Diamond on Your Radar

by F P Adriani

  I got up and removed some of my clothes from where he had neatly stacked them atop the wooden dresser.

  Then I grabbed my special case, went into the bathroom and got to work.

  *

  Not long after, my silver case was sandwiched between us, and we were sitting in a red street-cab’s backseat, on our way to The Headquarters.

  His right hand on my case, Tan leaned toward my left ear and whispered, “Will they let you in with this?”

  “Maybe not. But I’m not going in without it.”

  “Well then, you’ve got a problem there.”

  “We’ll see.”

  The taxi finally pulled up to the tall gunmetal fence of The Headquarters, and when I got out of the car and paid the driver in Diamond dollars, he looked at me funny. Then he looked at the fence funny too, then down at his hand, which held my money.

  Now I told him, “I haven’t had a chance to change to Earth currency.”

  He had a heavy, crookedly trimmed mustache, as if he’d trimmed it while running to catch a cab like the one he drove. Now the crooked dark line curved into an even more crooked state as he said, “I’ll exchange it, but this is annoying.”

  “Welcome to life,” I said, and then I gave him quite a big tip.

  The other half of his mustache rose up more till it topped a smile.

  The cab pulled away and Tan said to me from beside me, “I still don’t understand why you made me wear my locator when you told me to turn it off.”

  “Because. They’ll be able to read them if they’re on. And we don’t need the locators just yet anyway. They’re only for if things go sour.”

  It was summer here now; the days were long, hot. And the Sun’s persistent heat beat down onto our heads.

  I was wearing my red jacket again, and my case was strapped to my back over my jacket. I slipped my hand in one of my pockets to check that Tan’s looks-like-a-calculator locator readout terminal was still inside there and still turned off—and “slipped” was the operative word there: my palm was wet. And now I felt a line of sweat course down over my forehead and land in my right eyebrow.

  I looked down the fence, toward the entrance to the giant complex, and then my feet began moving that way. “When we get inside,” I said to Tan, “just be quiet as much as possible and follow my lead.”

  “Why? I’m not a little kid.”

  “You are in this environment,” I said. And he didn’t seem to have a response for that.

  We reached the metal fence’s entrance area, and beside it a big burly guard dressed in all black came out of his olive-green guard’s hut. From behind the invisible electric fence-field that really guarded the complex, he demanded to see our IDs. “What are you doing here?” he asked in a suspicious voice. “This isn’t the public section.”

  “I’m aware of that,” I said.

  Tan pulled out his Space Passport from the zippered front pocket of his gray pants, and I pulled out my Space Passport from my red jacket. We held our Passports open for the guard, and he looked them over and clicked a button on his uniform, which I knew would take a scan of our IDs. Then his hand waved us into the first set of security scanners outside the metal fence.

  Tan went under the metal arch first and set off no alarms. But then my body made the scanner go off.

  The guard’s dark eyes narrowed at my face, then slid toward my shoulders. “What’s that on your back?”

  “Something that’s staying on my back.”

  “That’s fine,” he said. “But then you’re stuck out here.”

  “That’s fine,” I repeated. “Just get me my boss. He’s expecting me. Tell him we can talk down here, or we don’t talk.”

  The guy looked over at Tan, looked over his body, where he wore a gray short-sleeved shirt that hung over the front of his gray pants. But Tan didn’t—or maybe wouldn’t—say anything. His face don’t-mess-with-me hard, he just stared back at the guy.

  Then the guy said, “Wait right here,” as he walked away, our Passports still in his hand.

  “Why’d he take our IDs?” Tan whispered to me once the guy had disappeared into his square hut.

  “He’ll keep them while we’re inside the main building.”

  “Pia, what makes you think we’re getting in!”

  “Oh, we’ll get in. Don’t worry.”

  He moved closer to me, his sharp eyes locking on mine. “I’m worried either way! For you. Maybe we should leave. Coming to The Headquarters was stupid—”

  “Can’t back out now.”

