Scrimshaw flung open the back doors and jumped down. The air felt positively tropical after the chill of the refrigerated container. Steam began to rise from his fur coat.
Igoe climbed out of the cab and walked around to him, frowning with puzzlement. Scrimshaw simply stood there, saying nothing, waiting until he looked into the back of the truck.
Igoe stared at the empty bucket seat, at the scattered cartons of frozen food. His frown deepened. Then he leapt up into the back and began rooting around like a big animal searching for its prey. He scattered the cartons around, but found nothing. Finally he peeked out at Scrimshaw.
‘Yes,’ Scrimshaw said. ‘He’s gone.’
Scrimshaw was about to vent his fury on Igoe, there being no one else to hand. He would wound him with bitter sarcasm, sting him with irony, make him feel small and stupid. But Igoe pushed back the sleeve of his artificial arm and inserted a magazine clip from his pocket into the automatic rifle attachment there. And, like an enraged beast, he unleashed a fusillade of gunfire at the bucket seat, not stopping until it was cut to pieces.
Scrimshaw swallowed.
‘Precisely,’ he said to Igoe.
Chapter 9
The Mustang was parked across the street from the Mark Hopkins Hotel in central San Francisco. Lydia and Jack were sitting inside it, Jack only just recovered from his ordeal.
‘What are we doing here?’ he asked Lydia.
‘Waiting for someone,’ she told him.
‘Oh.’ He liked the way her lips moved when she spoke. In fact, he liked pretty much everything about her. Not only was she beautiful but also brave and resourceful. He stole a glance down at her shapely legs.
‘Hey!’ Tuck shouted from within. ‘Knock it off!’
Jack felt himself blushing.
‘What’s up?’ Lydia asked.
‘Nothing,’ he said hastily. ‘Uh . . . who are we waiting for exactly?’
‘A man called the Cowboy,’ she told him. ‘I’ve been tracking his movements for months. He arrived at the airport an hour ago, and this is where he always stays when he’s in town.’ She indicated the hotel. ‘I have a feeling that he’s going to lead us right to that microchip we need.’
Jack frowned. ‘Why do you think that?’
‘Because he’s a fence. He deals in stolen technology - Western technology almost exclusively - which he then sells overseas to the highest bidder. Who do you think introduced velcro to the Persian Gulf?’
Jack gazed at her with outright admiration. What an incredible person she was.
‘You really like your job, don’t you?’ he said.
‘Some days more than others,’ she replied.
Jack peered out the window, suddenly feeling rather morose.
‘I hate my job,’ he said. ‘I’ve only just realized that.’
‘What do you do?’
‘I work in a supermarket. I’m the assistant manager. I’m told I have a big future in retail food sales.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ Lydia said sympathetically.
‘No. It makes me want to slit my wrists.’
Any further discussion of the subject was halted as a cab pulled up to the entrance of the hotel and the Cowboy climbed out.
‘It’s him!’ Lydia said. ‘Perfect timing.’ She turned to Jack. ‘Get the suitcase from the trunk.’
‘Why?’ Jack asked.
‘We’re checking into the hotel. It’s less suspicious if we have a suitcase.’
They both climbed out of the Mustang and Jack opened the trunk. Sure enough, there was a suitcase inside.
‘How did you know it was there?’ he asked Lydia.
‘Tuck always keeps a packed suitcase in the trunk -just in case he wakes up in a ‘strange place’ after a night on the booze.’
‘Hey,’ Tuck said to Jack, ‘she’s blackening my name.’ But there was something in his voice which made Jack realize that Tuck had taken her words to heart.
‘I didn’t know she knew about the suitcase,’ Tuck added, somewhat dolefully.
Ten minutes later, Jack and Lydia had booked into a room at the hotel. Country-and-western music filtered through the wall from next door - the Cowboy was their immediate neighbour. Jack had stolen a look at the hotel book while Lydia kept the receptionist occupied, and then they had asked for the room immediately next door, pretending that they were a married couple and that the room had a sentimental value to them.
‘We’ll wait here until we hear him leaving,’ Lydia said. ‘Then we’ll follow him.’
‘I don’t like this married couple bit,’ Tuck murmured irritably within Jack.
