So, Anastasia was using Grecco as well. He wondered what she had promised him apart from her evident charms, and it seemed Grecco was getting his own special taste of those. It seemed she wasn’t too fussy about how she got what she wanted.
"What? Why would she want to do that?"
"Outreach," came the croaking reply.
"So." Jack eased the pressure marginally. "Outreach."
"She's tied up with Warburg. We were going to..." Grecco caught himself before he said anything more.
"Anastasia Van der Stegen and Warburg, eh?"
So that was it. His head was still awash with the images of Grecco and the Van der Stegen girl in an intimate clutch. He tried to push his thoughts past it and concentrate on what Grecco was telling him.
On the floor, Grecco nodded, barely. Jack eased the pressure another notch. He wondered what Anastasia had promised him.
"What's Anastasia Van der Stegen to you?"
Grecco closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. That was answer enough for Jack. This poor guy actually felt loyalty to her. Jesus, she was a classic. Exactly how many men did she have at the end of her leash? It seemed she didn't need to expend much effort to get what she wanted. He wondered if her father knew, or even if he really cared.
"Thanks, Alexis. You've been very helpful." Jack considered briefly doing the man some real damage, but there was no point. He eased himself upright and stared down at Grecco, lying on the floor holding his throat and coughing. He turned and simply left him lying there. So much for the White-Haired man. Which girlfriend did he want? Clearly the one he'd gotten had given him more than he'd bargained for.
As Jack made his way back out into the light, he felt more at ease, as if he'd purged something from within. Action. It had been a while since he'd acted decisively. Not that he particularly wanted to go around hurting people, but this time it felt good. He had owed the guy. He didn’t think Grecco would be bothering him again, blond friend or not, and if he did, Jack would be ready.
Next stop Outreach. Anastasia Van der Stegen and the chauffeur. Who would have thought it? Even though Grecco was involved with the Van der Stegen woman, he still had to find out if he got his instructions from Warburg. The readiness with which Joshua Van der Stegen had delivered Grecco's address had already ruled him out. On the surface, Grecco might work for Van der Stegen, but his allegiance lay elsewhere.
oOo
The now-familiar offices hadn't changed. Jack might as well have never left. Warburg too, might never have moved, though the suit was different. He motioned Jack to a chair.
"Stein. It's about time we had some results. I hope we're nearing a conclusion to this investigation."
Jack took his time positioning himself in the chair before answering, watching Warburg's reactions, but he already knew the man was good. He was just as likely to show nothing.
"I guess you could say that, Mister Warburg."
Warburg folded is hands in front of him on the large desk, leaning forward slightly. "So why do you need to see me?"
Jack had rehearsed what he was about to say all the way to the Outreach buildings. He chose his words very carefully.
"Mister Warburg, I believe there are some people who are actively trying to stand in the way of my attempts to find an answer to your problem. It's almost as if somebody doesn't want me to find out what happened. I think that somebody is probably working for you."
"And who might that be, Stein?"
"A tall, thin man with long dark hair. Well-tanned."
Warburg seemed to consider, then slowly shook his head. "No, not familiar."
"Well, the man I'm talking about seems to know you. Claims to work for the interests of Outreach, Mister Warburg. As you can see, I had a little difficulty persuading him to share that information."
Warburg fixed him with a level stare. "I see. As I said, Stein, the person you describe is not familiar to me."
"He had a lot to tell me about a particular handipad."
Warburg didn't even blink. Jack had expected some reaction at least, but the man was just too slick and definitely practiced — a real performer. But Jack still had one thing held in reserve, Grecco's name.
Warburg sighed. "I'm a busy man. If you want to waste time asking stupid questions, I suggest you find someone else."
"I understand how busy you must be, Mister Warburg, but you've hired me to do a job. If you want to get to the bottom of what happened on Dairil III, then you just might want to give me a little bit of your time. Do I have your permission to continue?"
Warburg waved his hand. "Go ahead."
