Continuance (13 page)

He pursed his lips in thought. “It’s
funny – for a minute, I thought we might have actually had him. Kid came
running up to that coffee shop like he was in a hurry to be somewhere. When he saw
us, he ducked in next door. I sent a guy around to watch the back, expecting
him to run, but he never came out. Found him sitting inside and ran a sweep on
him, just in case, but he was clean.” Neal frowned.

“Cheese steak. Double cheese.” A
pudgy man at the order pickup counter slid a white bundle of butcher paper
toward Lindsay. Bradley M. Leonard. “Macadamia nut cookies. Twelve white,
twelve dark, twelve fudge.” Bradley placed a white bag on the counter in front
of Neal.

Lindsay shook his head, staring
at the bag, then at Neal. “You’re going to need diabetes reversal if you keep
that up.”

Neal smiled, pulling a cookie
from the bag. “Already had it.”

Back on the sidewalk, Lindsay felt
a renewed sense of determination. “So Richman’s smart, and maybe his contact’s
even smarter. But they’re not perfect. They didn’t have the chance to meet, so
they’ll probably try again.”

Neal nodded. “I’m counting on
it.” He started on another cookie. “I’ve got eyes on Richman right now. But I
need you to arrange for something more permanent. Costilla and Wright are tied
up, so it’ll have to come from Central.”

The DIA had made a few major
busts not long after the Moratorium, but since then the initial retread
hysteria had died down. Appropriations to the department had followed suit. Hardly
a day went by Neal didn’t complain about being understaffed. He’d requested
four new field agents to fill vacancies and deal with the recent uptick in
Chrysalis chatter and help handle things at the Chariot lab. So far, all he’d
gotten was Lindsay.

“I’ll keep ears on the net
traffic around campus too,” Lindsay said. “Maybe something will come up again.
I don’t think it’s any coincidence we’re seeing this activity near the lab.
It’s like a honey pot.”

Neal nodded, seeming preoccupied.
“We already knew that. Oriole went straight there, but she still hasn’t made
actionable contact with anyone, including Fairchild.”

Lindsay hadn’t actually seen
Oriole, but he knew the code name for their asset inside the Chariot lab, the
centerpiece of their most ambitious operation. It was an unorthodox gamble –
one the division had a lot riding on.

Neal scowled. “Even with the
increased security, I still feel like our balls are flapping in the wind. I
don’t like that Arkive data exposed while Richman’s back out there, even with a
watch on him. Especially with his skills. Officially, we can’t shut anything
down. The dean has too many political connections. If Chariot were found to be
negligent with the data, though…” Neal peered at Lindsay as they crossed the street.

 “I’ll pay them another visit,”
Lindsay said.

Half a block from the office,
Lindsay stopped on the sidewalk, frowning at a black limo parked in front.
“Hey, Neal. Those retread perks? Does one of them include knowing how to show
up just when you don’t want to see them?”

The outline of a glossy black
door appeared near the back of the limo and slid aside as a man in a
custom-tailored suit and alligator leather shoes stepped onto the sidewalk.

The first few lines of the man’s
caption in Lindsay’s smartglasses read:

Name: Darren Frederick Grieves

Date of Birth: 02/22/1987

Occupation: Chairman and Chief Executive
Officer, Hermetica Corporation

Criminal Status: No criminal record.

NOTE: CONTINUED INDIVIDUAL UNDER
EXEMPTION.

He looked like a man in his
mid-twenties, and the smile he wore as he approached showed teeth so straight
they might have been designed by an architect. Lindsay itched to correct that
problem with his fist. “What are you doing here, Darren?”

Darren looked around in mock
surprise. “It’s a free country. There’s no law keeping me from paying a visit
to my great grandson.” He leaned close, looking amused as he put a manicured
hand to the side of his mouth. “There’s not yet, is there?”

“Sadly, no. I don’t suppose you’d
settle for the fact he doesn’t
want
to be visited?”

