Chang shook his head. “You guys are nuts,” he said. “The 5531 is a killer. You know Boris Chernokov?”
Who the hell was Boris Chernokov? Michael flicked an anxious glance at Shinoda. Despite all the research they had done, there were yawning gaps in their cover story. It would not take much probing by Chang for that to become obvious. “Poor old Boris,” he asked.
Chang looked at him with a puzzled frown. “Poor old Boris? Why? Has something happened to him?” he said.
Chang blinked; living on Scobie’s, he’d know all about DocSec. “Sure,” he said. “Now, you’ve got three drops planned, I think you said.”
“Yes.”
“Fine. These are ten grand each. You do know that?”
“Yeah, yeah; no problem.”
“I wish I had half your luck,” Chang muttered. “I’m lucky if I can afford to do two drops a year. Anyway, let’s get them loaded.”
• • •
“Not sure that man was convinced we were kosher,” Michael said to Shinoda as the cargobot pulled away from a thoughtful-looking Chang.
“I was thinking the same thing. I don’t suppose that club of his sees too many bored, cashed-up Hammers.”
“I’m damn sure they don’t see any. Still, this is Scobie’s World, and on Scobie’s World cash is king, so I guess he was happy.”
“He didn’t look too happy as we left.”
“You trying to tell me something, Sergeant Shinoda?”
“Hmmm.” Shinoda nodded. “Yes … Right about now, I think he’s trying to decide whether he should tell the wrong people about us. State Security might think they run this place, but we both know as well as Chang does that DocSec calls the shots.”
“And DocSec likes to shoot people who keep things to themselves. He’s covering his ass.”
Shinoda thought about that for a moment. “He smelled a rat; that’s for sure. He’ll tell State Security. I’d bet my life on it.”
“Damn,” Michael said. “We’re way too obvious in this damn cargobot. Chang will have its ID. We need to dump it and fast.”
“There!” Shinoda said. She pointed to a narrow lane overhung by thickly canopied trees. “Down there. We’ll off-load the boxes and send the cargobot on a wander around town. By the time they pick it up, we’ll be long gone.”
Michael told the bot to turn down the lane. A kilometer in, they stopped in front of an old building, its security fence long past its use-by date. “This is good enough. If we’re fast, nobody will question why we stopped.”
“I’ll have a look,” Shinoda said, getting out. She was back quickly. “I think it’s safe to leave the gear here for the time being. Nobody’s been near the place in months.”
“Let’s do it.”
Working feverishly, they manhandled the boxes off the cargobot and into the dilapidated building and tucked them away out of sight. It took only minutes, and Michael was more than a bit relieved when the vehicle finally hummed off down the lane.
“I’ll get a couple of the guys back with holocams to keep an eye on things,” Shinoda said.as they set off.
• • •
Shinoda dropped into a chair. “You’ve got a comm from Spassky, sir,” she said.
“Thanks.” Michael patched his neuronics into the data feed. He gestured to Shinoda to stay connected. “Go ahead,” he said when the man’s image appeared.
“We’re in position, sir, and the holocams are online.”
“Roger that. Any sign of life?”
“None. Quiet as the proverbial.”
“Okay. Hang in there. We’ll see you in thirty-six hours, and don’t lose sight of those damn pods. They cost me a fortune.”
Spassky’s face cracked into a grin. “Don’t worry, sir. They’ll still be here.”
“I hope so.”
Michael cut the link. “Almost there,” he said to Shinoda.
“I hope so,” Shinoda replied. “I’ve had enough of Scobie’s.”
Michael was shocked to see how tired the marine looked. “You and me both,” he said. “I think I’ll go check the dead-letter box. Hopefully there’ll be something from Moussawi.”
“I’ll come with you, sir,” Shinoda said, starting to get to her feet.
“No. You stay put. I’ll take Akuna.”
Shinoda didn’t argue with him.
Akuna walked past where Michael sat waiting on the park bench. “Lovely evening for a walk,” she said.
Michael’s pulse quickened. Akuna had spotted the telltale; the dead-letter box had something for him. A response from Moussawi? “Yes, it is,” he said to Akuna’s back.
He waited five minutes, then walked the 300 meters to the box, a cleft in an old tree passed by a meandering path well screened by thick clumps of flowering shrubs. It was the work of only seconds for Michael to reach in and feel around inside. “Yes,” he said under his breath as his fingers closed around a datastick. He always wondered how the information in the stick had gotten from wherever Moussawi was holed up waiting for Juggernaut to kick off.
He uploaded the contents. Admiral Moussawi’s face appeared; he looked old and tired. What he had to say was short and to the point: J-Day had been put back a week to give Michael and his team more time to make it down to Commitment.
It did not take Michael long to work out the real meaning of the message. Michael had to succeed. Juggernaut depended on it.
Grabbing a mug of coffee, Shinoda dumped her machine pistol on the table with a clatter and threw herself into a chair across from Michael. “We’re all set, sir,” she said.
“Good,” Michael said. “One last time. We haven’t missed anything?”
“No, sir. Spassky and Prodi have confirmed the area’s clear, and the cargobot’s on its way. They’ll meet us at the VIP terminal.”
“Anything in the dead-letter box?”
Shinoda shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Let’s hope that’s good news,” Michael said. “What about Akuna and Mitchell?”
“In position and ready in case Mister Kalkuz turns up early. You happy about providing backup?”
“Yes,” Michael said. “And I’ve spoken to that bloodsucker Max Pinczewski,” he added. “He’s confirmed our shuttle’s liftoff slot. The
“Provided Kalkuz does what he’s supposed to,” Shinoda said, sour-faced. “Otherwise we’re screwed.”
“I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Nor me. Okay, sir. Gear and weapons check, then we go.”
Shinoda broke into Michael’s thoughts. “Alfa, this is Bravo,” she said.
“Alfa,” Michael replied.
