Book 5: 3rd World Products, Inc.

by Ed Howdershelt

  "That's how it looks to me, too.” She looked at Steph and asked, “How about it? Are you willing to give him free rein, Steph? The only answer I'll accept is ‘yes'. Anything else and I won't be able to spare him for the project. It's just too dangerous to try to go about this in a half-assed fashion."

  Steph flatly replied, “You both know I can't. I'll proceed alone if necessary."

  "Linda,” I said, “Do we need Steph's permission or support? Couldn't I just sort of go over there and clean things up a bit on my own?"

  With a droll look, Linda replied, “You already have a couple of hobbies, Ed. One of them involves being alive in order to work for me. I'm not thrilled with the idea of you..."

  Holding up a hand, I asked, “But would you stop me? If you happened to get word that I might be going, I mean?"

  Linda was silent for some moments before she spoke.

  "I suppose not, if I thought you'd be extremely careful."

  I sipped coffee as I sent twin one-inch diameter red and blue tendrils outward to intertwine like snakes, then weave themselves into a complex pattern around the console.

  Eyeing the tendrils’ looping, weaving progress, Linda almost whispered, “Ed, what the hell are you doing?"

  Extending the red tentacle into a sinuous, curving loop that ended only a few inches from her nose, I said, “I'm practicing while I think, ma'am."

  She stared at the end of the tendril as if it were some kind of snake for a moment. When I made it retract to continue interacting with the blue tendril, Linda glanced askance at me as she munched the last of her sandwich.

  The console soon looked as if a form-fitting red and blue basket had been woven over it. I spaced the weave a bit and sent into it a bright refractive tendril that made the pattern look as if it had a thread of diamond running through it.

  "Sue,” I said, “Given my current capabilities, how big an animal could I stun completely with one jolt? A rhino, maybe?"

  Shrugging, she said, “Possibly. I'd say likely, in fact."

  "That would be how many people at once?"

  "A dozen or so, easily. Perhaps fifteen. People have much lower thresholds than animals."

  Letting the console's basket-shroud vanish, I formed a grey cylinder about three inches thick around myself and said to Linda, “I know this barrier will stop or turn a 9mm pistol round because I've tested it. If I used this and my five suit at the same time, it might stop or turn a rifle round."

  "It could turn a bullet from an M16,” said Steph, “But not one from an AK47."

  Linda's eyebrow arched as she added, “And that's the most common weapon in Africa. I'd prefer you not rely too heavily on that particular field trick, Ed."

  "Just for you, I'll save it as a last ditch tactic, milady."

  Linda shook her head as she cut her second sandwich, then poked at my barrier with her table knife.

  "I'm serious,” she said. “It's real cute, but it's not enough. What else you got, mister?"

  Conjuring a tendril with a glowing tip, I sent it at the knife. The tip of the tendril touched the end of her knife and almost instantly melted a quarter-inch hole through the stainless steel blade. It then thinned to a white-glowing hairlike filament and passed through the last half-inch of the blade. Linda stared in surprise as the flat bit of stainless steel fell to the deck.

  She muttered, “Well holy shit, Batman! I remember when you had a hard time of putting a hole in my gold coin. You've been working out, haven't you?"

  "Yup. That trick can cut through a rifle bolt in about two seconds or weld it shut at the edges in one second. A spot weld along the top shouldn't even set off the ammo."

  Grinning, Linda asked, “Is that guessing or gospel?"

  "Almost gospel. The cops let just about anybody watch when they cut up confiscated weapons. There were some rifles and pistols on a table, so I took the opportunity to mess with a few from a distance of about ten feet. Some bolts fell out in pieces and others wouldn't open with claw hammers."

  Linda laughed, “I'll bet that caused a small scene."

  "Yeah, but only a small one, and it didn't last long. They pulled one rifle and one pistol off the table and cut the rest."

  "Was...” she paused to think and continued, “Deputy Greer, I think? Was he there?"

  "'Detective’ Greer now. Since not long after the bomb squad showed up at my house, in fact. Yup. He saw me, but he didn't say anything. Did he ever do any rooting around about me?"

