“Too true.”
56
Noose strode onto the manicured grass of the park from the west, cutting a direct line for the statue he could just barely make out between the trees a few hundred meters away. The sun shone down from unfettered blue skies, providing a perfect day for picnics. Littered across the park lawn, dozens of government workers and corporate suits ate leisurely lunches and enjoyed the fine weather. A gaggle of children screamed and ran off, ignoring their teacher’s attempts to control them. People walked dogs, read, jogged, and otherwise filled the park with activity. And so, when Noose approached the large statue of the American Civil War hero, General Robert E. Lee, he was not surprised that he did not immediately locate Professor Reasby.
Noose stopped at the reflecting pool that surrounded the statue of Lee astride a horse. Through the thick stone legs of the giant horse, he saw the professor sitting alone at a picnic table. The dwarf walked over and sat down.
“What’s up with the super-spy act?” Noose asked, waving a hand at the professor’s poor attempts at disguise. He wore a black overcoat, buttoned to the neck, a wide-brimmed hat, and a scarf that wrapped around his neck and covered his chin. “Not too sneaky on a sunny day like this.”
Reasby leaned over the table, glaring at the dwarf. “You ignorant little runt. Do you realize what you’ve done to me with that blood sample of yours?”
Noose frowned at the fear in Reasby’s trembling voice. “What happened?”
“Someone killed one of my students,” Reasby whispered ardently. “One of my best students. Dead!”
“You think it had something to do with me?”
“I gave the results of my analysis of the new blood to one of my students, like I did with the pleaser’s sample. He’s a computer wiz, and I told him to find a match. But his body was found this morning in his dorm. Sliced up into small pieces!”
Noose looked around at all the people enjoying the park. Someone, he guessed, had been monitoring the DNA databases and seen the student’s efforts to find the chopper pilots’ records. Then they’d brutally killed him, no doubt to terrify his associates. The killers were trying to flush out others who were involved.
“Did you get the data I was looking for?”
“He must have e-mailed it to me just before being killed. I’ll send it to your phone.” Reasby pulled out his own phone and tapped a few buttons.
“Why didn’t you just send this to me to begin with? Why’d you want the face-to-face?”
“Why? Because I need your help. Whoever killed my student is probably after me!”
Anyone capable of tracing the student back to Emory U. could easily access e-mail records. That meant that Reasby certainly had a tail. Here. Now. Mothers, drudges, suits, joggers. Could be anyone. Noose spotted two men in dark suits and shades.
“Did you notice anyone following you here?”
“Of course not. What do you think I’m wearing this disguise for?”
The dwarf sighed. “Okay, Prof, we’re in a bit of trouble here. You’ve got at least two tails on you. How long have you been waiting here?”
Reasby’s face fell. “You really think they could have followed me?”
“Yes. You look like a cartoon villain, not someone that blends in to a crowd. Now how long have you been here?”
“I don’t know, about half an hour.”
That meant the tails would’ve called for backup, expecting some kind of meet. There could be any number of hitters nearby, disguised as joggers, suits, or even mothers with simulated babies. Getting out of the park would be a chore and a half. Noose reached under his overcoat and unsnapped the strap on his Stormer.
“What should I do, Noose?” Reasby demanded.
“Listen, you’re going to have to go on vacation for a few days. Get out of sight. Another continent.” Using amateurs like the Prof for data gathering had its cost advantages. But they couldn’t handle the real biz.
“Another continent?” Reasby blurted. “I’ve got classes to teach. I can’t just get up and leave.”
“Why not? I heard all you professors get a couple hundred sick days a year. Use some of them.”
“Yeah, I guess I could do that. But you said they already followed me. How do I get out of this park?”
“There’s no guarantee that either of us are going to get out of here,” Noose admitted, “but I’ll do my best.”
“If I live through this you can find yourself another fool to analyze your blood.”
