“Papa, why are we carrying double?” the youngest asked as their father dropped a carcass on each shoulder.
“I’m in a hurry,” Nabil said. “Now get a move on.” Kris was last; he loaded her with an icy cold slab of meat on each shoulder, blocking the view of every security camera in sight. Hunched over, she limped after the boys, favoring her painful left foot. Kris was working the kitchen’s screen door open with her foot when it opened, almost knocking her down.
Face-to-face with a man in a gray uniform, Kris ducked her head. She took a step back from the man with SureFire Security in bold red letters over his left breast pocket and three gold chevrons on both sleeves. She got ready to slam him with a frozen rack of sheep as he glanced at her, but he dismissed her out of hand and swaggered into the parking lot.
Eyes still down, Kris slipped through the open door and spotted one of the boys exiting a large, walk-in freezer. She covered the distance in a kind of hopping stumble and found herself facing a hawk-nosed woman with a tablet. “That makes six. Hurry up, you boys. I ordered fourteen. I don’t have all day, and leaving this freezer open is costing me money.”
The younger boy, still showing red when he looked Kris’s way, helped her hang her carcasses on hooks in the freezer. Then both hurried out, and the woman slammed the freezer door shut.
“You’re . . . you’re—” the boy started.
“Shush,” Kris risked under her breath.
SureFire Security was talking to Nabil. The driver kept up a steady stream of words about how bad thievery was and getting worse even as he loaded two more large goats on his eldest son and sent him off at a run. Same for the younger boy and Kris in her turn. The Security Sergeant gave Kris another once-over as she loaded, but was distracted when his radio came alive.
“We’ve got some sort of signal traffic real close by.”
“How close?” the Sergeant demanded as Kris hobbled away.
NELLY, THEY’RE AFTER US.
I HAVE TO TRANSMIT SOME, AND THE BEACON HAS TO SEND, TOO.
WE NEED A DISTRACTION. COULD YOU MAKE UP SOME NOISY DECOYS?
GOT JUST WHAT YOU ORDERED. TRY BRUSHING UP AGAINST SOME PEOPLE. ONE ON YOUR RIGHT, THE OTHER ON YOUR LEFT.
Kris caught a waiter coming out for a smoke with her right arm and got a “Watch where you’re going,” for it. The left arm went to the woman with the tablet when Kris stumbled into her. “You drop that meat, and you’ll give me another one. And don’t expect me to let you drive off with it,” she scolded the older boy as he passed Kris on the way out. “You tell that father of yours, if he is your father, that I’m keeping anything you drop to make sure you don’t pawn it off on someone else.”
“Yes, ma’am. We understand, ma’am. Papa would never do that, ma’am. Kid,” the older brother said, slapping Kris on the back. “You and Papa have to talk. I don’t think you’re cut out for this job.”
Kris hung her load and hurried out. She managed to slip on a wet spot on the floor but kept going, leaving behind her the woman’s scolding voice. “Don’t you even think of filing a comp claim. You were limping before you came in here.”
Outside, Nabil was giving his sons their final load. The Sergeant stood in the parking lot, yelling at his people. Kris saw one far to her left, another at the front of the lot to her right. “What do you mean, you can’t triangulate on that signal? If you can’t, I know where I can get a dozen who can.”
“Sarge, I don’t think there’s just one squeaker. There has to be at least two, and one is moving. None are on for more than it takes a flea to blink.”
“Nail it, or I’m gonna nail you.”
Kris spotted the smoker, pacing up and down nervously on the far side of the lot. NELLY, ACTIVATE THE DECOYS. USE A SPORADIC AND INTERMITTENT SIGNAL BUT HAVE THEM SIMULTANEOUSLY BROADCAST ON THE SAME POWER AND FREQUENCY AT TIMES TO SEE IF YOU CAN HETERODYNE THE SIGNAL. With luck, the two would merge and show up as a single source halfway between the two transmissions.
THIS IS FUN.
ACTIVATE THE BEACON WHEN THE OTHERS ARE OFF.
TWO PEEPS SHOULD GET US ALL OUR LOST SHEEP.
Good Lord, now Nelly was attempting poetry. What next!
“Boy, get in the cab,” Nabil said, risking a worried glance either at the door where his boys were still making the last delivery . . . or at the security cop. “I want to be out of here before whatever they are sniffing around for gets this whole place locked down. That would truly ruin my delivery schedule.”
Kris nodded obediently and opened the door. While waiting for the others, she wandered around like any teenage boy . . . and just happened to end up leaning on the delivery schedule sign.
WHAT HAVE WE GOT?
NINETY-SIX PERCENT PRESENT. THE ESCORT NANOS BURNED A DOZEN PURSUITS BUT NONE CLOSER THAN THE STREET. WE ARE CLEAN!
If a computer could crow, Nelly was. GET THEM ON ME.
WAIT ONE. ALL PRESENT.
