Death Wave (7 page)

Gesturing to the two black-clad bodies, he asked, “Are they dead?”

The woman answered, “No, sir. We use electric tranquilizer charges. Shocks their nervous system. They'll be able to face interrogation in an hour or so.”

“If the darts didn't overshock them,” her partner said, with a grim smile.

The woman started speaking into her wrist communicator. Calling for backup, Jordan figured. Through the open doorway to the bedroom he saw the two robots. They had frozen, as if someone had removed their power supply. They're not programmed to handle assassination attempts, Jordan told himself.

Turning back to the young man, he asked, “What do we do now?”

Still gripping his pistol, the guard said, “We sit tight, right here. Our people are going through the hotel, from roof to basement. Drones are scanning the whole area outside and an evac jumpjet is on its way here for you.”

With a single brusque nod, Jordan turned to Aditi. She looked pale, shaken. “You'd better sit down, dear.”

He led her to the sofa and sat beside her.

“You're sure you're all right?”

“Yes … I just need a few moments…”

The door swung open and another pair of security people stepped through, nodding wordlessly at the two already there as they went to the inert bodies of the would-be assassins and knelt beside them.

“Medical team,” the young man told Jordan.

“How long do we have to wait—”

A slightly older man came into the sitting room. He was wearing a cream-colored jacket that fitted him exactly and tight slacks of pearl gray. Smiling handsomely, he made a polite little bow before Jordan and Aditi.

“How do you do? I am Rudolfo Castiglione, special assistant to Anita Halleck, chairwoman of the World Council.”

He was a handsome devil, Jordan saw, but his smile looked somehow less than sincere, his green eyes almost amused.

Jordan got to his feet and extended his hand. “You got here very quickly.”

Castiglione shrugged nonchalantly. “You have never been out of our sight since you arrived on Earth three weeks ago. When we got wind of this plot to assassinate you, naturally we increased your security screen. Chairwoman Halleck herself told me to go to you, to make certain you'd be safe.”

The two medics had reactivated the robots, which rolled into the sitting room, lifted the still-unconscious bodies of the would-be assassins, and carried them out.

Jordan watched it all, unconsciously grasping his own wrist to feel his pulse. Strong and steady. To Castiglione he said, “Well, your team arrived just in time to save us. We appreciate your prompt action.”

Castiglione's smile became even brighter. “It was a rather narrow scrape, wasn't it?” Looking down at Aditi, he asked solicitously, “You weren't harmed, were you?”

“No,” she said, with something of her normal tone returning. “I'm fine.”

“Very good. Excellent!” Hiking a thumb toward the shattered window, he went on, “These windows are made with special glass. When they are broken, they shatter into a million particles, but none of them are sharp enough to break one's skin.”

“Very safe,” Jordan said.

“Yes,” said Castiglione. “Now we must whisk you away to a place where you'll be perfectly safe.”

“My cottage in Cornwall—”

“No, no. Impossible, I'm afraid. They know of your cottage. They'll try to get to you there.”

His brows knitting, Jordan asked, “And who might
they
be?”

“Fanatics,” Castiglione replied without an eyeblink's hesitation. “Lunatics who believe that we are about to be invaded by alien monsters.”

“I'm not a monster!” Aditi objected.

“Of course not,” said Castiglione. “But there are those who believe that the aliens who, er … constructed you are preparing to invade our planet and wipe out the human race.”

“Poppycock!” Jordan snapped.

“Yes, certainly. But that is what they believe. And they are ready to kill for their beliefs, as you just saw.”

Jordan glanced down at Aditi. She seemed recovered now, her firm little chin set determinedly.

“The best way to combat such fears,” he said to Castiglione, “is to show the world that Aditi is as human as you or I. We have to turn to the news media to—”

“No!” Castiglione yelped. “You can't go out in public. You can't become an object of the media's feeding frenzy. We're not even allowing a public disclosure of this assassination attempt. It would lead to copycat attacks, for certain.”