“Don’t worry, I will,” Noose agreed. “Now, head back to your car. I’ll follow along behind. Do whatever I tell you.”
“Is that it?”
“That’s it.”
Reasby walked away, glancing this way and that like a nervous rabbit. Noose followed five meters behind.
They hadn’t gone a hundred paces when the two men in dark suits and shades rose and blocked the path. Each put a discreet hand beneath his coat.
“Turn around and walk the other way,” Noose whispered loudly to the professor. Reasby complied immediately and increased his pace. As he passed the dwarf he scowled. Noose stopped and watched as the two men followed. They were trying to force Noose and Reasby in a certain direction, herding them to some less public location. Noose didn’t want to let them stay in control. He turned and followed the professor, hurrying to catch up with him.
“Let’s go on over to the pool. We’ll wait there for a while. See what happens.”
“Aren’t we getting out of here?”
“That may not be possible. If shooting starts, you jump into the pool and stay underwater as long as possible. Wait for the police. Tell them you’ve been receiving anonymous threats. Ask them for protection. Don’t tell them about me.”
“But, I–”
“No buts. Just do as I say and you may live long enough to kick that chip habit.”
They reached the pool. Reasby sat on the encircling bench. Noose turned and watched the two men who had stopped some distance away. One raised a hand to his mouth. For several minutes, they did nothing. Noose had ample time to scan the crowd. He tagged three more operatives, disguised as a corp, a bum, and a woman jogger doing stretching exercises in the grass.
A tall man with a skull plate joined the two men in suits. He looked about thirty, lean and agile. His sharp chin, high cheekbones, and gaunt face gave him a particularly sinister cast. After a momentary discussion, he left the two men and approached the pool.
“Impressive, is it not, Noose?” the man said with a German accent, pointing at the statue of the Civil War general.
“Yes, very nice,” Noose agreed. “I guess that’s why all these people congregate here.”
“These people do not remain here when night falls.”
“You’re right about that.”
“My name is Buhl. Perhaps you have heard of me?”
“Yeah.” Noose had. Bernd Buhl. A transplant from the Europlexes. High-priced operator, chromed and smart.
“You seem to be in a mess here. Mixed up in fixings too big for you.”
“What’s the price out of this mess?”
“Grue and Earless.”
“I killed them out in the wilderness.”
Buhl looked down at him with a smirk. “I think not. You shot up Munk good enough and left him for anyone to find, but we didn’t find Grue or Earless. You’re hiding out somewhere in Atlanta. It would make it much easier for us, and you, if you just told us where they were.”
“And if I do?”
“You can leave the park.”
“Very generous,” Noose smirked.
“Yes, I agree. But we do owe you for disposing of Munk. So, do we have a deal?”
“Wha-what about me?” Reasby hesitantly stepped forward, pulling the scarf away from his face.
Buhl looked at the professor with a bit of annoyance. “You? You have no more value to me. You may leave.”
“I…can?” Reasby said, his face brightening.
“Yes. Go. N
ow.”
The professor turned to leave, but Noose reached out and stopped him. “Stay here, Prof. You’ll be shot the instant you get to a less crowded place. Just stand there and remember what I said.”
Reasby frowned but obeyed.
“I should be insulted, Noose,” said Buhl.
“You won’t let either of us leave. Xin doesn’t want any loose ends.”
“Xin? You mean Governor Jones-Utu-Rudeholmer-Xin? Is that who you think is behind all this? I’m the one who makes the decisions here, Noose. No one else. If you tell me where Grue and Earless are, you can go free.”
“And if I don’t?” Noose pulled out three cigars. “I’m pretty handy with a sidearm, you know.”
“Of that I’ve heard, yes,” the man nodded. “But I think even you would have a hard time surviving six chromed assailants.”
“Only six?” Noose scratched one of the cigars and puffed on it.
“Six will be more than enough to dispose of you, Noose.”
