Kris Longknife: Furious

by Mike Shepherd

  Kris watched intently as a tiny flame became a small fire, then grew to a roaring concern. She wished she’d seen this earlier. Nature was mimicking so much of her life: starting small, growing bigger, then a fire too hot for anyone to put out . . . or get close to.

  Kris laughed at her foolishness. Mother Nature had been there long before she was born. She’d just witnessed a ritual that must have been repeated endless times from when the first man tamed fire until Jack showed her how it was done. Here was a lesson she wished she’d learned a long time ago. It would have put a structure around so much of what she’d done, from recruiting workers for one of Father’s campaigns to . . . her feelings for Jack.

  Did they have a fire going between them that would never burn out? Kris found herself daring to hope so. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed talking to Jack, sharing her plans with him, until they were back together.

  Having tasted how much she needed him, she never wanted to be without him.

  While they’d been getting the fire going, Harvey had taken his leave, and Grampa Trouble had laid out fixings for sandwiches. “Come and get it,” brought everyone to the table. Once everyone had fixed their own sandwich and gotten a bite, all except Grampa, he cleared his throat.

  “Seeing how I was so rudely interrupted last night at the Roost, and again at breakfast by Penny’s thorough briefing on police procedures, I would now like to finish what I started. While Al’s security is tight, it is not without chinks.”

  “And you know that how, Grampa?” Kris said around a full mouth.

  “I have my sources. Where it came from doesn’t matter. That I have it, and you can use it, is what counts.”

  “It will matter, Grampa, if the very action of your getting the information has alerted security to the query,” Kris shot back. She’d done and been done to enough to know that you had to erase your footsteps just as fast as you made them.

  “I agree with her,” Nelly put in.

  “Kids, please don’t try to teach your old great-grandfather how to suck eggs. I was pulling dirty tricks on my enemy, or superior, long before either of you were hatched. And so was my info-warrior sidekick. What she got, she got, and no one is the wiser. Trust me on that.”

  “We may be trusting you with our lives,” Kris said.

  She didn’t think Grampa Al would actually harm her. But his automatics might not check her ident before they burned her and Jack. And there was that matter on Eden.

  “Kitten, I know well what I’m risking. I’d love to go with you, but these old bones just don’t have that kind of fun in them. But, Granddaughter, I want to bounce your baby someday on my knee. Maybe even change a diaper or two. Who knows?”

  Kris had to fight back tears. “Grampa, that is the most loving thing I think I have ever heard from one of my blood relatives.”

  She left her place at the table and went around to give him a hug. It was hard to tell under his tan, but it sure looked like he blushed. So she made it worse by giving him a peck on the cheek.

  “Here, here,” came from Jack, so on her way back to her place, Kris gave him a hug. His kiss was not on the cheek and took a bit longer.

  “Get a room,” Penny suggested.

  “There’s only one here,” Kris said, “and our snoring giant needs it if any of us are to get any rest.”

  “I did warn you that I sawed a lot of wood at night,” Grampa said with no repentance.

  Kris took her seat and returned to the life-or-death matter before them. “Okay, General Trouble, what have you got for us?”

  The general leaned forward and began in a low voice. “Like so many businesspeople, Al is penny-wise and pound-foolish. He’s contracted out the outer layer of his security. The pay for rent-a-cops is low and the turnover what you’d expect. They’re always hiring in new faces.”

  Kris shook her head. “So you can get us in the front door. It’s a long way from there to his bedroom.”

  “Stay with me. My contact has downloaded a complete map of Al’s compound and the central tower. You’ll want to study these before you go in,” the general said, and handed the tiny data chip to Kris. She held it close to Nelly.

  “I’m loading it all now. Sal and Mimzy are getting it, too.”

  “The internal security gets tighter,” Kris said.

  “It does, but my good friend has created false handprints for you as well as a couple of matching eyeballs for scanning. The owners of these are scheduled for a night off, but they get called in enough that main security won’t think anything of them being in for a while.”