SHUT EVERYTHING DOWN. NO TRAFFIC UNTIL I SAY SO.
BUT I WANT TO DOWNLOAD OUR TAKE.
NELLY, TURN EVERYTHING OFF. DON’T RISK SO MUCH AS A PEEP.
YES, MA’AM, Nelly said, like a disappointed four-year-old.
Hardly breathing, Kris kept leaning on the sign pole as the boys hustled across the lot and piled into the truck. Kris waited a second more, only moving when Nabil shouted, “Hurry up you lazy boy,” and turned on the engine.
Kris scrambled into the truck and slammed the door. Now the older boy sat next to her, his arms folded across his chest as if by iron chains. The other seemed about to burst with questions, but a nudge in the ribs as Nabil slipped the truck in gear kept him quiet. Nabil waved at the Sergeant as he backed. The man in gray waved distractedly, then frowned and started walking over to Nabil’s side of the truck. “Just a minute, fellow.”
Kris froze. NELLY, ARE WE TOTALLY QUIET?
KRIS, MY NANOS AREN’T EVEN MOVING. I HAVE SHUT DOWN EVERYTHING I CAN. I AM ON JUST A TRICKLE FROM THE BATTERY. I SWEAR, YOUR HEART IS PUTTING OUT MORE ELECTRICITY THAN I AM.
The Sergeant just stood there, looking at Nabil, then each one of his sons, then Kris. “Talk to me, George. There’s a truck and three cars making like they want to leave. Do I shoot their drivers,” he flashed a toothy grin at Nabil, “shoot their tires, or let them go their way?”
“Sarge, I got two targets, maybe three. I’m not sure. They never are there long enough for me to get anything like a fix. They keep jumping frequency and location.”
“Tell me something, George, or I’m gonna start shooting,” the Sarge said, but his hand didn’t go for his gun. Neither did he wave Nabil out of the lot.
“It looks like one signal is in the kitchen, or maybe in the dining room. The other’s in the back parking lot. East to northeast section.”
“That’s half the parking lot.”
The smoker tossed what was left of his cigarette in a mud puddle and started for the back door.
NELLY, WE HAVE ONE CRACK AT THIS. ORDER THE TWO DECOYS TO BEGIN TRANSMITTING IN FIFTY-NANOSECOND HETERODYNED BURSTS, NO MORE THAN ONE SECOND APART, NO LESS THAN HALF A SECOND.
DONE.
“Sarge, something’s happening. Something in the east northeast part of the back parking lot.”
“Get your butt back here.”
A gray car with several whip antennas turned into the distant northeast corner of the restaurant and drove slowly toward the Sergeant. The smoker paused to let it pass.
“It’s settled down, boss. It’s right ahead of me. It’s not moving much.”
“Get out of here,” the Sarge told Nabil as he pulled an aerosol can off his belt and began spraying it in front of him. Nabil put his truck in drive, turned hard, and missed the cars parked on the south side of the lot by a few millimeters.
“I’m not seeing anything, George,” the Sergeant shouted as Nabil gunned his motor.
“Are you sure you ain’t reading tea leaves, George?” was the last Kris heard. In a moment, Nabil accelerated into a break in traffic.
PUT DECOYS ON RANDOM.
DONE. NOW CAN I LOOK AT OUR TAKE?
NO. NOT UNTIL I TELL YOU.
WHEN WILL THAT BE?
WHEN I TELL YOU.
WHY?
BECAUSE I’M THE MOTHER, Kris almost shouted, but managed to keep her jaw from moving.
“What was happening, Father?” the youngest said, sounding almost like a child.
“I do not know,” Nabil said. “Maybe we will find out on the news tonight.”
“Only if they want us to,” his eldest said, then glanced at Kris. He started to say something, seemed to think better of it, folded his arms tighter across his chest, and leaned back.
Nabil drove on, his breath coming fast and shallow. They turned at several corners, seemed to be going in no particular direction. He finally glanced at Kris. “Son of my sister’s brother-in-law, you are slow, clumsy, and you could have cost me every penny I will make today if you had dropped that lamb and that woman had taken it for her own profit.”
Kris ducked her head, risking not a word.
“I will talk to my sister tonight, but I will not have you work more with me today.” The truck slowed and pulled over to the curb at a stop light. “Fatima’s Kitchen is down this road a ways,” he said pointing Kris to the right. “You can walk back to her while I make the last of my deliveries.”
Kris again ducked her head, quickly opened the door, and stepped down to the cracked and broken concrete of the sidewalk. As the elder boy closed the door behind her, she could hear the younger one saying, “Father, that boy was a—”
“Shush, son, we will talk no more about this today.”
The older boy leaned out the open window and winked back at Kris as the truck drove off. Kris took two steps toward Sorir’s place and decided her cover did not require she limp all the way back. A moment leaning in the shade of a leather shop got the pebble out that someone had been kind enough to glue to the heel of her shoe. It had not put a run in a bulletproof stocking, but it sure had made her miserable.
