“They will not remember you if you are caught and imprisoned before you accomplish anything, either,” said the kid.
The boss smiled. “Then I suppose I must not allow myself to be caught.”
DURING the second week of training, Bear finally had the new girls bout in The Ring.
It went about as expected. Amber, all grace and smooth moves, danced around and attacked at ideal times. Jill stumbled back and forth and flailed futilely at Amber whenever she thought she could get away with it.
“Stop it stop it stop it!” Bear cried after about twenty seconds had elapsed. “Jillian! Have you learned nothing from me thus far? Show me that you heard my words, and were not simply counting the wrinkles on my face! Now...again!”
Amber forced an embarrassed smile before she attacked again.
It didn’t go much better the next twenty seconds than it had the first.
Director Holiday appeared and interrupted the bout. Bear was annoyed. Jill was relieved.
“You’ll have to continue your training later, I’m afraid,” said Holiday. “Right now it’s time to participate in that for which you are being trained.”
“Ah, such flowery language!” Bear said, shaking his head. “What does the director mean?”
“He means,” said Jill, “it’s time for our first mission.”
Holiday’s mysterious smirk became a sly smile. “It’s time to break in those new uniforms, ladies.”
“Director?” said Bear. He gestured at Jill. “Please make sure this one is well armed. If she is forced to fight without a weapon...well, I am much too busy in the foreseeable future to attend a funeral.”
“Very funny,” said Jill.
Amber had not the slightest smile on her face. “Our first mission,” she whispered.
DEBRIEFING happened fifteen minutes later in a conference room off the garage. Corey and Bradley met the director and the girls there, soon followed by Dizzie and Mandy.
“As you know,” Holiday began without preface, “approximately one week ago, Corey Stone and Bradley Park arrested a vendor of illegal materials—a man who calls himself Mr. Love. We had reason to believe Mr. Love was in contact with a much larger and more dangerous criminal ring. Since that time the department has been in the process of tracking down Mr. Love’s clients. They have been questioned and fined on charges of deliberately obtaining materials known to be illegal. Amanda Farrell,” he gestured toward Mandy, “was the lead analyst in finding said violators. Amanda, would you briefly explain the process?”
Mandy stood, looking as intellectual as ever. “Mr. Love’s apartment and place of business is accessed by an alley entrance. A traffic camera just outside the alley gave us a clear view of any vehicles which parked at his door, and the license numbers were then traced to the owners. However, on a number of occasions over the last month, Mr. Love had a visitor who arrived in a car with the license numbers obscured.”
“Sherlock should have alerted us,” said Corey. “Any time any traffic camera spots a vehicle whose license numbers aren’t visible, Sherlock is supposed to red-flag it.”
“He did,” said Mandy.
“Then why did no one follow up on the alert?” demanded Bradley.
Many sighed, obviously annoyed at this sidetrack. “A non-visible license numbers is a very common alert from Sherlock. Typically it’s only because of a dirty license plate, or a shadow, or something equally harmless. These red-flags are nowhere near the top of the list for analysts to follow up on, particularly on busier days. We usually bypass the alerts and move on to more dangerous ones.”
“Was there no other way to determine who the driver of the vehicle was?” asked Bradley.
Mandy shook her head. “We have footage of the client walking from his car to Love’s door and back, but it’s inconclusive. He wore a hood which shadowed his face, and didn’t speak within the range of the microphones on the security cameras; so Sherlock’s VOFARE was unable to make an ID. We tried following the route he had driven to reach Love’s place, but he took too many side roads—roads without any camera surveillance. He remains the one client of Mr. Love’s we have not arrested.”
“But now you’ve found him,” said Jill.
“We’re about to,” said Holiday. “Until recently, Mr. Love has been downright afraid to speak of this particular client.”
“That just goes to show he’s as dangerous as you suspected,” put in Amber.
Holiday nodded. “Exactly. Thankfully Mr. Love’s impending court date has loosened his tongue at last. Apparently this client wasn’t a collector interested in obtaining Love’s videos; he was interested in where Love got them.”
Corey raised an eyebrow. “He wanted to get a hold of a VCR and videocassettes himself.”
“In all probability, yes. This confirms our suspicions that the Anterran underground is manufacturing a communications network using outdated technology—technology Sherlock cannot tap into. This client, whoever he is, wants to make use of Love’s contacts to obtain materials for this plan.”
“What did Love tell the client?” asked Bradley.
“Love was hesitant to reveal his Earthside contacts who had been shipping him the videos. The client was very persuasive, however. They had arranged to meet late last week to discuss the matter.”
“But Love was in jail by then,” said Bradley.
“Precisely. But this morning I persuaded Love to call the client.”
“I don’t suppose you got a trace?” Corey asked hopefully.
Holiday shook his head. “We weren’t so fortunate, not surprisingly. However, we have another plan in place. During the call, Mr. Love apologized for missing the meeting, claiming he thought he was being followed. He has arranged to meet the client again tonight. Love won’t make it to the appointment, of course. You will.”
