Too Wylde (17 page)

"Probably? What the fuck you mean probably?
You get the boss on the phone, we're going to talk..."

"No. He doesn't want to talk on the phone.
You promised him that Mr. Po could stay here. Mr. Po stays here.
The boss will call you when he wants to talk to you."

"Get him off the floor. I want him up in the
room...no, hell no. I want him out of here."

The bodyguard shook his head no, stolid to
the end. "No. He cannot go. He must stay here."

"Then get him upstairs. In the room, both of
you. And I'm talking to your boss."

"No problem, Lance T, no problem," Tony Po
said. "You right, I need to be elsewhere. C'mon, we go!"

And the long-suffering Hmong bodyguard
wheeled the old man to the freight elevator.

Lance watched them go.
I don't need this
shit.

He picked up a phone.

Dee Dee Kozak

Now just what the FUCK have I wandered into
now?

She kept her back to the crowd as she hurried
Kiki along to the car.

"I'll call you later!" she shouted back at
Lizzy, who disappeared inside.

Item: Lizzy's boyfriend turns out to be #2
Hard Body on her hit parade. Mr. Bouncer from Moby Dick's, a
stone-serious shooter and running buddy to her long-lost lover boy
Deon from South Africa equals Lizzy's boyfriend?

She had to give friend-girl points, though.
Nice catch.

"Where we going?" Kiki said.

"Someplace else, baby gal," Dee Dee said.
"Things are just too hot and heavy here. Catching lead would wreck
my do."

Kiki laughed till she squeaked.

In the car, and pulling out, making sure her
face was turned away from where Lizzy's beau was in serious
conversation with that heavy hitter woman cop and her scary looking
partner with the long gun.
So how do I turn this shit into
chicken salad?

Tore off down the street, Kiki pressed back,
a big grin on her face, when something came back to her.

"Kiki? What did that old man want again? The
Chinese guy?"

"The old perv? He wanted me to download
something for him. No way. Probably porn or something. On a flash
drive."

"Did he give it to someone else?"

"Yeah, the stripper. The one that you were
talking to. Liza."

"Lizzy," Dee said. "Lizzy. Did she take it
away?"

"Yep."

"Why would he want someone else to load it
for him?"

Kiki pondered that.

"It *is* kinda weird. He didn't have a
computer?"

"Then what's he doing with a flash drive? And
what's so important that it has to go up, like now, and he's
willing to hand it over to a complete stranger?"

Kiki looked stricken. "Should I have taken
it? I didn't..."

"No. You did good. First rule, right? Never
trust anyone. At least not till you get to know them. You did
right. I just have to wonder...that guy's Asian, those shooters are
Asian, he wants to dump something onto the Internet right after so
bad that he's willing to hand it off to a complete stranger and
trust them to do it? What do you make of that?"

"You know...I don't know. If it was something
important, why take a chance on somebody you don't know? He must
have been there with someone, he didn't just wheel himself in
there, did he? Can you do that in a wheelchair?"

"Probably. So how does that work? With a
flash drive?"

"He could have an auto-execute program with a
stripped browser. All you'd need to do is plug it into any computer
with an active Internet connection, and the program would send it
where it needs to go. With a flash drive, you can load a stripped
OS or a virus or...."

"All he needs to do it is stick it into a
computer with an active Internet connection?"

"Pretty much, yeah. With some programs, even
if the computer isn't connected, a stealth program will load and as
soon as it connects to the Internet, then the program takes care of
the rest. Doesn't take much."

Dee Dee put pedal to the metal. "Time to earn
your pay, Neo."

"What you got?"

"I want you on the Internet connection out of
The Trojan Horse. I want you to find out what that was when Lizzy
loads it."

"How do you know she will?"

"She's nice like that. If she said she will,
she will. I gotta tell you, though...she sure runs with a scary
boyfriend."

"You know him?"

Dee Dee jutted her jaw. "I'll just say I know
a bit about him."

She raced through the streets to the
hotel.

Deon Oosthuizen

Deon nursed his second beer at the
Gunfighters Table in the back of Moby Dick's. Thieu watched him
from the bar, and he raised his glass in a gentle salute and
acknowledgment.

