“Lia, they’re back out on the highway, going toward the city,” said Rockman.
“That’s nice.” She could hear the helicopter well to the north.
“Aren’t you going to follow?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Woman’s intuition.”
She popped the trunk and took out a large golf bag. Unzipping the top, she pulled out what looked like the body of a good-sized crow. The wings were contained in a small case; she slotted them into the indents and added the stabilizer, which looked like a fanned tail at the end. The robot airplane was powered by a battery-operated fan engine that fit on the top; it could only do about twelve knots, but it was difficult to tell from a real bird from anything over ten yards away.
Lia booted up the diagnostic program on her handheld, waiting for the aircraft’s tiny computer to finish its own boot checks. Finally she got a green flash. Programming the Crow was simple — she designated the target and then punched one of the preprogrammed flight patterns, in this case an overlaid double-eight. Then she picked up the Crow, put her right thumb on the launch button — actually a detent on the right side of the bird’s body — and took a two-step away from the car, throwing it into the air as she did. The Crow swooped downward, then began to soar.
“Why did you launch the Crow?” hissed Telach.
“They’re coming back to the industrial park.”
“How do you know that?”
Lia ignored her and got back in the car.
“Lia, this time you’ve gone too far. Lia!”
“Drive up the highway to this point here,” she told her driver, showing him the map on the handheld. “See this fence here? I think I can get over it.”
“That car in the comer there — we saw that in the briefing, right?” asked the driver.
“Right. That’s one of the vehicles they used to shadow Dean after he was dropped off,” said Lia. “It’s covering the south entrance to the industrial park and it hasn’t moved at all. The geniuses back in the Art Room missed it.”
“Well, you could have told us that earlier,” said Telach in her ear.
“I accept your apology,” said Lia.
“Tell me about your days as an undergraduate, Dr. Dean.”
“A lot of partying,” said Dean.
“You’re the same age as Dr. Kegan.”
“Yes, I am. I lost a few years.”
“So I’ve heard. Where did they go?”
“You want my life story?”
“After a fashion.”
Dean’s phony life story tracked his real one to a point, substituting the twenty years he’d spent in the Marine Corps for a gig as a high school biology teacher with a drinking problem. That allowed for the perfect intersection of his youth, which couldn’t be conveniently altered, and gave him just enough of a sordid past to suggest he might be interesting. His phony teaching record, college transcripts, a few academic papers, and even two DWI convictions had been sprinkled surreptitiously into the official records by Desk Three.
“St. James?” asked Hercules.
It sounded familiar — was it a school Keys had gone to?
“Bluff,” said the voice in Dean’s head.
“Um, a church?” asked Dean.
“Chester High School,” said Hercules.
Charlie laughed. His head pounded harder.
“I’m afraid I don’t remember much of my time at good ol’ Chester Central School District,” he said. “Eventually I was informed that my services were redundant.”
“Too much of the grape.”
“Vodka, actually. Though for a bit there I wasn’t all that particular.”
“You don’t look well.”
“I don’t feel that well,” said Dean. “I think I ate something bad last night.”
“Where did you eat?”
Was that part of the test?
“A restaurant, uh, Kingel or Kindel or something along those lines.”
“If you’re in Vienna again, I would recommend Zum Kuckuck,” said Hercules. “Very nice. Expensive.”
“Maybe you’ll foot the bill, huh?”
Hercules leaned over in the seat as they drove, and tugged at Dean’s sleeve.
“What?”
“Show me your arm.”
Dean rolled up his sleeve.
“No bruises?”
“Bruises?”
“Welts anywhere?”
“He thinks you have it,” whispered Rockman.
Have what? Charlie wondered.
“Not that you know,” said Chaucer.
Charlie pulled his hand back. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to get a physical.”
“You may be feeling the aftereffects of the Demerol,” said Hercules, sitting back upright. “Okay, let’s go back.”
“Back where?”
“I’m afraid that my associates don’t quite believe you’re who you claim to be, and so we have a little quiz for you to pass before we can proceed. Given the amount of money at stake, I’m sure you understand that we want to protect our investment fully.”
“I don’t know anything about money,” offered Dean.
Hercules laughed. “You really are naive, aren’t you, Dr. Dean?”
“I’m not a doctor,” said Dean.
The complex consisted of two identical buildings covered with elaborate masonry designs, along with a smaller garage at the left end and a number of trailers in the back. Only one of the two buildings seemed to be occupied, at least if the Crow’s sensors could be believed; it was possible that there was a basement level with activity the Crow couldn’t see. A satellite was being directed overhead to provide a view.
The trailers were more interesting. Two appeared to have been set up as roving laboratories. The infrared images were being studied by the scientific teams; there were autoclaves, a fermenter, refrigerators, incubators, microscopes, computers — enough gear to keep a mad scientist happy for years.
“That’s where we want to go, huh?” said Lia, looking at the images on the handheld.
“Dangerous, very dangerous,” said Telach. “Let’s let this play out a bit.”
“I want to get inside the complex before they get back,” Lia said.
“All right, but hurry. They’re less than ten minutes away,” said Rockman.
The infrared camera on the Crow gave Lia a good view of the complex. A pair of security cams observed the rear fence; they were static but had good coverage. One could be approached from the west without being observed. It had been situated in a recessed box in a stone pillar to prevent tampering — a not unreasonable approach, unless the person doing the tampering was a member of Deep Black.
Lia slid up to the box, holding what looked like a large tumbler in her right hand.
“They’re coming,” said Rockman. “Five minutes.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
