Book 3: 3rd World Products, Inc (24 page)

I interrupted her. “Don't worry, miLady. I won't try to pick her up. I just want an unusual little edge before we start."

"I don't understand, Ed. Nothing in her records indicates an interest in antiquities or treasure hunting."

"Does anything in my records indicate an interest in treasure hunting?"

"No."

"Exactly. I didn't have an interest in treasure hunting, but I still went to see the Atocha stuff and you've made the idea more feasible. Besides, nobody's likely to turn down an opportunity to take a look at a doubloon, are they?"

"I guess we'll learn that shortly. Do you want me to accompany you?"

I put the coin in my pocket and said, “No. I'll ask you to drop in when I need to play a trump card. It might also be a good idea to leave the flitter parked about twenty feet above the street, smack in front of the building's main doors. Leave the canopy in opaque mode to give things an air of high-tech mystery."

When we were less than a yard from the sidewalk, I stepped to the edge of the deck and let everyone out there see me emerge from the apparently solid metal hull of the flitter, then hopped to the ground and walked toward the building's revolving door.

A guard who had obviously seen me leave the flitter—he seemed unable to stop staring at me—directed me to the log-in desk, where I showed my ID and asked where I'd find Dr. Breen. The guard gave me a clip-on visitor's badge and told me that her offices were on the third floor as he buzzed me through the oversized turnstile next to the log-in desk.

There were two men and a woman waiting for an elevator. All of them seemed to take note of my green fatigue shirt and jeans as I approached. After I'd been standing near them for a few moments, one of the men glanced down and asked, “Are those
golf
shoes?"

I glanced at him and nodded. “Yup."

Another few moments passed before the woman asked, “Are you here to pick up something?"

Shaking my head slightly, I said, “Nope. Just visiting. Come to think of it, that may be why they gave me a badge that says
'Visitor'
."

They asked no more questions, and when the elevator arrived, we boarded it in silence. One of the men pressed the button for five and I pressed three.

The woman asked, “You're going to the forensics lab?"

"Hope not,” I said. “I'm here to see a
live
person, and I don't want a tour."

One of the men chuckled. The woman asked no more questions. When I got off the elevator, a guard approached me and said he'd been told to direct me to Breen's office. I asked if everyone received that kind of service and he said that all visitors were escorted by either whomever they'd come to visit or one of the guards.

That seemed a bit much for an outfit that provided people and services, so I guessed aloud that Hitch, Inc. supplied drugs and paraphernailia, as well. The guard confirmed that as he opened the door to Breen's office and held it for me. As soon as I was inside, he headed back to his station by the elevators.

A man came out of one of the interior offices and hurried to the desk in the lobby, giving me only a glance in passing. After fussing with some papers and muttering something I didn't catch, he put the papers in a folder and tossed the folder in the outbox on the desk. Looking around the desk as if something might be out of place, he adjusted the position of the telephone what must have been all of a quarter of an inch, then looked up as if noticing me for the first time.

Scanning me rather dubiously from my golf shoes up, he finally asked, “May I help you?"

I said, “I'm here to see Dr. Breen."

He made a droll face and rolled his eyes, then prissily said, “Well, I rather expected that you
might
be here for that reason, since this
is
her office. I'm Dr. Breen's secretary. Are you here to pick up something? Who sent you?"

His snooty manner irritated me. I walked up to the desk and commandeered his pink
'while you were out'
memo pad, then wrote my name on it and tore off the top sheet. Handing it to him, I said, “Just let Dr. Breen know I'm here."

There was a coffee pot on a stand by the bookcase. I plucked a cup from the rack, filled it, and chose a chair nearby. He was still staring at me when I sat down.

I said, “I'm fairly sure I was speaking English just now. Show that to Dr. Breen."

He said, “It's
customary
to give
some
inkling of
why
you're visiting someone's office.” Straightening his suit jacket, he added, “It's
also
customary to
dress
appropriately."

I looked at him for a moment, then said, “Breen wanted to see me about something and if she wants you to know anything about it, she can be the one to tell you."