"Love me, don't you, missie?" he said.

"Shut up, old fool. You want more beer?"

"In just a tick, darling woman. Will you
marry me?"

"No."

He grinned and sipped his beer, shifted in
his seat. Since the shooting, he'd decided to up-gun a bit, and had
two Para Ordnance .45s holstered, one strong side and one
cross-draw, with a total of 4 extra magazines, one dual-mag pouch
on each side, and another one dropped into the right hand pocket of
his coat.

No such thing as too much ammo in a
gunfight.

Brought to mind a little altercation he'd had
in Bredell, outside a farmhouse, with three home-invaders armed
with AKs who'd caught him out in the yard. He'd run through all
three magazines of his primary in about 7 seconds, 25 rounds, and
fortunately for him, each of the baddies had backstopped 6-7 COM
along the way. He'd advanced on them with an empty gun and picked
up an AK when two of their friends, frozen in the grass during the
shooting, popped up.

He'd given them the Custom Deon Service as
well.

He loved those old 1911s, still had the one
he'd taken off a dead pilot in that B-52 out in the deep jungle,
but he kept that back to avoid embarrassing questions should he
ever have to turn it over for awhile and go through the whole
electronic search thing.

Guns. Like that song old Jimmy loved so well,
Lawyers Guns and Money. It's what made the world go round.

And women, of course.

His cellphone vibrated. He took it out.
Jimmy.

"Oi, oke," he said. "All right?"

"You hear?"

"What?"

"Hit down at the Trojan."

"You all right?"

"Yeah."

"Lizzy?"

"Fine."

"What do you need me to do?"

"A crew that can handle being around
beautiful naked women, booze, and keep their heads straight and
their shooting irons holstered till they need to bring them
out."

Deon laughed. "Don't want much, do you now,
oke? That's a tough bill. Let me think on that."

"Don't think too long. I'm down here now.
Nina took off. I'll fill you in when you get here. There's
something going down..."

"Lizzy?"

"Not her specifically. But while she's
here..."

"For you, mate. Nobody else. I'll see to it
myself. And bring a gentleman with me."

"You know someone like that?"

"You're awfully hard for someone asking a
favor."

"Wish someone would ask me to hang out in a
strip club and shoot bad guys."

"There's that. See you shortly. Shall I bring
you a long?"

"Good idea."

"I'm thinking a few of those lovely 416s I
got in will do just fine."

"See you soon. Text me or call me when you're
inbound."

"Will do, oke."

Deon grinned, his lips peeled back to expose
his long incisors. "Lovely." He punched in a number. Waited. "Guz?
Deon. Got a bit of the serious. You available right now? As in,
right now?"

He nodded.

"Yes. Day rate is no problem. Think you'll
enjoy the venue. We're running SBR indoors and close, urban. I'll
have the kit at the shop. Meet me there, I'll have you sorted.
We'll go together. Yes? Good. See you in a tick."

He drained off his beer, left a five-dollar
bill on the table. "Theiu, my beauty, I must go. Are you sure you
won't go home with me?"

"You see Jimmy?"

"Yes, I'll see him."

"You make sure he okay. Him and Lizzy, I
think maybe something going on."

That made him stop. "Why do you say
that?"

Theiu shrugged, her tiny birdlike shoulders
raising towards her ears like a sparrow's wings. "I do cards. My
cards say much trouble coming. Those two, they are both very
beautiful but they are like lights in the darkness. They draw
things. They are lucky to have you watch over them."

She shrugged. "You are crazy, Deon, but you
are a good man. Like an angel."

He laughed. "Let me look outside and see if
pigs are flying?"

She threw a dish towel at him. "Get out,
crazy pig. Go away. Go take care of our friends. Come back later, I
give you a beer."

Deon left, laughing as he went, conscious of
her secret gaze on his back.

Lizzy Caprica

"I'll be fine, Jimmy," Lizzy said. She drew
her hand down her man's cheek, his hard brown eyes softening, as
they did, when she touched him. That was the magic of the two of
them that she loved so much; a man like this, who only shared his
inner softness with her, hidden away in all that fierceness.
"Really."

"Deon and a friend. They'll be here as long
as you are, we'll see you home."

