The Nexus Series: Books 1-3 (15 page)

The guy appeared
under a flickering lamp at the end of the alley, climbed over a shallow wall,
and ran down another alley away from her.

They wouldn’t be
able to trap him now.

Jill took off
after him.

She thought she
heard him round another bend.  She followed him, gun raised.

She was at an
intersection of four narrow roads among the abandoned industrial buildings.

He could be
anywhere.

Corey and Amber
ran up behind her.

“Lost him,” Jill
muttered.

Amber kept her
gun raised anyway.  Not that it mattered; the safety was still on.

“Could have been
just some homeless guy,” said Corey. 

Jill shook her
head.  “He was watching us too carefully.”

“A spy,”
whispered Amber.

“Let’s head
back,” Corey said through a frown.  “We’d better tell the director.”

Jill’s heart was
still pounding the way it always did on an errand.  Only this wasn’t an
errand, she reminded herself.  It was something entirely different. 
Something opposite.

Wasn’t it?

She was picturing
that nameless face again—acne, shoulder-length red hair, sad eyes...How many
times had she thought about that face in the last week?

“...you
okay?  Jill?  Hey, Jill?”

Her mind snapped
back to the present. 
Erranders
were the bad
guys; now she was one of the good guys...right?  Sure she was.  She’d
signed the papers, joined the department.  She was one of them now. 
It was official.  She knew it.

But she didn’t
feel it.

“Yeah.  I’m
fine.”

Was it really
possible change into a different person just like that?  The whole ride
back to HQ she tried to convince herself that it was.

THE
boss was wandering through his arcade in Korean Town, west of the Avenue of
Towers.  Korean kids on Anterra loved their arcades, and they’d packed the
place out tonight.  There were modern holographic games, ancient bulky
consoles with bubbled screens, and everything in between.  Dim violet light
from the ceiling mingled with the shifting light of the games.  Music
thumped from invisible speakers and added to the din.

The boss liked to
wear a tailored suit at his arcade.  It made him seem like a CEO instead
of the owner of a teenage entertainment center.  Then again, he was much
more than the owner of a teenage entertainment center, so why shouldn’t he
stroll around the place in a tailored suit?  The suit was black to match
his perfect hair, his eye-patch, and his reputation.

He lit a
cigarette while he walked.  He was in a good mood tonight.  He wasn’t
sure why.  The boss’s moods were like the weather on the Home
Planet—uncontrollable, unpredictable, quickly changing.

A quick change
happened at that moment, in fact.  He saw a hooded guy walk quietly in
through the arcade’s side entrance.

The boss strode
to his dark, cramped office at the back of the building.  Classical music
crackled from the flaring horn-shaped speaker of his old phonograph in the
corner.

A minute later
the hooded guy came into the office.

They spoke to
each other in Korean.

“You are back
early,” the boss said.

“They saw me,”
said the other guy.  He pulled back his hood.  He was a young Korean
with disheveled hair.  The dishevelment looked deliberately styled, not
just a consequence of the hood.

“You allowed them
to see you?”

“Our source said
that the department does not patrol that entrance.”

“And you believed
the source?”

The young man
hesitated.  “If we are not going to believe the source, what is the use of
having one?”

The boss
sighed.  “I suppose you are right.”  He lit a cigarette. 
“Still, it makes sense that the department would keep watch over one of the
only entrances to their headquarters.”

“Perhaps. 
Then again, why draw any attention to the place by posting guards?  No one
knows there is supposed to be such an entrance.  No one even knows there
is supposed to be such a department.”

The boss nodded
impatiently.  “I assume you did not find the entrance?”

“It would not
matter if I had.  Only department members have the capability to trigger
the door open.  You need more information from the source.”

“The source is
afraid to say more than has already been said.”

“The source is
only saying that that so you will pay more money.”

“Perhaps.” 
The boss went to the corner and switched off the phonograph.  He took a
wax cylinder out of it, put a different wax cylinder in, and switched it back
on.  A different muffled classical tune came on.  “Perhaps we must
change our focus.”

“I have been
telling you that for a month.”

The boss didn’t
argue.  He shook a finger at the hooded kid.  “I should listen to you
more often.”

“Then listen to
me right now:  Do not take this so far.”

“What are you
talking about?”

“You have some
good resources.  Use them to keep your little...side business transactions
going.  You do not have to take the whole department down.”