“Grieves,” Neal interjected,
stepping between them, though Lindsay continued to look Darren in the eye over
Neal’s head. “There’s no need to be rude.” The conciliatory tone sounded odd
coming from Neal’s scratchy voice. “Sorry. We don’t get to meet someone with
your background on amicable terms very often. Especially someone continued
before the Moratorium Act.” He extended a hand to Darren. “Isaac Neal.”

“Darren Grieves,” he said,
shaking the hand Neal offered.

“Yes, I can see that.” Neal stood
between them, looking back and forth. Everyone said Darren and Lindsay looked
like brothers. The wavy brown hair, the strong jaw, the tall frame and broad
shoulders. Some even went so far as to say
twin
brothers, though Lindsay
thought that was a stretch. “
Agent
Grieves here’s told me a bit about
you.”

“I can imagine.” Darren glanced
at Lindsay. “Good intelligence, right?”

Neal’s laugh sounded like a man
being strangled. “You didn’t say he was funny, Grieves.” He shot Lindsay an
accusing look, as if he’d been playing coy with some secret at a dinner party,
then turned back to Darren. “You know what else is funny? Those old 2D cartoons.
I bet you saw plenty of those your first time around.”

Lindsay’s hackles rose. What was
Neal playing at here?
Whatever it is, I hope it’s quick.
The sooner they
were rid of Darren, the better.

“I saw my share, yes,” Darren
said. “I’d love to tell you about them, but if you’ll exc….”

“Any favorites?”

Darren looked at Neal with an
expression of amused tolerance. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any, but
I had a few favorites.”

Neal’s eyes were sharp, but the
smile never left his face. “I don’t remember the name, but when we were kids, I
watched one with my brother. It has this a cat, and he’s always chasing the
same mouse. But he has the hardest time catching him, because this a pretty damn
smart mouse, you know?
So
smart, in fact, he makes a deal with a dog for
some protection. This dog, he gives the mouse a bell, tells him to ring it whenever
the cat bothers him.” Neal snickered, grabbing a Macadamia nut from his coat
pocket.

“So of course, the mouse goes
right up to the cat, grinning his cute little mouse grin, and just as the cat’s
about to crush his little head in his jaws, the mouse rings the bell. And of
course, the dog comes running and gives the cat a beating.” Neal reached inside
his coat, drawing the graphene blade from a sheath, slowly enough Lindsay
caught a glimpse of the holstered GLOCK beside it. With a little flourish, he sliced
the nut in two, popping the halves into his mouth. He didn’t sheath the blade
before going on. Darren’s face was calm as a summer pond.

“So the mouse is having a pretty
good time ‘cause he knows the cat can’t touch him. But one day, the dog gets
chained up. The mouse starts shaking his little ass at the cat, taunting him
again, but when he rings his bell this time? No dog. Just a pissed off cat looking
to get some payback. You ever catch that one?” He idly rolled the blade handle
between his fingers. “I really wish I could remember the name. The look on that
little rodent’s face is priceless. I could watch it a thousand times and never
get tired of it.” His voice was steel wool dragged over asphalt.

“Tom and Jerry.” Darren’s voice
sounded as collected as he looked. “So you can get started. A thousand times
might take a while, and I hear that death thing’s going to be permanent for you.”

Neal’s face darkened, all
pretense at friendliness erased. He strode toward the revolving door to the
building, calling over his shoulder. “See you later, Grieves.” Lindsay realized
he wasn’t sure who Neal meant.

Darren kept his eyes on Neal as
he disappeared through the revolving door into the building. “Your boss seems
like a man who takes his job seriously. Learn from him, Lindsay. He could teach
you a lot.”

“What is this? Some kind of
reverse psychology? One of your secret perks?”

Darren jerked his head toward
Lindsay, a tiny crack finally showing in that infuriating composure. But just
as quickly, he relaxed again. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“Then I’ll ask again. Why
are
you here?”

