Audacious

by Mike Shepherd

  “Archives?”

  “Yes, it says some phones that are no longer in use may be in the archives.”

  “Do it!”

  “Oh, that was not nice.”

  “Yes, Nelly.”

  “They declined my credit. I thought I’d made it large enough, but I guess not.”

  “Abby, pass Nelly a new chit number.”

  “I have it. Now, let me see. There is more available.”

  “There is?” Kris asked at the same time Jack and Penny did.

  “I am clicking on every aspect of the site, and I am opening up what I think you call Easter eggs.”

  “Micky didn’t mention anything about Easter eggs,” Bronc said, mouth hanging open.

  “Maybe he doesn’t know everything there is to know,” Kris said. “Talk to us, Nelly.”

  “I have an offer for every street address, occupant, financial status, and social coding. The price is steep.”

  “Buy it,” Kris snapped. “Now we’ll have something more to cross-check our number against than just a raw address.”

  “Kris, they also have bank records for sale, but they want quite a bit for them. And I do not know if they will have any of the more interesting people in them.”

  “Will they let you do a sample run?”

  “No, ma’am. You pay to play or you go home empty.”

  “Let’s wait a bit for that.”

  “Your Princess, ah, whatever—” Bronc started.

  “Call me Kris.”

  “I found Cara’s number. It wasn’t in the fifth-level list. It was in the archives.”

  “Does it have an address?”

  “Ah, yes, but, ah, it’s way up town,” he said slowly. “And it could be old, you know.”

  “We won’t go busting in doors,” Kris said, then added, “unless we have to.”

  “Kris, I have a phone call coming in for you,” Nelly said.

  “Who?”

  “A Frederico Miguel O’Hallihan.”

  “That’s the Bones’s head man,” Cara whispered.

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Hey there, Princess, you still in town.”

  “I still have unfinished business, Frederico.”

  “Nobody calls me that.”

  “Sorry, Bone Man,” Kris corrected as both Bronc and Cara loudly mouthed the proper form for addressing the thug.

  “Well, now that we got that straight, I was wondering if you was interested in what was happening in my part of town.”

  “You know it’s important to me.”

  “Good,” he preened. “Cause the boys that kind of ran off with your boy. We been talking to them and maybe they remember now some guy helping them jump to the conclusion that your boy wasn’t our boy no more. You see.”

  “I do.”

  “Good, cause this very same dude that caused us so much trouble this morning is back in town, looking to hire some heat. Says it won’t be for long. Lots of money in it if things go down right. You curious about this?”

  “I am very curious,” Kris said, deadly spicing her words.

  “You want maybe to put one of your boys in with five, six of ours and see where this takes him?”

  Kris eyed her team. “Let me think on this for a second.” NELLY, MUTE THE LINE.

  “Line muted,” Nelly announced.

  “Captain, could one of your men pass for a ganger?”

  DeVar was shaking his head even before Gunny added his own curt nod. “This world is just too flaky,” Gunny said.

  “Could you tail them?” Kris asked.

  “Nothing beats a try but a failure. We’ll need a car,” Captain DeVar said, an evil grin capturing his face. He tapped his commlink. “Doc, you know that old rattletrap of yours?”

  “The one that beats any rig you got?” came back at him.

  “You need to loan it to a couple of carefree jarheads.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “Because a princess asks you,” Kris said, raising her voice to carry to the captain’s commlink.

  “Oh, that damsel in distress thing.”

  “You heard about Ruth Tordon being kidnapped?” Kris asked.

  “Oh, that. How fast can you get a runner up here? No, I’ll head down to you. Time I got involved.”

  “We’ve taken over the conference room forward of the Tac Center,” the captain said, signed off, and turned to Gunny. “Who’s good for a tailing and will call for backup before doing something we’ll all regret?”

  “Don’t know about that regretting part,” Gunny said, but nodded at two Marines. “Amy, Brute, you saw what they were wearing this morning. Can you look like that?”

  Both nodded and headed for the door.

  Penny did, too. “I’m going with them.”

