5 minutes ETC
Glancing at him, she saw a mischievous glint in his eyes and a devilish smile working at the edges of his mouth.
“What’s ETC?” she asked. “Etcetera?”
“Estimated Time of Coffee. It’s brewing.”
She laughed, smelled the coffee.
Sam was a person that Meredith classified as a “dreamer,” a person with big ideas—except the vast majority of his came true. Not all of them; he’d had some business failures. And now he was talking about another big dream he had.
“With all the bad weather in the Pacific Northwest,” he said, “I’m building Sun Under so that people don’t have to travel far from Seattle, Spokane, Tacoma, or Portland to visit a warm-weather resort. From a mileage standpoint, I’m going to succeed in that. But this weather tells me there could still be problems getting guests to my resort, and I’ve been thinking of how to get around that.”
“You’ll figure it out,” she said.
“I think I already have. You’ve heard of ‘Earthclick,’ I believe?”
“Sure, a way of using the click chamber system to travel quickly from one point on Earth to another. It’s not in operation because of technological glitches.”
“That’s right, a problem of scale, so it hasn’t been built. What works to get across the solar system is not easily adaptable to getting around the planet. Researchers have run tests with click chambers on Earth, using dummies inside, and it’s been one disaster after another. The prognosis is not good. In fact, it’s terrible.”
“It seems so strange that our best minds can’t figure it out.”
“I have a way around the problem,” Sam said. “Wait until you hear how I’m going to do it.”
He paused, took a few moments to check his instruments and adjust the controls. The heliplane was flying smoothly, with only minor gusts of wind.
She waited.
Finally he said, “It’s simple, really. So simple I’m surprised no one has thought of it.” He fell silent for a moment, then added, “Or maybe they have, and they don’t have the financing I do. Listen to this, Meredith. I’m in the process of purchasing a small moon millions of miles away, and I’m going to set up a click chamber route from the Earth to the moon. Or I should say, from anywhere in the United States to the moon, since click chamber technology is proprietary to Polter Industries.”
“Where is this moon you’re talking about?”
“It doesn’t matter. Could be any of a number of moons, way the hell and gone out in space. People will be able to get there from Earth from any click chamber in the U.S. The moon will have nothing constructed on it—at least not in the beginning—except a hub-terminal for my own click chamber routes. People will arrive there, and then will catch a different click chamber to get to Sun Under.”
She thought about this for a moment. “That’s brilliant, Sam. It doesn’t take long for any click chamber trip across the solar system, so theoretically a customer... a guest, in your terminology... could travel that route from Seattle to Sun Under in only a few minutes.”
“Less than ten minutes, my best scientists are telling me. Maybe less, with improving click chamber technology. I’m going to purchase state-of-the-art equipment.”
“The weather isn’t always that severe in the Northwest,” she said. “Is the system you’re talking about worth the cost outlay?”
“Good question. Keep in mind, Meredith that I have multiple resort and entertainment facilities all over the United States, so I can quickly route people from anywhere in the country to one of my locations, enabling them to escape from any storm system. They just have to click their way there, traveling a few hundred million miles to do it, but in a very short period of time.”
“That’s a really big dream,” she said. “But if anyone can pull it off, it would be you.”
“It will be me,” he said, in the confident tone she had heard so many times from this remarkable man.
~~~
Zack watched the heliplane lift off and fly away. Worries assailed him. In the pit of his stomach he had an oddly unsettled sensation that he could not ignore, telling him he should have tried to prevent this trip. It seemed an absurd thought, so he returned to bed.
Moments later, however, he found himself sitting straight up, gazing out the window at the sky in the direction the heliplane had flown. No sign of it. Only dark clouds.
Something is wrong, he thought. I know it.
