Tek Power (24 page)

“Be still,” the First Lady told the android. “You're much more uneasy than need be, Mac.”

“Perhaps we ought to cancel the speech in Chattanooga tonight,” he suggested. “Announce that he's sick or—”

“I'm fit as a fiddle,” said the Brookmeyer simulacrum. “I never felt better and I really believe it's this wonderful trip that's—”

“We'll certainly do tonight's speech,” said Trina firmly. “We'll do
all
the rest of the speeches on our schedule. Then we'll take him back to DC and start running things in such a way that—”

“There's something else?”

“What now, Mac?”

“Well, I've gotten word from some of the Joaquim Tek Cartel people,” said the vice president. “They're, obviously, not too happy about the way things went in Managua. More important, they think the president ought to start planting the idea that the penalties for Tek dealing and chip manufacture are much too harsh. They'd like that to begin showing up in his whistle-stop speeches and—”

“Tek is a scourge,” said Brookmeyer. “It is my opinion that—”

“Quiet down,” suggested Trina. “You tell those Joaquim bastards that we are going to do this
gradually
. First some government reports indicating the seriousness of the Tek danger has been overestimated and so on.
Then
Warren will start shifting his position.”

“Joaquim paid for a goodly part of this whole—”

“They'll get back a lot more than they invested, but they are going to have to be
patient
,” she said. “Now, get back to this Cardigan problem. What's being done to take him out of play?”

“We've assigned Nathan Anger and his robot associate to work on this. He'll—”

“Anger's an incompetent buffoon. Your people aren't seriously—”

“Let me finish, Trina.” He put a hand on her arm. “Anger, quite obviously, isn't aware of this and neither is Sunny. Sunny's the robot. The thing is, the robot has been modified.”

“How?”

“This is an idea we've borrowed from the Tek people,” continued McCracklin. “Sunny is now very similar to one of their kamikaze androids.”

“When he gets near Cardigan, he'll explode?”

Nodding and smiling, the vice president said, “That's it exactly. We'll get rid not only of Cardigan and that robot, but of Anger and the Kendricks woman as well.”

39

T
HE SILVERY ROBOT
came striding into the living room of the suite first. “Try something cute, Cardigan,” invited Sunny.

“You should've knocked.” Jake was standing next to a straight chair, facing what had once been the door. “Less messy.”

Nathan Anger sent dust scattering up as he followed in the wake of his robot partner. “Sunny's eager sometimes.” He had his lazgun pointed at Jake. “Call Bev Kendricks in here, will you?”

“There's no need.” She entered from her bedroom, still wearing the same clothes. “You've violated a whole stewpot of our rights already, Nathan.”

“It won't read that way in our report,” the OCO agent assured her.

“Armed resistance,” amplified the robot. “It sounds foolish, but you two tried to shoot it out with us rather than answer a few routine questions. Sad and a pity.” He chuckled.

Bev ignored him and nodded at the agent. “In a few hours, Nathan, just about all of the people you work for are going to be out of jobs and in deep trouble. Killing us won't—”

“This isn't merely duty,” said Sunny, moving a step nearer to Jake. “There's a great deal of personal satisfaction involved.”

Jake grinned. “Call him off, Nate,” he advised.

“I'm sorry, Jake, but this is orders,” said Anger.

“Orders from who?”

“I suppose it won't hurt to tell you that Frank Dockert authorized this.”

“And Dockert gave the order to you directly?”

“Actually, Cardigan, he told me,” said the robot. “I'm equally important in this—”

“From what I've been hearing, Nate, this bot of yours isn't any too reliable,” Jake told the agent. “Any further screwups and it's off to the junkyard for Sunny.”

“That's a damn lie!” The robot's voice rose.

“Are you even sure that Dockert gave any such order, Nate? Sunny's goofy enough to make up the whole—”

“Shut up, Cardigan,” shouted the robot, taking another step toward him. “Shut your damn mouth!”

