Tek Money (14 page)

“You didn't take the money?”

“Which money?”

“The two million dollars in antique paper money he had set aside.”

Munsey shook his head. “Did you catch that? I'm shaking my head negatively,” he announced into the darkness.

“Barragray was essential to getting all the Devlin Guns shipped to—”

“All the guns have been delivered. So, actually, he was of no further use to—”

“It's not good policy to assassinate people on his level after they've helped us.”

“My feelings too, old girl. Which is why I had nothing to do with the poor fellow's demise.” He coughed into his hand. “Ought you be here—it's not exactly discreet?”

“Who did kill him?”

“At the moment I can only guess.”

“Who?”

“The young woman he was living with off and on at the posh hideaway.”

“No, that doesn't make sense. She was working with Zabicas's people to make certain the guns were delivered to—”

“Was she, now?”

“You know that, Gardner.”

“What I actually know, old girl, it that she convinced you, and some of those halfwits you work for, that such was the case.”

“You don't believe her? Her story checked out completely.”

He shrugged. “Did you see that? I shrugged,” he said. “She's an actor, and I never trust actors.”

“I don't believe she killed him.”

“Even if she didn't, she may well have made off with the loot. It's only two million, yet—”

“I'd like it located.”

Munsey said, “I'm planning to hop over to Spain tomorrow. I believe she's back in Madrid by now.”

“Look her up, Gardner, and retrieve the money.”

“For the agency?”

“Deliver it to me, then we'll talk about its final destination.”

He smiled thinly. “I'm smiling a skeptical smile, old girl,” he told her. “Are you really certain that you trust me?”

“This'll be a way of finding out.”

Munsey coughed again. “What about that oaf Sam Trinity? I'm getting awfully weary of having to report to him and take orders from—”

“He won't be with us much longer.”

“Yes, so you promised when I initially agreed to participate in this farrago. Sam, however, continues to flourish and is still bossing me. He continues to insist that I rendezvous with him at the offensive whorehouse he—”

“Has Cardigan been taken care of?”

“That he has, old girl, along with his whimsical partner,” answered the agent. “They're going to be spending a few delightful days languishing on the island of Fayal in the picturesque Azores, LeeAnn.”

“And he wasn't harmed in any way?”

“Not in the least, even though he and Gomez stungunned one of our agents.”

She told him, “Make certain they both survive. After the coup, they're to be set free.”

“Like caged birds, of course. I'll see to it,” he promised. “And I'll locate the money for you—or perhaps for
us
. I may even have time to determine who did in poor Barragray. Would you like me to handle that, too?”

There was only silence in reply.

“LeeAnn?”

The lights popped back on, flooding the rooftop with brightness. Munsey was alone.

25

G
OMEZ CAME TO
a sudden, rattling stop at what felt like the bottom of the dark ravine. Disentangling himself from a splash of spiky brush, he scrambled to his feet. Taking a deep breath, he tugged off his borrowed trousers, wadded them up and lobbed them off into the thick surrounding darkness. Actually, although he'd informed their captors otherwise, he was wearing his own clothes under the appropriated uniform.

Crouching low, he moved carefully to the left along the now level ground.

He glanced up behind him. Far off on the night trail the bunch that had Jake was moving on and away. The beams of the literods were pointing along the trail and not down into the dark ravine.

There was no sign of pursuit.

“Those
pendejos
must feel confident they can collect me at their leisure,” Gomez said to himself as he continued making his way through the tangle of foliage at the gorge bottom. “Still, it was worth making a try at escaping. And possibly the fabled Gomez cunning will help me elude them.”

He had a rough idea of the layout of the island and he knew the city of Horta ought to be only a few miles from here.

“If I can make it there, I ought to be able to get word to Bascom and get some troops in here to help me spring Jake from this band of
cabróns.
”

Unless the entire population of this small Portuguese island was in cahoots with the Office of Clandestine Operations.

“Nope, that's not likely.”