  “Penny?” Kris said.

  “This isn’t storm-trooper work. This is good, old-fashioned police work like my dad told me about when I was still small enough to sit on his knee. And I did some field work in my intel days, Kris. And besides, I’m sick and tired of watching, observing, and reporting. I want to do something for a change.”

  Kris wanted to say no. But hadn’t she said that what Penny needed most was work? And Penny was right. This was standard police work, not something even a Special Ops–capable Marine company trained for. She glanced at Jack. His face showed only the sadness of someone watching a friend head in harms way. There was no judgment there for Kris, sending another one of her people into the line of fire.

  “Keep your head down and call in if you find anything.”

  “Ain’t that the mission, boss,” Penny said. She flashed Kris a smile for the first time in months and was gone.

  But Captain DeVar was frowning. “Is there something I should know about her? Will my Marines be safe with her?”

  “As safe as with their own mother,” Kris said. “Lieutenant Pasley-Lien is good to go.”

  Kris turned to the photos and let the last few minutes roll by in her mind. She’d sent two Marines out to keep Bronc’s mother safe. She’d sent Penny and two Marines to tail someone hiring shooters from a local, now probably friendly, gang.

  And she had a phone number that might or might not be of any value. “That phone number is from uptown,” Kris said.

  “Real high priced,” Bronc answered.

  “Gramma Ganna says we’ll move up there soon,” Cara added.

  “Sounds dangerous,” Abby said.

  “Guess I’ll cover that one myself,” Kris said. “Abby, what would you suggest I wear?”

  33

  The kids were right, this neighborhood was Garden City’s high-priced district. The estates were huge and set far apart by well-appointed grounds. Some looked new. Others showed the gradual growth that marked Nuu House. Add-ons…not always according to the best of architectural taste…as it passed from one generation to the next.

  It hadn’t been at all easy for Kris to find it.

  The archived phone number said a Mr. Ohi Tristram, VII, lived there. The social database agreed that he still lived there…but gave no further information. All of the data elements on income, social status, and the likes were blank.

  “I guess you can buy your way out of just about anything on this planet,” Kris muttered.

  “Should I buy the next database up?” Nelly asked.

  “Not for that present computer you’re operating. Nelly, buy a new one and start all over again, clean.” While Nelly was doing that, Doc arrived, tossed his car keys to the Marine captain, and went to meditate at the photo wall.

  “We need to send someone to pick up these computers,” Gunny said.

  “Nelly, buy two more,” Kris ordered. “We’ll give them to the company rec room later. And have them if we need them now.”

  And another Marine in civvies headed out the door.

  Which meant a lot of Marines were going in a lot of directions using just about every vehicle available. NELLY, RENT A DOZEN RIGS, COMPACTS TO ALL-TERRAIN.

  I WAS W
ONDERING WHEN YOU WOULD ASK ME. I WILL USE SEVERAL DIFFERENT RENTAL SITES AND DIFFERENT CREDIT CHITS.

  OH, AND WE MAY NEED TO BE READY TO TRAVEL FARTHER AND FASTER THAN A CAR CAN HANDLE.

  I WAS ABOUT TO ASK THAT, TOO, Nelly said, about as proud of herself as a computer can get.

  “Kris, Your Highness,” Bronc said. “The new database isn’t showing anything more than the old one.”

  “Who is this guy?” Jack grumbled under his breath.

  “Who you looking for?” Doc said, turning from the pictures.

  “Ohi Tristram the Seventh,” Kris rattled off the address.

  “Oh, O’Heidi. Why didn’t you say so,” Doc said with a grin. “I’ve partied at his place several times.”

  “Heidi,” Kris said.

  “You’d have to meet him to understand.”

  “What can you tell us about him?” Jack demanded.

  Doc shrugged. “A bit of a fop. Doing the only thing he learned from his daddy, which is spend down the family trust. The family was very prominent in the early years, but I don’t think a penny has been added to the trust in three generations. But he throws nice parties. Madge, my girlfriend, introduced me to his scene. A good place to meet Garden City’s B-list.”