Jake shook his head, his grin widening. “Sunny, you're going to have to learn not to interrupt when your betters are talking.”

“
Betters!
” Making an angry, growling noise, the silvery robot came charging at Jake.

Jake dropped to the floor, at the same time grabbing up the metal chair.

He thrust the chair up as the mechanical man dove for him. The legs of the chair hit the robot in the chest and, using the chair as a lever, Jake sent him sailing across the room.

Sunny hit a window, hard. The glass cracked and he went flying clean out of the room and into the smoky afternoon.

Anger started running toward the window.

But before he reached it, there was an enormous explosion from outside.

Slowing, Anger moved carefully to the jagged gap and stared down. “Sweet Jesus,” he said very quietly, “they had him loaded with explosives.”

“Turned him into a kamikaze,” said Jake, “to kill me.”

“Yes, but … but if he'd gone off in this room.…”

The agent's gun hand fell to his side and he suddenly sucked in a rasping breath. “I'd have been killed, too.”

Jake said, “That's one hell of a retirement policy you guys have.”

G
OMEZ WAS IN
possession of very impressive and completely believable credentials, which identified him as an ace reporter for CarNet News. The guardbot at the press entrance to the Chattanooga Town Hall gave him a cordial bow as he returned the ID packet. “Glad to have you with us this evening, Mr. Silvera.”

“I'm looking forward to a real treat.” Smiling, Gomez tucked the spurious identification materials inside his jacket.

The meeting hall was meant to seat six hundred people. There were over a hundred media reporters inside the place already, overflowing the press section.

Karla Maxfield caught Gomez's eye and waved at him.

He returned the wave, pushing his way through the growing crowd of newspeople until he reached the row of seats where she was. “
Buenas noches
,” he said, halting in the aisle.

“Take a hike for yourself,” suggested Norm, her bodyguard, who was jammed into the seat next to her.

“Norman, dear, scoot,” ordered Karla. “I want Gomez next to me.”

“A mistake.”

“Be that as it may—vacate.”

Giving a snorting, head-shaking sigh, the big black man rose. “Don't try to paw the lady,” he warned the detective.

“Tell her not to paw me,” responded Gomez. “
I'm
the one who's irresistible.” He settled into the surrendered seat. “You passed the word around that something was afoot, I notice,
cara
.”

“Without spilling too many details, I notified a few people that this would be an interesting evening.” She smiled, touching his hand. “Is everything going as planned?”

“Arlo Harmon of Cyberwacky Services, Ltd. swears that all is going well.” Shoulders slightly hunched, he glanced around the hall.

The sound of shuffling feet and quiet conversations was drifting in from the rear of the hall as the doors opened to admit the audience.

“What do they pay you at Cosmos?”

“About half what I'm truly worth.”

“Well, actually, I know. I had some people run a check on—”

“Remind me to invite you to my next seminar on privacy.”

“Hey, listen, I'm interested in you, Gomez,” she told him. “I admit that I thought you were a repellent and arrogant toad when we first bumped into each other, but that was simply because I'd allowed all the rotten reports I'd heard about your activities color my judgment. Once I started—”

“No need to apologize,” he told her, patting the hand that was resting on his elbow. “Few people can resist the full force of the Gomez personality once they're exposed to it at close range for more than a few minutes.”

She asked, leaning closer to him, “You won't come to work for me?”

“You're feeling warmhearted toward me because I chanced to save your life recently
and
I gave you a tip about tonight's festivities,” he explained to her. “After a while, were I to become an employee of
Gossip Digest
and other Maxfield enterprises, you'd soon realize that I'm still the iconoclastic heathen you've always heard I was.”

“Still, it would be fun for—”

“Fun mayhap, but completely out of the question.”

She leaned back in her seat, looking toward the empty stage. “You're married, aren't you?”

“Surely your fact finders found that fact.”

“You're currently married. But then, you've been married several times and they never seem to last.”

“I'm still trying to get the hang of it.”

