Crossover (42 page)

"Stop thinking 'cold heartless machine' Gabby, and start thinking 'cool, sexy chick'." Smiling as Razo's expression remained blank. "She's a nice girl, you'd like her."

Razo gave her an intensely dubious look and concentrated once more upon her monitor.

CHAPTER 16

The underground car park lights shed an artificial glare from the broad, featureless ceiling. Mahud walked soundlessly, eyes scanning. Level 14 was a long way down. On this Saturday evening it was deserted. Nearly.

There was a van in a park beside the exit ramp. Navy blue. The size made sense. He walked toward it, hands in the pockets of his sports jacket, fingers wrapped about the handle of his pistol. The van's suspension was compressed a little. There were heat readings from inside. Multiple sources, he guessed, striding quickly the last several steps, and recognising the man in the driver's seat, past the darkened tinting. Pham, a tall Vietnamese, watching his approach. He slid the side door open and climbed m.

Six of the usual ten were there, plus Pham in the front. They paused in their serious conversation, looking. Mahud dropped himself into an available seat behind the driver, settled sideways with his legs extended, watching the meeting. The four men and two women went back to their discussion. Different from before, Mahud knew. They did not look at him, but they were aware. They always had been. So many weeks with these people and still they looked at him like ... what was Sandy's expression? Something the cat dragged in? Mahud had never seen a cat, but he got the idea.

"Where's Shimakov?" he thought to ask Pham in the front seat, as the discussion continued behind. Tactical details. Frequencies, barrier protections. It always changed. The corporate encryption protected them from government detection mostly, but things were serious now, and they were taking no chances.

"Coming," replied Pham. It was about as much as Pham ever said to him. His companions weren't much better. Mahud watched them through half-lidded eyes. Sandy, he knew, had some success at reading stress levels on infrared, watching the bloodflow. He himself was not so accomplished. But he could hear the seriousness of their conversation, and see the hardness of their expressions.

"What's the com specs on the van?" he asked Pham, unperturbed by the lack of enthusiasm. He knew that Sandy worried about that too, wondering how he'd managed for so long serving with these FIA types who so obviously disliked him and all that he was. The thought nearly made him smile. Sandy worried about so many things. Truth was, he didn't care. Sandy had always needed a degree of emotional contact. Mahud only cared that those he liked thought well of him. These people ... well, at another time, in another place, they would be his enemies. He had killed FIA before. The last thing he wanted was their friendship. He just did the job, as he'd always done, and so long as the FIA did their bit, all was well.

Pham reeled off a technical answer and Mahud accessed the van's CPU. Read sensory equipment, displays, reception, frequency coding ... it was standard civilian, hired as always under an encrypted alias, briefly modified with their mobile add-ons. It was not particularly sensitive to reception. If he was sensible, he could interface and not be detected. He did so, and received an answering click ... familiar frequency, familiar connection ...

"
Mahud, what's going on? I'm getting bored
." Mahud kept any trace of a smile off his face with an effort.

"
I'm in a van, Cap. In an underground car park beneath that big main tower in middle-Tarutao
." He leaned his head back against the side window, legs crossed and extended, pretending to rest as he waited. The conversation continued, unaware. "
It's a Hindustan Caprice, twelve-seater in the back, navy blue with adjustable window tint. Eight of the regular eleven are here, including me. We're waiting on Shimakov
"

"
Thank you very much
," Sandy pronounced. "
You'll make an undercover man yet. Any idea of a target
?"

"
They don't give me the time of day, Cap. I reckon I'll find out when I get there. There's at least one more van, maybe two ... twenty-five including me, remember? They'll be out there somewhere
."

"
Thank you for jogging my horribly defective memory Mr General Sir
." The sarcasm was dripping, even in silent-acoustic. Mahud kept the twitch from his lips with difficulty. "
Any hint you might get as to a location would be lovely. You wouldn't believe just how big this city looks until you have to pinpoint a single person or vehicle — it's like finding a grain of sand on a beach. But don't do too much. If you give yourself away it's all worth nothing, you got that
?"

"
Yes, Almighty One
." Chortling laughter from the other end. No other GI made a sound like that. God she was weird. "
How many of you guys are out there
?"