  “Why the hell did the scanner go off? Didn’t you turn off your locator too and my readout?”

  “Yep. That’s not what made it go off.”

  “But I know your case won’t—”

  “Shh,” I cut him off. The guard was walking back our way, his black-booted feet looking big and aggressive.

  When he reached near us again, his equally big-looking hand waved us through to the next scanner behind the fence as he said, “Your boss will meet you inside.”

  *

  Tan and I were finally moving closer to the UPG’s main building; it was centrally located inside a mushroom-like cluster of buildings that extended far back into a mammoth field. Right in front of this cluster now, we moved along a gray slate walkway between occasional signs that said in all caps, “KEEP ON THE WALKWAYS.”

  I raised my head to the big main building; painted in shiny gray and white flecks, it looked like a block of ultrapolished granite. A bunch of black windows and a giant black metal door had been carved out of the building’s front. And above the door sat an enormous UPG planets-and-hands logo plaque.

  I felt a sneer twisting my face as my eyes fell back down to the doorway.

  Tan reached it before I did; he pushed the red button that said DOORBELL on the long, electronic side-panel.

  A cold voice asked, “What is your UPG designation?”

  “Thirteen,” I said fast as I moved into the security camera’s field. I frowned up at the camera as it flashed, as it took my picture—and Tan’s picture too because he moved to right behind me and to the side a bit.

  The front door opened and an older white-haired man I recognized stepped into the doorway. “Thirteen,” he said, “you can come in. But he’s got to stay out here, and you’ve got to turn in your case.”

  “No way. He comes in or I don’t. Same with my case.”

  “Your appointment’s upstairs. You can’t go beyond the first floor unless you turn in your case. You know the rules.”

  “Fuck the rules,” I said, my hands pulling the straps on my case tighter over my shoulders.

  “I’ve worked for you too—why the hell can’t I come in?” Tan said, his words a hot sneer.

  I heard James’s tired voice float toward us from behind the annoying man in front of us: “Just let them in.”

  The older man’s white eyebrows rose, and his head spun to the side toward James, whose long legs in his beige pants strode toward us purposefully. The older man said to him in a whiney voice now, “But the code forbids—”

  “This is outside the code’s jurisdiction,” James said.

  The other man sighed and promptly walked back inside and away.

  James’s arm in his crisp white shirt motioned for us to come into the lobby, which was bustling with activity, as usual. There were easily a hundred desks arranged among the huge space, and each desk had at least one or two people working at it or standing nearby. There definitely was a lot of shit to coordinate when you were trying to control the whole goddamn galaxy….

  I gritted my teeth as I walked behind James, who led us down a white hallway, then stopped before an open door. “In here,” he said, stepping over the threshold.

  But I remained outside in the hall. “Since when? We’re supposed to go upstairs.”

  “Thir—Pia, you can break some of the rules, but not all of them. Especially safety precautions. You can’t bring the case upstairs. End of story. You can leave it down here and
then come upstairs—”

  “Nope. It’s staying with me.”

  He nodded. “As I thought you’d say.” His blue eyes had been on me, but now they floated to beside me to Tan, to Tan’s pale face, pale with worry and uncertainty, it seemed to me. But sometimes I really felt like I had no idea what was going on behind Tan’s face. This was one of those times. Maybe he was pale because he was feeling faint again….

  “Hello, Tan,” James said now. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person. You’re looking well.”

  “No he isn’t, and neither am I,” I snapped. “Let’s get moving. I didn’t come here to exchange bullshit pleasantries.”

  James sighed. “I haven’t seen you in a while. The least we can do is behave like two normal human beings.”

  “As if you could.”

  Another sigh, this one sounding more tired than the last. “I’m determined to be positive and cause a positive influence.”

  My head snapped back. “What have you turned into a New-Age freak?”

  He laughed a little, but he didn’t respond to my statement. He did, however, move to the side of the doorway and wave his arm around toward behind him.