The boss
shrugged.  “Perhaps I
want
to take the whole department down. 
In the future, no one will remember me for those little business transactions
you are talking about.  But if I expose an entire secret branch of the
government...!”  He blew smoke dramatically at the ceiling.

“They will not
remember you if you are caught and imprisoned before you accomplish anything,
either,” said the kid.

The boss
smiled.  “Then I suppose I must not allow myself to be caught.”

DURING
the second week of training, Bear finally had the new girls bout in The Ring.

It went about as
expected.  Amber, all grace and smooth moves, danced around and attacked
at ideal times.  Jill stumbled back and forth and flailed futilely at
Amber whenever she thought she could get away with it.

“Stop it stop it
stop it!” Bear cried after about twenty seconds had elapsed. 
“Jillian!  Have you learned nothing from me thus far?  Show me that
you heard my words, and were not simply counting the wrinkles on my face! 
Now...again!”

Amber forced an
embarrassed smile before she attacked again.

It didn’t go much
better the next twenty seconds than it had the first.

Director Holiday
appeared and interrupted the bout.  Bear was annoyed.  Jill was relieved.

“You’ll have to
continue your training later, I’m afraid,” said Holiday.  “Right now it’s
time to participate in that for which you are being trained.”

“Ah, such flowery
language!” Bear said, shaking his head.  “What does the director mean?”

“He means,” said
Jill, “it’s time for our first mission.”

Holiday
smiled.  “It’s time to break in those new uniforms, ladies.”

“Director?” said
Bear.  He gestured at Jill.  “Please make sure this one is well
armed.  If she is forced to fight without a weapon...well, I am much too
busy in the foreseeable future to attend a funeral.”

“Very funny,”
said Jill.

Amber had not the
slightest smile on her face.  “Our first mission,” she whispered.

“We debrief
immediately,” said the director.  “Follow me.”

17

DEBRIEFING
happened in a conference room off the garage.  Corey and Bradley met Jill,
Amber and the director there, soon followed by Dizzie and Mandy.

“As you know,” Holiday
began without preface, “approximately one week ago, Corey Stone and Bradley
Park arrested a vendor of illegal materials, a man who calls himself Mr.
Love.  We had reason to believe Mr. Love was in contact with a much larger
and more dangerous criminal ring.  Since that time, the department has
been in the process of tracking down Mr. Love’s clients.  They have been
questioned and fined on charges of deliberately obtaining materials known to be
illegal.  Amanda Farrell,” he gestured toward Mandy, “was the lead analyst
in finding said violators.  Amanda, would you briefly explain the
process?”

Mandy stood,
looking as intellectual as ever.  “Mr. Love’s apartment and place of
business is accessed by an alley entrance.  A traffic camera just outside
the alley gave us a clear view of any vehicles which parked at his door, and
the license numbers were then traced to the owners.  However, on a number
of occasions over the last month, Mr. Love had a visitor who arrived in a car
with the license numbers obscured.”

“Sherlock should
have alerted us,” said Corey.  “Any time a traffic camera spots a vehicle
whose license numbers aren’t visible, Sherlock is supposed to red-flag it.”

“He did,” said
Mandy.

“Then why did no
one follow up on the alert?” demanded Bradley.

Many sighed,
obviously annoyed at this sidetrack.  “A non-visible license number is a
very common alert from Sherlock.  Typically it’s only because of a dirty
license plate, or a shadow, or something equally harmless.  These
red-flags are nowhere near the top of the list for analysts to follow up on,
particularly on busier days.  We usually bypass the alerts and move on to
more dangerous ones.”

“Was there no
other way to determine who the driver of the vehicle was?” asked Bradley.

Mandy shook her
head.  “We have footage of the client walking from his car to Love’s door
and back, but it’s inconclusive.  He wore a hood which shadowed his face,
and didn’t speak within the range of the microphones on the security cameras;
so Sherlock’s VOFARE was unable to make an ID.  We tried following the
route he had driven to reach Love’s place, but he took too many side
roads—roads without any camera surveillance.  He remains the one client of
Mr. Love’s we have not arrested.”

“But now you’ve
found him,” said Jill.

“We’re about to,”
said Holiday.  “Until recently, Mr. Love has been downright afraid to
speak of this particular client.”

“That just goes
to show he’s as dangerous as you suspected,” put in Amber.

Holiday
nodded.  “Exactly.  Thankfully Mr. Love’s impending court date has
loosened his tongue at last.  Apparently this client wasn’t a collector
interested in obtaining Love’s videos; he was interested in where Love got
them.”

