Zero Hour

ours, they’re superior.”

“The distribution angle,” Megan said. “Let’s stick with it, if you don’t mind.”

Noriko was thinking Queen Breen had reacted to her last statement a mite curtly, and doubted it was out of defensiveness over a product comparison that weighed favorably toward the competition. It was obvious everybody knew what was coming here. Aside from an exchange of information, their bicoastal klatch was definitely leading up to a staking of territorial claims. And while Noriko preferred to keep the sparks to a minimum, she wasn’t about to set herself up to be taking crap from anybody either.

Breen wanted data, she’d get it in spades.

“Gunn oscillators are controlled items that require licenses for sale abroad,” she said, rapid-fire. “Depending on the performance specs of a particular oscillator… its heat and transmission capacities to name a couple… it may qualify for a license exception under conditions stipulated under Part Seven-four-oh of the Export Administration Regulations. These exceptions allow sale and shipment to government agencies, private firms, and distributors in certain country groups classified by the Bureau of Industry and Security. Offhand, I know some of our oscillators go to Canada, Mexico, England, France, Germany, Sweden, and Japan… democracies that have cooperative export policies. But while the policies of these countries are guided by common principles, there’s nothing that approaches unity in how they’re implemented. England might allow license exemptions that differ from those of the United States. Mexico might have other variances in its criteria—”

“You’re conjecturing here, yes?” Megan interrupted. “Just so I’m straight.”

As a stick up my ass, Noriko thought.

“Yes,” she said. “Only as far as which ones I’ve used as examples, though. I can’t claim to know the intricacies of American export law, forget what’s in some other country’s rule books. And there are something like a hundred-and-fifty in BIS’s ‘B Group,’ which puts them on its exception list for dual-use products. Nonetheless I can tell you that Yemen, Malaysia, Lebanon, Burma, Pakistan… our government doesn’t love any of them for their democratic values, but they’re all strategic geopolitical allies that qualify. And that’s just naming a few. While I know these countries are subject to checks and restraints other countries on the list might not need to worry about, and I know UpLink is more selective about its shipping policies than trade law requires, it’s still possible for them to gain possession of restricted items through a quirk in the exemption policies of, oh, Great Britain… hypothetically speaking. And that’s legal possession. What happens to a high- performance oscillator — ours, somebody else’s, it doesn’t matter — after it reaches Beirut? Rangoon? Islamabad? It isn’t supposed to be transshipped to someplace like North Korea or Libya under the agreements I’ve spoken about, but tracking re-exports is unbelievably complicated. With front companies, shady freight forwarders… when we’re talking about illicit detours, it can come right down to a single customs inspector who’s been greased in some home or foreign port of call. And I’ve been sticking to material freight. The kind that’s packed in crates and can be measured on scales. Technological data’s much, much slipperier since it’ll most often involve electronic transfers—”

“One thing here, Nori,” Nimec said, holding up a hand. “Those oscillators Armbright’s got on the market… you telling us they’ve been reaching places they shouldn’t?”

“Not definitively, no,” she said. “But there are indicators that warrant close attention. Steady upticks in its transnational export of oscillators, and other dual-use elements besides, including large cargoes of titanium- sapphire tubing of the same type we’ve purchased from the company. These could be — I stress, could be — related to the production of laser-based military systems.” Noriko paused right there, refraining from going through her whole checklist of suspect materials. She did not want to escalate anybody’s interest at present by volunteering that these elements might also include the chemicals deuterium and fluorine. Give them that, and she’d be opening the door for them to come on like gangbusters. “Some of the freight loads… assuming for the sake of our discussion that the shipper’s export declarations filed with Customs are legit and we have an accurate idea of what’s in them… some of these loads, well, if I put a graphic on the screen and tried to show you their progress from point-of-origin to end-user, you’d see lines crisscrossing all over the map. And wind up feeling as stumped as I’ve occasionally been since my probe got underway.”

Thibodeau scrubbed his cheek and looked thoughtful.

“Suppose for a minute Armbright’s into somethin’ dirty,” he said. “You think it’s a case of the right hand not knowin’ what the left’s doin’, or a bad that’s comin’ down from the top?”

Noriko shrugged.

“The upticks I mentioned appear to have started around when the Kiran Group was brought into Armbright, but that could be a coincidence,” she said. “I’m leery of red herrings. It would be a mistake for us to impose a time frame on the gathering of intelligence… a whole lot more of which is needed before any conclusions can be drawn. We have to be careful on this—”

“But you do smell something fishy coming from Kiran right now,” Megan interrupted.

Noriko met her gaze across the continent. Hesitated a moment. And then gave her a slow affirmative nod, knowing full well this was make-or-break time.

“I think we should talk about Hasul Benazir,” she said.

* * *

Up a flight of stairs from the shuttle platform, then over to the Lichtenstein mural on the 42nd Street — Times Square station’s mezzanine, a depiction of some futuristic Manhattan as it might have been envisioned in an imaginary time of innocence.

Briefcase in hand, Avram stood under the mural watching a pantomimist in silver body makeup and a robot suit do his bit for spare change — his prolonged motionlessness broken up now and then by a mechanical gesture. The shopworn routine bored Avram, and would not pry a cent from his wallet.

He remembered the kid on the train. His agile musicianship, the wit of his song selections. That rock piece especially had caused nostalgia to seep into Avram’s thoughts. He didn’t know why, or didn’t quite know. He generally carried his past without mawkishness, but the feeling had been accompanied by images from the Club’s heyday. Those old gemstone cutters he’d been picturing earlier. Hunched over their polishing wheels, surrounded by the tools of their trade.

It had been a very different era.

When he’d dropped his bill into the guitarist’s donation can Avram had noticed a Web address painted on the front of his instrument along with its other graffiti. What had it been? Fuzzgrenade.com? Softgel.net? No, no. But something along those lines. Industrious kid. He must do parties, clubs.

Avram wished he’d paid closer attention to the gaudy self-promotion. One of these days, he hoped to hold a grand affair. His silver anniversary celebration, perhaps. His son’s college graduation, his daughter’s wedding. He would rent a huge hall, maybe sail his guests away on a cruise. Why go for the common entertainers? The wedding orchestras? How nice it would be to give the kid a break, offer him some decent pay. Hear him perform his entire repertoire. One of these days, yes. At some gala reception. When he could stop hiding his true means, show that he was a man of substance. It would be a coming-out of sorts….

His cell phone rang. Avram produced a long exhale. The dance was grinding on his nerves; he wanted it to end.

“Yes.” Wearily.

At the other end, Lathrop took note of his tone of voice.

“Patience, Avram,” he said. “You’re almost there.”

His eyes boring holes into the robot mime, Avram gave no comment.

* * *

As Megan listened to everything Noriko Cousins said about Armbright’s curious shipping patterns — not yet ready to call them anomalies—she was thinking that Noriko had certainly done her homework, although what she’d presented to this point (without once referring to notes) didn’t go very much beyond citing details already contained in the files she had transmitted to SanJo before the weekend, and, perhaps, fleshing out some of the sketchier threads of information they included. Megan was also thinking Noriko had undoubtedly touched upon matters that might well prove to be a big deal to UpLink and the entire country if her