“I don't agree,” said Jordan.

Looking disappointed, almost hurt, Castiglione said, “You will have to discuss that with Anita Halleck, then.”

“Very well. The sooner the better.”

Castiglione's smile returned. “Good. The first thing is to get you to a place of safety.”

The female security guard stepped into their conversation. “Jumpjet is landing on the hotel roof.”

“Fine,” said Castiglione. Extending his hand to Aditi, he said, “Come with me, please, lovely one.”

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To a place where you'll be completely safe,” said Castiglione.

 

TARRAGONA AIR FORCE BASE

Once he and Aditi reached the roof, with Castiglione and a half-dozen security guards around them, Jordan saw that the hotel had a helipad up there, complete with a small control booth and still more security people standing around, gripping deadly looking black guns, looking on guard, steely-eyed.

A jumpjet sat on the pad, its swept-back wings drooping slightly, the nozzles of its jet engines swiveled downward for vertical flight. The plane seemed sparkling new, the blue and white insignia of the World Council emblazoned on its silvery side and tail.

Castiglione extended his hand and helped Aditi up the metal ladder and into the jumpjet. He followed her inside, between her and Jordan.

The passenger compartment of the plane was small but plushly comfortable, with cushioned couches on either end of it. Jordan and Aditi sat side by side on one couch, Castiglione facing them. Through the glassed partition behind his handsomely smiling face Jordan could see the two helmeted pilots. Once the three passengers clicked their safety harnesses on, the machine hauled vertically off the roof, pirouetted once in midair, then headed out toward the glittering sea.

Jordan could see the statue of Christopher Columbus at harborside, pointing vaguely in the direction of America. Plenty of ships at the piers, mostly cruise liners, with freighters and container ships moored in the deeper water. Farther out was the seawall built to protect the city from the sea level rise caused by the first wave of greenhouse warming. It extended out to the edges of the city. Like the wall of a medieval castle, Jordan thought. Construction cranes and barges dotted its length: building it higher, stronger, against the rising sea caused by the new meltdowns of the Greenland and Antarctic ice caps.

It was smoothly quiet inside the jumpjet. Good acoustical insulation, Jordan thought.

Leaning toward Castiglione, he asked, “Where are we going?”

“To a safe place,” the man answered, his eyes on Aditi.

Jordan felt uneasy. He didn't quite trust this smiling, good-looking stranger who seemed focused on his wife. He knew that Halleck had detailed security people to shield him and Aditi from the news media's unwanted attention, but a whole team of guards, including medics and a jumpjet?

Be grateful they were there, he told himself. Otherwise you and Aditi would be dead.

Aditi asked, “Where is this safe place?”

Castiglione's smile widened as he laid a single slender finger across his lips.

*   *   *

The jumpjet flew down the Catalan coastline for almost half an hour, then landed at a smallish airfield. As they approached the ground, Jordan could not see any commercial planes: only military jets, in blotches of brown camouflage paint and, farther off, what looked like rocketplanes, sleek and bright in the Mediterranean sun.

“This is the Tarragona Air Force Base,” Castiglione said. “Very safe, very secure. You will stay here for the time being.”

“And how long will that be?” Jordan asked.

Castiglione shrugged elaborately. “Until we have dug out all the fanatics who want you dead.”

Aditi spoke up. “That could be quite a while, I suppose.”

“Yes, quite a long while. But you'll be very comfortable here. You'll see. The military don't live like Spartans, you know. They like their creature comforts, just as you and I do.”

“Once we're on the ground,” Jordan said, “I'd like to contact Mitchell Thornberry and let him know what's happened.”

Castiglione frowned. “I'm afraid that communications beyond the perimeter of the base will be impossible. We don't want anyone to know where you are.”

Jordan didn't feel the slightest surprise. But he said, “Thornberry will be worried if we simply disappear. He and Dr. Longyear—”

“We will contact them and let them know you are under protective custody.”

“Can I talk with Ms. Halleck, at least?”