‘What if he just stays in?’ Jack said to Lydia.
‘He won’t. This guy never sleeps. He likes a club called the Inferno. He’ll be going there tonight, unless I’m very much mistaken. And we’ll be stepping out there, too.’
Jack had never been in a proper club in all his life. The prospect of going with Lydia filled him with pleasure.
‘That guy in the truck,’ she said to him. ‘You said his name was Scrimshaw, right?’
Jack nodded. ‘Victor Scrimshaw. He gave me the creeps.’
‘I’ll check him out,’ Lydia said, and she reached for the phone.
Jack watched her, admiring every inch of her.
‘I told you to cut that out!’ Tuck shouted. ‘What are you looking at? I thought you were supposed to be a gentleman.’
Jack stepped back until he was sure he was out of Lydia’s earshot.
‘C’mon, Tuck,’ he said. ‘Who can blame me? And we’re on our second honeymoon after all . . .’
‘Forget it! You’re not going to be doing any honeymooning with her - ’
‘Don’t you think she has the cutest little over-bite? Gives her mouth this adorable, pouty expression that - ’
‘I know what she looks like!’
Jack grinned, enjoying the feeling that for once he was the person doing the baiting. But at the same time it wasn’t entirely a joke as far as he was concerned. ‘What’s the deal between you two, anyway?’
‘Never you mind!’
Lydia was busy talking into the phone. Jack had laid Tuck’s suitcase on the bed, and now he unlocked it and flipped open the top. Tuck’s clothes were arranged inside. They looked far more stylish than the kind of things Jack normally wore.
‘Uh . . . Tuck,’ he said, ‘I sure could use a change of clothes. Mind if I dip into this suitcase a little?’
‘No, no,’ Tuck said peevishly. ‘“Dip” all you like. But nothing will fit you - I’m bigger-built than you.’
Margaret Canker emerged from the bathroom wearing a thin black lace robe. The telephone started ringing, and she picked it up.
‘Margaret? Is that you?’
‘Yes, it’s me, Victor. How is everything?’
‘Terrible!’ Scrimshaw said. ‘The Cowboy’s in town, and I still don’t have that other chip.’
‘Igoe told me what happened. It all sounds rather unfortunate, Victor.’
‘Unfortunate! Unfortunate! It was positively disastrous. And it was all Igoe’s fault, Margaret. If he had stopped the goddamned truck in time, we could have gone after them and got Jack Putter back.’
At that point Igoe entered the bedroom, wearing a brown silk robe and carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses.
‘He’s no damned good, Margaret,’ Scrimshaw was saying.
Igoe had slipped off his prosthetic arm and replaced it with an electronic corkscrew. He used this to pop the cork on the wine bottle in a matter of seconds. Canker gazed at him with adoration.
‘You’re crazy, Victor,’ she said into the phone. ‘He’s the most perfect creature on earth!’
‘Just get me that chip!’ Scrimshaw said angrily, and the line went dead.
‘This is one mean dude, Lydia,’ Duane Flornoy was saying into the phone. ‘I can’t believe this guy. He’s a lawyer, and he’s represented several organized crime figures. He’s also been administrator of funds f
or various black market operations, and he’s suspected of secret arms dealing. Yet somehow he manages to keep his nose clean.’
Lydia, perched on the bed in the hotel room, made notes on her pad.
'Anything else?’ she asked.
‘Yeah. It’s odds on he led the raid on Vectorscope.’ Lydia thanked Duane and rang off. When she turned around, she saw Jack dressed in Tuck’s shirt and pants with the new jacket she had bought him for his last birthday. Everything was slightly too big, but this only served to make Jack look more fashionable.
She stood up, staring at him wistfully. Then she approached him and ran her hands down the arms of the coat.
‘What’s the matter?’ Jack said somewhat nervously. ‘The clothes suit you,’ she said. ‘You remind me of Tuck in them.’
‘Hey - !’ Tuck said from within Jack. Suddenly he began to remember the night they had first met. She had been writing the article about him, and afterwards they’d gone out to dinner together. That was the start of the romance. It had been a rocky road since then, with plenty of ups and downs. And most of the downs, he had to admit, had been caused by his drinking. God, he missed her now! He wanted to take her in his arms, crush her against him. Fat chance, when he was no bigger than a bacterium.
