The Nexus Series: Books 1-3 (24 page)

The cook
nodded.  “Daddy applied for my citizenship here the day Momma died. 
I got turned down five times, but he kept trying.  The sixth time,
Director Holiday stepped in.  I worked in a restaurant back home, but I
wanted to run my own kitchen someday.  Probably never would have happened
back in Virginia.  But Mr. Holiday asked me how would I like to be part of
what he was doing?  He told me what it was all about, and here I
am.”  She shrugged.  “Of course, I’m not out changing the world like
the other folks here at the department.”

There was another
silence.

Ginny looked into
Jill’s eyes.  “This is a healing sort of a place,” she said, gesturing
around at the department in general.  “There are a lot of heavy burdens,
here.  A lot of broken hearts.  But we need this place.  We need
each other.”

Jill nodded
slowly.  “We do, don’t we?”

“You know, I feel
a little better every time I tell my story.”  She gave Jill a significant
look.

“Momma Ginny,”
said Jill, “I think you’re changing the world more than you think.”

Ginny looked away
with a smile.  “Well, maybe so.”

Jill finally
swallowed a sip of coffee.  She tried not to make a face.  “Um, I think
I’ll take a little cream and sugar after all.”

DIZZIE
and Amber were among the first to arrive for breakfast when the cafeteria
opened.  Jill rolled her eyes; Amber was impeccably dressed as usual, and
her hair was done perfectly.

They had just started
eating when Director Holiday paid a rare visit to the
caf
. 
He headed straight for their table.  “Desiree, please meet me in your
cubicle as soon as possible.”

“Can I finish
eating?” she asked with her mouth full.

“By all means
swallow that bite.  Then come along.”

THEY
assembled in Conference Room D that evening.  Chief Home Planet Liaison
Riley’s face was on the screen at the front of the room.

“Forgive me for
not being there in person to congratulate you,” the bald man said.  Behind
him were the trappings of a finely furnished living room.

“To congratulate
us?” Amber repeated doubtfully.

“I realize your
latest mission has not gone as you hoped.  But your team deserves credit
nonetheless.  As you know, the department’s governing board has appointed my
office to observe this mission in order to get an idea of the functionality of
your team.”

Holiday
inexplicably coughed.

“And I’m happy
say,” Riley went on, ignoring the director, “that your efforts of last night
were nothing short of excellent.  Each one of you played your role very
competently.  Our report to the board will be overwhelmingly positive.”

Well, that was a
pleasant surprise.  “Thank you, sir,” Corey spoke for the team.

Riley
nodded.  “I’ve already given my findings to my immediate superior, Miss
Anne Marie Cole, Administrator of the Home Planet Liaison Office.  She
wanted to offer her thanks personally.”

Miss Cole
appeared in another window next to Riley on the screen.  Behind her was a
nice view of the Avenue of Towers from an upper-story office window.  She
was a strikingly beautiful woman who appeared to be in her early middle
years.  A sharp-featured face with intelligent dark eyes was framed by
waving auburn hair.  “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, “I offer you my
deepest appreciation for your services to our city.  As Chief Liaison
Riley has already said, the board will hear great things from us about your
team.  Thanks to your performance last night, The Nexus has assured itself
a lasting place in our city.”

“Wait a second,”
said Bradley, “was our department in danger of being shut down?”

Miss Cole gave a
reassuring smile.  “Don’t worry, Mr. Park.  The United Space Programs
would never have invested so much in the Sherlock Project if we assumed it
would fail.  But you probably know that your department was largely
experimental when it was founded.  The idea was that other societies may
eventually want to adopt a similar system.”

“We’re showing
the Earthsiders a new way to fight crime,” Holiday told them, though Jill
noticed he didn’t look as happy about it as she would have expected.

“The liaison
office,” Riley said onscreen, “is the United Space Program’s foremost source of
information about The Nexus.  It’s not just your board that will be
impressed—the entire USP will hear about your success.”

Miss Cole
nodded.  “I predict it won’t be long before many regions of the Home
Planet will begin building
Sherlocks
of their
own.”  She smiled again—a gratifying but intimidating smile.  “You’re
not just impacting Anterra, ladies and gentlemen; you’re potentially impacting
all of humanity.”

“And Miss Cole
will do all she can to continue to ensure the stability of your department,”
added Riley.  “I’m pleased to announce that, if all goes as planned,
she’ll be Mayor of Anterra by this time next year.”

