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

  "I'd hate to play it at all, George. Think of all the calls and letters we'd have to answer. All the public appearance requests.” With a grin, I added, “I'm kind of shy, you know, so we'd probably refer them all to our lawyer."

  Myra snickered and Steph and Jeffries allowed me a small smile each. Wilmot simply nodded and said, “Of course,” as he assembled a folder of paperwork for Mrs. Javitz.

  Patting one of the mounds of coins on his desk, Wilmot said to Stephanie, “About that inventory. Mrs. Javitz will show you which computer to use. Once I have the results, I'll draw up contracts for use when you have your Social Security number.” Turning to Myra, he said, “Miss Berens—Myra—I'll need your signature as a witness to both the discovery and retrieval and to the donation. Yours, too, Don and Ed."

  I grinned and said, “Take Myra with you and show her how fast you can type, Steph."

  She looked at me blankly for a moment, then nodded.

  Myra lifted an eyebrow and said, “Uh, huh. In other words, 'Get Myra out of here'?"

  I shrugged. “Yup. The next item on our agenda doesn't concern you or the NSA, Myra. It's strictly private stuff."

  As Steph and Myra left the room to print documents and the door closed behind them, I keyed my implant and said, “Steph, we'll need a copy of you in here."

  Jeffries nearly scrambled out of his chair when Steph silently and instantly popped into being between us. She perched herself on the arm of my chair and smiled at him as he composed himself.

  With a small smile of his own, Wilmot said, “Well, that was certainly entertaining. Don, are you feeling all right?"

  Jeffries gave him a droll look.

  Wilmot said, “Good. Stephanie, do you have exact weight figures for us?"

  "Yes,” she said. “Not counting what I've excluded for donations and the weight of the detritus on uncleaned items, there are 949 pounds and seven ounces of gold and 704 pounds, three ounces of silver."

  Eyebrows went up, including mine. I'd never thought to ask Steph exactly how much stuff was sitting on the rear deck.

  Jeffries said, “My God. Even at weight value alone, that's over four million Euros in gold."

  Wilmot tapped his calculator for some moments, then said, “Over here we use dollars, you know. At a market low of $266.00 per ounce, that's about $4,040,806.00 in gold.” After some more tapping, he added, “And about $49,011.00 in silver."

  He stared at the figures on the calculator tape as Jeffries quietly said, “Well, congratulations, Miss Montgomery. Very well done, indeed."

  With a small smile, Steph said, “Thank you, Mr. Jeffries."

  Steph provided a detailed inventory to Wilmot's laptop, after which he printed two copies of the inventory. We discussed details until Wilmot had what he needed for contractual purposes, then we said our goodbyes and headed for the door. Steph's copy of herself disappeared and her original self greeted us in the outer office as we collected Myra and left.

  Jeffries asked to be delivered to the Hilton near the airport. I surprised Myra by asking if she'd like to remain with Steph and me for a while and she said yes, so after dropping Jeffries at the Hilton, we headed north to Spring Hill.

  As we traveled, I reviewed the meeting in Wilmot's office and looked for omissions or errors. None seemed obvious.

  Jeffries, Wilmot, Steph, and I agreed that the best way to handle larger treasure purchases would be to issue Jeffries some samples and then deliver the purchases to buyers on a C.O.D. basis with Jeffries in attendance. Smaller purchases and deliveries would be handled directly by Jeffries, also C.O.D.

  During the quick trip to Spring Hill, Myra began asking questions about Steph's and the flitter's capabilities; top speed, max altitude, max depth, and so on. I told her that most of the info she asked for was classified, and that drew me an odd look.

  "Classified? I was under the impression that you were a civilian,” she said. “Since when do they allow civilians to own and operate classified vehicles?"

  "What were you told about me, Myra?"

  She shook her head and said, “Damned little. I was grabbed from the break room when word came that a flitter was buzzing a commercial flight. My boss thought you might have had other reasons for being up there, so he told me to set up a blind near the flight's gate and watch for you. I was actually kind of surprised when you walked through the security checkpoint."

  "You people move fast, don't you? You had maybe half an hour to be there and be in position."

