Mina Cortez: From Bouquets to Bullets (12 page)

“Yes Ma'am, but ...”

“What part of leaving three armed men
unconscious, before chasing down a delivery truck on the freeway,
is inconspicuous? Please explain.”

“I ... I ...”Mina started, before collecting
herself. “There were lives in danger. Some of them were my fault. I
didn't chase them down ... they, well, they drew their guns in the
place I was delivering to.”

“Yes, that's what the reports say,” the
Director said. “Do go on.”

“The guy with the truck ... he was one of
them.”

“And this vaunted sense of responsibility
could not settle for stopping the shakedown, once lives were no
longer directly endangered? Besides, of course by you?”

“I—!”

“Oh, of course, I'm sure no additional
bystanders were put at risk by causing a highway accident,” the
Director continued over Mina's attempted protest, her voice dry.
“It was impossible to let the truck go? Or call it in?”

“What should I have called it in on, Ma'am?”
Mina asked, finding her voice. “I didn't see the license plate. I
was too far away, and none of our people were anywhere close.”

“Well, perhaps you could have reported the
situation to someone who remembered what your job was,” the
Director said. “Was it worth ruining years worth of investigations
into the shop in order to thoroughly stop one hold-up? The first
part might have just made them shut down that part of their
operation for a bit. Succeeding at a car chase from a bicycle,
however, has made certain they'll shut down operations there
entirely. Worse, whoever they were reporting to will be a lot more
paranoid now. But at least you caught a single two-bit thug.” The
words were almost individually bit off.

Mina flushed at that. She hadn't meant to
mess up the investigation. She still couldn't bring herself to
believe she'd done the wrong thing in the first shop, at least,
though. “I'm very sorry. I won't ...”

“You won't be doing much of anything for a
while except training and consulting, Agent Cortez. You're off of
active surveillance for the time being.”

“So I'm ... still an agent?” Mina began, a
little startled.

“The FBI is screaming over a botched sting,
without having a clue where it went wrong. Lucky Pho has been
investigated thoroughly ... the police found enough contraband to
arrest everyone on site. There are numerous reports of a horrible
bicycle accident off a bridge, but no one seems quite certain what
happened. Your bicycle was stolen ... which is actually much
easier. The pink and green bicycle somewhat stands out, especially
while being ridden by a teen male.”

Mina bit her tongue to prevent herself from
mentioning that the bicycle was lilac and emerald. This was not the
time.

Fiona Richter continued. “Bicycle thieves are
far less credible than witnesses turning a crashed bicycle in. You
otherwise covered your tracks reasonably well. Agent Park is
handling a lot of the rest of the covering up for you. You also did
quite possibly save four lives, and while you didn't help catch the
big fish we wanted, one safehouse for the black market has been
shut down, so it's not nothing.”

She fixed Mina with a stern glance. “This is,
in no way, a 'good job', Agent Cortez. This is not the gold star
that covers up massive professional, and literal, damage. These are
a few mitigating circumstances. Most important among them is what
we did not find. There was no sign whatsoever of any of the
programmers. We're still waiting for proper circumstances to allow
an interrogation of the captured men, but we've found absolutely no
sign any of them have the first clue about the case you're on.
There are a lot of very upset people right now, Agent Cortez. You
ruined years worth of work, made many people's jobs much harder,
and have put me and your fellow agents in a difficult position.
However, you're still an agent ... but you now have an official
reprimand on your record, and I don't want to hear about any
further incidents of this nature. Is that clear?”

Mina nodded quickly. “Yes, Ma'am.”

“Good ... then go home and rest up. I suspect
you're going to need it. Agent Park is working very hard to clear
up your trail within the police department, and I suspect your
training tomorrow isn't going to be any fun.”

* * * *

The Director had been right. Training wasn't
any fun. Unlike the Director, Agent Park didn't scold her. Mostly,
he just gave her the exercises and reps, and otherwise didn't say a
word. Even when she apologized, he just nodded quietly. In a lot of
ways, it had been worse than the verbal dressing down. She
suspected for a while that the workout had been dialed up a little
more than she'd have thought, but eventually figured it was
probably because she was still sore. Agent Park would have followed
the book, like every other agent but herself, apparently.

The lack of conversation did mean she didn't
end up staying quite as long. After the exercises and a brief water
break, she was ready to be on her way. Agent Park did offer a brief
“See you tomorrow.” But that was it. Under the circumstances, she
couldn't entirely blame him. She could only hope things would be a
little more relaxed the next day, as she was finding she really
didn't want to disappoint her mentor, or come up short of her
grandfather's legacy. Amidst the exhaustion, she even spared a few
thoughts for not wanting to look bad this early in any records that
Agent Hall might see.

With some extra time before her parents would
be expecting her back, Mina decided to find somewhere to sit down
and have a quiet lunch, instead of one of the rushed affairs back
at the shop. That thought lingered a bit, turning into a broader
idea. If someone was holding a bunch of programmers, those people
would still need to eat. She started using the chipped data to pull
up recollections of maps and shops in different areas. At first,
the train of thought was overwhelming. There were a lot of places
that served food very cheaply. Then a memory hit her.

“Cheap is all very well,” Scott had said.
“Fast food is one of the wonders of civilization. But it's not just
about taste, and not just about affordability, but
productivity.”

“And that's why you made a graph?” Mina had
asked drily.

“That's why,” Scott had replied,
unembarrassed. “Got most of the major work-food contenders. Axes
are 'Easy' and 'Clean.' Pizza's in quadrant four, because hey, it's
simple, but I am not getting grease on my machine. But in quadrant
one is that great innovation of the legendary Earl of
Sandwich.”