The guy huffed a bit, then leaned over his desk and punched a button on his phone. A woman's voice answered, “Yes?"

"Dr. Breen, there's a man here who
says
you wanted to see him about something."

He stumbled over my name and I corrected him, then he read it properly. Breen was silent for a moment, then she said, “Oh, yes. See if he'd like some coffee, Joey. Tell him I'll be free in a few minutes."

Joey said, “Yes, ma'am,” then he punched off the intercom and looked at me as he started to speak.

"I heard her,” I said.

Joey's mouth shut and he glared at me for a moment before he made an effort to look busy at his desk. Some minutes later, I put my coffee down on the small table between the chairs and fished out the gold coin and my folding knife. Joey didn't seem happy to see my knife, but he had curiosity enough to ask what I was doing as I lightly scraped the coin.

"Cleaning the crud off this doubloon,” I said. “It's been at the bottom of the ocean for a few hundred years."

Joey was on his feet and heading my way instantly. He stopped within a yard of me and stared at the coin, then asked, “It's
real?
"

I nodded and handed it to him and said, “Yeah. It's real."

He examined it closely, then flipped it over and spent a few more moments examining it. The timing couldn't have been better. Breen's office door opened and she strode past Joey's desk to approach us. Joey quickly handed the coin back to me and moved to one side as I got to my feet and put my knife back in its belt pouch.

"Good morning,” she curtly said to me. Turning slightly to face Joey, she asked, “What was that about?"

"He was showing me a coin, ma'am. He says it's a real gold doubloon."

As he spoke to her, I took a moment to look her over. Five-seven or so, as advertised. A solid figure that didn't give the impression of being overweight, so she probably worked out to stay fit. Dark blue pumps and near-knee skirt with a pastel blue blouse. Collar-length, dark blonde hair and subdued makeup. No jewelry other than a simple gold band on her wedding finger and single-diamond earrings.

She said, “Back to your desk, Joey. You still have some of Friday to finish."

"
Yes,
ma'am."

Joey quick-marched back to his desk. I had the feeling that she'd probably had to order him not to salute her. Breen noticed my examination of her and turned to face me. She didn't ask to see the coin as she focused first on my jeans, then my fatigue shirt, then on my face.

"Mr. Howdershelt,” she said, “You aren't quite what I was expecting, but thanks for coming. Bring your coffee and let's go to my office."

Without waiting for my response, she turned and started that direction. As we passed Joey's desk, she said, “Hold my calls.” Joey nodded and said, “Yes, ma'am."

In her office, she waved me to a chair by her desk and sat down in the padded leather chair behind the desk, then spent a moment gazing at me as she had before.

Without preamble, she asked, “Ms. Baines told me a little about you when she confirmed that your field, not the flitter's field, froze the gunman's hand. Why did you do that?"

"There was a gun in his hand. He was shooting at me."

"So you were trying to do what, exactly? Clog the gun's mechanism with ice? Freeze his trigger finger?"

I don't like lying to people, but I don't mind terribly if they accept their own conclusions when those conclusions serve my interests.

I said, “He managed to empty his gun at me. Maybe I'd have been better off to freeze his brain."

Her mouth fell open at that suggestion and she gave me a truly odd look, then said, “I don't find it particularly comforting to know that you might be able to do something like that, sir."

"Call me Ed and don't worry. I wouldn't do that to someone who wasn't trying to kill me or someone else. Now that I think about it, total freezing probably wouldn't be necessary. A bolt of cold in the heart would put someone down without killing him, wouldn't it? Make the heart spasm?"

Her eyes narrowed as she said, “Uh, yes, I suppose it would. Exactly
how
did you freeze that man's hand?"

I put my coffee on her desk and said, “I used a field. Like this."

Gesturing to draw her attention to my coffee cup, I sent a cooling field into what was left of my coffee. By the time the coffee had turned to ice and frost had formed on the cup, her expression had turned from rather stern to somewhat amazed. She reached to touch the cup, then yanked her hand back slightly. Glancing up at me, she reached again, this time lifting the cup by its handle.

