Book 4: 3rd World Products, Inc. Read online

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  Abintra Press

  www.abintrapress.tripod.com

  Copyright ©2003 by Ed Howdershelt

  First published via Abintra Press

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  Note: I'm not going to re-introduce everybody.

  Read my other 3WP-Books before starting Book IV.

  Chapter One

  Getting rid of half a ton of gold and silver isn't too difficult if your price is right and a guy like Donald Jeffries agrees to handle your international marketing.

  Jeffries had wanted to see what he'd be selling and meet the sellers, of course. George Wilmot had called me at home on a Thursday afternoon to set up a meeting the following Wednesday. I'd been making myself a coffee, so Steph fed the call through my comm implant for convenience.

  As I put my coffee and my datapad on the kitchen table, Wilmot said, “Jeffries will be flying down from New York on Wednesday for a bit of other business before he returns to Britain. He's a rather cautious man, Ed. Be prepared to answer some questions."

  "Questions like whether the gold is really hers to sell?"

  "I'm sure that will be one of them in some polite manner, although I've assured him that she appears to be the valid owner. I didn't tell him that Stephanie is also a flitter, however. I thought that might be best left to his own discovery."

  "Um. Yeah, likely so. It might even be a good idea to get his skepticism out of the way before we start talking about selling gold. What's his flight number? We could pick him up on the way to your office. By the way, how's progress with Stephie's residency application?"

  Wilmot sighed and said, “The wheels of government are turning at their usual snail's pace, Ed. No word yet. But they haven't tried to make us take back the thousand dollar application fee, so that may be a good sign. Just a minute while I get Jeffries’ flight number from Mrs. Javitz."

  He gave me the flight number, time of arrival, and gate number, then told me that his daughter was on the other line and sounded distraught, so we said goodbye and hung up.

  I keyed my comm implant and said, “Steph, maybe we should go meet our prospective gold broker's plane."

  She materialized in the chair across from mine with a quizzical expression and said, “You just told Mr. Wilmot that we'd do that. Why are you now making it sound like a new suggestion?"

  "Because I'm not talking about meeting the plane at the airport, that's why. According to Wilmot, Jeffries is a skeptic of the first water. I thought we might show him something that would get us past all that without a lot of discussion."

  "Something like very visibly flying alongside his plane?” she asked. “Close enough to be seen well enough to be recognized when we meet him at the gate?"

  "Yup. Something like that. Gee, you're sharp, lady. I like that."

  "Nothing to it,” said Steph. “I simply extrapolated your most likely course of action based on my previous experiences with you."

  I grinned at her and said, “Well, then, I take back what I said. You're just a pretty computer, after all."

  She stuck her tongue out at me almost exactly as Selena might have done and said, “As that may be. Does it bother you to know that you're predictable?"

  "Ha. Maybe I'm somewhat predictable to you or Linda. Maybe even to Selena to some degree, but that still leaves the rest of the world guessing."

  My watch beeped once. I tapped the answer button and said, “Hi, Linda."

  After a moment of silence, she said, “Someday it will be someone else and you'll feel silly as hell, Ed."

  A vehicle drove past wherever Linda was. I heard the familiar ‘clunk’ of a gate arm closing and realized that she was in the base parking lot.

  "Not until I give someone else on Earth my comm link, ma'am. What's up? How's your summer going?"

  I took a sip of coffee as Linda said, “My summer's rolling along just fine, thanks.” The sound of the gate arm rising sounded as she said, “Someone from NASA may contact you soon, Ed."

  "Reason?"

  "They were just here to try to make a deal about using our flitters to ferry parts to space stations."

  "You don't sound enthusiastic about that, Linda."

  "I'm not, and the Amarans have strict rules about questionable uses of their products. I've kind of misinformed NASA about our flitters, Ed. I told them that they're just enhanced commercial versions, but they seemed skeptical."

  "Hmm. What if they decide not to believe what you told them?"

  "Screw ‘em, then. Maybe a flitter showed up on someone's screen during one of the higher flights. You do fly in stealth mode, don't you?"

  "Always, ever since the night Stephie zapped that Russian space capsule. NASA would probably have been one of the first Earth outfits to get its hands on Amaran technology, so maybe stealth mode isn't enough anymore. Why are you against helping them get their stuff upstairs?"

  With an audible sigh, Linda said, “I don't trust them, Ed. To the current administration, near space is just another high ground to take and hold. They're talking about a zero-gee lab, weather monitoring stations, and a lot of other things like that, but I just plain-damned don't trust them."

  She sighed and continued, “Don't quote me on this, of course, but the current President is a right-wing, born-again fundy who owes his appointed existence in office to special-interest money. He's going to attach heavy strings to any funding given to NASA or any other agency."

  "You're still tense about the election, aren't you, ma'am?"

  Linda made a rude noise.

  "It was an election only until he was placed in office before all the votes were in. By people his daddy picked when he was the Prez, no less. Regardless the count, that's when it ceased being a real election. But that's beside the point. Ed, I'm afraid that they'll try to hang a nuke weapons system in orbit."