He wasn’t sure if it was Riggio, or another danger, but he was certain it was something. He found himself considering how long it would take to reach Sun Under. He knew exactly where it was from his backpacking and rock-climbing experience. Only the year before he had climbed a butte near there with his friend, Nolan Hagel, and they had gazed down on the valley where the construction of Sun Under was just beginning, with bulldozers clearing away old-growth cedar and fir trees, and scraping the earth. Earlier, the two men had also seen the project from the road, before turning into a parking area for the trailhead.
A longtime proponent of preserving old growth forests, Zack had been unable to look upon the construction site for long, since it made him ill and angry. Old-growth timber did not regenerate for hundreds of years, resulting in a loss of the planet’s oxygen supply as well as a scar on its beauty, and the annihilation of the habitats of countless forest creatures. True, this was private land and property owners had development rights, but that had to be balanced with the rights of mankind as a whole and with the needs of forest creatures.
Meredith knew how he felt about this, but assured him that Sam would spend a lot of money replanting the area, and it would be “as good as new,” she said, quoting what Sam had told her. Not wanting to drive a wedge between them when their relationship was just getting going again, Zack had not argued with her. Besides, the trees had already been cut, so he could only hope for a responsible and comprehensive replanting program.
He dressed hurriedly, moving on instinct but wondering if he was being, as Meredith had suggested, over-protective now. He didn’t want to over-react and smother her with his attentions, because that would drive her away for a different reason than she’d left before. He needed to find a balance.
Was he feeling jealousy now instead of sensing danger? Zack knew Sam Howe from his previous relationship with Meredith, and had always been suspicious of the tycoon’s intentions, even voicing them to her on numerous occasions, irritating her a little, but letting her know he cared enough to be concerned.
Jealousy? Yes, Zack had to admit it was there. Sam was a successful, charming fellow, though quite a bit older than Meredith and not at all good-looking. Still, he was unmarried since his wife died of breast cancer, and he had the energy of a younger man, of a person around Zack’s age.
His mind raced. Maybe he could come up with an excuse for appearing uninvited at Sun Under. Now as he dressed hurriedly he had in mind only the vague outline of a plan, one that would cause him to miss an appointment with his agent, Ted Goff, that afternoon to discuss the promotion of his artworks. He was already going to headline a big art show coming up in January, and next summer he was scheduled to leave on a national tour that his agent had arranged. Such events were expected of him, and his agent had even more promotional ideas. Knowing Ted wouldn’t be in the office this early, Zack left him a voice mail message. Zack had to press on, had to reach Meredith. Other things were more important than his career.
Meredith was more important to him than anything.
Briefly he considered renting an aircab to fly him to Sun Under, on the route Sam and Meredith were doing. But he ruled this out quickly, having no idea if one would be available on short notice. From what he’d heard, rental companies didn’t open until nine or ten anyway, and by that time he could have driven to the resort. It would take almost three hours to get there in his van.
After taking an eastbound tubeway he would turn off onto a surface road used by logging trucks, which was paved for only a mile and t
hen became dirt and chuckholes. Since the resort was being constructed in a wilderness area he would take his backpacking equipment in case of emergency, including water and freeze-dried food. He always kept his gear and supplies ready to go, since he liked to go on short-notice wilderness trips to recharge himself whenever civilization became too much to bear. Usually that was every couple of months.
He tossed an automatic pistol and two boxes of shells into the backpack. Fifteen years ago during his Army Special Forces days he’d won marksmanship contests, and these days he went to target ranges regularly to maintain his skills.
It was overcast as he drove his blue van out of the development, operating on solar-electric power. He could use automatic settings, but always preferred driving with psi-link, making decisions on the way.
A wind was bending trees and throwing branches across the roadway. A light rain misted the windshield, and the wipers were on intermittent. After skirting the shores of a suburban lake, he drove through an airlock and entered the tubeway eastbound, where he switched to internal combustion power and merged into early morning traffic. It surprised him that so many cars were heading east at this hour. Reverse commuters, since Seattle was behind him. Even though the tubeway had a clean-air recycling system, he detected the faint odor of exhaust fumes.
