Authors: Greg Krehbiel
"Go on," he said.
"I smelled Dr. Berry's perfume on Mr. Lenzke," he said, deciding to avoid reporting anything but the facts. "It's very distinctive, so I doubt it's a coincidence. Other staff seemed to indicate that they often smelled it on him."
Peter stared at him for a full minute without moving or changing his expression at all. Jeremy wasn't sure if he was going to catch hell for poking his nose where it didn't belong, if Peter was shocked by the news, or if he hadn't even heard what Jeremy said.
"Abort the mission," he finally said, "but keep it secret. I'll cover for you if you get in trouble."
"I'm not sure I understand," Jeremy said. "Do you want me to cancel it?"
"No. Do everything exactly by the book, but I want you to report that you see a net spy five minutes before the objective is reached. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Jeremy said. His voice showed that he was confused, but the directions were clear enough.
"I want you to report to me when you return, but not immediately. De-brief with Lenzke, go about your normal business for a few hours, and then see me."
Dismissed,
Jeremy thought.
Chapter 17
"Hanna, where are you going?" Duncan asked. Hanna suddenly stopped and looked up. Duncan was looking at her with an expression that was somewhere between curiosity and suspicion. Hanna felt as if she had been daydreaming. She looked around, somewhat surprised that she was standing at all, and shocked that she was in Duncan's office. Duncan could read the surprise on her face.
"Are you okay?" he asked, quickly changing from suspicion to concern, and offering her a chair. She ignored him and remained standing. "Have you been getting enough sleep?" he continued.
Hanna shook her head. "It's not that," she said. "I wasn't sleeping. I don't know what I was doing." She looked around, as if there might be a clue lying on the floor, then she grabbed her head with one hand and the edge of the desk with the other. Duncan immediately stepped closer, ready to catch her if she fell. She changed her mind and sat down in the chair.
"What's amiss, lassie?" Duncan said with genuine compassion, inadvertently reverting to his natural accent. Hanna sat in silence. Duncan gave a meaningful head-signal to Levi, who had come to the door. He rushed off.
"I ... I don't know what I was doing here, Duncan. I wasn't trying to ...."
"Now, now, don't worry about that," he shook his head. "How are you feeling?"
"Strange," was all she said, and continued to stare blankly ahead. Duncan stayed by her side until Levi returned with MacKenzie and another of Duncan's staff, who immediately knelt down in front of Hanna, took her pulse with one hand and examined her eyes with the other.
"Did she faint?" he asked.
"No. At least she didn't swoon," Duncan said. He turned to MacKenzie and whispered his suspicions. MacKenzie knelt down next to Hanna and took her hand.
"I didn't think of it before, Hanna, but we never did test your implant programming after you were kidnapped. Will you let me look things over?" Hanna just squeezed MacKenzie's hand and smiled. In a matter of minutes it was MacKenzie who looked as if she needed the nurse. She was in genius mode, searching every nook and cranny of Hanna's implant protocols.
"Somebody has done a serious job on her implant," MacKenzie said after a few minutes. "I can't even begin to figure out what it all did, but I've saved it for reference and set everything back the way it's supposed to be."
Hanna looked up at MacKenzie with disgust and concern. "So what do you think happened?"
"I can't say, but it looks as if somebody's reconfigured your implant to receive some kind of signal -- one I've never seen before. But don't worry now, I've fixed it." She turned quickly to Duncan. "I thought these people who kidnapped Hanna were friends of yours."
Duncan drew a deep breath. "Not friends," he said sadly, "just useful acquaintances. But we've had somewhat of a falling out recently. I can't vouch for what they do." He stared long and hard at MacKenzie before continuing. "I assume we can monitor the frequency they were using, in case they try to send anything else to Hanna."
"Yes," MacKenzie said. "I'll be watching it."
*
*
*
Compared to field work, wandering around the agency office looking for net spies was positively exciting. Jeremy's preconceptions about the glamour of "real spy work" crumbled under a suffocating load of boredom. It was even worse that he knew he was supposed to sabotage the mission before they really did anything.
Most of the day was spent sitting and waiting. The "contact area," as Taylor called the one-bedroom apartment that was the center of their surveillance, was on the corner of a sleepy intersection in Northeast Washington. It was sleepy now, anyway. Early in the morning it was full of business traffic, but for the last four hours there had been almost no activity.
Jeremy's day had started well before dawn. He arrived at the apartment in a hovercar and made a preliminary sweep of the building. Getting in was easier than he had expected -- no one asked him for identification, whether or not he lived in the building or who he was visiting. He had walked all the hallways and stairs of the small, three-level complex accompanied by two of the agency's net spies.
That was a strange experience -- walking along next to the invisible net spies, and actually to work with them. He was accustomed to thinking of them as the enemy. It was even more jarring when they contacted him over the hole. Taylor told them all to remain in continuous chat mode while the operation was going on. It was eerie to be "speaking" with a person that you could see, but who wasn't really there.
Jeremy had to do one more sweep of the apartment later in the day, and then he took up his station. The apartment was on the narrow end of a triangular city block. Jeremy sat in a hovercar parked close to the apex. From there he could watch the entrances on both streets as well as the roof. Jeremy reminded Taylor that a net spy could approach the block from the base of the triangle and enter the corner house through the walls. Jeremy would never see him if he came that way. Taylor admitted the possibility, but it didn't seem to bother him.
"Risk is part of the job," was all he had said.