  I thought about that for a moment over another sip of coffee.

  "Linda, completely ignoring for a moment the Outer Space Treaty of 1967 that prohibits orbital weapons, it takes a reactor to power a particle beam weapon. Solar panels and batteries couldn't power a laser capable of penetrating the atmosphere to cut heavy cardboard at the surface. They'd have to use plain, old-fashioned missiles, and the effort needed to get enough of them into orbit would be fairly noticeable, I think."

  Linda said, “You're thinking of missiles like you've seen here on Earth, Ed. Down here, they're ninety percent fuel tank. Up there, they'd be shooting downhill. All they'd have to do is get the damned things started in the right direction and let gravity do the rest. Little missiles like that could go up in shuttles. The present administration has been talking about trying to put up two complete geosynchronous space laboratory stations within this decade. Does that sound like a communications and weather program to you?"

  "No, not really, but so far all we have is speculation. How do they explain their big hurry to get their stuff up there?"

  "They don't,” she said. “Well, they do, but their reasons don't ring true for me or anyone else I've talked to about the space station project. I've had to dish out enough government bullshit to know it when I hear it."

  "Hm. Hell, they could use heat-shielded Tomahawk missiles if they tweak the GPS system. Can they order us to cooperate, Linda?"

  "No. We're subject to 3rd World's orders only, and the 3rd hasn'
t offered them any assistance with the station project. None whatsoever."

  "Uh, huh. That says a lot all by itself, doesn't it?"

  "I think so, too. Some people are suggesting—in a rather derogatory manner—that 3rd World simply won't involve itself with non-profit ventures, of course. Guess who?"

  "Would our current Prez be one of them? Maybe his entire political party, too?"

  "You got it, Ed."

  "In that case, it stinks. If that crowd is pressuring 3rd World to help put hardware into local space, you can bet that there's a dark reason for it."

  "That's what a number of other people think, too."

  "Okay, Linda. I'll let them pitch me if they show up and send you a copy of it. Here's an easy fix; as far as NASA or anyone else is concerned, Stephie and the other two non-issue flitters at Carrington won't be able to fly above a hundred miles as of today."

  "Ed, a number of people already know that they can do a lot better than that."

  "People on Earth? You and who else, Linda? Wallace's crew and a few of the brass hats at 3rd World? Have you used the other flitters above a hundred miles?"

  "Only in Alpha team's training flights. We haven't had a reason to tell anyone their full capabilities, not even Wallace. You haven't been to space since that time with me?"

  "I didn't say that, Linda. Selena likes to fly high now and then. I've been up there alone a few times for the hell of it, too. Let's assume for the moment that NASA thinks that our flitters can do what they want. Unless you say otherwise, I'll fix it so they can't. End of problem."

  "Oh, come on, Ed. You know there's always a way to change someone's mind about something. It's never more than a matter of how far they're willing to go and what they're willing to do to get what they want."

  "Yeah, yeah, but I'm not talking about a scenario where the government would hold somebody hostage for cooperation, Linda. I'm talking about the more routine stuff. Financial or social pressures. Can they find anything on you?"

  "No, I don't think so. How about you?"

  "Most of my life, I guess. My mom still doesn't know I was a mercenary, but I doubt it would upset her greatly to find out."

  "Don't be so sure that she doesn't know. I'm sure a lot of people have contacted her about you along the line."

  "Well, then, it's too late to worry about it, isn't it? She's not a wimp. Besides, that's all history now. Linda, I can think of another reason we won't be much help to NASA."

  "I'm listening."

  "Technology differences, milady. Flitters lift and hold. They don't reach orbital velocities. NASA's stuff depends on orbital velocities to keep them from falling. They'd have to find a way to rendezvous with a stationary platform, and I'd bet serious money that they just flat can't do that right now."

  Linda was silent for a moment, then she said, “Good thinking, but they know how a flitter operates. Why would they want access to ours if they didn't think they could use them?"

  "Maybe they think that if they can get stuff up to orbital height, they can find a way to match things up. Maybe they have an idea about using a flitter as a cheap launching platform. Could even be that they'll want to try to use cargo flitters as permanent platforms. Do they have access to design specs and like that? Could they maybe come up with a flitter design of their own or copy an existing design?"

  "I don't think so, Ed. We've been extremely careful about letting any one person learn too much, and if the engine casing of a commercial flitter is opened, the engine self-destructs. It fuses into a solid glob and the stored energy is directed downward in a narrow beam."

  "Uh, huh. And I'll bet the flitter would scream for help, too. 3rd World handles all flitter maintenance. Do they know where all the existing noncommercial flitters are, Linda? Current status, and all that? Are any of them not being used?"

  Linda said, “We're the only maintenance depot and I've already got someone running a location check on all existing flitters. None of the flitters has reported any problems or attempts at tampering, Ed."

  "Bet that one of the government flits will ring in fairly soon. Within a few months, anyway."

  "We also think that's a possibility. Okay, then, I have an appointment in about five minutes, so I'm going back to work now. Keep in touch, Dragonfly."