  “And if they are called in while we’re in?” Jack asked.

  “There will be a problem,” the general admitted.

  Kris leaned back in her chair, food forgotten, and weighed the odds. They weren’t very good, but if Grampa’s cybermagician had pulled some really nifty new stuff out of her hat, Kris would take the chance to hop along with it.

  “We do it. When, General?”

  “Tomorrow night,” he said. “You’ll be doppelgänging folks that get two days off starting tomorrow. If something doesn’t break right tomorrow, you’ve got the next day as an option.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Kris said.

  “As much as we ever have,” Jack added.

  “Better than several I’ve been dragged kicking and screaming through,” Penny said.

  “Who goes?” Colonel Hancock asked.

  “Not you,” Kris said. Jack and Penny nodded along with her. “You’ve risked your neck enough just getting Jack here. I can’t tell you how happy you’ve made me. Now, you and Grampa Trouble go back. Cover your tracks. Do what you’re supposed to be doing.”

  “I’d really like to go with you, Commander,” the colonel said.

  “You will be, sir. You taught me a lot of what I know. Or kicked my butt and got me learning a whole lot of what I thought I knew but didn’t. I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t marched into my life, sir.”

  The colonel half snorted. “I wasn’t doing much marching back then. You made my life a whole lot more interesting.”

  “She has a tendency to do that if you survive her,” Penny added.

  “And a whole lot haven’t,” Kris finished.

  “You’re going to have to cut that out, Commander.” Now it was Grampa Trouble’s turn to hold Kris with his eyes, demand that she attend to his words.

  “You made a call. It was the right one in my book. You planned your battle and fought it the only way you could. As so often happens, it worked, and it didn’t. Nothing unusual in that. The odds against you looked bad when you started and got worse as you went along. I’ve been there, done that, and got the scars on my body and soul to prove it.”

  His crisp words paused for a moment, before going on. “I can point you at history books and tell you that is just the way it happens, but your history is fresh in your mind, and it was written with the blood and sweat of good men and women you knew personally. It’s easier to handle if folks give you a nice victory parade, but it doesn’t take away the scars on your soul even if they do. Take my word for it. You are the only person who can make the call for you. You can either spend the rest of your life eating your liver, and likely die young, or you can stand up, throw your shoulders back, and soldier, girl. What’s it going to be?”

  Kris let the words run over her, like baptismal water from some fiery preacher. Fire and brimstone in camouflage. Her head already knew everything he’d told her, but under his stern eyes, the words flowed like a torrent into her heart. A heart that had gone cold and hard in the pressure of battle, and rejection now met the old soldier’s fire . . . and melted.

  “I will soldier,” Kris said. “I’ve got too much to do to lie around eating my liver.”

  “I never much cared for liver,” Grampa Trouble muttered.

  “But it does raise a question, Grampa,” Kris said.

  “Which one?” he growled.

  “How come I’m the one that keeps having to s
ave the world? Why can’t somebody else step up to the plate and, for example, give Grampa Al a good whop to the head and knock some sense into him?”

  “Oh, that old question,” the general said, and took a deep breath. “You ever find the word ‘fair’ on your birth certificate, Kris?”

  “No, sir. And I looked real good a couple of times or twelve.”

  “I never found it either. It’s damn unfair that some people get an easy life and others get a hard one, but that seems to be the way it works. And the problem with having a hard life and handling it well is that you get handed even harder stuff the next time. And if you do that well, the next one is even harder.”

  “Until you get the one you can’t handle, and it breaks you, huh, Grampa?”

  “Or it turns you into someone like Ray. There is another option. Your gramma Ruth keeps me human. Keeps it all in perspective. The love of a fine person can do that for you.”

  Kris looked at Jack, reached over, and took his hand. She gave it a hard squeeze. “You willing to take on that job? Keeping me human and, whatever Grampa Trouble was talking about. In perspective.”