“Any chance this client suspects that Love has been arrested?” asked Jill.
“There’s no reason he should,” said Holiday. “Love’s explanation was plausible. In all probability the client will be expecting Love to meet him as planned.”
Corey stood, ready to go. “What’s the location?”
“The elevator of a parking garage in a business park in Korean Town. The time of the meeting is set for 9 pm.”
“We get there early and wait for him,” said Bradley.
Holiday shook his head. “More than likely the client is planning on being there early himself to scope things out. You will arrive precisely on time. The mission is simple: Bring him in.”
“Right,” muttered Amber with a swallow. “Nothing to it.”
IN the locker room Jill paused in front of the glass case housing her uniform. She stared once again into those reflective eyes.
It was time.
The uniform was very light and flexible. And, Bear would be glad to know, she had two weapons holstered at her sides. She carried the visored helmet; no need to put that on until departure.
Jill turned around and saw Amber, also in her new outfit. Even the armor-plated uniform couldn’t hide that girl’s perfect figure.
“Let’s do this,” said Jill.
“I think I’m ready,” said Amber. She patted the handguns at her sides. “Safety’s off.”
Jill was about to tell her to put the safety back on until they were actually on their way. Then she thought better. “Nice,” she said.
COREY, Bradley, and Amber took their places in one of the department’s black skycars. Jill mounted her skybike.
They waited.
“How are you feeling?” Jill heard Corey’s voice in her earpiece. For a second she foolishly thought he was asking her, not Amber.
“Nervous,” said Amber.
“Don’t worry, this one’s a cinch. It’s an ambush mission—the easiest kind. And we’re four against one.”
Holiday’s voice came over their earpieces. Whether he had heard Corey’s comments or not, he began: “Remember, the client is in all likelihood a very dangerous man. But we have the
element of surprise. Let’s use it for all it’s worth. Desiree, are you with us?”
“Hear you loud and clear, sir!” crackled Dizzie’s voice. “I’ve sent the routes to the vehicle consoles.”
Jill touched the new console the department had installed on her skybike. A map with automated directions came up.
“Each vehicle will be routed separately,” Dizzie went on, “to keep from attracting attention. For all we know, this guy will be suspicious; he may have lookouts. Your vehicle will leave first, Cor. Your departure time is five minutes.”
It seemed like five hours. Jill felt perspiration bead on her forehead, felt her heart race beneath the plated armor of her uniform.
“Thirty seconds,” Dizzie’s warning crackled.
She saw Corey and his passengers don their helmets—Corey’s with its silver skull, Bradley’s with its Korean insignias, Amber’s plain black for now like Jill’s.
“Go!”
The black car peeled out of its spot in the garage. Jill watched until its taillights disappeared around a bend in the tunnel.
“You’ll be ninety seconds behind him, Jill,” said Dizzie.
She looked down into the eyes of her helmet, twin dark reflections of her face. She turned it around, slipped it over her head.
“Go!”
She kicked her skybike into gear. At the end of the tunnel, she didn’t wait for the platform to lift her into Pete’s fish cannery. She jetted straight up the shaft on her own.
They were on their way.
18
THE business park was on a ridge at the edge of Korean Town. The buildings were modern, with strange glass-walled angles and vaulted foyers. Between the buildings were lawn-covered hills with occasional abstract fountains and gardens along the paths.
At seven o’clock sharp the last wave of businessmen and businesswomen had streamed out of the offices to the central parking garage and driven away in their luxury cars. Dim light showed from the deserted foyers; lamps cast pools of light on the abandoned parking lots and pathways.
The hooded guy walked along one of the paths at the top of the ridge. To the east the skyline of the Avenue of Towers jutted against the distant shape of the Home Planet.
He turned up the ridge and made his way toward the parking garage. He walked across the bottom level of the garage beneath flickering fluorescent lights.
He was careful to make sure the security cameras caught him.
“SHERLOCK spotted the client,” Dizzie’s voice buzzed. “He’s at the garage. We’re tracking him now.”
“Great,” said Corey. “We’re around the corner from there. Let me know if he moves.”
“He’s in the elevator.”
“Then we’ll get a little closer.”
The black car pulled into the bottom level of the garage. Corey got out, and Bradley took the wheel.
“Wait here unless you hear from me,” Corey told him.
“Okay,” said Bradley.
“Okay,” Amber said at the same time. Her voice was shaking a little.
Corey approached the elevator, gun drawn. It was the one loaded with stunners—he kept his other weapon holstered for now. He pushed the button at the elevator. The panel above the doors said the elevator was at the seventh and top level at the moment. That was strange. It started descending.
When it arrived at the ground level and the doors slid open, all Corey saw inside the elevator was a small two-way radio.
“He’s on the seventh level,” Dizzie reported. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work.”
“It never works like it’s supposed to on a mission,” muttered Corey.
“You brought company,” a voice hissed from the radio. “I told you specifically to come alone.”
Corey took the two-way and did his best Mr. Love impression: “I panicked, man! I’ll send ’em away right now.”
