Jumper 1 - Jumper (31 page)

I'd considered going to her father's house instead, but it could have been under heavy surveillance. This seemed safer.

I jumped through the glass doors into the interior. The heat had been left on to keep the pipes from freezing. I memorized a jump site back by the kitchen, then jumped home to my cliff dwelling.

The night before, I'd used the bathroom at the Stanville Public Library before going to bed, but I deeply resented losing my bathtub/shower at the Stillwater apartment. Later, when I had time, I intended to rent a motel room, probably in Minnesota. There'd been a Western Inn near the truck stop that Topper Robbins frequented.

I set the alarm for 8:45 and tried to sleep. It didn't work. My stomach was nervous and visions of white-coated scientists with scalpels and hemostats kept running through my head.

I remembered a scene from Alfred Bester's
The Stars My Destination
in which scientists put a man in a sealed tank and try to drown him, in hopes that he would "jaunt," i.e. teleport, away from danger. He did, but I couldn't help extending the scene, to my white-coated friends putting Millie in the tank and filling it up. "It's okay," I imagined one telling another. "If she can teleport, she'll be okay, and if she can't we won't have to waste any more time with her." In front of them the water rose higher and higher.

The alarm went off and I shuddered awake, grateful to be out of that dream. I guess I'd been able to sleep after all, but I didn't like it. I jumped to the library in Stanville and splashed water on my face in the rest room. Then I retrieved my binoculars from Texas and jumped to the interior of the steak house in Oklahoma.

Her father lived on the east side of town, but there was light traffic and it only took her twenty minutes to reach the steak house. Two other cars pulled off the same exit ramp. One drove past the restaurant and stopped on the access road; the other stopped before the restaurant's driveway. I used the binoculars. There were four men in each car.

I looked through the binoculars, then, to look at Millie, as she pulled her car into a parking place in front of the restaurant. She was nervous and had obviously seen the cars following her. She was only fifty feet away from me, but the steak house's windows were tinted and she couldn't see inside. I crouched low, pictured the backseat of her car, and jumped.

"Don't look around."

She jumped, and turned her head halfway around before staring straight ahead.

"Don't move your lips when you talk, either. Those bastards might have binoculars."

"What iv they 'ugged the car."

I hadn't thought of that. It wasn't impossible. "Was it on the street last night?"

"No. Dad 'ut it in the garage."

"We're going to have to risk it. I love you."

"You 'etter. Es'ecially with all this shit!"

I smiled. "Merry Christmas to you, too. Drive on north. Once we're on the road you can stop doing your ventriloquist impression."

She started the car again, then drove out onto the access road. I tensed as we passed one of the cars, flattening myself further onto the floor.

"What are they doing?"

"They're looking at a map. It's a very convincing impersonation of four lost guys—should be a band name. The other car just pulled up to the steak house. I think they're going to search it. Ah, The Four Lost Guys just started up their car."

I twisted, trying to get comfortable. Millie's car had rear-wheel drive and, consequently, that hump down the floorboard for the drive shaft. I peered around the edge of the seat to the front of the car. The passenger seat and the floor in front of it were empty. I jumped to it, my legs and hips on the floor, my upper body leaning against the seat itself.

Millie started and the car swerved slightly.

"Sorry, it was uncomfortable back there."

She reached over and touched my face. I put a hand on her thigh and squeezed.

"Who are they?" she asked.

"National Security Agency. One of their agents took a picture of me in Algeria. Six hours later, long before I could have gotten there by commercial airliner, another of their agents saw me in D.C. He had a transmitted copy of the picture. I was still wearing the same clothes. They were, uh, curious."

"Aren't there planes that could have gotten you there?"

"Sure. Supersonic fighter jets don't usually carry passengers, though. I don't blame them for being curious. If I could hitch rides on military jets, I must be hot shit indeed." I paused. "The long and the short of it is that I ended up panicking. I jumped away from them in front of five witnesses."

"Ack. That wasn't very subtle."

