Crystal Conquest (9 page)

Lenny stood up, did a lame job of pretending
to stretch, ambled across the street, and entered Sal’s Hobby Emporium. Though
he didn’t notice it on a conscious level, as the door shut behind him, the
smell of the place triggered a long-ago memory of his grandma’s home.

It was a modest-sized store, with selected items in the
front window to attract shoppers and a dozen rows of display shelves inside
that extended back into the depths of the shop. He wandered up and down the
first aisles to get a sense of the place, marveling that enough people embraced
such an archaic mode of shopping to make it profitable for the proprietor.

“There’re shopping baskets here in the front.”

Lenny turned with a start and saw an elderly white-haired
man with a kind face standing behind a counter in the front corner. A sign of
his age, the fellow’s hand shook ever so slightly as he pointed to a neat stack
of red handbaskets.

“If you’re buying several items, you can collect them in one
of these. It makes it easier to carry everything while you browse.” The man
smiled and nodded as he spoke.

His guard up, Lenny weighed the likelihood that this was
some sort of move by his opponent. He concluded that the man was being helpful and
using a basket simply added to the convenience of shopping. He picked one up.

“Let me know if I can help you find anything,” called the
man as Lenny disappeared down the first aisle.

He didn’t answer, concentrating on his next moves in the
larger drama. He worked his way up one aisle and down the next, systematically
scanning the displays. His strategy was that if something could be construed as
insidious or lead his challenger to believe it offered clues to his plan, he’d put
one in his basket. Traveling in an efficient circuit, he picked up an
assortment of electronics, including slip connectors, power dots, wire bridges,
a universal interface, and a rather pricey smartlink.

The next aisles held tools and gadgets. He grabbed a
multiknife, which, in spite of the name, held just two blades; the rest were an
assortment of foldout mini-tools. In that section, he also snagged a
geologist’s hammer with its square face that tapered to a chisel, a pointed spike
awl for piercing thick material, a clear case that held a selection of tiny
jeweler’s tools, a light-weight pry bar, and two kinds of tape. Finishing out
his tour of the store in the crafts section, he bought a glue stick, grit paper,
a bag of reflective glitter, a roll of clear sheet material, and a packet of
cinch straps. On his way to the front, he snagged a carryall to hold his
bounty.

“Sure is a nice day,” he said to the shopkeeper as he
approached the counter. That simple statement started the proprietor on a blue streak
of pleasantries as he packed Lenny’s purchases in the carryall. He told Lenny
about his upcoming vacation to see his great-grandkids, the crowds in town for
the annual apple festival, and the sophistication of Lenny’s new smartlink.

Lenny responded in order with “nice,” “gosh,” and “really.”

Then Lenny understood.
The old man isn’t in this business
for money.
This is his way of remaining socially involved in his twilight
years.
Chastened by the realization, Lenny spent a few moments engaging the
proprietor in chitchat, mostly letting him talk, and looking the fellow in the
eye so he’d receive emotional benefit from the attention.

During the one-sided conversation, Lenny fished into his
pocket, poked his finger into his pouch, and probed until he identified his
prank nib. He pulled it out and palmed the bit of crystal. Then he did some
more bad acting.

He unshouldered his backpack and, as he placed it at his
feet, said, “I wonder if I can distribute stuff to make all this easier to
carry.” He lifted the carryall down next to his pack, stood up, scratched his
head to show he was considering different options, bent down, grabbed his backpack,
and placed it up on the counter. All of this movement was misdirection. His
goal was to slip the prank nib into his com.

As soon as the nib was in place, he stopped his performance.
“You know, I think this is fine the way it is.”

Unable to conceal the next step, he brought up his com, made
some rapid adjustments while the man watched, and announced “false alarm,” as
if that were an explanation. He hefted his pack over his shoulder and picked up
the carryall, hugging it in the crook of his arm like a mom carrying her infant
child.

