April 4: A Different Perspective (6 page)

They would likely jam cell phones right around Wiggen as she moved, but if they jammed data wireless it tended to be a tight bubble around her, not this far away. He sat on the edge of a planter and accessed the camera from his phone, zoomed in on the door and centralized it. Then he carefully erased the address the phone had automatically recorded. After a bit he planted a second camera. Not so much as a back-up, but it was better than throwing it away and he didn't want to take it back to his room. There were several public wireless nets hot on the plaza, so he set the cameras to different ones.

Back in his room he made a pile of pillows and got comfortable. He had several new books in his compact computer and time this evening to enjoy them.

A firm knock on the door interrupted his immersion in the book. "House, unlock," he called and then realized it wouldn't do that here, like at home. It was a plain mechanical deadbolt on top. "Coming," he corrected and sat the computer aside on the bed.

The pair in the hall were mid-thirties, in nice, but off the rack suits and the shoes screamed they were cops.

"Hmm, not local, not military," he checked out the haircut and ties. "You boys gotta be Feds - probably FBI. Why don't ya come in and make yourselves at home?"

"Thank you," the man seemed indifferent to his analysis. "You are correct. I'm Special Agent Pilato and this is agent Harriman." He offered ID and Otis made the gesture of really looking at it, since it seemed expected.

"We'd like to ask you a few questions. Do you have any objection?"

"No, not as long as you answer one of mine first. Am I a suspect in some criminal act? If so I'm afraid I'd have to lawyer up on general principles. If you have questions about third parties I have no problem talking to you."

"Would you mind me seeing what you were reading when we came in?"

"You're welcome to look at the item displayed. If you want to do a general search of my computer or phone I'll have to ask you to get a warrant. The comp has all sorts of private information about Security Associates and my boss would have my head if I just casually handed it over."

The Special Agent nodded an acknowledgement and picked it up. Otis expected him to toss it back down after a few sentences, but he obviously read it all the way to the page end.

"This is damn good stuff. Who's the author?" he asked.

"Michael Z. Williamson, the novel is 'Better to Beg Forgiveness'."

The lesser agent looked uncomfortable at this chatty exchange. Unlike the older agent, he'd looked pissed ever since Otis had ID'd them as Feebs.

"Do you know why we came to speak with you?" he asked, probably out of turn.

"Oh sure, President Wiggen is in town and I just flew all the way across the continent to be in the same city. I'm a shooter, an actual competent one. So that scares you guys. Hell of a shame the government needs to train people like me, it makes your job harder, but no way around it unless they go to all mercenaries instead of a citizen army."

"Leaving aside the political tones of that you are correct. Can you tell us why you are in town and when you expect to leave?"

"I'm here to sign a contract with Yani Cinema for security services. I work for Security Associates out of Atlanta and we signed the papers up this afternoon. My local man Keith  anderson drove me over there and dropped me off after. You can check with the studio people that I was there too. I might mention this was all arranged and we made reservations, before it was ever announced President Wiggen would be in town. If I'd known I'd have re-scheduled it for another week."

"Why's that?" the Special Agent reasserted himself.

"Because I don't like to fly back at night, but if I try to fly out in the morning I can get caught in all the jammed up traffic and flight delays from President Wiggen being in town. No telling if she'll leave early or late and I could get stuck sitting in the plane for five or six hours waiting to take off. We moved my flight up to tomorrow, so all that will be sorted out before I board."

"And do you feel resentment over that, Mr. anderson?" the under agent asked.

"Don't be a horse's ass." Otis told the younger man. "Of course I resent it. I won't play this childish game of any hint of dissatisfaction being the same as disloyalty. I served with officers who needed help to tie their shoes in the morning. I did my job and ignored what I couldn't fix. I swore an oath to protect the United States and its constitution. That didn't end just because I'm no longer active duty. I don't know Wiggen, but I'd do anything to protect her, or any other serving President, even if she irritates me. Shit, just about everybody irritates me. You sure as hell do. It's almost my frigging hobby. I think your computer will tell you I mean all that."