“I appreciate the
optimism,” she said evenly, “but it’s not a foregone conclusion—though the
early polls do look favorable.  But whether I’m in the mayoral office or
here in the liaison office, I promise you all I will do my utmost to keep The
Nexus running strong.”

MANY
more kind words and formalities were exchanged before Riley and his boss signed
off.  Holiday kept the team assembled for a brief meeting.

“The bad news
first,” he began.

It was hard to
hear.

10

“WHAT
do you mean he’s
not Sketch?
” Bradley demanded from his usual lone seat
in the back.

For once Bradley
wasn’t alone in his displeasure.

“Mr. Kim is
what’s known as a phantom,” said Holiday.

“A decoy posing
as an actual crime lord,” Jill recalled aloud.

“Most of the
big-timers have at least one phantom.  It’s another layer of protection
for them.”

“Sounds like a
lousy job,” commented Dizzie, “pretending to be one of the most wanted people
in the city.”

“It pays well,”
answered the director.  “And it’s a position of some power in its own
right.  Kim headed up a number of Sketch’s projects.”

“You knew the
whole time, didn’t you?” asked Amber.

“Why didn’t you
tell us?” asked Corey.

“I shouldn’t even
be telling you now,” replied Holiday.  “I kept the knowledge to myself for
as long as possible to prevent it from spreading.  I hope it’s perfectly
clear that this information doesn’t leave the room.  So long as the
criminal underground thinks
we
think we’ve got the real Sketch in
custody, they’ll be off their guard.  Let’s let them continue to think
so.”

“You think even
in custody Kim has ways of communicating to his superiors,” asked Amber, “and
letting them know you’ve called his bluff?”

“Walls have
ears.  I didn’t want to, as you put it, call his bluff so soon.  But
the time had come to shake him and loosen his tongue.”

“So he talked?”
Bradley asked impatiently.

Holiday
nodded.  “Now for the worse news.”

“Wait,” said
Dizzie, “I thought it was supposed to be bad news and then
good
news,
not bad and then worse!”

“If there’s
anything good about it,” replied the director, “it’s the fact that we have a
lead.  But it comes with disturbing news:  One of Kim’s chief tasks
was overseeing the obtaining of firearms for Sketch’s ring.  There has
apparently been an extensive weapons stockpiling operation going on for some
time.”

“Meaning what?”
Bradley asked anxiously.

Holiday
hesitated.  “We don’t know for certain.  It could be a precautionary
measure.  Or...”

Or something
terrible.  A coup in the works.  A violent uprising. 
Revolution.  There were plenty of ways to say it.  No one said any of
them.

“Mr. Kim,”
Holiday resumed, “delivered smuggled guns to a contact named Doreen Maybury.”

The mug shot from
Ms. Maybury’s official Anterran ID appeared on the screen.  She had an
intense face with a lot of makeup and very short blonde hair.

“He knew the name
of his contact?” Jill asked.

“Of course
not.  Each time he delivered the goods Miss Maybury was careful not to be
seen.  They met in dark places, as befits crooks, and she always wore a
hood to shade her face.  She even wore gloves so as not to leave stray
prints Kim could trace.  But during one exchange a bit of her left wrist
between her sleeve and her glove happened to be exposed, revealing a peculiar tattoo.”

“Big mistake,”
noted Corey.  “This Miss Maybury may just be a recruit, not a
professional.”

“It’s
possible.  In any case, Kim was able to make a rough drawing of the tattoo
from memory.  It was detailed enough for me to recognize it right
away—though many would probably not.”  Holiday’s look turned amused. 
“It seems Ms. Maybury has had herself inked with the royal coat of arms of the
United Kingdom.”

“So it was easy
to make an ID,” said Bradley.

“Hey, I wouldn’t
say easy,” Dizzie said, giving him a look.  “It took me all day to check
tattoo parlor records.  You know how many tattoo parlors there are in
Anterra?”

“Good work, Diz,”
said Corey, giving her a high-five.

“And that’s only
a sample of Desiree’s work so far today,” said Holiday.  “It seems Miss
Maybury works in the PR office for the
Durnham
Park
Conservatory.  Sherlock ran through the onsite security videos.  On
several occasions over the past year, Miss Maybury has arrived for work
carrying unusually large unmarked boxes.”