"I want to come over."

He thought it through. "Yes. Okay. They'll
take you there and stay till I get back."

"Thank you."

He leaned forward, brushed her lips with his,
raised goose bumps on her, whispered, "See you then."

She watched her warrior stalk away, and felt
the girls atwitter behind her.

"Girl," one of them said. "I'd almost give up
women for that man."

Lizzy laughed. "I almost did, too."

Laughter.

The women returned to the dancer's lounge,
and Lizzy went to her make up table, searched through her bag and
laid out her CD for the night's dance routine. She set the flash
drive on the table, looked at it, then at the statues of the Buddha
and the Kwan-Yin on her table.

Tapped the drive with her finger, picked it
up and went to the computer station Lance T had set up for the
girls. Tiffany, black and muscled like the Crossfit Queen she was,
scrolled through her Facebook page.

"Tiff, let me on when you get through?"

"Sure, baby. I'm getting off right now.
Fucking mens. I hate Facebook. All I get is mens sending me
pictures of they dick."

Lizzy laughed. "Any good ones?"

"No dick is good dick, girl. Unless they come
in here and give me some money. All about the bank, right? Hey, you
got that realtor's number, you friend?"

"In my purse. Just a minute?"

"Yeah, baby. Here. Go ahead."

Lizzy slipped into the still-warm seat,
closed the browser, and inserted the flash drive. The green LED on
the drive lit up. After a moment, a disk icon appeared on the
desktop. She clicked on it. There was a single file labeled "Click
Here." She did. The file opened up and a progress bar opened:
"Searching." Then an IP number appeared, and then another progress
bar started ticking off an upload of 240 GB. Lizzy closed her eyes
and began to hum the Gayatri Mantra to herself, "Om bhur bhuvasva,
suva, tat savitur varenyam, bhargo dhivasya, dhimahi, dhiyo yonaha,
pracho dayath..."

It took four rounds of three before there was
a ping and the status box said: Upload completed.

Lizzy ejected the drive and weighed it in her
hand.

"Did anyone see where that man in the
wheelchair went?" she called to the room at large.

"Chinese pervert motherfucker," one of the
girls said. "I think Lance threw him out."

"No," Tiffany said. "They stuck him upstairs
in Lance's spare apartment."

"Why?" Lizzy said.

"He's some friend of Lance's."

"I didn't know that."

"Drinks for free and dances for less? Hell
yes, he's Lance T's friend. Better be."

Lizzy rose from the chair, all muscle and
flow, her long red hair trailing behind her, went out the door and
up the stairs, down the hall and knocked on the apartment door. The
silent Hmong man who pushed the chair opened the door.

"We don't want anything," he said.

"I have something for your friend."

"Let her in, fool! Move!" the man in the
wheel chair said. He bumped the younger man out of the way. "You
come in!"

"It's all right," Lizzy said. "Here."

The old man snatched the drive back and shot
a glance at his younger companion. "Did you do this?"

"Yes," Lizzy said. "It's done."

"Thank you! Wait, I pay you..."

"No need," Lizzy said.

"It's done?"

"Yes," Lizzy said. "It's done."

She turned and walked away.

Mr. Smith, aka Hank

The young cop, Officer Rice, had done two
tours with the 82d before he'd taken the cop test and gone through
the Academy.

"It's a good gig," Officer Rice said. "Scary
how sometimes it starts to look like Iraq over here, you get over
on the north side and it's just like Mogadishu. Never been there,
but some of the Rangers I worked with were in the Battle of the
Black Sea. You done time in the Mog?"

Mr. Smith knew what the real question was:
You with CAG, DEVGRU, OGA -- you Tier One, you one of the rock star
meat-eating cowboys of the special operations world? Or you just
another regular grunt like me, a burned and bloodied veteran of a
harsh and ugly war?

"No," Mr. Smith said. "Before my time. I was
in 7th Group when I got dinged. In the 'stan."

"Lotta my buddies went SF," Rice said. He
rattled off some names, one of whom Mr. Smith recognized.

"No," Smith said. "I don't know any of those
guys. I was pretty much a cherry. Then I got flambed."

Rice laughed. "Sorry..."