At this time of day, whoever had them would
want the programmers working. They might even let Scott or someone
like-minded choose the food options while they did. So sandwiches
she would go with. Whoever it was wouldn't risk delivery. Someone
might see too much, wherever it was.

It was a long shot, but after her colossal
mistakes before, Mina desperately wanted to do something to help
put the case back on the right track, and reassure herself she
could handle detective work. She found all the sandwich shops she
felt she could safely hit and still make it back to work within
fifteen minutes of when she was expected back. While she had
originally intended to sit and eat, she gave up the idea in favor
of her investigation.

The first four had the typical traffic she
would have expected in the pre-lunch hours. The fifth was only a
little busier. She was about to leave when something about one of
the vehicles in the lot made her pause. The car was a nicer model
than most of those parked at the various shops, particularly this
one. The shop was near two middle-class schools, giving it a
regular customer base of teenagers with inexpensive cars. That
alone merited only a cursory glance, but that glance picked up on
the University parking pass. There were plenty of food options
closer to the University, though she supposed it might be someone
with only occasional need to stop there.

Nevertheless bothered by this, she decided to
go inside and see if anything else stood out. On entering, three
people stood out. While most of the few people inside looked like
high school students away from campus for lunch, she quickly
matched the three older, well dressed men near the counter with the
car. Blending in as best she could with the handful of other people
her age, she made her way closer to the counter. The person
currently at the counter finished his order, with the three men
next. As she got close enough, she picked up the odor of gun oil,
and hints of cheap cologne amidst the various body washes, soaps,
and overloads of perfumes common among some students.

Mina listened as they placed a large order,
two dozen sandwiches in all, one of them reading off a list, some
of the orders being very specific. The one that caught her
attention was the turkey & Havarti, no tomatoes, extra pickles
and olives. Scott's usual. She couldn't control a small sound of
surprise. One of the men turned, and she caught the sight of his
hand darting under his jacket as a reflex to being surprised. She
ducked her head down a bit and turned for the door, trying to
disappear amidst the few little knots of other students. While she
thought they'd missed seeing her face, there was still some
commotion behind her.

Chapter
Thirteen

Mina darted for the door and then the bike
rack, hearing yells and protests behind her. A glance back told her
that two of the men were still trying to work their way through
people, but one of them was right behind her—the man who'd gone for
something under his coat. She was grateful to see he'd thought
better of drawing a gun in a shop and drawing more attention to
himself, but a quick assessment told her that he'd reach her before
she'd be able to get her bike off the rack and get out of the
lot.

She pulled her bike free as she reached it,
then whirled, trying to catch him off guard. To her surprise, as
quickly as she was moving—and much as she thought she'd read him
right—he blocked her swing perfectly. His left hand came in low
before she could recover herself, knocking the wind out of her. She
went into a more defensive stance, and tried to feint to open him
up for a return shot, her chip feeding her information and moves as
fast as she could process them. He ignored the feint and once again
blocked her swing, catching her wrist mid-punch and pulling her
into a swing of his own. Mina saw stars as she hit the ground.

“Hey!” came a shout from the parking lot.
“Leave her alone!”

Two boys around her age had been leaning
against an old beater car, eating their lunch between classes, and
had finally caught up with what was going on enough to react. Mina
saw the man again go for his gun by reflex, think better of it, and
turn to face them. She could see the other two men reaching the
doorway, even as the restaurant was exploding into chaos.

Mina kicked as hard as she could for the
man's ankle while he was distracted, and he went down hard with a
yell. She kicked up to her feet, grabbing for her bike. Out of her
peripheral vision, she saw one of the other men who'd been in the
restaurant going for a gun, before the last punched his shoulder,
shouting something about not being an idiot.

Jumping on her bike, Mina spared a glance
back over her shoulder as she headed for the nearest alleyway that
went through to the next street, trying to make sure she could
disappear before a car could catch up with her. All three had given
up on their sandwich order and were running for their car, shoving
students out of the way as necessary and keeping their heads
down.

It was only when she was several blocks away
with no signs of pursuit that she relaxed. As soon as she did, the
realization struck her. She'd had to get close enough to pick up
the hints of gun oil. Her chip hadn't told her the men were armed.
The man who almost caught her—it had read his training, stance, and
moves entirely wrong. Worse, he'd moved every bit as fast as she
could, countering her perfectly. Something was horribly wrong.

* * * *

After the encounter at the sandwich shop,
Mina was positive the three men had something to do with the
abduction, and the evidence suggested Scott was still alive. Or
someone had the same tastes and allergies he did. As soon as she
felt like she had definitely eluded any pursuit, she called the
Director. The fact she hadn't entirely caught her breath yet didn't
help matters any as she tried to explain what had happened. After
forcing herself to slow down, she started over.

“Yes, this is Mina ... I have ... have
information.”

I'm aware of that, Miss Cortez. I know your
number and voice, but you shouldn't be calling here.”

“Unless it’s an emergency, yes, I know. This
qualifies.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and
the Director's voice went from mildly scolding to serious. “Are you
in some kind of trouble ... again?”

“No ... yes ... I mean ... not immediately. I
found something ... someone ...
someones
. I have a license
plate number.” Mina stumbled over her words, not at all
appreciating having the recent events brought up when she was
trying to relay critical information.

“What have you done? And what's this about a
license plate?”

Mina relayed the numbers and letters. “You
need to trace that. It has something to do with the case.”

“I'll determine that when you tell me why you
think that.”

Mina kicked a wall in frustration, but went
through the sequence of events. She emphasized how they'd been
moving and reacting as quickly as she was, and she hadn't picked up
on their being armed until she got close. To her further annoyance,
the first thing that got a verbal reaction was when she was asked
to explain the bit with the sandwiches again.