"How nice to see you, Nathan," Diana said smoothly. "And you too, Dr Parrish."
"What can I do for you, Diana?" Bates asked.
"I have an urgent matter to discuss with you."
Bates spread his hands. "Go right ahead."
"In person only," Diana said. "To make it easier for you, we could meet right in Los Angeles, at our legation building. Unless you'd prefer to meet up here in my ship."
"No, thank you, Diana. Here would be fine. Space flight makes me queasy. First thing tomorrow?"
Diana dropped her pretense at charm. "No. Immediately."
"Why now? Surely it can wait—"
"No, it can't wait. The consequences of waiting could be more than you bargain for"
Bates smiled. "Why, Diana, is that a threat?"
She returned his smile. "Yes, that's exactly what it is. I'll see you in thirty minutes."
"Thirty minutes it is," Bates said.
The screen went blank and Bates touched the switch to close the wall panel.
"Are you going?" Julie asked.
Bates shrugged. "It didn't sound as if 1 have a lot of choice, did it?"
Julie got up and came over to his desk. "How can you be
sure she hasn't decided your agreement doesn't suit her needs anymore?"
"I can't be, but I appreciate your concern, Julie." He reached out and took her hand in his as she sat on the edge of the desk. "I just have to trust my judgment and timing. I'd like to think I can outguess her. Maybe I'll break the deal first and take the advantage. Diana and I are playing Russian roulette. It's a power game—the most exciting game of all."
"But the stakes include the fate of the world and four billion people."
He nodded. "All the more reason why I won't make a mistake. It's not just my neck on the line. Oh, I know the people you were in the resistance with don't believe I've got any interests at heart other than my own, but that's just not true, Julie." He patted her hand, somehow combining reassurance and affection in the gesture.
Julie watched Bates's gray Lincoln limo pull away from the building, then walked slowly across the parking lot to her own Mazda RX-7. One of these days Bates was going to make a pass at her—she was sure of that. She wasn't so sure of how she'd react. He was attractive, and she was more than a little annoyed at herself to find she wasn't immune to the sex appeal of power and wealth. And while she didn't agree with much of what Bates did in his relations with Diana, neither did she agree with the totally negative opinions of Bates shared by most of her fellow underground members. His treaty had preserved a semblance of life and had bought time for humanity to catch its breath and gird for the long fight.
What was Bates's ultimate goal? Was it conquest of the world, with himself as ruler? She didn't really know. It wasn't in her realm of experience to imagine that any person could actually think in those terms. He's not Hitler or Napoleon, she mused.
She unlocked the car door and slid in. Bates had thought she was concerned for his safety when she questioned his meeting with Diana. Not that she didn't care what happened to him—she'd already saved his life once when Ham Tyler had set up an assassination attempt—but she was considerably more preoccupied by what the meeting meant in terms of what Diana might be up to.
At times like these, knowing how Bates felt about her; Julie became acutely uncomfortable with her double life-being Bates's employee by day and a resistance fighter whenever necessary. She started the car and drove out the guarded gates of Science Frontiers.
The immense gray limousine pulled into the circular drive in front of the Visitor legation. Only a couple of years ago, this building was the Soviet Embassy. The irony of swapping one "evil empire" for another always prodded a half smile from Bates. He finished his Scotch on the rocks, put the glass on the limo's bar, and slid the small divider open so he could see the driver. "Wait for me. I don't know how long I'll be."
Bates opened the rear door and stepped out into the fading daylight. Two Visitor guards in standard red uniforms and dark glasses came down the steps to escort him inside.
Boot heels clicked on the marble floor; and Bates had to walk quickly to keep up. He glanced at the Visitor flags and banners around the foyer. The new occupants seemed to share the Soviet taste for cool functionality and had a similar obsession with symbols of identity and power. The guards led him to Diana's office, where two other guards opened the doors and let him in.
Diana wasn't at her desk, but in a comfortable chair off to the side. She remained seated and imperiously nodded for Bates to join her. A bottle of fine wine from the supply left behind by the Russians waited with a pair of glasses on a tray.