He halted for a moment, listening. Birds were calling off in the sultry darkness. Gomez could hear brush rattling, leaves rustling.

“Apparently I woke up at least half the neighborhood fauna.”

He yanked off the uniform coat, wadded that and flung it to the right. Then Gomez continued on his way.

He was navigating by the stars and felt confident, well, fairly confident, that he was heading toward civilization.

“Or at least what passes for civilization in these parts.”

He traveled through the tropical night for another five minutes before he became aware of the new sounds behind him.

It was a steady thumping, mixed with the crackling of underbrush. Then, growing louder, came a thin humming noise.

Something was running down through the darkness, following his trail.

“Would that I'd been able to keep at least one weapon.” Gomez increased his pace, but didn't break into a run yet.

The methodical thumping was getting closer, louder.

“Robot hunting dogs,” he guessed. “At least two of them.”

They had picked up his scent, then closed in on his aura. It was a good bet that they'd catch up with him before too long.

Even so, Gomez started to run.

“Cozy,” remarked Jake.

“Quite cozy indeed,” agreed Agent Helton. “And, considering we're underground beneath a banana plantation, it's a much nicer detention cell than you've any right to expect.”

The small room was laid out like a parlor, with comfortable black and white furniture, carpeting and drapery. The narrow viewindow showed a sundrenched stretch of the American Southwest.

“Why should this bastard be comfortable?” Almita had come into the cell with them and was leaning, arms folded under her breasts, against the wall.

Ignoring her, Helton continued, “The sofa and armchair are real. The bookcases are holos, meaning you can't read any of those colorful old novels.”

“How long a stay am I registered for?”

“Only a few days, as I mentioned earlier, Cardigan.”

“What about my partner?”

Helton's pale blond eyebrows rose slightly. He gave a small shrug, saying, “All depends on the man's attitude. He won't be killed, however, if that's what you're—”

“Don't be too sure,” cut in Almita. “If I help track down that son of a bitch, he'll—”

“Enough, dear.” Helton took hold of her right arm, just above the elbow. “We've already sent the dogs to find your chum and bring him here.”

“Bot dogs?”

“They're gentle souls,” assured the OCO agent. “They're set to do no damage. No serious damage.”

Nodding, Jake sat on an arm of the low black sofa. “How come you guys are in cahoots with a bastard like Zabicas?”

“Oh, but we aren't, Cardigan. The OCO wouldn't think of collaborating with a notorious foreign Teklord whose—”

“He's a better man than you are, Cardigan.” Almita, angry, had pulled free of the restraining hand of the agent. She moved close to Jake, raising a hand to slap him across the face.

As she swung, Jake caught her wrist. He levered her around, yanked the arm up behind her back and then shoved her in Helton's direction. As she stumbled against the OCO man, Jake suggested, “Maybe you better lock her up for the night.”

“
Cabrón!
” She reached for a pocket that held one of her lazguns.

“Don't, please.” Helton's stungun was in his hand, the tip of the barrel touching Almita's temple. “Say goodnight to Cardigan, dear.”

Spinning on her heel, saying nothing, Almita went striding out of the room and into the grey metal corridor.

“The fridge is also real,” said Helton, “should you care for a snack. If you mind your manners, Cardigan, you'll do easy time here and things will be pleasant for us all.”

“Including Almita?”

Frowning, Helton said, “You know how unpleasant necessity can be at times.”

“Why's it necessary to help Teklords smuggle guns?”

Helton smiled. “Your viewindow is equipped with fifty six appealing vistas,” he said, backing to the doorway. “In case you want something to do. Goodnight.”

Gomez fell down again.

This time he'd caught his foot in a thick twist of root. He tripped, feeling a sudden jab of pain in his ankle, and then went falling over into the darkness.

He hit on his side, new pains shooting through his ribs. His teeth rattled and the breath went sighing out of him.

Gasping, he dug in with his right elbow and got himself to a sitting position. He turned just in time to see one of the pursuing robot dogs launch itself at him.