“Can we be sure
they’re the smuggled weapons?” asked Bradley.

“The occasions
match the time frames when Doreen got a delivery from Kim,” said Dizzie, giving
Bradley a triumphant look.

“Weird place for
a weapons stockpile,” mused Amber.

“Inarguably,”
said Holiday.

“Has she
continued to bring these packages to the conservatory since we nabbed Kim?”
asked Corey.

“She has,”
Holiday confirmed.

“So she’s still a
contact for another weapons smuggler,” said Jill.

“And if they’re
still using her, they haven’t guessed that Kim could ID her for us,” said
Corey.

“Or else it’s a
setup,” interjected Bradley.

“It’s possible,”
agreed the director, “though unlikely.  Too elaborate, with too little
guarantee.”

“Then we have a
lead,” Corey said.  “What else do we know?”

“Unfortunately
surveillance at the conservatory is slim,” said Dizzie.  “Just the one
camera in the entryway, and another pair in the orchid room.” 
Durnham
Park Conservatory was known for its genetically
enhanced orchids.

“So we have no
way of knowing where she’s bringing the packages,” said Amber.

“Right.  I
pulled the schematics of the conservatory grounds.  They’re not very
detailed.  Mostly it looks like just greenhouse area open to the
public.  But there’s some space that might be offices, classrooms,
maintenance closets, things like that.  Plenty of options for a secret
stockpile.”

“We should start
by scoping the place out,” said Corey.

Holiday
smiled.  “Ladies and gentlemen, you’re going on a field trip.”

DURNHAM
Park was a spacious locale in the south quadrant of the city—plenty of big
trees, flower gardens, and walkways.  The conservatory sat near the edge
of the park.  It was a glass structure with a large dome bubbling up from
the center.  It was Saturday; there were plenty of visitors of all ages,
including dozens of high school and college students.

There was no
reason to suspect that five of the young visitors were scouting out the place
for a top-secret mission.  They split up to avoid drawing too much
attention to themselves.  Jill and Dizzie went first, ambling from
greenhouse to greenhouse and looking around like the rest of the
visitors.  Corey and Amber came some distance behind them.  Bradley
came last, slinking along by himself with his usual disdainful expression.

“I love this
place,” Dizzie told Jill they entered the tropical section beneath the glass
dome.  The air was thick with manufactured humidity.  Lush equatorial
trees stretched toward the dome.  Vivid exotic flowers lined the
paths.  Here and there wooden stairways led up to a series of bridges
zigzagging among the treetops.

“Yeah,” said
Jill, eyes wandering.  “It’s nice.”

“You all right?”
Dizzie asked her.

“Sure.  Just
checking things out.  That’s why we’re here, you know.”

“Right, but that
doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it.”

“True.”  Jill
had to admit the tropical area was breathtaking, but it was hard not to think
about the mission.  There was a small closed door behind some vines on a
rock wall just off the path.  She made a mental note.

“If I wasn’t
already employed, I’d try to work here,” said Dizzie.  “I think I’d make a
mean horticulturalist.”

She probably
would.  Dizzie cultivated several very nice plants in her room back at the
department.

They passed from
the tropical room into a section of more temperate shrubs and flowers.  The
main staff offices were to one side of this section.

Next they came
into the famous orchid room.  In the center was a sealed, glass-walled
vault housing dozens of varieties.  Most prominently displayed were the
Gomez-
Bjorgenson
orchids, named for the pair of
biologists who had developed them.  The genetically enhanced petals
gleamed with metallic flecks or stripes of gold, silver or copper.  One of
the most famous varieties boasted petals that seemed to consist entirely of
polished chrome, reflecting their surroundings like a mirror.

They wouldn’t be
hiding the weapons in here, Jill assumed.  It was the most watched and
protected section of the conservatory.

Beyond the orchid
room was an area for kids.  Along with the growing things in this room
were colorful educational signs and activities.  Several kids, parents in
tow, were in the process of learning about photosynthesis or the difference
between deciduous trees and evergreen trees.  Several others were in the
process of playing tag among the plants while their parents yelled at them to
stop.  There was another closet of some sort in the corner of this room.

They went up a
ramp and curved around the edge of the final section of the conservatory; they
were looking down on a simulated alpine forest, complete with a rocky stream
and a stuffed mother bear with her two stuffed cubs.

“Imagine seeing a
real bear out in the wild,” Dizzie said with a shiver.