  “That’s a job I’d volunteer for,” Jack said without a moment’s hesitation.

  “Good, then let’s finish our sandwiches and think,” Grampa Trouble said.

  They finished their meals in silence. Kris spent the time with Nelly reviewing the data on the chip. From the way Jack and Penny stared off into space, they likely were doing the same. Finished, Kris summed up what she’d found.

  “So, you’ve got the necessary certificates for Nelly and her kids to fake it online as some old computers. Nelly, can you do it?”

  “No problem, Kris. You remember when I was working on probing that alien rock, I created a part of me and isolated it from the rest of me. We can create a pretty lame and outdated section in our self-organizing matrix and let any security system probe that to its heart’s content without getting a hint there’s more lurking behind.”

  “That’s a start,” Kris said. “Now, where is the sneaky gear that will get us in and through Grampa Al’s wondrous security walls?”

  “In one of the suitcases you brought in,” Grampa Trouble quickly answered. “You want to look at it now?”

  “No. I’ll take your word for it. Crew, it looks to me like we’ve got everything we need. Jack, Penny, you see anything that I’ve missed?”

  “Nope. It’s a thin plan,” Jack said. “But then, I can’t think of anything to thicken it up. If you’re sure Grampa Al won’t order his security guards to shoot to kill, then I guess we do our best. We can’t end up any worse than we’ve been.”

  “Are you sure your grampa Al won’t order deadly force?” Penny asked. “It’s not like we can send him a letter telling him who’s coming to dinner.”

  Kris leaned back from the table. That was the heart of her problem. The only way she had a chance to see Grampa Al was to come in under false colors. And there was no familial protection under that false flag.

  “If things get too bad, we’ll just have to let him know who his intruder is,” Jack said. “If we’re deep inside his security zone, we might still be able to advance even after we let him know it’s Kris just trying to get a word in edgewise with him.”

  “What do you think, Grampa?” Kris asked. “You’ve known Al all his life. He won’t really kill me, will he?”

  Grampa Trouble did not answer that question nearly as fast as Kris wanted.

  “I would hope not,” he finally said slowly as he rubbed his chin in thought. “You have to understand, that kid just about raised himself, with Ray and Rita being off in the war and all. He’s got issues with his old man enough to fill a lifetime. I like to think that blood is thicker than water, but between those two, I’m none too sure there is any blood in their veins. And now you say he’s gone rogue, ignoring both his father and his son’s efforts to handle the alien threat, charging off in his own direction entirely. It doesn’t sound good.”

  “So,” Kris summed up her thoughts, “if he hasn’t gone rogue, he’ll likely meet me with hugs and kisses, and this effort is a waste of time. If he has gone rogue, then we really do have to get in to him. But we may have to do it through live fire.”

  “I think that pretty much the operation,” General Trouble concluded.

  Kris pursed her lips, making a face at her now-well-defined problem. “There is sneaky gear for just the three of us?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, as I see it, the two of you”—Kris marked Grampa Trouble and Colonel Hancock with her eyes—“need to get back to your regularly scheduled life. The sooner the better.”

  “I can call Harvey to give us a ride down the mountain,” Grampa Trouble said.

  “No you won’t,” Kris and Jack said at the same time, with Nelly a nanosecond ahead of them both.

  “No net activity from here,” Kris said. “Let’s take a look at this car we have and see what we can do about Penny’s driving you two down the mountain.”

  “I’m staying at Nuu House,” Grampa Trouble said. “Penny can drop us off ten blocks from the place, and we can hike in. Maybe we’ll get a bite to eat before we do that. Give Penny a bit of time to exit the threat zone.”

  “We can play that as we see it,” Penny said. “Let’s see how this car works.”

  The car was plugged in to the solar panels on the roof, so despite the cold, it was ready to go. The problem was the very small size of the backseat.