It was the size of a police dog, made of silvery metal that gave off a faint glow. Its wide jaw was filled with sharp metal teeth, many more than a normal dog came equipped with. Its plaz eyes glowed an intense red and sent two thin crimson beams of light right at his chest. The dog seemed to be drifting through the night, aimed straight at him.

Gomez swallowed hard as he flattened out on his back.

The heavy robot dog hound went sailing clean over him to land a few feet away.

Gomez struggled upward, feeling new pains as he put weight on his injured ankle. He spun to face the glowing metal dog.

Its slow metallic humming sounded increasingly like an angry growl.

The winded detective managed to grab a heavy stone from the ground. “Scram,
perro
,” he suggested, “or I'll bop you with this.”

The creature eyed him, legs spread wide and silvery head tucked low.

Suddenly something hit Gomez terribly hard in the middle of his back.

He went staggering forward, arms flapping wide, dropping the rock.

The second of the pursuing robot dogs had jumped at him. Its metal forepaws smacked him between the shoulder blades.

Crouched, he turned to face the second hound. He held out both hands toward the thing. “Back,
perro.
”

The dog lunged, leaped, caught hold of his right wrist. The sharp metal teeth dug into Gomez's skin.

The bot made a noise that sounded like “Yawp.” Its jaws snapped open. It let go of Gomez's bloody wrist and dropped to the ground. The lights died behind its eyes and it lay still.

“Still one more metallic mutt to go.” Perplexed, Gomez made it to his feet again.

The other dog was lying stiff and still on its silvery metallic side just to the left of Gomez.

26

“W
HAT WERE YOU
expecting to accomplish,
Senhor
Gomez?”

“From the way you pronounce
señor
, I'd judge you to be Portuguese.”

“
Sim.
”

“Wellsir, I saw a chance to get away from some goons and I took it,” said Gomez. “Which side are you on in this fracas, by the way?”

The lean young man was about thirty, wearing dark trousers and a black pullover. “I'm sure you've heard of Pax International.” He was standing a few feet away, an odd-looking gun dangling in his left hand.

“Privately funded bunch of do-gooders.”

He laughed. “You ought to be grateful I was around to do you good, Gomez.”

“I was saving the gratitude until I was dead sure you're not simply an OCO yunkus posing as a do-gooder,” said the detective. “Or maybe a Teklord heavy. How come you know my name?”

“I have a good memory.”

“We've met?”

“No, but I study a lot of dossiers. That was Jake Cardigan up there with you, wasn't it?”

“
Sí
. And who are you?”

“Jose Silveira.”

“A local lad?”

“No, I'm from the continent. Lisbon.”

“And just hanging around the jungle waiting for a chance to be helpful?”

“Tell me why you're here, Gomez,” countered Silveira.

“We had not much choice.” Gomez, while he wrapped his bloody wrist in a plyochief, explained the events leading up to his being hounded through the night jungle on this particular island in the Atlantic. “And you?”

“I'm with the branch of Pax that's devoted to discouraging the spread of illicit arms,” he answered. “There's a temporary way station here on Fayal. I've been keeping an eye on it for the past few weeks.”

“Do you hole up hereabouts?”

“
Sím
, I have a hideaway nearby.”

“Might I suggest,
amigo
, that we adjourn there now?” He looked beyond the other man and at the surrounding dark jungle.

“That's probably a good notion, Gomez. They'll be getting curious as to why their dogs haven't reported in lately.” He gestured with the gun in his left hand. “We have to cut through the brush over that way.”

“What'd you use to discourage those hounds?”

“It's a new type of sonblaster.” Silveira started moving into the brush. “Once in a while I keep a sample from a batch of weapons we've confiscated.”

“Handy.” Nodding, Gomez followed him.

Jake was finishing up his second circuit of the cozy cell. He'd located two hidden monitor cams so far, one up in the simulated stucco ceiling and one behind the holographic floor-to-ceiling bookcases. There was also a backup audio bug under the holo endtable.