"I know. I'm sorry. They wouldn't let me call my lawyer. I was afraid they were going to start on me with the thumbscrews and needles."

Millie made a sour face. "Well, it happened. It's all very well for you. You can jump away at the slightest hint of danger. What happens when they start in on me?"

"I hope that you won't have that problem. But I really don't know. Now that they have some idea of what I can do, they'll start that military bullshit that developed capacity equals intent."

She put her hand on top of mine, where it rested on her thigh. "What do you mean? Are you afraid they'll think you'll rob every bank in the country?"

I shook my head. "They don't know about that. Hopefully they won't draw a connection. What has probably occurred to them is much worse.

"I could kill or kidnap the president. I could steal nuclear warheads and put them in our major cities. I could smuggle vast quantities of drugs into the country avoiding any possibility of interdiction. I could jump into secure facilities, steal documents, and sell them to the Chinese. Just as bad, they could
want
me to do all those things for
our
side. You get the idea?"

"You wouldn't do anything like that, Davy."

She didn't make it a question. She said it with absolute confidence. I almost cried. I shifted over, placing my face against her leg. She ran her fingers through my hair.

"I'm sorry, Millie."

"It's not your fault. I'm not sure if it's anyone's fault. But it sure complicates things, doesn't it?"

"Yeah."

"What do you think we should do?"

"I don't know. I could jump you away from all of this. I could put a shower and bathroom in at my cliff dwelling and we could travel across Europe and the Middle East."

"Tempting, but hardly possible. I have sixteen hours of classes this semester."

I worked my hand over her leg until the fingertips were tracing up the inner seam of her jeans.

"Stop that! You want me to have a wreck?" She moved my hand off her leg. "What am I supposed to do?"

I shifted. "If you want to live a normal life, you'll have to give the impression that our relationship is over. If they were bugging your phone last night, that's out, but if they didn't, we might stand a chance."

Millie passed a slow-moving truck. I scrunched against the door so the truck driver wouldn't see me from his higher vantage point.

"I don't think they bugged the phone last night when you called."

"What makes you think that?"

"I walked my dad's dog last night, twice. Once right after you called and once before I went to bed. The street was empty the first time, but there was a van parked down the block the second time with its engine running and a guy was standing on the corner at the other end of the block.
Nobody
stands on the corner in that neighborhood. Not at night when it's twelve degrees out."

From my position on the floor, the view out the windows was strange, consisting of the tops of trees and an occasional slice of billboard or exit sign. Also, a couple of times I saw a helicopter, high overhead, moving north.

I kept my eyes on Millie's face to avoid getting carsick. "So you're saying they arrived after I called. Hmmm. Well, more and more, it sounds like you should play it cool. Do your parents know about us?"

She shook her head. "I don't like to tell them about my love life. They have, well,
opinions.
I keep it vague."

"What about your roommate?"

"No. I didn't tell her. If I told her anything, I'd tell her all of it, and I didn't think she'd believe me. Besides, she thinks you're too young for me."

I laughed. "Right now I feel very young. There seems to be a helicopter following us as well, so if the cars disappear, don't bet that you aren't still being watched."

"You're kidding!"

"Look for yourself. It's way off to the west right now, but it's been up there an awful long time. I'll stay with you all the way to Wichita, so I can get a fix on your mother's house. I wish I could see the room you're staying in. About the only time I'll be able to see you is when you're supposed to be asleep. If you go out for a walk and disappear, it won't convince them you're not still seeing me."

She nodded. "I'll park in the garage. You fix on that. This afternoon we're going over to my sister's for Christmas dinner. The spare room is at the back of the house. I'll leave my suitcase on the bed so you know which one it is."

"What time?"

"We have to be there by four."

"Okay. I'm going to jump to the backseat and stretch out. I didn't sleep very well last night."

She put her fingers to her mouth, kissed the first two fingertips, and pressed them against my mouth. "I know what you mean. Sleep well."

Millie woke me when we entered her mother's subdivision. I transferred back to the floor of the front seat and said, "Is your escort still with you?"