“At least?” Castiglione laughed. “The head of the World Council, and you say ‘at least'?”

Jordan was finding it easy to dislike the man. “At least,” he repeated.

Nodding, Castiglione said, “Yes, of course you will be able to speak with her. She is very concerned about your safety.”

“I'm sure,” said Jordan.

*   *   *

Jordan had to admit that their accommodations were indeed quite comfortable. Not as posh as the hotel, but the quarters Castiglione showed them, on the top floor of a barrackslike cinderblock building, included a king-sized bedroom, a small but neat sitting room, a kitchen, and a modern lavatory.

“Your home away from home,” Castiglione said expansively.

“Very nice,” Jordan replied. Thinly.

A single robot painted army brown carried a double armful of bags and boxes into the kitchen.

“Stocking your refrigerator,” Castiglione explained. “Your clothes and things from the hotel will be arriving soon.”

Jordan nodded complacently and waited for Castiglione—and the robot—to leave. Once the door shut behind them, he turned to Aditi.

“It's been quite a day.”

She was looking doubtfully up at the ceiling beams. The rooms looked immaculately clean to Jordan, but he wondered if there were microphones or pin-sized cameras hidden here and there.

As if she understood his anxiety, Aditi said, “I've blocked the bugs.”

Jordan felt his brows hike upward. “You have?”

Tapping her left temple, Aditi smiled impishly. “They won't be able to spy on us.”

“Well,” he said, sliding his arms around her waist, “that's something, I suppose.”

 

ASSESSMENT

Jordan looked into Aditi's eyes. “Are you truly all right?”

“Yes,” she said, running a hand along her bare arm. “Not even bruised.”

“When that window burst, you didn't even scream,” he marveled.

“There was no time. Before I could draw in a breath you were on top of me, protecting me.”

He shrugged. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

Her face grew somber. “They wanted to kill us. To kill me.”

“They knew where we were,” Jordan murmured. “In that enormous hotel, they knew exactly which window was ours. And they were able to rig cables from the roof, where the helipad is, to get to our window.”

“What are you saying, Jordan?”

Leading her to the cushioned bench that served as a sofa, he said, “They had excellent intelligence. They knew where we were and how to get to us. The helipad workers must have seen them setting up the cables.”

“They must have thought they were window washers or maintenance people.”

“In black jumpsuits?”

Frowning, Aditi repeated, “What are you saying, Jordan?”

He didn't answer. Instead, he sat on the less-than-comfortable bench and pulled Aditi down beside him.

“Well?” she demanded.

Jordan could feel himself frowning. He didn't like the scenario playing out in his mind.

Trying to make his expression more relaxed, he replied, “Would we have agreed to be shut away in this military base if we hadn't been attacked?”

“No, of course not.”

“I'm just wondering…”

“Wondering?”

“What if the attack was all a fake, a stunt to frighten us into allowing Halleck and her people to hide us away, out of the public's sight.”

Her eyes widening, Aditi asked, “Why would she do that?”

He shook his head. “Perhaps I'm just a touch paranoid.”

Aditi got to her feet and headed for the kitchen. “I think you're just hungry. We haven't had anything to eat since breakfast, and that was
hours
ago.”

As she started rummaging through the cupboard and refrigerator, Jordan went to the tiny counter that separated the kitchen from the sitting room and perched on one of the stools there.

“Halleck has kept us away from the news media almost entirely,” he said. “We haven't talked to a reporter or commentator since the day we landed on Earth.”

“That's not entirely true,” Aditi said as she pulled a pair of prepackaged meals from the freezer. “We've conducted several interviews.”

“Not live. Not in person. The questions were handed to us by a World Council public relations official and we responded to them remotely.”

“Still…” She peeled off the covers and the meals instantly heated.

Jordan continued, “Then we go to the World Council meeting and it's quite clear that they have no intention of dealing with the death wave—”

“It's too far in the future for them to consider it a real threat.”

“Or to build the starships we need to help other worlds in danger.”