“Why don’t we talk about it
inside?” Darren gestured to the black leather couch inside the open limo door.

“The sidewalk suits me fine. Or
maybe you’d like to come inside the office and talk there?”

Darren’s mouth curved in the
mockery of a smile. “The sidewalk suits me fine, too.” He took a seat on a
bench beside a planter filled with yellow poppies and a small palm tree.
Lindsay sat at the other end, leaving as much space as he could between.

“Listen, Lindsay. No matter how
you may feel about me, we’re still family. I know things have been unsettled
for you since I came back into the picture. But whether you realize it or not, everything
I’ve done has been with you and your family’s best interests in mind. The house.
School. Your dad’s job. All I wanted was to give you a better life, to share my
good fortune with those I care about.”

“We were doing just fine before
you came along.”                 

“Just fine.” Darren could have
been describing warmed over cabbage. “Lindsay, before I died, I left your
parents and grandparents well provided for. Trust funds that should have been
more than enough to live in comfort the rest of their lives.”

“Not as big as the one you left
yourself,” Lindsay said. Who ever heard of a man leaving half his fortune to
himself
?
Darren had.

“But big enough to live in
comfort,” Darren said. “
And
to leave an even bigger trust fund for you
when their time came.” He shook his head. “I was only gone fifteen years, but
by the time I came back, they’d squandered all of it on failed businesses and
careless investments. Your dad was scraping together a middle-class existence
as an accountant, with barely enough left in your college fund to get you
through the first year. He didn’t seem upset when I offered him a directorship
at Hermetica and to put you through school. He thanked me for it. Why can’t
you?”

So he wanted to air things out
here. Fine. “Because I never asked you to come along and play hero, Darren.
Nobody gave me a choice. I was happy where we were. I’d lived in that house
since I was seven. I was due to become class vice-president at my high school. Who
cares if it was public? I had a girlfriend there. We’d already made plans to go
to the same college.” Lindsay took off his smartglasses, studying Darren with
no captions, no AR to embellish. “Then you came along and broke everything by
fixing it. Thank you.”

“I just wanted you to have more
opportunities. So did your father.”

 Lindsay’s laugh was bitter. “
More
opportunities. That’s rich. Since I distinctly remember having to get a court
waiver just to get this job, because now that you’re around, I fail the damn
background check!”

Darren sighed, seeming to relent.
“Well, you may have the chance to return the favor. The company’s in
negotiations with the university to license Chariot’s technology for commercial
use. And we’re in talks with the Department of Defense on a contract to build a
portable version for military use in the field.”

“We know,” Lindsay said. “You met
with the program head at the lab last week. Dr. Fairchild.”

Darren showed no sign of surprise
the DIA was keeping tabs. “Then you’ll also know there’s momentum for this in
the DOD and in some circles on the Hill. But they’ll have to amend the Moratorium
Act for this to fly. This will be high profile, Lindsay. Testimony before
congressional committees. Lots of press. Your position here could be perceived
as awkward for me as CEO, but it doesn’t have to be. Hermetica will be pursuing
this in full cooperation with the law,
and
law enforcement. I’d like
appearances between us to reflect that.”

Lindsay held his tongue long
enough for a young couple to walk by, watching impatiently as they stared at
the parked limo while trying not to gawk. “So that’s why you’re here? Am I
really hearing you right? You want me to smile and wave while you try to put me
out of a job?”

“The exemption would be military
only. Still plenty of
retreads
for you to chase after.” A sour twist contorted
Darren’s mouth.

“Bullshit. You get your way with
this, and then what? Policemen? Firemen? Then everybody else follows. It all
sounds so noble until people really understand what it means.”

Darren’s face turned cold,
disappointed. Lindsay imagined this was the same look his corporate competitors
had learned to be wary of. “You know, I hear appropriations for the DIA are due
for consideration again this cycle. I’ve given Senator Fisher quite a bit of
support over the years – since even before I died. He chairs that committee.”