  Linda's use of my operative nickname let me know that I should consider myself on soft-alert status.

  "Will do, Fearless Leader. Have someone there verify maximum flitter flight parameters in about half an hour."

  "Okay. Later, Ed.” She clicked off.

  Chapter Two

  I looked at Steph and asked, “If I tried to open your engine casing, what would happen?"

  Steph arched an eyebrow at me and said, “The same. Without the proper disabling codes, my engine would fuse and I'd report to 3rd World."

  "Could an outfit like NASA get their hands on those codes, Steph? Maybe from line workers at 3rd World?"

  "It would be very difficult, Ed. Opening an engine casing requires the input of three qualified ID's before the disabling codes are introduced. Security is very stringent."

  "Think about how it might be done, Steph. In the meantime, if I or anyone else asks you how high you can fly, the answer is one hundred miles."

  "I can't lie, Ed. You know that."

  "You won't be lying, miLady. I hereby order you not to allow our flitter to fly above that height until Linda or I countermand this order. The same limitation applies to the other noncommercial flitters at Carrington or anywhere else. I further order that there be no record of who gave you this order or who is allowed to rescind it. Make it look like a factory limit."

  Steph regarded me thoughtfully for a moment, then said, “Do you really feel that level of subterfuge is necessary?"

  I nodded. “Yup. Sure do. You can think rings around NASA's best scientists and computers, Steph, but if they decide to push this issue, the government won't send scientists. They'll send well-trained, highly motivated, badge-wearing thugs. When they want something badly enough, things get nasty very quickly. We'd be contending with people who manipulate and abuse others for a living."

  "May I ask why Linda didn't issue this order?"

  "She called me on my watch, not my phone, and she was calling from her car to avoid being overheard. This is her way of getting the order issued and acted upon without having any record of such an order emanating from her offices. You are now to eliminate all references to flight above one hundred miles from your help files and all other data sources within your scope of control. Elkor can put them back later or supply them as needed."

  I keyed my comm implant and asked, “Elkor, how many people have direct access to you?"

  Elkor replied, “Linda and you on Earth and three people on the factory station, Ed."

  'Just two people on Earth?' I thought, 'He isn't exactly a socialite.'

  "Does NASA have any involvement with station personnel?"

  "Linda has already contacted me in this regard, Ed. Some NASA personnel have visited the station, of course, and some of NASA's personnel came to work for 3rd World, but NASA has no direct involvements with 3rd World Products."

  "Thanks, Elkor. I'll leave that end of things to Linda, then. Do you have any negative thoughts or opinions about my actions?"

  With his usual brevity Elkor said, “No, Ed."

  "Well, let me know if you come up with any, okay? Also let me know if I've overlooked anything in the matter of keeping NASA from knowing the full capabilities of non-commercial flitters."

  "I'll do that, Ed. Will there be anything else?"

  "Nope. Thanks, Elkor."

  Elkor said, “You're welcome,” and broke the connection.

  As Tiger had grown from kitten to cat, Elkor's presence around the house had gradually dwindled to simply being available via my comm implant.

  At first I had thought that I might somehow have offended him and I'd asked him why he wasn't around the house as much as he'd been the first couple of years I'd known him.<
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  He'd replied that he'd thought the necessity of his presence had lessened to a degree that allowed him to use his drone elsewhere and asked me if he'd been in error.

  I said, “No, no problem, Elkor. I was just worried that I might have said or done something that caused you to leave."

  "No, Ed, you didn't. I mean no offense, of course, but the levels of daily input acquired and interaction required seemed inadequate to justify keeping a drone there at all times."

  I'd laughed and said, “You got bored, huh? I guess I can live with that. Glad it wasn't anything I said."

  On Wednesday, Stephanie dug up the info she needed concerning flight 949's passenger list and flight path and we lifted to meet Jeffries’ plane while it was still above the Atlantic and an hour or so from Tampa.

  As I toyed with the field-generated aircraft-style yoke and rudder pedals Steph had programmed into existence, I said, “Controls off, please. You're driving today, Steph. Got a picture of Jeffries in your files?"

  A screen field popped up to display a photo of a man in his early fifties. He had brownish-blonde hair and brown eyes that seemed to be examining the camera lens. It seemed to me to be the kind of face you'd find on someone who'd been places well off the beaten paths of society.

  "That guy looks as if he's been around some,” I said.

  Steph said, “Look at this,” and she put my passport photo up next to his picture.

  The similarity was in the eyes. No, the similarity emanated from the eyes. There was a quality about each of the pictures that could make you approach those people with caution if you had any reason to approach them at all.

  "Damn,” I said. “I see what you mean, Steph. I've seen my face in a mirror every day and never noticed that. Guess I've just gotten used to it or something. 'To see ourselves as others see us', huh?"

  Steph said, “Robert Burns was indeed an astute poet, however else he may have been lacking. Donald Jeffries began marketing gold and other precious metals in Central Africa during the seventies. He used to buy and resell, but since 1983 he's only brokered other peoples’ holdings."