Jeremy thought all the preliminary work was a bit overdone, especially for an operation that was supposed to take no more than fifteen seconds. A net spy could show up at any time, of course, and the fact that one wasn't there at 10:00 didn't mean one wouldn't come by at 3:30. Of course there might be high-traffic areas, so the surveillance might do some good, but no amount of surveillance could prevent a net spy from coming at just the wrong time.
Taylor just wanted to be confident that this location wasn't on a major route, or near an area the other side liked to patrol. Then he could be more confident the operation wouldn't be interrupted, and that was enough.
After hours of watching and waiting, the target finally arrived. A hovercar taxi pulled up and a man got out. Jeremy thought he recognized him, but he wasn't able to see his face. Once the man was inside, Taylor contacted the team.
It's show time. All clear?
Clear,
Jeremy replied, looking around again. He knew he had to abort the operation soon, but he wanted to wait to see if he got any more clues about what the "operation" was. As in most field missions, he only knew what he had to know to do his part of the job.
The other stations reported clear as well. Jeremy wasn't sure what to expect now, but he had a good idea. They weren't going after property, but the person who had just entered the building.
One of the windows on the left side of the apartment building brightened as someone inside turned on a light. Jeremy noticed that the light was reflected in the window of a large delivery vehicle. By chance, the reflected light gave Jeremy a clear view of the man's face. It was Dr. Jenkins.
They're going to kill Jenkins,
he thought, and he was suddenly afraid he might have waited too long. The light in the window went dark.
Abort,
Jeremy sent.
I see two net spies entering the building from the North side.
Taylor responded immediately.
Scatter. Chat mode off.
"Scatter" was an agency word for beating a hasty retreat. Jeremy mechanically performed the procedures -- he darkened the windows of his hovercar, discarded chat mode on his implant and ran the pre-programmed escape route on the hovercar's navigational system. But his mind was elsewhere. Had he acted in time, or was Dr. Jenkins lying dead in his apartment, killed as a consequence of Jeremy's curiosity?
He knew the "operation" was going to be rough, but this was different. He almost knew Dr. Jenkins, and now, except for a curious twist of fate, he would have been an accomplice to his murder. What had the man done to deserve this? Jeremy would probably never know, he realized. Certainly Lenzke wasn't going to tell him.
There had been no trial, just an execution for reasons deemed sufficient by the agency, in its sole, unfettered discretion. Jeremy had flattered himself with the notion that the agency simply kept order in Society. But was this the price of order?
Order,
he thought.
That's Lenzke's problem. He wants to impose his version of order on everything he touches.
For a moment he was angry that the agency thought he would participate in such a thing. But then he realized that he might have had no choice. Jeremy was no saint. He had killed a man, and Lenzke knew all about it. Could that be held against him here, in Society? Or maybe Lenzke thought Jeremy's conscience had been dulled by the experience.
But I had cause,
he thought.
The man raped and murdered my wife.
And we had cause,
Lenzke's voice replied in Jeremy's thoughts, and Jeremy knew that Lenzke would have some excuse; some justification for killing Dr. Jenkins, just as Jeremy had justified his murder of Samuel Weatherstone. Both acts were illegal, and Jeremy had fled the Community rather than face the charges. But were they moral?
Mine was.
Jeremy had convinced himself of that fact over and over again. Weatherstone was going to go free for his crimes because there had been a mistake gathering the evidence. But he deserved to die. He needed to die.
But what about Jenkins? Was murdering him justifiable? The problem was that he would never know. But as he thought about it he realized the key difference between killing Weatherstone and killing Jenkins. There had been consequences to his actions. Jeremy knew he was going to have to face the criminal justice system for what he had done. The Community had permitted him to choose banishment instead of facing trial, but there had been consequences: he had renounced the jurisdiction of the Community and fled the only life he had ever known. But the agency, and Lenzke in particular, answered to no court.
Jeremy remembered a line from his history lessons. "Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." An earthly power that answers to no higher tribunal is bound to be corrupt.
Jeremy's mind was made up. He closed his left eye, took a piece of paper from his pocket and wrote a short note as the hovercar continued on its journey.
*
*
*
Jeremy followed standard procedures to be certain he hadn't been followed from the scene of the operation back to the agency office. He found it odd that he should go through such a routine when he had every intention of betraying the agency to its enemies as soon as he returned, but a breach of procedure would only call attention to himself.
After his de-briefing with Taylor and Lenzke -- who was hopping mad they hadn't pulled off the mission and wanted immediate plans drawn for a follow-up -- he went straight to the supply room to see Henry.
"I'd like to take you up on your offer," Jeremy said. "Can you make sure this gets out?"
Henry smiled the satisfied smile of a man who wanted and expected to be taken up on his offer. "You got it."
"And ..." Jeremy began, but Henry cut him off.
"That's understood," Henry replied. "Have you looked into the Harlot yet?"
Jeremy was confused for a moment. "Do you mean from the Apocalypse? Yeah. Are you saying that's the kind of woman Lenzke's hanging out with?" Jeremy was hoping Henry didn't think Dr. Berry
was
the woman of Rev. 17.
"Two peas in a pod," Henry said.
Jeremy nodded, thoughtfully. He gave Henry a look that said "thanks." Henry nodded.
*
*
*
"Look what I got today," Hanna said to MacKenzie. She was holding a plain, business-sized envelope with no return address. "I picked it up at the post office." She had set up a post office box to receive letters from Jeremy, just in case. She was sure the conspiracy would be keeping an eye on her dorm room for a little while, so she didn't want anything from him going there. It wouldn't do to have one of their intruders see the envelope.