"With a probability of  97%," the senior agent agreed. "Nevertheless, I need to follow procedures and ask if we can look around the room and your vehicle."

"I don't have a car. That's why my local man drove me here and back. I hate rental cars and dealing with them. Feel free to look around. If I make you too nervous here, you can always move me out by the airport and upgrade me to a nicer room. I wouldn't argue with you at all."

"I doubt my supervisor would buy that. We don't usually get put up in anything this nice when
we
travel."

Otis recovered his computer and sat in a chair by the table. Putting his feet up on the other chair. The agents checked under the mattress and in the drawers, It was interesting that one grabbed all the tissues in the bathroom dispenser and checked behind them, as well as in the toilet tank. They looked at the Gideon bible, but just a cursory glance, they didn't fan the pages thoroughly. They're just going through the motions to cover their butts, Otis decided. They didn't check the backs of the curtains or take the grill off the bathroom exhaust fan.

* * *

If he were doing these interviews, Otis would leave an underling in place to observe each person interviewed after the agents left. Any precipitous flight or flurry of communications would be a tip off that something was awry. So he leaned back and relaxed to enjoy his book. If they had anything concrete on him he'd be in an interrogation room being sweated, especially anything from the airport.

 Otis believed they really were just scrutinizing anyone with military service who suddenly decided to rush to the same town President Wiggen was visiting. There were always a lot of know mental cases and political extremists to check out too. Probably local cops would be running most of those down. They should have his letter by now, but he didn't expect that to be taken seriously, or to affect their routines until it was validated in the morning.

Chapter 7

"We have a new client coming to talk about banking with us tomorrow. I think you will want to be there," Jeff told April. "A Mr. Santos, I believe," he said casually.

"Papa-san!" April said, face lighting up. "Is his wife with him? Any of his cloud of minions? He came in last week with the lieutenants and he hasn't listed himself on station com and I haven't heard from him. I was starting to wonder if he went back off station," she admitted.

"I believe you are correct. He and his wife had some business with Jan over at ISSII. However he came back and has rented some industrial cubic. He had a private shuttle flight come in and closed the dock off to public access and view for a few hours while he unloaded it. In fact, he may have been your lieutenants' first security customer, if I'm not mistaken."

"I knew that. I should have realized that meant no minions. His household had all sorts of interesting people," she said, remembering her trip down to Earth.

"Well, you can ask him about that, if you come," Jeff suggested.

"Of course I want to see them, they are dear friends."

"That's excellent certainly, but don't forget I want you to see them officially, as an officer of the bank. Is 1500 at Heather's OK with you?" he asked, standing up.

"1500 is fine. Is there anything Gunny shouldn't hear? I would expect to have him along, if that's OK."

"Sure, why isn't he with you this morning?"

April looked embarrassed. "I was afraid we might argue more than I wanted him to see. I was pretty hot about the whole royalty thing."

She never did get around to telling them about her cubic.

Gunny was there when she got home. She didn't recount her conversation about titles and such, but when she told him about Santos he perked up.

"I'd like you along," she said plainly, before he thought it was another private conference. They spent most of the remainder of the day in personable silence. April was happy he wasn't mindlessly chatty. On the other hand when he did have something to say she listened up, because she was finding his experience and maturity a valuable asset. Quite different than say, her grandpa, but still valuable in a different way.

April went to bed in her old room. She realized she wouldn't be doing this much longer. It made her feel funny. It might not even be here soon, unless her mom kept it as a guest room. Her mom might decide to tear it out and blend the cubic back into the common volume, like she was going to do with her April's brother Bob's old room. If she had no morbid nostalgia for that room, she had even less reason to preserve April's.