  “I think I can squeeze in there,” Penny said. “You big men take the front seat.”

  “I’ll drive,” the colonel offered. In a few minutes they were backing out and heading slowly down the road, with Jack and Kris waving good-bye to them.

  “I think the fire has warmed up the place,” Jack said.

  “It will be good to get out of all this heavy disguise,” Kris said.

  Jack had always been good at getting Kris out of trouble. Now he showed his skill at getting her out of other things. He was even good at slipping her out of her spider-silk armor.

  But then, Kris was very good at getting him out of his, too.

  27

  Senior Chief Agent in Charge Foile slammed down the phone. “General Tordon and Colonel Hancock just walked in the front gate at Nuu House.”

  Heads popped up as his team came out of their computers. Eyes were bleary and exhaustion thick. “Have they been interrogated?” Rick asked.

  “Not yet,” Foile answered. “And I doubt we’ll get two words out of them. Still, that they’ve come in out of the cold tells us something. Two are in. Three are still out there. How did the two get in, and can we trace them back to the three? Drop your old data tracks. Get the feed from Nuu House.”

  “I’ve got it,” Mahomet said. “They walked in from Fifty-fourth Avenue.”

  “Backtrack them. I don’t care what you have to use. Bank or traffic video, gas stations. Any video we can get, look for them.”

  “Doing it,” came from all three.

  “Rick, I want you to get yourself over to Nuu House. Talk to those guys.”

  “I thought you said they wouldn’t talk, sir.”

  “But they need to know we’re onto them. Maybe you can rattle one.”

  “Rattle General Trouble?” Leslie said, her eyes still on the feed running fast across her computer screen.

  “I don’t have high hopes,” Foile admitted, “but there is always a chance. Even the best make a mistake. Maybe just one, but if we don’t force it, these folks aren’t going to give it up for free. Rick, do your best. Lives may depend on it.”

  “Understood, sir. I’m on my way.”

  Foile went to stand behind his other two agents. Security film flashed by almost too fast for the human eye to process. The computer checked each figure, applying its own search parameters. The two men were very distinctive. Between the computer and the human eye, they would catch them.

  “Got them,” Leslie said. “Two men, ramrod backs, coming out of that restauran
t.” There they were. No disguise. No effort to hide. The general even spotted the traffic camera and looked right into it.

  “How long were they in there?”

  “I don’t know.” Leslie sped up the take from a traffic camera, covering the stoplight . . . and just incidentally covering the street in front of the restaurant. An hour of film went by before a car stopped in front of the place and two tall, straight-backed men got out of it. A shorter woman unfolded herself from the backseat of the small two-door, gave the general a quick peck on the cheek, and settled into the driver’s seat. The two men waved as she drove off.

  “Can you make that license plate?”

  “No, sir. It’s screened.”

  “Track her. Track that make of car and the screened plates.”

  For the next hour, they tracked the small coupe as it wound its way through side streets. Whoever was driving that car knew how to evade surveillance. They’d find her, then lose her, then find her again only to lose her as she turned down a street lined with middle-to-low-income housing with no cameras.

  A thirty-minute drive took them over an hour to reconstruct.

  “Damn, that woman is good,” Foile mumbled under his breath, and hated himself for the admiration he was feeling for the ones he was hunting.

  “Is that your princess?” he asked Leslie.

  “I should hope not,” the young woman agent said, grinning. “If Kris has any sense about her, she’s back at their lair, enjoying a whole lot of Jack.”

  Foile pinned her with a frown. The agent didn’t even look back at him.

  “Well, wouldn’t you hope that, sir? You haven’t become a completely old married man, have you?”

  Foile allowed a “harrumph,” to that.

  “No, that’s Kris’s best friend, Penny. She’s shorter than Kris, and she was trained in intelligence and security. Her dad was a cop, too. We’re trying to track one of our own. You ought to be glad we’re doing as well as we’re doing. Think of what you’d be doing if that was you out there.”