"During the course of my investigations, I happened upon a handipad. That handipad was secured and it contained a lot of information about some scientific research. Since that handipad came into my possession, I've been the subject of a lot of attention, most of it not exactly welcome. I believe that the handipad, and whatever it contained, is connected to what happened to the mining crew."
"You say 'contained'. Has something happened to change that? So where is this handipad now?"
"I no longer have it, but that's unimportant. What is important is that one of the people interested in it is a guy called Alexis Grecco."
"And?"
Not a flicker. Warburg was just too good. Either that, or he really didn’t know the man.
"He's the one I described, but you’re telling me he doesn’t mean anything to you. Well, I had a little talk with Alexis Grecco." Jack's fingers went involuntarily to his tender cheek. "He said I should talk to you. Or maybe, seeing as you don’t know him, I should have another chat with his girlfriend. Perhaps you know his girlfriend, Mister Warburg? Anastasia Van der Stegen."
Nothing. Not a thing. Warburg was as cool as they came.
"Look, Stein. I've already told you I don't know this person, and so far, you've said nothing that makes me think I want to waste any more of my time. Unless you have anything further to add..."
This was getting him nowhere. "No, I guess not. Except, what do you know about wormholes?"
This time Warburg frowned. He had his interest now.
Jack continued. "Exotic matter. Is that familiar?"
Warburg stood and stepped from behind the desk. "Now you're starting to talk nonsense."
"Do you really want me to find out what happened to your mining crew, Mister Warburg? Or perhaps you'd prefer me to end up with some other answer that might keep your corporate buddies quiet."
Warburg took a step forward, the fingers of one hand steepled on the edge of the desk. "It's time you left. Just get up and get out, Stein. I don't have time for this."
"So you keep saying, Mister Warburg." Jack stood. "And maybe there's another reason for that."
"I don't have to take this from the likes of you, Stein. I suggest you leave now."
"I'm not done yet."
"Oh, but you are."
Warburg placed the fingers of one hand firmly in the center of Jack's chest and gave a little push. That small contact was all it took. Jack's head was suddenly awash with images. A broad pink jagged landscape stretched off into the distance. The ground was littered with pink-brown rock chippings. Silver trailers caught the light and sent it in sharp arrows, casting star shapes through his inner vision.
He knew this place. It was Dairil III. He was back in the dream. The image shifted, and he was inside, somewhere. There was something else — a figure, tall, rangy, yellow-gray hair plastered to the top of his head. Pinpin Dan. The image shifted and there was Pinpin Dan lying dead. He was flat, stretched out and behind him, looking on, was someone else. Jack didn’t recognize the room, but he immediately knew the small figure in the background, though her features were indistinct. It was Billie. Billie was on Dairil III. Somehow, it was linked to Pinpin, either via his network or some other means. But that didn't matter. All that mattered was that he knew for certain where she was. There was no need to play hit and miss any more. The brief contact with Warburg had given him his confirmation.
&
nbsp; He backed away from Warburg's hand, struggling to reorient himself. He looked hard, straight into Warburg's face.
"What are you doing on Dairil III?"
"Enough. Get out, Stein." There was restrained anger in his voice, and something else. Was it a touch of fear? He reached out to fend Jack away, but Jack was ready for it and stepped back in time to avoid another contact.
"You'll be hearing from me, Mister Warburg," he said.
A muscle worked at the side of Warburg's jaw, but he'd managed to regain some composure. He spoke the next through gritted teeth.
"I’ve a good mind to dispense with your services altogether, but against my better judgment… you've got three weeks, Stein. That's all. I expect your report by then, and I don't want to see you. Now get out." He turned and started to stride back to his desk.
"It's okay," said Jack. "I'm going." The last glimpse he got, before turning and pacing back down the hallway himself, was Warburg standing next to his desk, the fingers of his right hand beating a rhythm on its surface. Good, he'd finally touched a nerve. Better than he'd expected, but not quite what he'd expected. He’d expected Warburg to sack him. Something had held him back and that gave Jack another clue. It seemed Gleeson was right about the internal pressures within the company. Warburg was not a free agent in all of this. He needed Jack.