"
You mean CSA
?"

"
Yeah
."

"
Heaps. Not so many that they stand out among 57 million people, but enough
."

"
And what about that political stuff? Guderjaal and Dali, you heard anything about that yet
?"

A brief, almost imperceptible pause.

"
No, I wouldn't be worrying about that. I haven't heard anything, and there's nothing we can do about it anyway
."

They'd spoken about it before, briefly. Sandy, Mahud gathered, had made friends with one of the CSA's best SWAT commanders. She had told Sandy that things were happening at the top level, where command decisions were being made. The President had been removed, but now it looked like the rules that governed that removal might have been broken. And it was up to Supreme Court Justice Guderjaal, to decide.

Exactly why Guderjaal had this power, Mahud didn't know. Who was in charge in this stupid city, anyway? What was wrong with having just one commander? Why did they have to spread it out between President, Supreme Court and Governor? He supposed he ought to have figured this one out by now — it had been the raid he had planned, after all, that had given the Governor the excuse to kick out the President. There were rules for it, apparently. But hadn't Guderjaal approved of it? Guderjaal seemed to be the referee here. So how was he going to change his mind now without feeling stupid? And what the hell was it with a system where the right thing became the wrong thing depending upon the circumstances?

God, it was a nightmare. But it worried him all the same ... if he and Sandy were relying on CSA people, who were the CSA taking orders from if their leadership was all over the place like this? It was the number one priority in combat operations — the chain of command had to be absolutely transparent and clear-cut. Mahud knew he could always put his life in Sandy's hands. But the CSA? Sandy had said Ibrahim was on their side, but wasn't he supposed to be taking orders from Dali? What if someone removed Ibrahim? Put a friend of Dali's in his place? Would Sandy and her SWAT commander friend be forced to choose whether to obey the new CSA Director or not? And how many CSA people would go with them?

He suspected that Sandy did not think him capable of such analysis. That she thought he did not realise what any of it meant. And perhaps she was right ... he knew that Sandy's knowledge was much more extensive than his own. But he knew enough for it to worry him. Enough to see the potential flaws and problems in the operation. His commanders hadn't assigned him to this mission for nothing — of the remaining members of their team, he was comfortably their best tactical operator. He did not volunteer as much to Sandy, though. It had been she, after all, who had taught him the first rule of operational engagement — if it's not helpful, don't do it.

"
Got that
," he told her. "
You just be a bit careful, Cap. I don't reckon my positions that much more dangerous than yours
."

"
I bloody well do, genius. You waste time worrying about me. I'll kick your ass
."

"
Got that too
," Mahud replied, repressing another smile. "
I'll tell you when we start moving. Out
."

Tarutao. Sandy uplinked to a regional directory, scanning the street grid as the freeway lights flashed past on either side. Dark again now. An entire day, cruising and waiting, with pauses for meals at roadside vendors. There had been no news of a decision from Guderjaal. And little more from Mahud, who had been concerned that his apartment was bugged. The entire thing was getting on her nerves.

Tarutao was near enough. There was no great rush. She cruised comfortably in the left lane, settled in her slot behind a clustered string of traffic, nose to bumper, nine cars in a line with barely a metre between them. Cars moved in such coordinated groups here on the freeways. Slipstreaming saved power, so the traffic grid stacked cars in nose-to-tail lines, coasting on autopilot. Crouched comfortably low over her Prabati, she barely needed two-thirds of the usual throttle to keep pace, and the slipstream pressure felt noticeably reduced. A turnoff approached and a car in the middle of the group slid sideways toward the exit. The group closed up, reforming a single, smooth line at 140 kph.

She wished, as she scanned the directory display through the moving graphics on her visor, that they could just send in the cavalry now and grab that van in the parking lot. But as Mahud had said, there were twenty-four of them besides himself, and there would be other vans or cars. And Shimakov was not there. He was the one they wanted, more than anything. He, more than anyone, would know the extent of League/FIA biotech infiltration in Tanusha. He would know how far the cancer had spread.