“Not if they’re all as slow and clumsy as you.” Noose handed the second cigar to Reasby, who took it reluctantly and frowned. He held out the third to Buhl. “Cigar?”
The German lashed out with lightning speed, swiping the cigar from the dwarf’s hand. He grinned and placed it in his mouth.
“Was that slow and clumsy?”
With a gleam in his eye, Noose just stared at Buhl and the cigar in his mouth. He raised an eyebrow.
“What?” Buhl asked. “No quick response from the dwarf? I assumed you’d have a–” Buhl stopped in mid-sentence, slightly unnerved by Noose’s undaunted gaze. He looked down at the cigar in his mouth.
“I wouldn’t move too suddenly, Buhl,” Noose stated.
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is, that cigar was armed one second after it left my hand.”
Buhl reached up to his mouth.
“Ah ah, Buhl. No quick movements. No sudden gestures. That cigar is motion sensitive. It can detect the slightest alteration in position.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” He lowered his hand, but also did his best to keep the cigar in his mouth from moving as he talked.
“That cigar has a shaped charge in it, Buhl.”
“What?” Reasby yelped, staring at the cigar he held.
“Don’t worry, Prof. Yours is safe.”
Reasby looked at the cigar again, then threw it into the pool despite Noose’s assurance.
A slight sheen appeared on Buhl’s forehead. He glanced sidelong at the two hitters in suits.
“I wouldn’t call your friends, Buhl, if I were you. You see, that cigar has two detonation parameters. The first, as I’ve already told you, is motion. Move it more than a few centimeters and boom. Second,” Noose tucked a hand into his coat pocket, “I’ve got a remote detonator here in my pocket. Make me angry, and boom. Versteh?”
Buhl responded with a barely perceptible nod. “Ich verstehe.”
“Good. Now, just so you know, that’s not a very big charge in that cigar. But it’s enough to squish your brains up inside that skull plate of yours.”
Buhl did not reply. Sweat beaded on his face.
“Now, get your hitters over here.”
With a slight motion of his hand, Buhl summoned his companions. Noose turned to them as they approached.
“Hello, boys. Your boss here has an explosive in his mouth. You don’t do what I tell you, he gets blown up and you get those suits all messy with blood. I know you wouldn’t want that to happen, so from now on you do what I say. Right?”
The two men looked at each other and then at Buhl.
“Do as he says,” Buhl mumbled around the cigar.
Noose grinned. “Good, good. Okay, boys, drop the hardware in the pool and then call in all your friends.”
The men hesitated.
“Macht schnell!” Buhl ordered vehemently, the cigar jiggling in his mouth. He stared at it suddenly and clamped his eyes shut, but nothing happened.
Discreetly removing their firearms from beneath their jackets, the two men tossed the weapons into the pool. One raised a hand to his mouth, speaking softly.
“Tell them to walk right up,” Noose ordered. The man complied, and a few moments later five more operatives stood nearby.
“Tsk, tsk, Buhl,” Noose said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “You said six goons. I see seven. You know, you aren’t really that trustworthy.”
Buhl flipped him off.
“Okay, boys and girls,” Noose said to the assembled hitters. “Time for you all to throw your weapons into the pool. Nice and slow. No need to blow up Buhl’s head unnecessarily.”
Fifteen seconds later, a wide array of guns bubbled at the bottom of the shallow pool. Some schoolchildren noticed the commotion and started pointing at the people throwing stuff into the water.
Noose looked into the pool. “Whew, you people come well-equipped. Now, all of you can walk over there to the horse’s hind legs and lie down in the pool.”
“What?” asked one of the hit men.
“You heard me. Get in the pool and lie down. Over there.”
“Screw that, gimli.”
Noose sighed. “Do I have to blow up Buhl’s head to get cooperation from you people?”
Grimacing angrily, Buhl waved a hand at his henchmen. One by one, they stepped over the short ledge and into the shallow water. They waded out into the pool near the horse’s legs.