  Myra gave a little grin and said, “Twenty minutes or so, really, but the sheriff's department keeps a helicopter on the roof. Favors for favors."

  My house became visible and our rate of descent again made Myra rather nervous. The muscles of her jaw clenched as her hands found the edges of her seat. Her eyes widened slightly and she glanced at me. I sipped my beer and smiled.

  "Myra,” I said, “Are we going out to eat or do you cook?"

  She managed to say through clenched teeth, “Me? Cook? Ha. We'll either be going out or ordering a pizza."

  Tiger was sitting in the kitchen window when we landed. He watched us disembark and head for the front door, then he hopped down. When we entered the house, he was sitting on the kitchen counter, either bathing or arranging his stripes.

  "Hey, Tiger!” I said, “Howza kitty? Look what I brought you. Her name is Myra."

  Myra asked, “You have a cat? I thought men went more for dogs. Man's best friend, and all that?"

  I shook my head. “No dogs allowed in this house. Never. They're almost worse than kids."

  With a grin, Myra said, “So strong an opinion about dogs and kids must have a reason behind it."

  "If you're a dog lover, you won't like it."

  She peered at me and said, “What if I'm a kid lover, too? Try me."

  "You asked for it,” I said. “I've seen dogs play with dirty diapers. They'll rip ‘em apart and eat and wear the contents. I've seen them roll in another dog's shit. Dogs also bark, tear up lawns, furniture, and smaller animals, and they'll play with or eat what they find in a cat box. That's gonna be just before they come running to give you a big, sloppy kiss, of course. Small kids are only marginally different in that you can usually train a kid not to play with or eat the stuff in the cat box."

  After blinking at me in silence for a moment, Myra said, “Well, you did warn me that I wouldn't like it."

  Having examined Myra for some moments, Tiger said something that sounded like an inquiry. I looked to Steph for translation, but she seemed hesitant.

  "C'mon, Steph,” I said. “What did he say?"

  With a glance at Myra, Steph said, “He asked if Myra is your new mate."

  Chapter Eight

  I looked at Tiger and shook my head as I said, “No, Tiger. Selena is my mate. Sort of."

  Steph translated my words, then Tiger's reply.

  "He wants to know why you can't have more than one mate and why Selena doesn't live here with us."

  "Tell him that one human mate is usually more than enough and that Selena has her own home."

  As Steph translated again, Myra stared at Steph, then turned to me and asked, “Do you really expect me to believe that you two talk to a cat?"

  I shrugged and said, “Believe what you want, Myra. It won't matter a damn to anyone but you. Would you like a drink? There's canned tea in the fridge and I have to make a call."

  Myra followed me into the living room and took a seat on the couch as I sat in the sofa chair. When Steph and Tiger had finished their conversation, they joined us in the living room. Tiger hopped up on the coffee table to shamelessly study Myra and Steph sat on the other end of the couch from her.

  "Steph,” I said, “Would you call Linda and tell her we have a special guest? Send her the data you have on Myra, and if she okays it, would you put up a screen for us, please?"

  Steph nodded and the translucent field screen that appeared above the coffee table resembled a three-foot-tall datapad, complete with the usual icons.<
br />
  Myra startled almost violently when the screen appeared and her eyes bugged out a bit. Perhaps a full minute of silence passed until Linda's face appeared on the screen.

  "Hi, Ed. Myra is an NSA standby operative. She now works in a personnel office, but she had a year of field work five years ago and she's received a letter of commendation for helping to root out some baddies during that period."

  Glancing at Myra with a small grin, she added, “You were right to be cautious with her."

  Myra continued staring at the screen in startlement, but said nothing as Linda rattled off a few other items of info, apparently reading from something on her desk.

  I grinned and said, “Well, then, she should know at least one of the super-secret spook handshakes, right? What should I do with her, Linda? Feed her and send her back to them?"

  "Feeding her is up to you. What does she want from you?"

  "Hard to say. I could pump her for information, I guess, but she looks like a real hardcase to me. It might take more than a flitter ride and a dinner."