"Well,” she said softly, “That's quite a trick. What else can you do?"

"Warm it back up. Boil or evaporate it. Move it around."

"Move it? How?"

"Put the cup down and I'll show you."

She set the cup on the desk and moved her hand well away from it. I fielded the cup into the air and sent it on a journey around the room, then returned it to her desk. As it settled to the desktop, I sent a warming field into it so that it was liquid again before it touched down. Breen reached for the cup again and again pulled her hand back in startlement. Her voice held a touch of wonder as she said, “It's hot."

I shook my head. “No, just warm. I don't like my coffee scalding hot."

Picking up my cup, I sat back and drank some of the coffee. Breen continued to stare at the cup for a moment, then her gaze switched to me.

"How do you do those things?"

"Field manipulation. My flitter taught me."

She laughed shortly. “Your
flitter
taught you?"

"Yup. Stephie can do things that make what I just did look like kindergarten stuff."

Shaking her head in amazement, she sat back in her captain's chair and seemed to give matters some thought as she stared at my coffee cup.

"Are you saying, then, that
anyone
can learn to do this?"

"Nope. I don't think anyone can just
learn
to do it.” Tapping my skull just behind my ear, I said, “I have an implant. Now how about telling me something?"

Breen studied me for a moment before asking, “What do you want to know?"

"Why did my boss tell me to come here and do a show and tell?"

After a slight pause, she said, “A man was killed because you froze..."

"No,” I interrupted her. “It isn't about a dead gunman. Why are you so interested in fields and why does my boss care that you're interested?"

"Did you ask her?"

"You're evading. I'm asking
you
."

She gathered herself and sat straight, then said, “And I'm deferring your question for the moment. It's a personal matter."

I gave her a very questioning look and asked, “Fields are a personal matter?"

In a firm tone, she said, “Not fields. Let it go for now."

Shrugging, I sipped what was left of my coffee, then said, “You said that I wasn't what you were expecting. What were you expecting?"

Breen raised an eyebrow at me, then smiled slightly condescendingly.

"Well, I don't know exactly what I was expecting, but most of my visitors don't show up looking as if they're about to work in the garden."

"I like being comfortable, Dr. Breen, and I didn't come here to try to pick up a date or stun people with my sartorial good taste."

"What if I had invited you to lunch at a decent restaurant?"

"You do that and I'll go buy a suit right now. But you won't. You seem the type to leave business matters in the office. To you, lunch is off the clock."

"You're so sure of that?"

"Sure enough that I'm not worried about having to buy a suit. Tell you what, though, Dr. Breen; if you're really interested in fields, take an hour off and fly with Stephanie and me. She's parked right outside the front of the building."

Breen simply gazed quietly at me for a few moments, then she rose and went to her window. I rose to follow and arrived near her in time to hear her mutter, “Oh, my God...” as she seemed to freeze at the window.

The flitter was hovering at a height somewhat lower than the window and well to our right, but it was completely visible. I looked for a latch, but the window was the kind that doesn't open.

"Steph,” I said, “Would you please bring the flitter to our window?"

From my watch came Steph's, “No problem. On the way."

The flitter shifted quickly to hover just outside our window. Breen actually stepped back a pace when it suddenly arrived, then she stepped back to the window and simply stared in silence for some moments.

I tapped Breen's shoulder and received only the barest acknowledgement of attention.

"Want to see the inside?” I asked. “I'll ask Steph to clear the canopy."

Breen glanced at me questioningly, but she nodded. “Yes, please."

"Steph..."

"I heard, Ed."

The canopy cleared and suddenly the flitter looked more like a flying platform with seats and a console. I didn't see Steph aboard and wondered why she'd disappeared. Breen gasped slightly and glanced at me again.

"I thought there'd be more to it,” she said.

"Simple designs work best,” I said.

Breen nodded slightly as she stared, then her eyes turned to me again.

"What?"

"I said..."

"I heard you. Were you part of the design team?"