It was possible they would just make a run for it. There would be a pickup zone somewhere outside of Tanusha. Anywhere on the entire planet would do. The Plexus grid coverage, she'd gathered from further discussion with Ibrahim, was less than perfect to begin with, being a civilian system designed to track commercial freight. It was also designed with established space lanes in mind. Coverage of the planetary surface itself was limited, thanks partly to Tanusha's limited number of population centres from which shuttles would normally launch, and partly to the fact that the system faced mainly outward, away from the planet.

Besides all of which, a planet was a very, very big place. Citysiders, used to universal sensory coverage of their entire environment, sometimes forgot just how big. The less-than-perfect grid had been compromised once. It would be folly to assume they had eliminated all means of further infiltration. A ship, a fast, silent ship, could very conceivably get close enough to launch a shuttle pickup, and get away again, mostly undetected. In all likelihood, such a ship would be in-system now, invisible to all scanners. Sandy knew it was possible. She'd done it herself more times than she could remember. Provided the sensor grid was compromised ... nothing to it.

Once the FIA got outside of Tanusha and into the vast Callayan wilderness, they would vanish. Another fact sometimes very easy for Tanushans to forget — most of Callay was utterly uninhabited. To sweep an entire planet, and guard against a covert pickup when the security grid was ineffective ... both were difficult tasks, to say the least. Particularly against this level of expertise. And no one knew what aces Dali and friends still held. The only way to make certain of a capture was to grab them here, inside the city.

Sandy's navscreen flashed, an icon glowing on her visor. There was a vehicle moving into position behind her, joining the slipstream. Sandy indicated, received a clearance, and slid out into the middle lane as the car moved up behind. Wind roared at her arms and shoulders, and she let it slow her down, then eased into place behind the new arrival, rejoining the convoy. More hassle with motorcycles — they broke up the slipstreaming effect created by cars, and not being connected to Central Control there was a risk of collision. Cycles were compelled by law to stay at the rear, and the fines for doing otherwise were harsh.

As to what the FIA were even doing, at this late stage ... not even Ibrahim professed to know. Ongoing investigations had revealed traces, but nothing substantial. Some bio-labs that may or may not have been used for experimental purposes. Some databases that could perhaps have stored illegal information. A biotech manufacturer held for questioning whose production line might have been utilised for the assembly of banned, experimental technologies.

The investigations showed that it was widespread, this activity, and deep rooted. Callayan citizens, offworlders, lifelong Tanushan residents ... many were implicated but little proven. Everywhere were signs of evidence cleared, data cleansed, damning technologies incinerated or otherwise destroyed. And the operations were all, without exception, hidden within intricate webs of corporate identities and ownership complications that made it very difficult for investigators to determine exactly whom the operation actually belonged to, and where the money came from. Which was typical of Tanushan businesses, with their corporate secrecies and intellectual-property protection precautions.

She glanced upward through the visor as she settled into comfortable range of the new car's rear bumper. Zoom-focused, looking for airborne activity. She couldn't see any flyers, up there beyond the lower, cruising aircars and gleaming towertops. That was probably good. A flyer could close distances very fast — there was no need to circle directly overhead and risk suspicion on the ground. They were up there somewhere, waiting for action. That was comfort enough.

"
Sandy
," came Mahud's voice in her ear, "
we're moving. It's still just the eight of us, no Shimakov. He must be in one of the other vehicles
."

"Okay Mahud," she replied calmly within the confines of her helmet, scanning the layout schematic in her head, "I'm nearly there. Keep me informed."

"
Will do
." The connection went dead. Sandy's jaw tensed unconsciously as she considered. No Shimakov. Mahud usually accompanied Shimakov. Where the hell was he? And what were they up to?

The directory-grid showed the Tarutao boundary ahead. Towers gleamed tall and bright beyond the flashing streetlights. A turnoff flashed past and she indicated for the next one, attempting a triangulation on Mahud's last transmission ... failed. Evidently Mahud's van had better sensors than that, and anything as obvious as a tracking signal would risk detection. Her mind flashed on, visualising the Eagle One feed on CSA positions, realtime and updated ... about half of them were closing on Tarutao, covering key junction points, main trunk routes. It looked good. She called up Ibrahim.