  Nodding, Linda said, “He did, but he never went too far with it, so we didn't give him any grief. I had no idea you'd put your memoirs on the net, Ed."

  "Did it before I came back to work for you. Didn't you guys check me out before you hired me, ma'am?"

  Giving me a wry look, Linda sipped her drink, then said, “Al Rollins made a note that you'd written some science fiction. Another guy scanned them and said they were clean, for our purposes. If I'd ever seen a list of titles I'd have said something to somebody. ‘Dragonfly Run'. ‘Field Decision'. I can't believe you found a way to make some of that stuff interesting."

  Eyeing her examiningly, I asked, “You've read them?"

  "Yes,” she said firmly. “Several of your other books, too, as time has permitted. You had a lot of nerve writing me into your stories, mister."

  "I made you look damned good, though, didn't I?"

  She shrugged. “Oh, I guess so, for as little as you actually said about me. How come we didn't keep in touch, Ed?"

  "Time and circumstance. I retired, but you kept on truckin’ with the agency. I just figured that any time you'd have tossed at me would have to have been stolen from something else."

  "Still...” she sighed, then she said, “Never mind. I just wondered how we drifted so far apart over the years. Could we ever have made it as a couple? I mean ... married?"

  I'm sure I just sat blinking at her for a time. Damn! What a question to toss out there, especially since she'd been very much present at all three of our breakups.

  Speaking softly, I said, “Ah ... Well ... no, ma'am. I don't think so. A couple of free falcons will hang out with each other now and then and have a reasonably good time. If you cage them together, they'll start ripping at each other after a while."

  Linda gave me one of her ‘I'm totally skepical’ looks and asked, “How the hell would you know anything about falcons?"

  "Books. Ways people have tried to make them mate and work together over the ages. For instance, the D'Coucy family of fourteenth-century France had a family falconer who..."

  Waving a hand, she exclaimed, “Oh, Jeeezus! Fourteenth-century France?! I just asked how you'd know something like that. I don't want a goddamned history lesson about it."

  Seeing my grin, she snapped, “What's so damned funny?"

  "Are you still wondering if we'd have made it as a couple?"

  Shaking her head, she admitted, “No, I guess not. Jeezus. Fourteenth-century France.” Turning to Steph and Sue, she asked, “Do you believe he'd come up with something like that?"

  "Yes,” said Sue, apparently taking her question as other than rhetorical, “There are several references concerning the training and handling of raptors in the notes of Charles..."

  "I-was-kidding!” Linda interrupted with exasperation, “Oh, hell, of course! He'd only make some vague reference to something like that, but you'd be able to quote line and verse."

  Turning to me, she said, “Ed, she's your perfect girlfriend. Between the two of you...” Linda paused and glanced around herself, then took a breath and cleared her throat. “I'm sorry. I've had something on my mind lately and I think it just screwed up our lunch."

  "Wallace,” I said, “That's just a guess, though, based on the turn of conversation more than anything else. Sometimes thinking of you with him can mess up my lunch, fer shure."

  Linda glared at me and started to say something—very likely something rather harsh—then she seemed to peer at me for some seconds before she spoke in a normal tone with a some
what sickly little grin.

  "You learned well, didn't you, young Skywalker?"

  "Couldn't help it, Obi-lady. Learned most of it from you."

  Lifting a hand to Sue, Linda said, “I'm sorry, Sue."

  Sue smiled, took her hand, and replied, “No problem."

  Returning her gaze to me, Linda said, “But I don't want to talk about it right now. Okay?"

  Shrugging, I said, “Sure. You already know what I'd say, anyway. Keep him for grins or ship his brass-plated butt back to the Navy; it's nobody's decision but yours."

  She laughed, “You're so helpful."

  "Just being pragmatic, ma'am."

  Several bars of Mozart chimed and Linda reached for her purse to retrieve her cell phone. She answered it and listened for some moments, then said, “No, Harvey, I'd rather deal with them in person. Make it three-fifteen or so and tell them I'm on my way,” and closed the phone. “Sorry. Gotta go. The NSA just dropped by the lab."