“You're happily married this time?”

“I am,
sí
.”

“But you never talk about your wife.”

“All the more proof,
bonita
, that I am contentedly married,” he said. “If I were—
Dios mio!
” He jumped to his feet.

“What's wrong?”

“Richard Bascom just came in. He's with the other civilians and is in the act of dropping into a seat across the hall.”

“Your boss's son? What in the hell is he doing here?”

“Excuse me while I rush over and find out.” He started working his way through the crowd in the aisle.

40

H
ANDS UNDER HER
armpits, Gomez lifted the small whitehaired woman out of her seat and deposited her in the aisle. “I'll only require your seat for a few moments,
mama grande
,” he assured her as he assumed her place. “Official business.”

“Hey, you can't treat that old lady like that.” A large man in the next row behind scowled at Gomez.

Ignoring him, the detective took hold of Richard Bascom by the arm. “Now that I'm seated beside you, Ricardo, suppose you tell what in blazes you're up to. I thought your pop had people keeping an eye on you.”

“I ditched them, Gomez. And, as far as you're concerned, I don't need you either.”

“Your
padre
gave you a report on what's behind all this, did he?”

“Yes, I know who was responsible for Eve's death.”

“I'd really like my seat back, young man.”

“
Momentito
, I swear,” promised Gomez. “It's essential that I talk to this fellow.”

“There's nothing to talk about. Leave me alone.”

“Listen to me.” His grip tightened. “I figure you're here looking to revenge yourself on McCracklin and—”

“You guys let all people responsible in Central America get away. I don't intend—”

“
Ay, Dios
. The earth opened and swallowed them. That's not exactly negligence on our part.”

“McCracklin'll be on the stage any minute now.”

“What're you going to do? You couldn't have sneaked a gun by the guardbots on the doors.”

“I just have to get my hands on the bastard. I can—”

Gomez said, “You have to attend to what I'm saying, Richard. We've got something in the works that'll take care of him, take care of all of them.”

“I don't want him taken care of, Gomez. I want to see him dead.”

“You're not going to try anything.” Glancing at the impatient woman in the aisle, Gomez punched Richard in the ribs.

As he doubled over in pain, Gomez dealt a quick, sharp side-hand blow to his neck.

Moaning, sighing out a breath, Richard slumped back in his seat and passed out.

Gomez hopped up. “Gracious, this poor man's had some sort of seizure.”

“You slugged the poor boy,” accused the whitehaired woman. “I saw you do it.”

“Me? No, I happen to be this unfortunate lad's personal therapist. I've been trying to persuade him to come back with me to the rest home.”

The big man in the next row said, “I saw you smack the poor sod.”

“Lend me a hand,” Gomez requested of him. “We'll have to carry him into the foyer for—”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” announced the overhead speakers, “the president of the United States.”

T
HE PRESIDENT OF
the United States got up off his cot, legs a little shaky.

A panel in the grey wall had come whispering open.

“Well, finally,” said Brookmeyer. “Somebody to get me out of this damned hole.”

Nathan Anger took a few tentative steps into the small grey room. “I guess you could look at it in that way, sir.”

“What do you mean? I assume this is an OCO operation to rescue—”

“Not exactly,” said Jake, entering behind Anger.

“Who's this man, Agent Anger?”

“Jake Cardigan,” said Jake. “If you'll come along with—”

“Cardigan?” The black president's frown deepened. “I've heard something about you, haven't I?” He rubbed at his forehead. “Isn't this man's name on one of your Office of Clandestine Operations shitlists, Agent Anger? I'm almost certain he—”

“I'm not exactly with the OCO, sir,” said Anger, backing against the grey wall. “I've more or less resigned, but I pretended to be an agent still so that Cardigan and I could get in here safely.”

“My original plan for accessing you didn't seem like it was going to work any longer,” explained Jake. “Not after the OCO tried to assassinate me and Bev Kendricks and screwed it up in a pretty flamboyant way.”