  Myra said, “Just wait a minute. Linda, is it? Who are you and how do you have access to my file?"

  Linda said, “Linda Baines, head of security for 3rd World Products, and at the moment, I'm kind of curious about why your boss felt it worthwhile to tag one of my people. Did Stan happen to mention his reasons for siccing you on Ed?"

  "You know Stanley Maxwell?"

  "We've met. Why did he send you to the airport today?"

  "He just told me to try to make a firm contact, Ms. Baines. I assumed it concerned Stephanie's INS application and their midair visit with flight 949."

  Altogether plausible. Maxwell wouldn't necessarily bother to tell her anything else.

  The phone rang. After four rings, the answering machine began its spiel: "Hello. If you think you're someone I'd want to call back, leave a message.” BEEP!

  Accompanied by the sounds of traffic, Selena said, “It's me, Ed. Are you there? We're stopping by on the way to Clearwater beach. Toni's with me and we'll be there in a few minutes."

  There were sounds of fumbling and what may have been the click of fingernails on the phone, then Toni said, “Hey, Ed! We're wearing our 'Daisy Dukes'! Think about that while you get ready to come with us!"

  Amid laughter and giggles they clicked off and the answering machine cycled the message in the ensuing silence. On the screen, Linda was gazing impassively at me. Myra was staring at me. Only Steph—stroking Tiger, who'd jumped into her lap—seemed at all unimpressed by the call.

  Linda asked, “What are ‘Daisy Dukes'?"

  Without taking her eyes off me, Myra said, “Cutoff shorts. Very short shorts, named for the sexy cousin who always wore them on ‘The Dukes of Hazzard’ TV show."

  "I see,” said Linda drily. “Well, she did say they were going to the beach. Ed, who might Toni be, please?"

  I sighed and said, “She's Selena's friend from school, mom. She doesn't do drugs or smoke or anything nasty like that."

  Myra looked at me inquiringly and said, “School? She called you 'Ed', so she probably isn't your daughter."

  "No,” I said. “She isn't my daughter. Let's get back to why your boss wanted you to make contact with me."

  Myra shrugged and said, “I don't know. Really. Nobody told me anything before they shoved some luggage from the Sheriff's lost & found at me and told me to get moving."

  Linda said, “There were no spikes on my audio monitor, so that's actually fairly believable, Myra, but you'll understand if I don't simply take it as gospel. Dragonfly, you can do what you want about her, but all the usual cautions apply. I'll call Stan and see what's on his mind that would involve us."

  I nodded. “Roger that, Fearless Leader."

  She poked the ‘off’ icon at her end and the screen blanked. I looked at Myra and then at Steph before asking, “Well, what should we do with her, Steph?"

  Steph smiled at me as she looked up from Tiger.

  "If I were you, I'd consider how to explain Myra's presence to Selena and Toni before worrying about what to do with her. My data indicates that women frequently disapprove of discovering their men in the company of other women."

  "No problem,” I said. “I'll tell her that Myra's an NSA spook who's been assigned to watch me. Selena knows who I work for and what I used to do."

  Steph's smile became broader as she said, “That's a bit simplistic, but it may work well enough."

  With a grin, Myra said, “I could hide in the bathroom."

  "No,” said Steph. “Selena will probably have her big tea bottle with her, as usual. She'll almost certainly use the bathroom during her visit."

  Myra tried to look troubled as she grinningly asked, “The closet, maybe?"

  Steph shook her head. “That would probably also be ineffective. You wear a rather distinctive perfume, Myra. It would look worse if you were found hiding in the house."

  Unsuccessfully trying to look worried past a grin, Myra asked, “Well, how about...?"

  I sighed, stood up, and interrupted her with, “How about I put you on the flitter and send you up to a hundred miles until sometime tomorrow, smartass?"

  Her hands up in mock capitulation, she said, “Uh, no, thanks anyway."

  As I headed for the kitchen with my almost-empty coffee mug, I added, “I'll just tell her the truth and let Steph back me if necessary."

  Myra grinned at Steph and asked, “The truth..? Gee, would that really work, do you think?"

