. She seemed so helpless, and so pathetically unaware of her danger. There was no need for this, and he should warn her.
But of what? Two men following her? He was following her! The problem was, as the Commissioner had told him in no uncertain fashion, if she were to be protected totally she would feel imprisoned. If she did not enjoy her time, her report would be negative, and South America would remain outside the Federation for another century. To escort her, or to keep her in secure areas would mean the corporations would win. She could be warned, but she had a suspicious mind, and would be convinced the Federation had something to hide. She also had a tongue, and would willingly lash any messenger who was less than fully open. She was at risk, and she knew it, as evidenced by her manoeuvre at Tashkent airport, but she was determined to take advantage of this once in a lifetime chance to view parts of the Federation, and there was no easy way to stop her. The sight of her so obviously enjoying herself, unaware of the other two, made Harry feel sad, but very determined. He might be all that stood between Marisa and disaster, but stand he would.
Marisa walked slowly on, and her escort followed. As she reached the road, she turned, to take a last look at the Bibi Khanum from its other side. Harry had anticipated this, and had positioned himself behind a pillar, but the two men were partly in the open. One panicked, and dived behind a shrub. Surely Marisa would notice? But apparently she did not, for she turned again and walked towards the majesty of the Registan.
Even Harry had his breath taken away by the grandeur of the aqua, blue and dark blue tiles that totally covered the immense walls with patterns of extremely subtle and abstract design. Patterns that at first looked obvious were anything but, subtle patterns within patterns. What time it must have taken to lay these tiles. Yet . . .
His heart leapt. He had lost concentration, and somehow Marisa had disappeared! Where! He ran across the road, totally forgetting that he was supposed to be taking cover. He had failed, and there was little excuse. She could be dying, while he was staring at some buildings. He crossed the footpath, and glanced . . . Stop! Cover! But where? He quickly sidled into a group of rather startled tourists. There, below, was Marisa, and her escort. Over the centuries, the sand had blown into and around the Registan, raising the ground level. More recently, the whole area had been excavated to reach the original floor. Harry breathed slowly and felt thankful that apparently neither Marisa nor her escorts had noticed him. He was only too well aware nothing stands out like a runner amongst sightseers. This group of high-level Corporate Americans offered good cover, and he fo
und that he could indeed take in the view. The great open space of the Registan forced the two men to keep a good distance from Marisa.
"Where'd he come from?" A whisper.
"Dunno. Looks like a worker." Louder.
"Say, bud, who invited you?"
"Yeah! Go and find your own kind!"
"As you wish," Harry sighed, "but I assure you, I'm no ordinary worker." He reached into his wallet and displayed his diamond card. "Thought you guys looked interesting. Thought I could even do you a favour, maybe, but I guess I was wrong." He replaced the card and began to walk away.
"No! Wait! Please! We didn't mean it!" A babble of eager cries.
So Harry had mobile cover, provided he could hold their attention. But how? Somehow he had to keep talking, he had to seem interested in them. He made a number of cryptic comments as they ambled past the grandeur of the Ulug Beg medresseh. "To think these warriors so valued education they could build such a place in such turbulent times," he remarked, and then he smiled inwardly as the corporates duly began praising the value of education. Marisa was moving to the next street, and her escorts were following.
"I think a young man or woman who achieves a high level of education has really shown initiative, don't you think?" Harry asked, as he moved to follow. He inwardly kicked himself; such a comment seemed inane. To his surprise, there were cries of assent as they climbed the stairs to reach the footpath. Harry continued to smile inwardly. These fools had spent a fortune to get here, and they were ignoring some of the greatest architecture of that period, or any other, just to impress an unknown.
"I don't suppose any of you have hidden educational assets?" Harry asked as they crossed towards the Gur Emir. Harry was to realize that this was the proverbial bucket of cold water, as a series of embarrassed grunts emerged. "Of course there are other ways to show initiative," Harry quickly added. He made the group move more quickly, to get closer to Marisa.
"Such exquisite tiling, for the memory of such a great man," Harry muttered. He suddenly realized he had a problem. He could not follow Marisa down to the vault without her seeing him. He could go up to her, but there was another way.