  “Kris, I am running Tristram through the social section of the media,” Nelly said. “He does regularly make the end filler section.”

  “Been there lately?” Jack asked Doc.

  “Can’t say that I have. The eating was good, but I can pay for my own chow and eat it in better company.”

  “What about the company?” Kris asked.

  “A lot of bellyaching. Mostly younger kids who didn’t inherit the family business. They sit around complaining about how hard it is to start up new businesses these days. Not good for my digestion,” Doc said, rubbing his well-padded belly.

  “And eight years ago, he paid to make himself disappear from most Eden databases,” Kris said, rubbing her chin.

  “Why would a playboy spend money to dig a hole and pull the lid over it?” Jack said, drumming his hands on the table that showed, for now, only a map of Garden City.

  “Eight years ago, you say,” Doc said, taking a chair at their table. “It was about that time the eats went sour. Four years ago I quit going.”

  Kris thought about that as she let Abby dress her to impress. Flowing red slacks and a loose-fitting golden shirt covered her thick body armor very well.

  Pulling up to the mansion in an armored Marine transport, Kris eyed the setup as an auto-security station scanned her ID. High stone wall. Overgrown. Rather obvious security cameras were either very old or meant to be seen. Were they backed up with less visible ones?

  KRIS, I’M GETTING NO EMISSIONS FROM ANYTHING BUT THE VISIBLE ONES.

  THANK YOU, NELLY.

  Kris had to give a palm print before the gate opened. Wonder if he did this to all his party guests? She’d left Doc back at the embassy, so she had no answer.

  At the big house, Kris once again had to go through the security formalities, as did Jack and Abby. Kris left Captain DeVar in the car. No need letting these folks know who all she was in cahoots with.

  An auto-servant greeted Kris. Little more than a pole on six wheels, it led Kris threw a long entrance hall. The chairs showed wear. A glass of white wine, half empty, was on the fireplace’s mantelpiece. Some machine’s opticals needed mending.

  Mr. Ohi Tristram the Seventh, O’Heidi to some, awaited them at his desk in a huge library. The walls were lined with musty smelling books in imitation leather bindings. Overstuffed loungers offered partygoers places to relax in small groups. The quiet room for the party?

  Mr. Tristram stood and offered Kris his hand. Did he get his nickname from the way he hid behind the desk or from his short stature…say five feet and a smidgen?

  “What can I do for you?” he mumbled as Kris shook a very weak, moist hand. She let go of it with relief.

  Kris saw no benefit in a long introduction. “My great-grandmother, Ruth Tordon, has disappeared.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” He didn’t sound very. “I hadn’t heard about it on the news.”

  “It probably hasn’t made it there yet.”

  Tristram’s face went rubbery at that. First he showed confusion, probably at the speed Kris was moving. Speed that brought her to him. He finally put on a smirk and waited for Kris to go on.

  She did. “It seems that your telephone number was found at the office of the security advisory firm that sent her the guards that vanished with her.”

  O’Heidi took a moment to absorb the words. Then he shook his head. “Oh, I am sad to hear that. About the guards disappearing. I hope they weren’t hurt.” His reply didn’t sound like anything more than an attempt to dodge the obvious.

  “I was wondering how your phone number came to be there?”

  Mr. Tristram shrugged. At least his shoulders moved. His face stayed in a vacant grin. “I have no idea. Lots of people attend my parties. Many tell their friends about them. Some come. Others don’t. Birds of each feather seek their own.”

  “Who provides your security?” Kris asked.

  He giggled. “I really don’t know. I leave that to the house ’puter. It lets the contract to bidding every few years and takes the lowest bidder. ’Puter’s do it so much better than people. With ’puters, there’s no risk of someone hanging their hand out for a kickback, don’t you know.”

  “Could your computer tell us who’s providing the service these days?” Jack asked.

  “Oh no, that’s never done. You must be new to Eden. That privacy is never violated. Strictly a business matter.”