He played an old rock ‘n roll song on the console music player, one of the favorites he used to listen to with Meredith. He recalled hearing this music on the radio when they were driving their newborn baby, Travis, home from the hospital. All seemed right with the world that day because their baby was with them, bright and new, and the music made the time even more perfect. He’d only been two when he died.
Pressing on the accelerator, Zack felt unsettled in the pit of his stomach. As a rule, whenever he felt very bad in his stomach after making an important decision, he knew he had made a mistake and that he should try to reverse it. He felt that way now, that he should never have permitted Meredith to take the trip without him. And he felt something else as well.
She had more to worry about than Sam Howe. He had already thought of Riggio, and dismissed the thought. That strange man had nothing to do with Meredith anymore, and was long gone. No, it must be something else.
The van picked up speed.
~~~
Agent Jantz had been surprised by the cooperation of Dr. Yordanius. She’d been skeptical at first, and suspicious, thinking that the composite picture of the fugitive might have been false, an attempt by Yordanius to throw the authorities off the track, and allow his precious lab-child to escape.
But he’d been truthful. Jantz determined that for certain, after people in Seattle saw the drawing and contacted the police. One of the tips indicated that Demónt had worked for the Johansen Agency, though he had abandoned his job and run off. Jantz had interviewed Piers Johansen herself, and he’d given her an image of Demónt, taken for their personnel file. All of his former co-workers said the young man had been polite and kept to himself, and had not been a problem to anyone.
Now Jantz, Yordanius, three Seattle Police officers, and Detective Nolan Hagel of the SPD were in a room once rented by the serial-murder suspect, combing through it. The pale orange glow of Jantz’s exosuit energy beams moved around the room with her, and crackled slightly when she walked. The landlady, Mrs. Monroe, stood by the door, watching the search activities. In her hands the elderly black woman held the search warrant that had been given to her.
Rain was coming down so hard outside that Jantz heard it battering the roof.
The Agent liked Detective Hagel. He was a tall man with narrow, chiseled features and dark, intelligent eyes. He’d been the homicide cop who alerted the FBI to the link between the murder of the man in Seattle and Riggio Demónt, and Hagel had also told them about the strange shift in the suspect’s DNA, from male to female.
“I can’t believe Riggio is in any trouble,” old Mrs. Monroe said. “He’s such a nice boy, has always been so kind and helpful to me. I just can’t believe it. Oh, I wish you’d tell me what this is all about. It must be a mistake.”
“The search warrant is all you need to know,” one of the police officers said. A burly Asian man, he’d been assigned to stand guard over the notorious Dr. Yordanius, who sat on a small side chair, making himself available for any questions the officers might have. The wayward scientist had been cooperative, and the consensus among law-enforcement personnel was that he genuinely wanted to see Demónt stopped.
“I kept hoping Riggio would return,” Mrs. Monroe said, “so I didn’t disturb any of his things. Oh, this is terrible! I do hope he’s all right.”
“Here’s his wallet,” one of the officers said, handing it to Agent Jantz. “No money, but there are identification documents in it, though with a false surname, Tarizy instead of Demónt. Must be phony.”
Jantz went through the contents, handed the wallet to Detective Hagel.
Then she noticed a notepad on the floor by the nightstand, and a broken pen lying beside it. Picking up the pad, she saw that it appeared to have been jabbed repeatedly with something, maybe the pen. Nothing was written on the notepad, but she noticed faint impressions from a page that had been removed. She brought out a scanlight from her pocket, trained its pale yellow light on the top page, and the message became clear, in dark letters. Someone had written “Kill the bitch,” over and over.
“Look at this,” she said to Hagel. He looked over her shoulder at the illuminated pad, as did one of the other officers. “What do you suppose this means?” she asked.
“Who knows?” Hagel said. “Kill the bitch? I have no idea?”