“Have a great day,” he said to the proprietor as he made for
the door. The fellow smiled, and Lenny hoped his good deed of offering a few
minutes of companionship would balance out the bad karma he was about to unleash.

Back on the walkway, he looked straight ahead and set a
brisk pace, taking purposeful strides he hoped suggested he would be walking
for an extended period. His attention, however, focused on the cars parked end
to end a half block up the street. He scanned the cars as he approached and,
not seeing anything he thought would work, shifted his focus to the next row of
cars farther along.

And there he saw his mark—a sturdy utility vehicle parked parallel
to the curb between two small coupes. It had a midnight-blue finish accented
with a thin yellow pinstripe that started at the front, traveled down the center
of the roof, and broadened into a burst of colorful flames at the rear. It was easily
twice the size of the two cars boxing it in.

When he was three cars back from the utility vehicle, he slowed
his pace and began fishing in the carryall with his free hand, trying to appear
as if he was rifling around for something he couldn’t find. He let his pack
slide to his feet, frowning and mumbling as he continued to dig. He put the
carryall on the ground next to the pack, put both hands inside it, and continued
his search.

Launching the first step of his plan, he stood upright and
used his com to pulse the prank nib. He looked up and down the block.
Nothing
.
The prank nib should have caused every door of every car on the block to open.
He was half expecting the doors on the shops to open as well.
Wow
. His
respect for his adversary grew.
I thought that was a sure thing.

Realizing he’d underestimated his opposition, Lenny ratcheted
up his vision of this game to a higher level of sophistication. Sifting through
possibilities, he chose what he hoped would be unexpected. He’d go low-tech and
brute force.

He bent over, stuck both hands in the carryall, and rummaged
through his booty. With his hands hidden, he tore open the top of the bag of
sparkly glitter. When he stood, he had the bag of glitter in his right hand,
and the hammer and awl grasped in his left.

He scanned the building adjacent to the utility vehicle and
picked out a broad flat area above the second-floor windows. He wound up and
pitched the bag as hard as he could at this expanse of brick. His aim was
horrid but the outcome wasn’t.

The bag hit the corner of a window ledge, causing the contents
to spurt out. The result was a slowly descending cloud of sparkles he hoped
would provide a smokescreen of sorts for his next actions.

In the midst of the glitter shower, Lenny stepped up to the
utility vehicle and braced his knees on the side of the car near the front
wheel. He took the geologist hammer in his right hand, spun it so the chisel
faced forward, and leaned over as he swung it hard at the center of the windshield.

The hammer glanced off the clear material without leaving a
mark. He expected that. Vehicle windows were designed to maintain integrity in
high-speed crashes, and his skinny arm couldn’t come close to generating the
force needed to cause damage. It didn’t matter, though. The hammer swing was
more misdirection.

He presumed his unseen opponent would take some sort of
defensive action—perhaps pop up the hood or swing open the side door—in an
attempt to fend him off. He’d use that moment for his final play. But he was again
surprised.
Damn.

He didn’t dwell on the lack of response and focused on
moving his plan forward. He swapped tools and gripped the ball-shaped handle of
the awl in his right hand. As he cocked his arm back, the thin needle-sharp
length of the piercing tool sparkled like more glitter fluttering around him. He
swung the tool forward, point first, accelerating it in a tight arc.

He didn’t aim for the windshield. Instead, he zeroed in on
the thin yellow pinstripe running down the midline of the roof. His bull’s-eye
was the center of the line, exactly one hand-width back from where the roofline
met the windshield.

The awl hit the roof close to target and pierced just enough
for the tip to stick. But it didn’t penetrate. He held the awl in place with
his left hand, grabbed the hammer with his right, and smacked the top of the
awl. The point moved deeper, but it still didn’t penetrate. His nerves as tight
as a bowstring, he smacked it again and exhaled in relief as the point pierced through
the roof, a portion of the shaft sinking beneath the surface.