"Something to drink, Mr. Bates?"
"Don't mind if 1 do."
"Then pour it."
Bates knew the ploy. She refused to play hostess, and his pouring the wine cast him in the role of inferior. He'd never met with Diana without going through a similar routine, establishing his status in her eyes.
He didn't care. The wine was an excellent vintage and he really did want some. He'd spent a lifetime studying the psychology of opponents, but they'd all been human. This was an intriguing change of pace.
"Would you care for some, Diana?"
"Thank you."
He poured two glasses and passed one to her. "Picking up human vices, are we?"
She smiled, ice in her eyes. "Not at all."
"I'd love to chitchat the evening away, but that's not why I'm here. Why don't you get to the point?"
"Fine," she said, taking a sip. "The point is this. When we reached our treaty agreement, you swore to keep Los Angeles and the surrounding area under control, and totally demilitarized."
"And we're doing our best."
"Your best isn't good enough, Mr. Bates," Diana said sharply. "Los Angeles is both a conduit and a destination point for entirely too much weaponry being used against our forces."
"Look, Diana, there's an angry world out there, with people being killed by Visitors. And that means not everyone here is going to love you. I have limited resources. I can't stop every bullet or pistol from being used to kill Visitors."
"I think you can do more than you've been doing, and if you don't start, I'll be forced to take actions you may not like."
Bates spread his hands. "If you want to increase your patrols outside my borders, be my guest."
"That's already being done. And I don't need your permission for it. But that's not what I'm warning you about."
"What, then?"
"I'll make it clear, Mr. Bates. If you don't stop the weapons being supplied to the supposedly outlawed rebel group in your provisional zone, I'll have no choice but to assume that you aren't really interested in coexistence. I'll consider our treaty abrogated, and I'll do something I've wanted to do for a very long time—I'll level your precious city."
Bates gripped the stem of the wineglass tightly—he hoped Diana didn't notice. He did not want to lose his temper with her. "This is a very serious threat, Diana. You're aware I couldn't stand by and let you carry it out."
"Oh, you'd have very little choice."
"There's still the red toxin. I can still unleash our supply and you couldn't stop it."
"I'd be willing to take that risk. We'd lose some territory and some soldiers, but it's a big world out there and I'd be willing to conquer some of it and leave Los Angeles to you. The survivors might not fare well in radioactive rubble, but the city would be yours. Think about it, Mr. Bates. But don't think too long. If I don't see some results in a week, I'll carry out my threat."
Bates finished his wine, put the glass down, and stood. "Good-bye, Diana. Enjoy the wine."
Chapter 4
Elias lifted his wineglass. "Here's to the happy wedding couple. May the union be short and sweet—and
safe!"
The group of resistance members gathered downstairs at Club Creole clinked their glasses together with a chorus of "Amens!" and "Cheers!" as they drank to the imminent departure of Da
ve Durning and Susan Coopersmith, who sat in the middle of the party.
"What time do you hit the road?" Elias asked.
"Eight in the morning," Coopersmith said. "If only my mum were here to warn me about the wedding night," she added with mock concern.
"Will you be able to support me in the style to which I've been accustomed?" asked the easygoing Durning, his round face lit with a gentle smile.
"First class all the way—at least until I ditch you in New York."
Someone in the back began to sing, "I wanna be around to pick up the pieces when somebody breaks your heart. ..."
"Hey, this ain't gonna be a cakewalk back east, folks," Ham Tyler said sourly. "Forged papers or no, the Visitors sometimes make up the rules as they go along. You can wear a beard and hairpiece, Dave, and we can make you up to be an ugly broad, Suzie—"
"Nobody could do that," Donovan cut in lightly as Julie socked him on the shouldei; then snuggled close to him.
The group laughed, but Tyler shook his head. "Joke all you want, Gooder Disguises might not be enough to save their hides is all I'm saying."