Warburg hadn't yet thought to see him escorted from the premises, but he knew he didn't have much time. He had to find Gleeson. And Gleeson would have to act quickly too. Warburg was alert that something was amiss now. Hopefully, Warburg would be high enough up the food chain that it would take time for things to filter down through the ranks, and maybe, just maybe, those corporate pressures would be enough to give him second thoughts about shutting things down. If Jack was lucky, and this time he'd have to count on that luck, he'd be able to get away quickly enough. Jack knew exactly where he was headed now. He was going to Dairil III.
He walked quickly down the corridor, remembering vaguely which way he'd been sent last time to see Gleeson. He took a couple of false turns, but finally found the right one and headed down toward Gleeson's desk. The little clerk was in residence, and for the moment, there was no one else around. He walked up to the side of the desk.
"Francis."
Gleeson continued to peer at a stack of cards he was sorting and answered without lifting his gaze. "Hmmm?"
"Francis," Jack said more forcefully. This time Gleeson looked up and his face blanched.
"By all that's ... what are you doing here?"
"Listen, I haven't got much time. I need your help and I need it now."
"Can't we do this away from here?" Gleeson glanced nervously around.
"No we can't. No time. It is Dairil III and I need to get out there. I've had an epiphany if you like. Something tells me the answer's there at the research facility on Dairil III. Have you done the things I asked you, to set me up to get out there? Tell me how I do it."
"W-well. I don't know. Wait." He shuffled through a stack of cards and slotted one into the reader. "There, there's a cargo ship leaving in a week’s time. Late afternoon. Supplies and the like. That's the earliest one. But you'll need the authorizations."
Shit. A week was longer than Jack expected. It would have to do.
"You're the card wizard, Francis. Time for you to sort it out," he said.
"I suppose I ... but, but what if I'm caught?"
"Let me worry about that. If we move quickly and quietly enough, it'll be over before they can do anything. I’ll be on the ship, and by then it’ll be too late."
"Wait, wait. Let me think." He was becoming agitated.
"Come on, Francis. We have to move. Now!"
"All right. Let me think about it. I need to work out something that will stand up under scrutiny. Please, leave it with me. It's not going to be easy." Another nervous glance to either side. "Just go, now. I can't afford to be seen with you. I'll come to your apartment later tonight."
Jack nodded. "Okay."
He turned and headed back up the corridor as rapidly as he had arrived.
Within minutes, he was out of the building and onto the wide street below, waiting for a shuttle to take him away. If he was right about Gleeson, what the little man had said was right. He couldn't be seen talking to Jack. It would jeopardize his real purpose at Outreach.
Still there was something chewing inside him, something not quite right. As he headed for the shuttle stop, he was working his mouth and clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He was missing something.
oOo
Gleeson was good to his word, and in the early evening, he showed up, looking nervous as usual. Underneath though, he had a self-satisfied air. Jack asked him in and sat opposite while his visitor composed himself. Gleeson could barely sit still on the couch. He was fidgeting, and a damp sheen of perspiration marked his brow. He dug in his pocket, and with a flourish, he pulled out a card and slid it across the table.
"Don't lose this,” he said. “Without it you're in trouble."
"So, what is it?"
"It's the security pass. Allows you access to the cargo ship and to the research facility of Dairil III."
"So who am I supposed to be?"
Gleeson gave a little half smile. "Jack Stein. You're an investigator working for William Warburg on private contract to Outreach, just like you said. You've been hired to determine what happened to the miners on Dairil III."
"But you seemed to be worried about that, that somebody might ...?"
"No. It's perfect. You see I've thought this through. If anybody wants to check the records, that's exactly who you are. You don't have to tell any stories and any checks will back you up. It gives you a legitimate reason to be there."