‘It sounds to me,’ Jack was remarking to Lydia, ‘as if you’re pretty hung up on the guy.’
She went over to the window and peered out, her back to him. ‘How well do you know Tuck?’
‘We’re very close,’ Jack told her.
‘Does he talk about me?’
‘He’s pretty tight-lipped when it comes to women.’ ‘Hey!’ Tuck shouted, ‘Will you knock this off!’
But Jack ignored him. He walked over and stood next to Lydia.
‘If I were Tuck,’ he said, ‘I’d talk about you all the time.’
Lydia, peering down into the street, suddenly looked alarmed.
‘He’s sneaked out!’ she said.
‘Who?’
‘The Cowboy. He’s leaving. C’mon, let’s get after him!’
Hurriedly they went out, taking the emergency stairs down to the parking lot. Jack climbed into the driver’s seat of the Mustang with Lydia beside him. As they pulled out, they saw the Cowboy getting into a taxi.
‘Keep on his tail!’ Lydia whispered.
Jack hung back until the cab pulled away. Then he drew out on to the freeway, following it at a discreet distance.
Beside him, Lydia began to undergo an amazing wardrobe transformation. She was dressed in smart working woman’s clothes, a dark shirt and matching jacket over a white blouse with a scarlet scarf tied at her neck. She took the scarf off and belted it around her waist before undoing the top button of her blouse and turning up the collar. By these simple changes she turned from being a career woman into someone who was ready for a stylish night out.
‘Wow,’ said Jack appreciatively.
Lydia winked at Jack and said, ‘I always like to be ready for a quick change operation when necessary. In my job, you never know where you might end up from one hour to the next, and it pays to be prepared.’
Fifteen minutes later the cab pulled up outside the Inferno. It was built of graffiti-scrawled brick, the sign in crimson neon above the entrance. Outside milled a crowd which seemed to comprise an equal mixture of hardcore punks and adventurous yuppies.
As Jack and Lydia climbed out of the Mustang, Jack heard his name being called.
He looked around and saw Wendy approaching. For a second, he didn’t recognize her. Her hair was lacquered into spikes and spray-dyed pink and orange. She wore a black leather mini-dress studded with metal spikes and heavy make-up in which deep shades of blue and purple predominated.
She looked equally surprised to see him. She glanced at Lydia, then back at him.
‘Jack?’ she said. ‘Jack?’
She came forward and started stroking him as if she couldn’t believe he was real.
‘My God, Jack! Look at you!’
Jack peered down at himself. ‘Uh . . . what’s the matter with me?’
‘Nothing. You look great!’
She grinned at him and popped a big pink bubble of gum.
Jack didn’t know quite what to say. Wendy looked nothing like the girl who worked at the supermarket.
‘Look at you,' he said to her.
Lydia was watching the Cowboy entering the club.
‘I’m going in before we lose him!’ she said.
Jack made to follow, but Wendy had grabbed his arm, refusing to let him go.
Much later, in the crowded, smoke-filled room, Jack and Wendy danced together as the speakers blasted out a raucous version of some punk anthem. Jack wasn’t sure about the music, but he had to admit that he was enjoying himself.
‘I can’t believe it, Jack,’ Wendy was saying. ‘It’s so exciting! I mean, how long have you been leading this double life?’
Jack merely gave her a knowing smile as if to indicate that he preferred to remain a man of mystery in her eyes. He glanced through the crowd and spotted the Cowboy dancing wildly at the centre of the floor. Then a figure came weaving through the crowd and shimmied up to him.
It was Lydia, and the Cowboy obviously liked what he saw.
The crowd swallowed them up, and Wendy grabbed' hold of him as a particularly vigorous and loud track began to blare out from the speakers.
Some time later, Wendy dragged him off the floor, hot and sweaty, for a drink. When he got back from the bar with two beers, he found that Lydia and the Cowboy were seated at a table next to them. The Cowboy was smiling and whispering into Lydia’s ear, while she laughed in return.
‘I don’t like it,’ Tuck muttered. ‘It looks like she’s enjoying herself too much!’