“He wanted to get
a hold of a VCR and videocassettes himself,” Corey concluded.

“In all probability,
yes.  This confirms our suspicions that the Anterran underground is
manufacturing a communications network using outdated technology—technology
Sherlock cannot tap into.  This client, whoever he is, wants to make use
of Love’s contacts to obtain materials for this plan.”

“What did Love
tell the client?” asked Bradley.

“Love was
hesitant to reveal his Earthside contacts who had been shipping him the
videos.  The client was very persuasive, however.  They had arranged
to meet late last week to discuss the matter.”

“But Love was in
jail by then,” said Bradley.

“Precisely. 
But this morning I persuaded Love to call the client.”

“I don’t suppose
you got a trace?” Corey asked hopefully.

Holiday shook his
head.  “We weren’t so fortunate, not surprisingly.  However, we have
another plan in place.  During the call, Mr. Love apologized for missing
the meeting, claiming he thought he was being followed.  He has arranged
to meet the client again tonight.  Love won’t make it to the appointment,
of course.  You will.”

“Any chance this
client suspects that Love has been arrested?” asked Jill.

“There’s no
reason he should,” said Holiday.  “Love’s explanation was plausible. 
In all probability the client will be expecting Love to meet him as planned.”

Corey stood, ready
to go.  “What’s the location?”

“The parking
garage elevator of a Korean town business park.  The time of the meeting
is set for 9 p.m.”

“We get there
early and wait for him,” said Bradley.

Holiday shook his
head.  “More than likely the client is planning on being there early
himself to scope things out.  You will arrive precisely on time.  The
mission is simple:  Bring him in.”

“Right,” muttered
Amber with a swallow.  “Nothing to it.”

IN
the locker room Jill paused in front of the glass case housing her
uniform.  She stared once again into those reflective eyes.

It was time.

The uniform was
very light and flexible.  And, Bear would be glad to know, she had two
weapons holstered at her sides.  She carried the
visored
helmet; no need to put that on until departure.

Jill turned
around and saw Amber, also in her new outfit.  Even the armor-plated
uniform couldn’t hide that girl’s perfect figure.

“Let’s do this,”
said Jill.

“I think I’m
ready,” said Amber.  She patted the handguns at her sides.  “Safety’s
off.”

Jill was about to
tell her to put the safety back on until they were actually on their way. 
Then she thought better.  “Nice,” she said.

COREY,
Bradley, and Amber took their places in one of the department’s black
skycars
.  Jill mounted her skybike.

They waited.

“How are you
feeling?” Jill heard Corey’s voice in her earpiece.  For a second she
foolishly thought he was asking her, not Amber.

“Nervous,” said
Amber.

“Don’t worry,
this one’s a cinch.  It’s an ambush mission—the easiest kind.  And
we’re four against one.”

Holiday’s voice
came over their earpieces.  Whether he had heard Corey’s comments or not,
he began:  “Remember, the client is in all likelihood a very dangerous
man.  But we have the element of surprise.  Let’s use it for all it’s
worth.  Desiree, are you with us?”

“Hear you loud
and clear, sir!” crackled Dizzie’s voice.  “I’ve sent the routes to the
vehicle consoles.”

Jill touched the
new console the department had installed on her skybike.  A map with
automated directions came up.

“Each vehicle
will be routed separately,” Dizzie went on, “to keep from attracting
attention.  For all we know, this guy will be suspicious; he may have
lookouts.  Your vehicle will leave first, Cor.  Your departure time
is five minutes.”

It seemed like
five hours.  Jill felt perspiration bead on her forehead, felt her heart
race beneath the plated armor of her uniform.

“Thirty seconds,”
Dizzie’s warning crackled.

She saw Corey and
his passengers don their helmets—Corey’s with its silver skull, Bradley’s with
its Korean insignias, Amber’s plain black for now like Jill’s.

“Go!”

The black car
peeled out of its spot in the garage.  Jill watched until its taillights
disappeared around a bend in the tunnel.

“You’ll be ninety
seconds behind him, Jill,” said Dizzie.

She looked down
into the eyes of her helmet, twin dark reflections of her face.  She
turned it around, slipped it over her head.

“Go!”

She kicked her
skybike into gear.  At the end of the tunnel, she didn’t wait for the platform
to lift her into Pete’s fish cannery.  She jetted straight up the shaft on
her own.

They were on
their way.