The kids, seeing the fully clothed adults walking out into the water, ran over to the edge of the pool and laughed at them.
“Okay, now lay down and stay there,” the dwarf ordered.
They complied, lowering themselves until only their heads remained above water.
Satisfied, Noose turned his back on them. “Okay, Professor, time for us to go.”
“It’s about time,” Reasby replied.
“And you, Buhl–” Noose pulled his own cigar from his mouth and blew a puff of smoke into the man’s face. “–you stay right here and don’t move. And you better not have any of your snipers – I know you have a couple of snipers around here somewhere – take a shot at me or I may do something you’ll regret.”
“You’re making a big mistake,” Buhl said as Noose walked away with the Professor.
“Just don’t you make an even bigger mistake and go losing your head, Buhl,” Noose said.
57
“So how the hell does that help us?” Grue asked.
“Wake up, Grue,” Noose responded angrily. “It was Bernd Buhl and we can trace him. All we have to do is nab him and beat the truth out of him.”
Noose sat astride one of the chairs near the table. He had returned to the apartment moments earlier, after seeing off the Prof on a ballistic flight to Rome. It had taken only a few minutes to give everyone a quick rundown of his encounter in the park.
“I thought you said he’d get his head blown off if he moved,” Earless noted.
“It wasn’t an explosive. It was just a cigar.”
“You were bluffing?”
Cori smiled. “You’re one clever dwarf, Noose.”
“So, he’s still alive. How do we get to him?” Grue asked.
“Oh, I think he’d love to see me again,” Noose said.
“You know where he is?”
“Nope, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find him. I’ve got contacts, and Cori can check the net.”
“Good,” Grue said. “I’m sick and tired of playing defense.”
58
Bernd Buhl slammed the door shut on his black sport coupe and stalked across the concrete parking garage toward the bank of elevators. Jaws clenched tight, he thrust his fists into the pockets of his Italian-made designer overcoat. Reaching the elevators, he jabbed a button, and paced back and forth until the doors slid open.
“What floor, sir?” asked the automated elevator.
“Neunzehn!”
“Thank you,” the elevator responded pleasantly, and began its ascent.
>
Buhl watched the lights blink upward. A beeping from his pocket interrupted his sour thoughts. He reached underneath his overcoat and pulled out a phone.
“What?”
“Hey, boss,” said a rough-sounding voice., “how’d it go?”
“Sehr schlecht.”
“No luck at all?”
“No, idiot. That runt vanished. No one knows where he is.”
“How’s the client taking it?”
“Terrible. We might lose the contract.”
“Well, it ain’t our fault! How’re we supposed to know he was lying about that cigar?”
“Nineteenth floor.” The elevator doors opened, and Buhl stomped into the hallway. “Have a nice day.”
“You’re not supposed to know anything,” he said in a grating voice as he walked toward his apartment. “You’re just supposed to follow orders.”
“I did follow orders. We all got in the pool just like you said.”
“Shut up! I’ll put your hoop in a–” Buhl’s voice cut off as he turned a corner in the hall and saw his apartment door was ajar. He yanked out his pistol, and whispered into the phone. “My apartment’s been compromised. Get over here. Now!”
“Right, boss!”
Buhl edged toward his apartment. The lock was undamaged. He kicked the door open with his foot, pointing his gun inside as he crouched. He could hear his vid, but no other sound. He ducked inside. Lights slowly glowed on as he moved further into the apartment. It had been ransacked: shelves toppled, drawers emptied, sofa cushions ripped open.
Buhl inched his way toward the living room. His gun traced back and forth between the openings along the hall. Just like the rest of the apartment, the living room was in a shambles. Shattered glass coffee table, upended furniture. The only thing spared was the vidwall, which played a music video of Strauss’ The Blue Danube, with cinematic images of scenic German vistas.
He caught a glimpse of motion against the blackness of an opened window and trained his gun on the barely discernible silhouette.
“Don’t move!” he ordered.
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