"Even the research facility?"
"Why not? It's all in the same area. Easy to justify a check, no? I've booked passage for you on the cargo ship already."
For once, Gleeson looked pleased with himself and he looked like he was even starting to relax.
Jack watched him, thinking. "Okay, Francis. It might just work. I'm more worried about somebody contacting Warburg. And after our last meeting…"
Gleeson waved his hand. "They're not going to bother the great man himself. Especially not from out there. I've thought about that too. If anything, Warburg's name should help you if you get into trouble. People who work for Outreach know better than to question the plans of the Man."
Yes, it made sense. Warburg gave the impression of someone used to his authority and not to having it questioned.
"Thank you, Francis. Wish me luck."
"You will let me know?"
"Sure, as soon as I have anything to give you, but that’s not going to be for some time now."
Gleeson nodded slowly. “Yes, I know,” he said.
Jack saw Gleeson out, locked the door behind him and settled back to take it easy. A week to wait, and he had little else to do now but wait. And then there was the cargo ship. Months. It would take three months to get out there. By then, the contract would be as good as dead, but he didn’t really have a choice. Billie was out there somewhere, and he had to find her. But three months…
No, something just wasn’t adding up.
SEVENTEEN
A week of boredom. A long, deadly week with nothing to do except watch a few vids and scroll through his notes. He considered contacting Van der Stegen, but there was nothing to be gained by that at the moment. His other avenue was Anastasia, but it was better to keep well away from her in the current situation. He wanted to be right out of her sights. Any interaction and she’d be just as likely to alert Warburg that something was going on. It was unfortunate that the cargo ship wasn’t leaving before, but there was nothing he could do about it. As an exercise, he called up the final version of his diagram and sat staring at it for something, anything he had missed. Sitra Akhar. Well, he had that right, and Pinpin Dan had to be connected to Warburg. Van der Stegen, though a silent partner in the operations was most definite
ly connected to Outreach, and therefore to Warburg. The problem was, everything linked back to Pinpin Dan. It just didn’t make sense. He chewed at his bottom lip, trying to work out what it was he was missing.
Everything about this case, everyone associated with it appeared as someone they were not. Everyone he’d come into contact with had been performing, at least that, or appeared as a disguised clue within his dreams. Illusion, reality, how did you reconcile the two? His dreams were illusion, of a form, but within them lay the reality of what he sought.
Sitra Akhar. Seek the left. No, that wasn’t only it. It was more than that. It was an admonition to look at the other side. Take another perspective before accepting everything at face value.
How could everything lead back to Pinpin Dan? But there he had been, in the vision provided by Warburg’s brief contact. There he was, with Billie, out on Dairil III, dead maybe, but there all the same.
Wait, Stein, you’re being an idiot again. So eager to look at the easy solution, he’d jumped on what the Warburg vision had given him without even looking at it. Sure, the dreams weren’t logical, and he had no reason to suspect that the vision stuff was either, but there was something about this. If the cargo ship took months to get out there, how the hell was he seeing Pinpin Dan and Billie out on Dairil III?
He cleaned down the wall display and sat forward, thinking it through. What he’d seen had been the inside of some sort of research facility, but who was to say it was out there? He had to look at the other side. That’s what the dreams had been telling him. But what did that mean?
He slapped his forehead with the realization. It was all about travel. It was all about transport and travel. Whether it was through wormholes or gateways or whatever, Dairil III was only part of the equation. Every journey has two ends – a starting point and a destination. He looked at his hands. A starting point. He lifted his right hand, the fingers tightly pressed together. Dairil III. And an end point. He lifted the other hand, palm up, spread flat. The destination. That’s where the research facility was, and that’s where he would find Billie. That’s where he would find the answers to all of this. Shit. Like everything over the past couple of weeks, the dream visions had been trying to tell him something and he’d just failed to see. He wasted no time calling up his wall screen again.
Wyrmhole: Jack Stein #1 New Edition Page 21