In the morning she was still thinking about it. "Gunny," she said on the way to breakfast, "I may get that cubic fixed up and move into it before your month contract runs out. It isn't as big as my folks' place and I can't see splitting it into two bedrooms each with a tiny bath. Especially not for such a short period of time. Would it bother you for a week or so, to share a bath with me? I just might leave that ugly little bath in there until you are gone."

"That wouldn't bother me, but where would I sleep?"

"I thought I'd get a sofa bed," she explained. "IKEA has a line that is engineered super-lightweight to ship to remote areas. For a fee they package it even lighter for orbital freight than just air freight. They are a lot more comfortable than the old steel spring and frame sofa beds and don't forget it's on the half G level, so it's a lot more comfortable on just about anything."

"I can see that working, but I need a little privacy. I don't want to try to dress in a tiny little wet closet bath. If we do that I want some kind of curtain or screen that goes around the corner where this sofa bed goes. I'm not prissy, but I don't want to dress and undress in front of you."

"That would be easy to do. I can do a curtain on a ceiling track and it would be nice later, if I have overnight guests who'd appreciate a little privacy too."

"Is your bath in your room the same as the one in your brother Bob's?"

"Yes it is. I imagine it feels like a coffin to you?"

"Not as bad as you might think. I've used some mighty cramped lavatories on military planes," he explained. "But you might consider installing
two
of those. I'd rather somebody else exposed you to all the realities of living with a man. and if I use the shower I'll need to walk there and back to my curtain with at most a towel around me. You may not care for a hairy old man walking about like that and I'm not sure it is a healthy thing, with which I'd be comfortable, for our personal
or
business relationship."

"I was planning on a little bigger bath for my place, one that actually has a separate space instead of the shower head in the same enclosure as the toilet. I got kind of spoiled on Earth. It will take up about two and a half square meters, instead of one and a half, I think."

"Big enough to have a bench to sit and get dressed?" Gunny asked.

"No, although I could look at that. How about if I had my bath and one like you have right now? With the entry cut off by your privacy screen?"

"That's four square meters tied up in baths. Do you want to be stuck with that even after I'm gone?" he asked dubiously.

"Yes, actually I think I would. If I have dinner guests they can use the other bath instead of sending them into my private bath. Then I can put my entry in my bedroom just like I have it now, which I didn't want to do with one bathroom, because I'd need to send people through my private space in my bedroom."

"I think I have a better idea. Have two baths but share a common shower stall. Have a frosted glass door on each side and a solid sliding door that is opaque and sound absorbing to cover the shower entry if you want to use your side. When the solid door is shut it locks the glass door too giving you total privacy."

"That's brilliant," she admitted. "With interlocks so only one side at a time will open. I'll describe it to Jeff and have him detail the design."

Chapter 8

Otis had set no wake up call for the morning. He'd gone to bed early and knew his internal clock was still on Atlanta time and he'd be up early whether he wanted to be or not. He took a dip in the hotel pool when he woke at dawn and packed his few things up for the late afternoon flight. The reports he'd requested on Polzinsky and the Home native were in his e-mail and he set it to unencrypt them.

He wished to be in a public place and visible in a way that could be verified this morning, so Otis left the bag in his room ready to leave and asked the desk for a limo to be scheduled for him to go to the airport at two in the afternoon. The reservation made perfect sense, the FBI might check details like that. The fact that he had scheduled the ride so early would speak well of his intentions. Then he went to the hotel restaurant and ordered an extensive breakfast.

The television over the bar was visible from his table. He didn't have to ask it be changed to a channel covering the President's visit. That was good, he didn't want to demonstrate an interest. There were already talking heads going over the events of the day and waiting for her to show. The camera briefly showed a hallway that looked industrial, with a bare concrete floor. It ended at the inside of a double steel door, with a foursome of Marine guards posted.

Otis pulled his web cam up on one of his cell phones and compared the outside of the door he was monitoring. It certainly looked the right size and style. He was pretty confident it was the only doorway she could be using, unless he'd made a huge mistake. He zoomed the outside camera in as tight as it would go until the door appeared a mere ten meters away.