  Now it was my turn to let out a sigh as I walked into the room and over to where there was a desk and not much else—just three chairs opposite the desk and a little table against the right side-wall, and a little fridge near that little table.

  It was an interior room; there were no windows. And when Tan finally stepped inside, James moved to the panel beside the doorway and pushed some buttons. An inner metal door slowly slid over the outer and locked in place. Then James walked nearer to us, and then over to behind the brown desk.

  My impression of him from on the video-screen had been correct: he was indeed thinner now, and he’d given up wearing the fake mustache he’d often worn—or at least these last times I’d seen him, he hadn’t worn any mustache. He was, however, sporting some of his own natural stubble around his mouth, both above and below, as if he’d forgotten to shave that morning. I thought this strange because he was usually a very neat person.

  One of his arms now waved in a make-yourself-comfortable motion. And he said, “Sit down,” as he himself sat down behind the desk. “I use this room sometimes now. But I don’t feel as secure in here because this floor is so busy.”

  I really didn’t want to sit in one of the chairs, but I did, and so did Tan, apparently gratefully because he let out a shaky loud breath when his ass hit the chair’s cushion. Even though his face had more color, he was still somehow looking unwell….

  James must have finally noticed. His eyes were on Tan’s face, on Tan’s face a little too long. “Have you got ship-lag?”

  Tan straightened in his seat. “I’m fine.”

  “I never got to know you well enough to tell much, but you don’t look fine to me now.”

  “I’m fine,” Tan repeated.

  James’s eyes looked dubious, but he dropped that subject—then got on another one that probably didn’t make Tan feel much better.

  James suddenly pulled out some equipment from the desk’s top drawer and tossed it onto the desktop. “I’ve got to discuss some things with Pia only, so you’ll have to turn your back and use these electronic earplugs.”

  “No he won’t,” I said fast. And I could feel Tan’s sharp eyes on me.

  “I realize you need Tan with you for support,” James said, slowly sitting back in his own seat and clasping his fingers over his white-covered stomach. “But, he’s not reinstated. He can’t even be, not at your clearance level.”

  Tan shot out now to no one in particular, “Would you both fucking stop talking about me as if I’m not in the room?”

  I ignored Tan’s outburst and said to James, “I’ve got to be able to discuss things with him.”

  “Why would you want to? It could put him at risk.”

  “I’m well aware of that—”

  “So am I!” shouted Tan. “Find a way to include me, goddammit.” He was breathing hard, first at James, then at me, then back again.

  Thinking faster now, I said to James, “I’m sure I’ll need back-up on Earth-Moon.”

  James sighed now, an endless-seeming sigh. Then he punctuated the sigh by pointing at Tan—then he continued talking about Tan as if only James and I were in the room. “He’ll need some more training for him to go undercover. He’s got almost no poker-face skills. He’s too honest about his feelings.”

  Tan’s face turned so red with anger, I thought his black hair would catch fire and singe away.

  But before he could say anything, I told James, “Then train him!”

  James frowned a big I’m-the-boss-I-don’t-train-the-underlings frown. “There’s less than two days before the Earth-Moon flight I’ve arranged for you…. Well, actually, I’ve just come up with a better idea: you crash-course train him.”

  On any other day I would have laughed at someone instructing me to train my man, but, really, sometimes your man did need training, and this was clearly one of those times. James was right about Tan’s expressive face. He had to learn to mask it, especially to cool it off.

  I, however, didn’t have to learn this. I was much better at affecting cool or hot, which cool and hot I alternately affected now at James. “Look, anything you can say to me you should say to him too, if you dare. Don’t think I’m not covering my ass here in some way.”

  “Oh I know you are,” James said, his eyes on my shoulders, where the straps of my case still were. “I’d expect nothing less…. And by the way, two days ago I sent out feelers to see if anyone else has received anything similarly untoward, but I got back nothing. You’re the only Miscellaneous being targeted.”