‘She’s just playing a role,’ Jack murmured.
‘What was that?’ asked Wendy.
‘A mantra,’ Jack said hastily. ‘I was saying a mantra to myself.’
‘Wow,’ said Wendy. ‘I really didn’t know you were into meditation, Jack. Seems like I don’t really know much about you at all. I know I’ve been real mean in the past. I’m know I’m a real pain sometimes. It’s probably on account of my life sucking the way it does. I'm a complete mess, you know . . . But I really like you, Jack. I mean, despite everything, I think I’m attracted to you.’
Jack listened to much more in this vein from her. In the past, the merest hint of a compliment would have delighted him. But now he was beginning to feel that he didn’t have to prove anything to her.
Suddenly Wendy’s ceaseless flow of words faltered. She was peering over his shoulder.
‘That lady is signalling to you,’ she said.
Jack looked around. Lydia was standing alone at the bar, gesturing to him. He rose and went over to her.
In a hushed and urgent voice she said, ‘I found out something. He’s meeting Scrimshaw early this morning _’
‘This morning?’ Jack said, puzzled.
‘It’s three A.M. already,’ she told him. ‘They’re picking him up at the hotel. They’re going to give him the chip they stole from Vectorscope.’
Jack was about to reply when the Cowboy appeared. He sidled up to Lydia.
‘Cowboy,’ she said, ‘this is Jack, an old friend of mine.’
‘Hi, Cowboy,’ Jack said.
‘Howdy, Big Jack,’ the Cowboy said in a thick accent. He turned to Lydia: ‘Let’s go Buffalo Gal! Let’s split this nowhere scene!’
Then he swept Lydia away through the crowd.
‘Let’s split this nowhere scene!’ came Tuck’s voice. ‘That guy’s slang is twenty years out of date!’
‘What shall we do?’ Jack asked.
‘Follow them of course!’ Tuck told him. ‘Don’t let them out of your sight!’
Jack hurried past Wendy’s table towards the exit.
‘Sorry,’ he called to her. ‘Gotta go.’
She gave a small rueful shrug.
Outside Jack clambered into the Mustang as Lydia and the Cowbo
y were driven away in a cab.
‘Hurry up!’ Tuck called to him.
He started the engine, revved it, and roared away.
Several minutes later the cab pulled up outside the hotel with Jack not far behind. Lydia and the Cowboy went inside.
‘Come on,’ Tuck said urgently as Jack found a parking space. ‘Don’t leave her alone in the hotel room with that guy!’
Listen,’ said Jack, ‘I don’t want them together any more than you do!’
‘Yeah, okay,’ said Tuck. ‘Wait a minute - why not?’
‘Because I don’t trust him either, that’s why’.’ Jack felt a surge of anger far stronger than any he had experienced before. If the Cowboy tried anything with Lydia, he’d ... he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions!
‘Come on!’ Tuck urged him again as he hurried towards the hotel entrance.
‘Shut the heck up, will you!’ Jack shouted angrily. I’ve had just about enough of your nagging for one day!’ If Tuck had been standing in front of him at that moment, he was sure he would have hit him. The thought made him feel slightly ashamed. But only slightly.
‘Why do I feel so hostile towards you all of a sudden?’ he wondered aloud.
Tuck had an answer he wasn’t expecting: ‘I’m using the pod’s computer to stimulate your adrenal gland, that’s why. We gotta get that adrenalin pumping if you’re going to play hero.’
Despite this, Jack wasn’t convinced that Tuck’s manipulations of his biochemistry were wholly the cause.
‘Maybe that’s the reason,’ he said belligerently, ‘and maybe it isn’t.’
There was a pause, and then Tuck said, ‘If you've got something to say, then say it.’
‘She deserves better,’ Jack blurted, ‘that’s all!’
‘What d’you mean “better”? Better than what?'
‘Better than you!’
Jack was now in the foyer, waiting for the elevator.
‘I knew it!’ Tuck said. ‘You think she’s got the hots for you, don’t you?’
Jack said nothing. The elevator’s doors opened and he stepped inside and pressed the floor button.
‘You know what she sees in you?’ Jack was saying. ‘She sees me, that’s who!’
Steven Spielberg's Innerspace Page 8