“Don’t bother. Just get up here.”
“Fine, fine.”
Corey got on the elevator and started up.
“SOMETHING’S wrong,” Amber whispered nervously.
“Nothing to worry about,” Bradley said blandly.
“He was supposed to be waiting on the elevator.”
“Apparently he’s waiting on one of the upper levels. No big deal.”
“It still doesn’t seem quite right,” muttered Amber.
“Relax,” said Bradley.
“Where is he, Dizzie?” they heard Corey’s voice asking.
“I lost him,” Dizzie’s voice replied. “There are only so many cameras...”
The door next to the elevator opened—the door to the stairwell. A hooded guy walked out. He had a two-way in his hand. Two steps out of the door, he froze. Somewhere in the shadows under his hood, his eyes were locked on Amber and Bradley.
Then he ran—back up the stairs.
“Come on,” Bradley yelled at Amber. “And draw your weapon! Corey, we saw him. He’s in the stairwell.”
“On my way down,” Corey’s voice came in their earpieces.
“We’re headed up,” said Bradley.
“I told you something was wrong!” Amber yelled as they burst into the stairwell.
COREY ran down the switch-back concrete stairs from level seven. At the second landing, a huge 6 was stenciled on the door. He whipped down to level five...level four...
He ran into Bradley and Amber on the level three landing.
“He’s got to be out here,” Corey yelled, leading the way out the door onto the third level of the garage.
They saw the hooded guy disappear around a concrete column beyond the second row of parking spaces.
“I should have brought the car up,” hissed Bradley.
“Looks like Jill had the same idea,” said Amber.
JILL had waited, as instructed, behind a building fifty yards from the garage. She was the safety net of the mission.
It didn’t take long for her presence to be required.
She’d gunned into the air along one side of the garage, seeing the hooded guy running across the empty parking spaces of the third level. She angled her bike over the barrier at the edge of the garage and went after him. Concrete columns whipped by her on both sides.
She was closing in.
He knew she was closing in. He got to the end of the level and heaved himself over the edge...
He caught the barrier at the rim of level two and swung himself back into the garage.
It was only a temporary escape. A moment later Jill had swooped down to level two, right in front of the hooded guy. She parked, leaped off her bike, leveled her gun at him.
That’s when things got interesting.
“ARE you sure they went this way?” Amber asked breathlessly.
“She chased him toward this corner,” said Corey, leading the way as the three of them ran.
They got to the corner. No one was in sight.
Then they heard voices.
“They’re on the level below us,” Bradley said.
“They’re on the level below you,” Dizzie yelled at the same time. “They’re outside the security cameras’ view, but I saw them go by.”
Corey ran to the barrier, leaned out, tried to look down to level two.
Wherever Jill and the hooded guy were was out of sight from here.
“We’ve got to get down there,” Corey ordered.
They didn’t go back to the elevator or the stairs. It was quicker to take the ramp cars used to get between level two and level three.
On their way down they heard the gunshot.
They’d already been running fast; now they ran faster.
IN her cubicle at HQ, Dizzie listened in on the mission. The largest of her monitors had an overhead map of the garage, with blinking lights where the department vehicles and the agents were. The neighboring screens showed the security camera’s shots of the garage.
She heard the gunshot too.
She pulled the microphone of her headset close to her mouth. “Guys? I
s everything all right?”
WHEN they got there, the skybike was roaring away. Jill wasn’t on it. Jill was alone in a heap on the cold cement floor.
Corey got to her first.
“I’m all right,” she breathed.
“Thank God,” he whispered.
“Thank God!” Dizzie’s voice sounded in their earpieces.
They helped sit her up and took her helmet off. She looked fine except that her hair was a mess from being tucked into the helmet. She forced a meager smile. “I guess he was a quicker draw than I was,” she said weakly.
“The bullet is lodged in your armor,” said Amber, touching the place where the shoulder plate of Jill’s uniform was sharply indented.
“Did it penetrate?” Corey asked.
“Not sure,” said Jill. “I can’t feel much...”
Amber started unbuckling Jill’s uniform top.
“Man,” moaned Jill, “that’s the second skybike I’ve lost this month.”
“That’s the least of our concerns right now,” said Corey.
“Yeah,” whined Bradley, “this meeting was our only link to Love’s client.”
“Forget the client, Bradley,” shot Amber. “Jill’s hurt!”
“Dizzie,” Bradley was asking into his mouthpiece, “are you tracking Jill’s skybike?”
“Heading west,” said Dizzie.
Bradley stood to move.
Corey grabbed his arm. “Leave it,” he said.
“I’ve got to get the car and head after him,” countered Bradley.
“He’s not dumb enough to stay on the bike for long,” said Corey. “He knows we can track him.”
“Then I’ve got to catch him before he ditches the bike.”
“We’re using the car to bring Jill back to HQ,” Corey said firmly.
Amber had the uniform top off. Jill’s sleeveless shirt exposed the wound. The armor had slowed the bullet, but it had still partially penetrated her shoulder. Jill gritted her teeth and moaned.
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