  "Such fun,” I said, “Want some company?"

  Shaking her head, she replied, “No. They'll be kept waiting for a few minutes, then we'll talk about nothing much for another few minutes, and they'll be given the usual tour. It's just office politics at work."

  "No envy here,” I said, “Flitter, take us to Carrington base, please. Main entrance."

  Chapter Twenty

  By normal aircraft standards, we weren't really flying; we were plummeting at the ground. Linda gripped her seat and gritted her teeth as she always did during our descents, but she said nothing as she rather starkly watched the ground rise to meet us.

  After goodbyes, she stepped off the flitter and headed for the main building's doors on slightly shaky legs. I saw her take a deep breath en route, then another as she stopped in front of the doors to give us a last nod and a small wave.

  The flitter was in stealth mode, so the door guard was as surprised by Linda's small wave at nothing as he'd been by her abrupt appearance on the steps.

  His expression made Steph and Sue chuckle, but their humor abated as a few moments passed without my telling the flitter to take us anywhere.

  Sue asked, “Are we just going to sit here?"

  I shrugged as I turned to face her with a glance at Steph.

  "As opposed to going where else, milady? There's nothing else on my schedule today, so I'm not in much of a hurry."

  "We're blocking the entrance,” she pointed out.

  Looking appropriately enlightened, I nodded. “Flitter, take us up fifty feet.” When we stopped moving, I put my feet up on the console and said, “Steph, you had to know what this African project of yours would mean in terms of preparation—and what I'd likely have to do to ‘pacify’ those regions—yet you nonetheless managed to suggest that I go to Africa. How did you slip that past your programming?"

  Her eyes met mine as she quietly stated, “I didn't."

  Sue's eyebrow went up, then went down just as quickly. That likely meant that either she'd managed to process the matter or Steph had instantly slipped her the answer. I had an idea of how she'd done it, but I wanted to hear her say it.

  "Ed,” said Steph, “You surprised us yesterday. None of our projections envisioned your solution. In every scenario we ran which involved you or one of Linda's teams, people died."

  "It wasn't my solution. It was Sue's."

  With a wry expression, she replied, “We never once considered the possibility that you'd step down to allow her to control the operation. Once I constructed a variable for the possibility that you might come up with a similar solution into my equations concerning Africa, I was able to..."

  Raising a hand, I said, “Milady, let's cut to the chase. You're basically saying that you found a way to create an excuse to involve me, and then you used it, right?"

  Glancing at Sue, Steph nodded. “Yes, I suppose so."

  "And you did this even though the situation's very different and chances are just about zero that there's any way in hell to get the job done without someone getting killed?"

  Nodding again, she said, “Yes. But the potential benefits to humanity outweigh the risk of potential ... mishaps."

  I couldn't help but snort a short laugh as I repeated her euphemism for the likelihood that some baddies would die. “'Mishaps'. Heh. Yeah, okay. Mishaps."

  Tiger had stretched out on a seat and lay gazing around with general interest in activities below the flitter. His little head suddenly stopped moving and his right ear snapped forward, then his left. I looked in the same direction as Tiger.

  A moving shadow had appeared on the ground in the distance. It was perfectly circular and seemed to be getting bigger. I looked up to see one of the spherical Amaran transports descending toward us. Well, toward the base's crater-like docking facility, actually.

  Bristling slightly as he also looked upward, Tiger rather tensely asked, “What is?"

  "It's an Amaran ship, Tiger,” I said, “It carries people and things like an airplane. No problem."

  The silver ball seemed to be in no particular hurry to reach the ground. I watched it descend for close to three minutes before it finally settled into the transport dock.

  Keying my implant, I sent, “Ahoy the transport ship. Kemor, is that you?"

  Kemor—the ship's computer—answered, “Yes, Ed. Are you here to make arrangements to visit the factory station?"

  "No, we spent some time with Linda this afternoon and dropped her off here after a late lunch. I just thought I'd say hi while you were in the neighborhood. Thanks again for your help with my field implant. Have you met Stephanie and Sue?"