Maggie Blodgett, the pretty blond who was the rebels' best pilot, draped an arm over Ham's shoulders. "You're so much fun at parties, Mr Tyiet"
"Yeah, ease up. Ham," Elias said.
Tyler disengaged himself from Maggie. "Go ahead, get cocky. See if I care. But when you screw up because of it, don't come crying to me."
He turned to find a corner by himself, but Chris came up to him and said, "Gotta talk, Ham." They sat down a distance from the party.
"What's up, Chris?"
"Somethin's not right about Maragato."
Ham glanced furtively over his shoulder at the Japanese agent chatting with some of the underground members across the room.
"What do you mean?"
Chris sipped his beer. "You know him, right?"
"Yeah, our paths have crossed before."
"I remember you tellin' me about a brouhaha you had with him and the Japanese government over a Korean pilot who defected with one of those new MiGs."
"Yeah, I happened to be the guy who found him when he landed in South Korea. The Japs sent Maragato over to look the plane over and debrief the guy. It so happens Maragato speaks Korean and I don't. We worked real closely, you might say—fought over every little thing and wound up hating each other So what else is new?"
"Yeah, well, he doesn't recall any of that," Chris said quietly.
Ham narrowed his eyes. "You sure?"
"Positive. I talked to the guy for a while after Kyle and me came back here today. From time to time, I looked into his eyes and got a real strong feelin' there was nobody home. But then he'd seem fine. That's when I brought up his run-in with you."
"And he didn't remember it? Damn, when I ream a guy nut like I did to him, I'd really like to be remembered for it. Maybe he just didn't want to talk about it—you know how they can be about saving face."
Chris shook his head. "Nah, I think it was more than that. I really think he didn't recall it at all. I thought you should know."
Ham scratched his face absently. "Hmm, you think I )iana's already screwed around with those little mind tricks of hers?"
"That's the first thing I thought of. But then why was he included in on this deal with Lydia? Think Diana's got something else in mind? Would she trick her own security
chief?"
"Maybe Lydia's the one playing the tricks," Ham said.
"On Diana?"
"Could be. Wouldn't be the first time. Those two ladies aren't real fond of each other"
Chris finished his mug of beet "If Maragato's already been converted, he could've been planted as a sort of counterspy. Maybe Lydia planned to let us get these three back from her"
Tyler nodded. "Maybe our wedding couple's not for real either. Did you notice anything about them?"
Chris shook his head. "But that don't really mean anything. Maybe I should blow Maragato away, just to be on the safe side. Make it look like an accident."
"No, let's wait and see. We know to keep an eye on him, so I don't think it can get too far out of hand."
"You sure, Ham? Just bringing him here to the club's already got us in trouble—if he's a Visitor spy and he gets away from us, that is."
"Donovan was responsible for bringing him here. If it turns out Maragato's one nonkosher Jap, it could be just the ammo I need to knock Donovan out of the box and run this show myself. Keep it under your hat for now—and keep your eyes open." Tyler scanned the crowd for Kyle Bates and spotted him sitting in a booth with Elizabeth Maxwell. "Kyle and the lizard kid are getting pretty tight, eh, Chris?" "I wouldn't worry about it. A little young love never killed anybody."
"I wouldn't know, Chris, I wouldn't know. Hey, Kyle— over here, kid."
Kyle told Elizabeth to wait, then came over to Ham and Chris. "Yeah, what is it, Tyler?"
"Got a job for you two tomorrow. Sit down."
Kyle did as he was told, crossing his arms sullenly. "What?"
"This Japanese guy, Maragato—we want to ship him out to sea by boat. I want you two to ride out to a little fishing town called Castillo Beach, make contact with some of our people up there, tell 'em what we've got in mind, and make sure they can come through."
Kyle thought for a moment. "Take a ride up the coast? Shouldn't be too bad. What time?"
"Dawn," Tyler said. "So don't let the lizard kid keep you up too late."
Kyle stiffened. "Don't call her that," he said tightly.
Ham raised his hands. "Hey, sorry, kid. Just don't want to see you in over your head."