Dropping the hammer and using both hands, he frantically
wiggled the handle of the awl, jerking it back and forth, side to side, and in circles.
He envisioned that beneath the roof, the sharp point was slashing its way
through the delicate workings of the vehicle’s web link. He felt resistance as
he moved the handle but had no idea if he was crushing the device or making
mush out of insulation, support foam, or some other material sandwiched inside.

Anxious to measure his success, he let go of the awl and used
his com to pulse the prank nib. The doors to the utility vehicle popped open. “Take
that,” Lenny called out, mocking his opponent. His awl attack had succeeded in
severing the ability of his adversary to communicate with and control the
vehicle.

He ran back, grabbed his gear, tossed the pack on the
passenger seat, and held the carryall as he scrambled onto the floor of the
utility vehicle beneath the front console. Opening the access panel to the nav
was easy. Lying on his back and looking up inside, his momentum slowed.

He saw an array of small rectangles, cylinders, and boxes fit
snuggly together inside the compartment. But there was no obvious way to
achieve his next step, and that was to connect his com to the nav system. With
the vehicle’s web link destroyed, he hoped he could manually drive the car
using his personal com.

He had intended to connect his com using the newly purchased
universal interface, but he now saw it would take time to figure out exactly how
to do that—time he didn’t have. Several people had already gathered outside the
vehicle and were talking among themselves as they watched him. He heard one
proclaim he was calling law enforcement.

Acting on impulse, he dug through the carryall and located
the smartlink the proprietor had spoken of so enthusiastically. He held it near
the nav compartment and paused to flip it around, trying to determine if there
was a back or front and top or bottom. Hoping it was built the way he would
have designed it, he oriented the device, moved it inside the compartment, and sought
to match its shape to one of the nav components.

As he moved it about, a small red light came on. He stopped
and advanced it slowly upward. The smartlink almost pulled from his hand as it grasped
and attached to one of the larger elements, much like two magnets clenching
each other. The red light turned green.
Yes!

Excited, he climbed up onto the seat and accessed his com.
The smartlink and his com had already found each other and were communicating. He
looked out at the gathering crowd and tried to sound like the stereotypical law
officer he’d seen on so many vids.

“Nothing to see here folks. Move along.”

An overweight man in a sweater-vest pointed at him. “You’re
in a lot of trouble, pal.” Lenny recognized the voice as the same one who
claimed to be calling the authorities.

He detected motion in the vehicle, and a thump jolted him back
into the seat. He didn’t have time to digest what had happened when a second thump
threw him forward. He lifted up his hand to stop from bumping his head into the
console. As he watched, his utility vehicle backed away from the coupe in front.
He braced himself.
Thump
.

Lurching forward and back, the utility vehicle bumped him repeatedly
into the two coupes parked in the row. He shook his head in admiration.
You
sneaky bastard.
The vehicle lurched forward, and the chatter from the small
crowd intensified.

As quickly as he could, Lenny opened a tiny port in the side
of his com and pulled out the web connect. The utility vehicle stopped moving,
confirming his suspicion that his opponent had reconnected to the vehicle through
his own com.

But a com without a web connect was fairly useless. He sat
up and looked out the window and, eyes widening, braced himself again. The
coupe in front now backed toward him.
Thump
. Then the coupe behind pulled
forward.
Thump
. Neither car had occupants, and neither hit him hard
enough to trigger the passenger safety restraints in his vehicle, yet they succeeded
in distracting him from parsing through the next steps in his evolving plan.

Lenny’s mind raced. He needed to get this vehicle under his
control and moving away from here. And as the actions of his opponent became
more aggressive, he realized he needed to become proactive in defensive
countermeasures. Sifting and discarding idea after idea, he scanned the area for
the next threat.
Thump
.

And then he understood. His unseen foe was being an
unrelenting nuisance, but it, or they, were not elevating things to a threatening
level. Why not send a huge truck to smash into him? Why not let him start
driving and steer him into a wall? Enough time had passed that law enforcement
should have arrived.
Thump
. Where were they?