  “Well, that’s comforting,” I said through a very red face now. Molotov jumped into my head, but then she jumped out just as fast when a new image took her place: me, with someone’s hands around my throat, only the hands were shaped like axe-heads. That was how I felt now; I was sitting there with axes aimed at my neck in a place that might also have an axe aimed at my neck. This was the worst goddamn personal mess I had ever found myself in, and I really hoped it would be the last goddamn personal mess I would ever find myself in.

  “All right,” James said suddenly. “Let’s get down to business.”

  He reached into the desk again and removed a long lock-box. I watched as his fingers appeared to punch in a code on the side of the box facing away from me and Tan. Then James pulled out several sealed-in-cardboard folders and held them out toward me.

  I rose and removed them from his hand. One of the cardboard covers said in black block letters: “FOR THIRTEEN ONLY.” When I got back to my seat, Tan slid his seat closer to mine.

  But James said, “Don’t open them now. I really don’t think you’ll want to.” He was staring over at Tan again, and I felt something blossoming inside me: the portend of a sick feeling.

  “What is this?” I asked, staring down at the material in my lap, which was quite heavy, as if there were metal inside somewhere.

  James replied now, “Some newer evidence of the child-slavery ring.” One of his forefingers lazily pointed at Tan. “Are you up to looking at it?”

  Ever so slightly, I felt Tan slide his chair away from me.

  “I didn’t think so,” James said. His eyes came back my way. “The material’s specially coated anyway. Because you’ll be removing the files from here, before you leave the building, you’ll need to get fitted with glasses so only your eyes in the glasses can read the real text contents. We’ve gotten tighter and tighter with security here.”

  “I can see that,” I said, but I was thinking that, apparently, the security wasn’t tight enough because I’d gotten in here.

  On the other hand, James clearly knew I was probably rigged with something; he’d simply let me in. I had the peculiar thought that he somehow trusted me more than I’d ever thought he had. But I knew him well; he was very like me in one way because he really didn’t trust anybody. He was
probably letting things-security in this building slide around me because he badly needed me to do something, and it was something that either no one else wanted to do, no one else was qualified to do, or no one else would be capable of doing in the same way as I was capable. Not that I had been the ultimate hot-shit of a Miscellaneous, but just that we each had our specialties….

  “Just explain the goddamn courier job to me already,” I finally said.

  James sat back in his seat again, raising one ankle to his other knee. His fingers played with the brown shoelace on his brown shoe as he spoke. “One of the files contains information on that. But, basically, a few different things are going on. A Miscellaneous on the Moon recently stumbled across some information about the possible ring re-emergence. And we’ve just learned that this past year the titanium output’s seemingly gone down significantly at two of the mining colonies, 10 and 15. It looks like someone’s skimming ore and money off the operation—like reporting less of an income, making deals off the books. For once, the governing Moon Council actually complained to us and asked us for our help.

  “That undercover Miscellaneous is on vacation from a mine-job at Colony 10—right now he’s at Colony 7. But he’s been on the Moon for a while. And he needs something to keep maintaining his cover when he goes back to 10. We can’t fake it well enough from right there because there are no technical resources in place to do that, and because of the ICFC’s predominant presence at 10.”

  For a moment, I just stared at him. Then: “Oh christ…are you kidding me? Is this part of the pissing contest of galaxy control between you two? Is this what you need me for?”

  James didn’t respond. But then he didn’t need to.

  “What the hell is going on?” Tan asked then, looking back and forth between the two of us.

  Turning to him, I said, “Why the fuck am I getting involved here?” But I’d really meant that question to James, who was smart enough to sense that.

  James now said, “Because I need your help and you need mine, and some kids need both our help. It’s all very simple.”

  “Nothing’s ever very simple,” I said. My eyes were right on him now. “You really, seriously believe the ICFC is involved in the ring—that’s what you’re implying, isn’t it?”