Just then one of the other officers came over, holding a small data-screen. “I think we missed something,” he said. “You know that landlord that was killed?” He caught himself, looked over at Mrs. Monroe. She’d heard what he said.
Jantz asked, “What about him?”
“It’s right here, on the list of tenants in the townhouses he owned.” He had a finger on one of the names. “Meredith Lamour. She worked with Demónt at the agency, was one of his bosses.”
“Meredith?” Mrs. Monroe looked startled.
Detective Hagel uttered an epithet, then said, “Meredith? I know her.”
Jantz had wanted to interview the Lamour woman, since Demónt had been her assistant, but she was out of town on a business trip. The agent had also tried to reach her ex-husband Zack, but he could not be located, and was not answering any attempts to contact him by V-phone or other means.
“What’s the name of that place Johansen mentioned?” she asked. “The place she was going to inspect?”
“Sun Under,” Detective Hagel said, scowling. “It’s a resort, being built by one of her clients southeast of Seattle. I know Meredith and her ex-husband; he’s a good friend of mine. I’ll try to contact him.”
Jantz shook her head. “I’ve been trying for hours, can’t get him. I think we’d better get over to Sun Under right away. Hagel, can we fly in this weather? Is it safe?”
He nodded. “We have aircraft that can fly through any storm in the Pacific Northwest.”
“All right, that’s good. Would you contact the jobsite, please, and let them know Lamour could be in trouble? She needs to be put under protection until we get there. They must have an armed security force.”
“Sure thing.” The detective got on his communicator, began making the call.
“Oh this is terrible,” Mrs. Monroe said. “Meredith is such a sweet girl. Why would Riggio want to harm her? Maybe you’re wrong.”
“Could be,” Jantz said, “but he’s nowhere around to find out.” She looked at Hagel, asked, “How’s that call going?”
He shook his head. “I tried to use a conventional V-phone, as well as texting and internet, but all com-links are down between here and the construction site, due to the storm. I’m getting reports that it’s much worse to the east and southeast than here.”
Agent Jantz nodded somberly. “I heard what you said about
being able to fly in this weather, but it’s really nasty, and I always like to have a contingency plan. We’ll fly as far as we can, and hopefully we can land at Sun Under. Just to play it safe, I’ll send FBI agents by car right away. They’ll be slower than flying, so I want to do both, so that we have a backup. What’s the tubeway situation?”
“There’s a tubeway between here and there,” Hagel said, looking at his data-reader. “At least, it goes to within a few miles, and then it’s a short stretch of highway after that, and logging roads.”
Jantz spoke into her own communicator, arranged for the FBI backup team to leave immediately.
Dr. Yordanius rose to his feet, said, “I’d better go with you in case Riggio is there. Maybe I can talk to him, and regain control.”
“All right,” Jantz said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
CHAPTER 37
At Sun Under, Tatsy took a different route into the subterranean complex than the one she’d taken the night before. It was mid-morning and she had not eaten any breakfast, but it didn’t matter. She was so focused on what she intended to do that she was not hungry.
Wearing a hardhat and a stylish raincoat she’d found in one of the murdered woman’s cases, she stood at the top of the dirt ramp, noting that it went down a long way, to the bottom of the huge cavern that had been excavated. She’d been down there last night, awed by the size of the project.
Looking up at the ominous, darkening sky, Tatsy felt a sprinkling of rain on her face, and an increasing, cold wind. She reveled in these new sensations, felt her skin tingling.
She started to descend the ramp, then paused halfway down, and stood off to one side, out of the way. Flatbeds full of building materials and dump trucks rumbled past her, and workers walked along the sides. Tatsy gazed out over the rooftops of what would be the luxurious shopping village and hotel-resort when it was completed. From this vantage she could see five of the swimming pools, in varying sizes and shapes. And although the floor of the cavern was still far below her, the ramp had a railing that gave her some feeling of safety, alleviating her fear of heights.
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