“This is the best
way to get in after hours,” said Jill, spying an employee door leading outside
below the far end of the ramp.

Dizzie shook her
head.  “You’re like all business, aren’t you?”

“Um, you may
recall that Sketch is hoarding firearms somewhere on the premises.”

She sighed. 
“Okay, okay.  I’ll try to stay focused.  Hey, we’re almost back to
the snack shop.  Let’s get smoothies!  Did you see they have
mango-strawberry?  I
wanna
try it.”

Jill laughed in
spite of herself.  “Nice focusing.”

THE
snack shop was in the corner of the conservatory’s entrance area.  There
were tables on rock-floored tiers along a scenic and fairly extensive
waterfall.  Jill and Dizzie found a table near the top of the falls.

Jill’s eyes
wandered around the expansive room. Bradley was by himself sipping a coffee at
a table not too far away.  Corey and Amber sat at a table near the bottom
of the falls.  Corey said something with a half-smile, and Amber burst out
laughing.  They were sharing a milkshake—one glass with two straws. 
Jill rolled her eyes and looked away.

“What?” asked
Dizzie with a swallow.

“Nothing,” Jill
said dismissively.

Dizzie wasn’t
convinced, but she let it pass.  “I love this waterfall.  Don’t you
ever wish you could go to the Home Planet sometime?  They actually
have
this type of stuff there.  It’s nice to look at here, but it’s just not
the same.”

Jill was still
scanning the room.  “Lots of closed-off areas here.”

Dizzie
sighed.  “You’re hopeless.”

“I’ve never
really thought about it,” said Jill.  “Going to Earth, I mean.  I
guess when I was a kid I kind of wanted to.  But you just grow up and get
preoccupied with other things, you know?  You don’t think about that stuff
anymore.”

“Then I guess I
never grew up all the way,” said Dizzie with a shrug.

Jill stifled a
laugh.

“Hey!” said
Dizzie.

“I didn’t say anything,”
said Jill, eyes drifting back to Corey and Amber’s table.

“Isn’t there
some
place on Earth you’d like to go?” said Dizzie.  “The Grand Canyon, or
something?”

Jill gave Dizzie
a severe look.  “I know you’re trying to distract me.”

Dizzie shrugged
exaggeratedly.  “What do you mean?”

“Don’t pretend
with me.”

“All right,
fine,” Dizzie admitted grudgingly.  “I can tell Corey and Amber are
driving you crazy with their lovey-dovey-ness.  Me too, by the way. 
Let’s just ignore them, okay?”  She held her smoothie toward Jill. 
“Want to try the mango-strawberry?  It’s delicious!”

“You just want an
excuse to try mine,” said Jill.

“Can I?” Dizzie
pleaded.

Jill
laughed.  “Of course.”

“
Ooo
, this is good!”

“Chocolate
banana,” said Jill.

“I like it way
better than mine.”

“We can trade if
you want.”

“Okay!”

“And by the way,
thanks.”

“For what?”

“Being a
nuisance.”

Dizzie smiled
widely.  “Don’t mention it!  It’s like one of my best things.”

THE
team
compared notes back at HQ.  By their count there were at least twenty
areas in the conservatory where the weapons could be stockpiled.

The options for
proceeding were limited.  Setting up their own surveillance was highly
impractical for several reasons—the likelihood of being caught, the vastness of
the building along with its many twists and obstacles, and the fact that the
humidity would be brutal on the equipment.  Tailing Doreen Maybury to find
the hiding place was out.  There was no telling when her next delivery
would come, and the team couldn’t remain on standby until it happened. 
Bradley, not surprisingly, suggested accosting Doreen and interrogating her,
but Holiday nixed the idea immediately.  “The moment we intrude at all
upon Ms. Maybury is the moment we alarm Sketch’s ring.  They’re sure to be
watching her closely.”

“So what do we
do?” asked Amber.

“We do it the old
fashioned way,” Holiday answered.  “A stealth operation.  One agent
inside the conservatory, doing a manual search for possible locations.”

“So it’ll be
Jill,” said Bradley from his traditional back row seat.

The others turned
and looked at him.

He
shrugged.  “She’s the best at stealth missions.”

Jill stared at
him, speechless.

“He’s right,” the
director agreed.  “But we won’t send you in without your agreement,
Jillian.  It could be more dangerous than we know.”