"Yeah. When we got into the city, both cars closed back in. I'm starting to get mad, Davy."

I swallowed. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "I'm not mad at
you.
Don't apologize. It's their arms-race mentality that's pissing me off. Here we are."

She pulled into the driveway almost violently, the car rocking as it came to a stop. I crouched lower. She jumped out of the car and I heard the sound of the garage door rattling open. Then she was back in the car and pulling forward.

"Stay down. Mom will have heard the door. I'll distract her and you can get your jump site."

She got out of the car just as an interior door opened. I heard a woman say, "Right on time! How are you, honey?"

Millie shut the driver's door behind her and went forward, out of sight. Her muffled voice said, "Hi, Mom. God, it's cold in here. Did you make any Christmas cocoa this year?"

"Of course. Do you want a cup?"

"I'd love a cup. I'll shut the garage and get my stuff, if you'll put the water on."

"Coming right up." I heard the inside door shut. Millie moved past the driver's window and then the garage darkened noticeably as she pulled down the door.

"Jesus Christ," I said, climbing out of the car and stretching. Millie came to me and we kissed.

"Go on," she said, pushing me away. "You can get into the house between four and about seven. My sister's kids will have driven Mom crazy by then."

I looked around, memorizing the corner by her car. "I'll jump into your room at midnight, okay? Don't talk to me when I do. They might bug the house while you're out."

A look of outrage passed over her face. "And we're supposed to
let them?"

I shrugged. "It hardly seems fair."

"Well, I can always call the police. In fact, that sounds like an excellent idea. When I next see them following, I'm going to call the cops. Two lone women followed by four men in a car is certainly suspicious. It will be interesting to see what happens." She hugged me. "Midnight."

"Yeah," I said, kissing her. Then I jumped.

Except for a jump back to Wichita at 4:15, I spent the afternoon napping and thinking. I wished Millie would jump away with me. I kept wondering if she was with her sister's family or had been taken away by the NSA agents.

But if I watched her, ready to rescue her, I took a chance of being seen. That would endanger her far more. It occurred to me that if I were seen elsewhere, far away, the heat might go off of her.

Dr. Perston-Smythe wasn't in his office. Unfortunately, his filing cabinets were locked and I didn't know how to break into them, much less have a desire to do so. The entire building was quiet, locked up for the holiday. On a list in the reception area I found his home phone number and address.

I took a cab.

His house was on M Street NW, a town house shoe-horned in between other town houses. Before approaching the door I looked for people seated in parked cars or standing in doorways. There didn't seem to be anybody.

A woman came to the door, about Perston-Smythe's age, say forty, dressed in a green turtleneck and a red tartan skirt—very Christmaslike. She had silver hair and a lightly lined face.

"Is Dr. Perston-Smythe home?"

She looked slightly annoyed but damped it quickly. "Certainly. Come in out of the cold while I fetch him. Who shall I say is calling?"

"David Rice," I said.

She nodded. My name, apparently, meant nothing to her. She guided me into a parlor immediately off the front hall. There was a fireplace with an electric heater on the hearth. I stood with my back to it, facing the door.

Perston-Smythe took a couple of minutes to come to the room. I imagined he phoned somebody, first, before coming to talk to me. The instructions from the phone were probably "Stall him. We'll be right there." When he did come through the door his right hand was in the pocket of his tweed jacket.

"I'm surprised you would come here," he said.

I shrugged. "Well, I didn't get what I wanted when I visited you yesterday. I was hoping I could today."

He blinked. There was sweat on his forehead and he wiped at it carefully with his left hand.

"I was hoping, in particular, if you knew where Rashid Matar was likely to have gone. He left Algeria the day before yesterday, on a private yacht. It was named the
Hadj,
out of Oman."

He licked his lips.

I took a step sideways, to a chair, and he flinched and took half a step backward. I sat down slowly, with exaggerated care. "Look at it this way. If you tell me, it might keep me here longer, long enough for them to come. Who knows, maybe even long enough to capture me."