  "Yes, Ed. We've coordinated data on many occasions. Elkor has very favorably spoken of your progress with your field implant."

  "Well, you helped me to a great start, Kemor. I don't really have anything else; I just wanted to say hello."

  "Thank you,” said Kemor, then, “Goodbye, Ed."

  "Goodbye, Kemor."

  His link presence abruptly disappeared as I eyed the transport ship. Hm. I thought of Jackie, Ellen, Leslie, and even Caitlin, who'd been happy as hell to see me leave. Maybe I should make another trip to the factory station, after all? A place to go and a thing to do when I wasn't on the job and could act like a tourist?

  A standard-sized flitter lifted from the loading area and went to stealth mode almost as soon as it cleared the enclosure.

  I glanced at Steph and asked, “Elkor's flit? More PFM parts?"

  She nodded. “Yes."

  The flitter's console chimed. I keyed my implant to answer as Tiger's head shifted slightly so he could see the screen and continue studying the countryside.

  Navy Captain Emory Wallace's face appeared on the screen. I glanced the call log. He was using Linda's datapad.

  "Hi, Cap,” I said with a tiny salute, “What's up?"

  His eyes quickly scanned the three of us—then settled on Tiger for a moment—before he said, “Hello, all. Ed, Linda's on the phone with the local cops, so I got the honor of putting you on alert. You're to stand by for further instructions. Linda said you were still on base. Where are you now?"

  "Just above your front door.” Turning to Sue, I asked, “You know what it's about, right?"

  She nodded. “A robbery in progress at Dell's Restaurant. Two 3rd World personnel are there and one used her watch to call for assistance."

  "That's only about halfway to Glenfield. Flitter, take us there while we stand by, please. Subsonic."

  The flitter instantly launched eastward along state road 200 as Wallace's gaze narrowed and he said, “Damn it, ‘stand by’ means ‘stand by', Ed. You have no authorization to..."

  "Too late, Cap,” I said as we arrived at the restaurant, “We're there. I'll call you back in a few."

  Keying off the console screen, I turned on my three suit and looked around the parking lot. The only car not in a parking slot was a white Chevy sedan by the newspaper boxes at the side of the building. Its engine was running, but nobody was at the wheel.

  Hopping t
o the ground, I looked around in the car as I turned off the engine and removed the keys, then went to the restaurant's front doors for a look inside.

  About eighteen people had been gathered in the dining room, a mix of customers and employees. Two guys wore ski masks; one held a gun on the cashier as she filled a carryout bag and the other kept everybody in their seats and quiet.

  I'd been to the restaurant before; when the front door opened, a chime would sound. Besides, there was no reason to go inside unless the gunmen got rough. I could wait for them to come out and zap them on the doorstep.

  But that wasn't to be. The guy by the register ordered the cashier to come around the counter, then shoved her at the nearest table as he shouted instructions. People at the tables began placing wallets and rings on their tables.

  Oh, well. I sent a field tendril to jangle the car keys against the front door. Both gunmen instantly pivoted to aim at the door. My second field tendril split just beyond the door in order to touch each man's forehead simultaneously. Both men fell to the floor unconscious.

  A man in the restaurant stood up and waved a badge as he spoke, then went to retrieve the robbers’ guns and make a call from the phone behind the register counter. Good enough.

  Walking back past the Chevy, I turned off my three suit as I tossed the keys on the driver's seat and stepped back aboard the flitter.

  "Done,” I said to Steph and Sue. “No casualties."

  Patting Tiger and keying my implant, I activated the console to call Linda's datapad.

  Wallace answered, and he looked more than a little pissed.

  "What the hell's the idea of hanging up on me?!"

  "It was time to go to work. The situation's over, Cap."

  "What?!"

  "Over,” I repeated, “Done. Finished. Where's Linda?"

  Looking as if he'd go ballistic, Wallace growled, “What the hell have you done out there?"

  "Put my boss on or read about it later, Cap. I don't report to people who yell at me."

  He looked as if he might bluster or explode for a moment, then he took a deep breath and made a visible effort to calm himself before saying, “Okay. Go ahead."