  "It has a chance, I suppose,” said Steph thoughtfully, “I guess we'll soon know."

  "That we will,” I said over my shoulder as I entered the kitchen. “Steph, would you put my work history on screen for us? Just the highlights, please, and nothing that the NSA doesn't already have on file."

  "May I first ask why, Ed?” asked Steph. “I can't seem to find a valid purpose or foundation for your request, and it does involve matters of security that Myra's not privy to at present."

  As I rinsed my coffee mug, I looked back through the doorway and said, “It's just to let Myra know where she stands in case I decide to keep her around."

  Myra gave me an odd, narrow look and asked, “Now, why would you do that? You know who I work for and I really wasn't expecting to be part of your life much longer."

  "They'd just try to slip someone else in, Myra, and you'd get a briefing about me anyway if you stayed on the case. This way you'll get the info first hand. Scan the stuff and let me know when you're through. I'm going out to check the mail."

  I made my coffee and went out to the mailbox, then took the day's postal loot to the bench on my porch and separated it into three piles; regular stuff, moderately important stuff, and garbage. For a change, the garbage pile was the smallest.

  One of the little lizards that live around my house was stalking a hefty fly that had landed on the arm of the bench. The lizard approached in cautious scootings toward the fly and the fly turned to face the lizard. I sent a field tendril to pin the fly to the bench and the lizard continued inching forward, unaware of my assistance.

  Keying my implant, I asked, “Steph, how's Myra taking the news? I'd bet nobody told her anything about me and it's entirely possible they didn't know about you. At her office they probably still think you're just a flitter guidance system."

  "She's reading with visibly apparent interest, Ed. May I again ask why you're showing her this?"

  When the lizard was a few inches from the fly, it moved with lightning speed and the fly disappeared. I tapped the lizard's tail with the field tendril and it dove off the bench arm to the ground.

  "She could be useful, Steph, either as a source of info or a means of funneling it back to her offices. This is just a hook to snag her personal interest, because I plan to try to keep her involved. Better a demon you know than a demon you don't. How far along is she?"

  "She's still working her way through the seventies, Ed."

  "Good enough. I'll give her a few minutes...” Selena's Mercury Sab
le turned the corner and I amended, “Make that a very few minutes. Selena's here. Leave the screen as it is when we come in."

  "Okay, but neither Selena nor Toni are cleared to view some of the later files. I may have to stop or alter the display."

  "That's fine. Whatever you think is best. Thanks, Steph."

  A few moments later, Steph said, “Ed, Myra excused herself to go to the bathroom. In the hallway, she activated an electronic listening device and put it behind the doorbell's chime cover."

  "No problem, Steph. We'll let her feel as if she's doing her job for now and get the gadget later."

  I walked out to meet Selena's car as it pulled into the driveway. With a finger to my lips, I cautioned them to be quiet and received exactly the ‘what's going on?’ looks that I'd expected as the ladies kissed me hello.

  Stepping back, I examined Selena from head to toe, spending an extra second or two on her legs, then said, “Got your message, ma'am. I love your legs, you know.” Giving Toni the same appraising gaze, I said, “Your legs ain't bad, either, lady. Wow."

  She smiled. “Does that mean that you're going to pry yourself loose and come with us to the beach?"

  "Don't know yet. We have a guest,” I said. “She's inside with Steph, going over some of my service records."

  "Why?” asked Selena, easing her car door shut.

  "She's with the NSA,” I said. “She showed up at the airport with fake ID and borrowed luggage. I figured it would be better if I cooperated for the moment."

  Toni nodded and eased her own door shut as she said, “Are you in some kind of trouble, Ed?"

  I shrugged and said, “No, they sent the woman in there—Myra Berens—to try to meet and hook up with us covertly. They also want us to think Steph's US residency application set off an alarm somewhere."

  Toni asked, “Do you think that's the real reason?"

  Grinning, I said, “No, ma'am, not really."

  Selena asked, “So why's she going over your service records?"

  I grinned and said, “I've already called Linda about her. This is just a way to keep Miz Myra busy for a little while and make her cautious about playing the usual games. By the way, she planted a bug in the hallway."