  “It’s really important. I want to find my grandmother very much,” Kris pointed out. She considered coming around the desk and towering over O’Heidi, but gave it up. If this fellow was going to lead them anywhere, it would not be intentionally.

  O’Heidi steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. “I am very sorry, but I certainly can’t violate Eden’s laws, now can I? Besides, I doubt if it would really help. These things usually work themselves out. Have you been asked for ransom?”

  “We’ve had no call from the criminals,” Kris bit out.

  “Well, you should stay close to your phone,” the man said, glancing at his, a rather antique-looking affair. “If you miss that first call, you may not get another,” he said helpfully.

  “I’m sure we’ll get the call when it comes in,” Kris said.

  “Well, sorry I can’t be of more help. Why don’t you come to my party next Friday? I’m sure this will all be settled by then. Bring your grandmother. Or was it great-grandmother?”

  “The latter,” Kris said and turned to go.

  “That did us a lot of good,” Jack muttered under his breath as they retraced their way out of the house.

  “As you were, Marine,” Kris snapped, under her breath as much as she could.

  Back in the Marine rig, Kris’s first words were “Debug us.”

  Then she sat silent for the next half minute as listening bugs sparkled in death.

  “We are clean,” Nelly finally announced.

  “That was a major infestation,” Jack noted.

  “That house is a plague,” Nelly added. “I was getting all kinds of reports. Every word you said, Kris, was being re-broadcasted as fast as you said it.”

  “Different bugs?”

  “No. In there, and in this transport, almost all of the bugs were of three basic models. I also picked up some hunter bugs as well. All the bugs are playing the same tune, Kris.”

  “And he has security to see that only he is doing the bugging,” Jack concluded.

  “Not as good a security as he thinks,” Nelly reported. “Our tap bug is on his phone line.” If a computer could grin in pride, Nelly would be grinning from ear to ear.

  If she had ears.

  “And he’s making a call,” she said.

  “He ought to, after Jack let him know how good he did,” Kris said, elb
owing her security chief.

  “If I hadn’t done it, you would have. And it sounded better coming from me.”

  “Everyone believes a man in uniform,” Captain DeVar added with a grin.

  “I’ve got the number,” Nelly crowed.

  A second later, the celebration was over. “Oh, pooh, he’s using a scrambler system.”

  “Crack it,” Kris ordered.

  “I can’t,” Nelly said, with an almost audible sigh in her voice. “The scrambler key changes every couple of words.”

  “What’s the number?” Bronc asked.

  Nelly passed it to him.

  “Is it in the database?” Kris asked.

  Bronc looked stricken. “I’ve never heard of a nine-oh-nine exchange.”

  “Neither have I,” Cara added.

  “Another brick wall,” Jack sighed.

  “Well, I can tell you a few things,” Nelly said, jumping in like a ray of sunshine. “Maybe not what they are saying, but I can tell you that O’Heidi said something, then got cut off, and then he said something back, in a rather contrite voice.”

  “Oh ho,” Captain DeVar said. “Someone didn’t like being called, I bet. I’d love to hear what’s going on here.”

  “I suspect O’Heidi really wishes he wasn’t,” Kris said.

  And wasn’t far from right.

  Interlude 3

  “You never call me,” Grant von Schrader snapped at O’Heidi’s interruption.

  “Don’t you want to know what hasn’t hit the news yet?”

  “And what makes you think I have to wait for the news to know what’s happening on Eden?”

  “So you already know what Kris Longknife told me just a moment ago.”

  “I don’t like guessing games, Heidi.” Few used that nomme de party to Ohi’s face. It reminded the playboy just who was boss here.

  “She’s looking for her great-grandmother. Someone seems to have kidnapped Mrs. Ruth, ah…”

  “Tordon. If you will excuse me, some of us have work to do,” Grant snapped and quashed the line. A moment later, his computer briefed him on the latest news to come in from his sources in Garden City’s police department.

  Grant had flagged Kris Longknife. He hadn’t thought to flag Ruth Tordon. A major mistake, it now appeared.