Kyle shoved the chair back, banging it into the wall. "That's my problem. 1 don't have to listen to crap like that from my father; and I certainly don't have to take it from you."
Ham watched with an amused half smile as Kyle stalked angrily back to the star child across the room. "Sensitive, isn't he?"
Chris shrugged his broad shoulders. "Give him a break, Ham. He's not a bad kid."
"He doesn't like to listen. That could cause trouble some time when we just don't need it."
"You made me his baby-sitter—you let me worry about it."
"Love to, Chris. But you may not always be there to save his skin."
The next morning dawned hot and clear in Los Angeles. Chris and Kyle mounted their motorcycles and headed north up the coast. While Julie went to work at Science Frontiers, Tyler and Donovan met with others of the resistance to plan strategy. Ham's Central American contacts had radioed during the night—the weapons shipment would arrive in two days. Tyler answered:"We'll be there."
"I don't like it," Donovan said as they checked the maps in Club Creole's lower level.
"I don't like it either; Goodei; but we haven't got a hell of a lot of choice. We've got two things to do at once, so we split up our people and do 'em—the faster the better You, me, and Chris should be enough to get Maragato up to Castillo Beach. Julie can lead another bunch to pick up the weapons. She's done this sort of thing before."
"Why can't you go with Julie and I take Maragato?"
"I got my reasons for wanting to go along up north."
Donovan frowned. "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of. I want to know those reasons."
"I like the climate there better" Tyler said sarcastically.
Elizabeth wandered over to the planning session. "Can I go with Julie?" she asked shyly.
"I think it's better if you don't, Elizabeth," Donovan said. "It's safer for you here. Especially with your mom away. Robin would be very unhappy if we didn't take good care of you."
"But 1 want to feel like I'm helping. Everyone's always protecting me."
"Hell, Donovan, let the kid go. It shouldn't be too dangerous a mission, and I'll send the Bates kid along. He'll look after her."
Donovan glared at Tyler then said to Elizabeth, "We'll think about it."
By midday, Chris and Kyle had returned to the speakeasy after wending their way through a maze of passageways under the
streets from several blocks away. They met Ham and Donovan inside.
"Got a few changes in the plan," Chris reported.
"Like what?" Ham asked.
"Talked to Art Grant—he's the skipper of the fishing boat, the Pegasus. He loved the idea of getting Maragato out to the sub. He's worked with the Navy before, and he'll make the arrangements with them, no sweat."
"So what's different?" Donovan said.
"They don't want us to take the risk of traveling along the coast," Chris continued. "Two reasons—there's a lot more Visitor patrols in that area and Grant wouldn't want us to have to run that gauntlet. He also doesn't want us to lead any tricky Visitors to them by accident."
"So what do we do instead?" Donovan asked, annoyance evident in his tone.
"Indirect transfer," Kyle said.
Chris nodded. "They gave coordinates for a place up in the mountains. Gimme the map."
Donovan unfolded the map and spread it out on a table. Chris bent low, moving his finger carefully along. "It's in the Panza range."
"What's the nearest town?" Ham asked.
"Santa Margarita," Chris said, "but we're not talking next dooi; Ham. I'm lookin' for a place called Crow's Fork. It's so tiny, it ain't even on a map—and the place you're supposed to meet Grant's people is a couple of miles outside that. Here we go—off Route 58." Chris put his fingertip on the spot. Donovan and Tyler peered at it, then at each other—then at Chris.
"Major metropolitan area," Donovan deadpanned. "Still, from their point of view, I guess they're right."
"They gave me directions to an old mine outside of Crow's Fork," Chris said. He pulled a piece of paper out of the pocket of his denim jacket and handed it to Donovan, but Tyler snatched it first. Donovan glared.
Ham shrugged. "I know that area a little. It's real rugged, Gooder. We did some maneuvers up there, and we're not going to be able to drive up."
"Even in a four-by-four?"
V06 - Prisoners and Pawns Page 4