Walking now was fine. Kris found her arms swinging; her pace fell naturally into the precise cadence the DI demanded. The day was still gray, but Kris felt damn good about a tough job well done. The urge to whistle a marching tune came, but she swallowed it. It would be totally out of place here. Still, Kris swung along, covering the distance.
A black-and-white car with Police lettered across the sides cruised slowly by. The normal mad bustle of traffic made space for it. Kris cut her pace, lowered her head, and went back to being a properly humble Arab teenager. The woman riding shotgun kept up the same kind of alert three-sixty observation that Jack did. Her eyes paused as she took in Kris, then passed on.
NOW CAN I LOOK AT THE DATA TAKE, KRIS?
WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THERE WAS A COP COMING?
YOU DID NOT TELL ME TO. NOW CAN I LOOK AT OUR TAKE?
NELLY, FOR A COMPUTER, YOU’RE DEVELOPING A ONE-TRACK MIND.
I AM FULLY CAPABLE OF MULTITASKING, KRIS. YOU, HOWEVER, ARE GIVING ME VERY CONFUSING INSTRUCTIONS. FIRST YOU TELL ME TO BE TOTALLY QUIET, JUST KEEP A TRICKLE OF ENERGY GOING. THEN YOU ASK WHY I DO NOT MAINTAIN A FULL SITUATIONAL SURVEILLANCE. TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT! AND CAN I LOOK AT WHAT THE BUGS GOT?
Kris remembered arguing like this with Eddy, her six-year-old brother. But Eddie had been kidnapped and left to die twelve long years ago. Kris shivered, then took a deep breath and let the ghosts out, forcing herself to concentrate on the now.
YOU MAY LOOK AT THE DATA IN A MOMENT. FIRST TELL ME IF WE ARE UNDER SURVEILLANCE. ARE THERE CAMERAS WATCHING US? BUGS LISTENING TO US? ARE THERE MORE COPS AROUND?
NO, NO, AND YES, THERE’S ANOTHER COP COMING UP BEHIND US.
NO, NO? Kris’s gut was doing flips and flops; she was struggling to keep every muscle and bone in her body lashed down and doing just what she wanted. The order of her last set of questions to Nelly had some how fallen out of active memory.
NO CAMERAS, KRIS. NO MIKES EITHER. I AM NOT PICKING UP ANY EVIDENCE OF NANOS. OTHER THAN THE HUMAN COPS, I HAVE NOTHING THAT COULD THREATEN US IN RANGE OF MY SENSORS. NOW CAN I LOOK?
ARE THERE MORE COPS THAN NORMAL?
KRIS, I DO NOT KNOW WHAT NORMAL IS AROUND HERE. REMEMBER, I WAS ALMOST OFF-LINE AND NOT DOING A LOT OF LOOKING.
NELLY, I LEFT MY VIEWING GLASSES IN MY PURSE, SO I CAN’T LOOK AT WHAT WE COLLECTED UNTIL I GET BACK TO FATIMA’S KITCHEN.
YES, BUT IF I START PROCESSING RIGHT NOW, I CAN HAVE IT ALL ORGANIZED AND CORRELATED FOR YOU. Nelly was wheedling.
IS IT THAT IMPORTANT TO YOU, NELLY?
I WANT TO KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON AT THAT BIG PLANT. YES, I DO. I WANT TO KNOW. I AM CURIOUS. SO SUE ME.
So sue me. Where did that come from?
Kris found herself shaking her head in wonderment as the next cop drove by. Only one fellow in this one, and he was too busy picking his way through traffic to do much looking around. Maybe this was just the normal way of things in the Arab quarter.
NELLY, MAKE A FULL REPORT OF THESE CONVERSATIONS WITH BACKUPS OF YOUR PROCESSING THAT SUPPORTED THEM, AND STORE IT FOR REVIEW BY AUNTIE TRU WHEN WE GET BACK.
DONE.
NOW YOU MAY LOOK AT THE FEED.
DOING IT, Nelly snapped and went very quiet. Kris continued her saunter down the street, eyes fixed on the cracked and narrow sidewalk. Old cars and pickup trucks rubbed against the low curbs or were half on them, adding their daily bit to the crumbling. She tried not to jostle any of her fellow pedestrians, even as she studied how other youths reacted upon meeting their elders. Most said something that probably passed as the local equivalent for “Hello” or “How are you?” Kris didn’t dare say a word. Still, she nodded and hoped her silence met at least part of the proper respect due those she passed.
The streets were looking familiar just as Nelly announced, THERE IS A LOT OF ACTIVITY ON THE POLICE BANDS. IT IS CODED, AND IT WOULD TAKE ME TIME AND PROCESSING TO BREAK IT. SHOULD I?