Edge of Tomorrow (86 page)

He was jolted from his reverie when Syd
repeated, “Your dining room will be fine, Marty.”

“Of course. This way please.”

They arose and he led them through a door
into a room that was 12 feet by 12 feet and had two round tables in
it. One had a white linen table cloth on it and had three place
settings. A small vase in the center of the table held fresh
flowers. A waiter wearing a white linen jacket stood next to the
table. Marty had called him and asked him to come in even though it
was Sunday. He would be paid well.

“We’ll be dining here, Stan,” said Marty.
“Would you inform Jensen so he can cancel my reservation at the
restaurant?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be back in a moment to take
your orders,” said Stan as he exited through another door.

A blackboard on an easel stood in one corner
and had a short list of menu items written on it in chalk. The
three of them sat down at the table. Stan returned and took their
drink orders, and all three requested White Zinfandel. Stan
returned with their wine and they all ordered the sole with new
potatoes and steamed asparagus.

“Remember, Stan, no sauce on mine,” said
Marty.

“Of course, sir.”

“No sauce?” asked Sara. “That’s the best
part.”

“Ever since my heart attack, I’ve had to
forgo anything that tastes good!” he chuckled. “At least, I let
myself enjoy a little wine now and then. The two beauties at my
table are a good excuse!”

Syd sipped her wine and remarked, “Heart
attack? I guess I don’t know anything about you, Marty. I suppose
you know all about me and Sara, though.”

“All I know about you, Syd, is that you are
engaged to my boss, that you are in possession of his Power of
Attorney, and that you are a college professor. I know a little
more about Sara, since I have read her company dossier. I know she
was a Marine Corps major and is currently manager of the training
and operation of some Hostage Rescue Teams. However, most of what
those teams actually do is missing in her file. That is by design,
Hatch told me, so I can truthfully say—if called upon at an
inquiry—that I have no knowledge of their activities. So, I guess,
you are both ladies of mystery—and both very beautiful, I might
add.”

Sara blushed, but Syd ignored his flattery
and continued, “No dossier on me, Marty? I thought you would have
done a complete background check on me by now—especially since
Hatch gave the mystery woman his Power of Attorney.”

“Actually, I suggested that, but Hatch said
no,” he replied with an arched eyebrow, wondering how she would
react to his statement.

“We’re on the same page on that, Marty. I
suggested a strong prenup to Hatch, but he gave me the Power of
Attorney instead. Now that things are like they are, I’m glad I
have it, because it allows me to help the man I love. Hatch knows
my entire background—as does Sara and several others in LRD. I
would be glad to give you a quick synopsis,” replied Syd.

“That’s not necessary, Syd,” said Marty.

“It might help you prepare a dossier on me,
which is what I want you to do. Check everything. I want you to be
able to trust me. I’m sure all the company CEOs are shaking in
their boots.”

“Hatch asked me not to do a check, and I
won’t. It isn’t necessary for me to trust you, you know,” replied
Marty seriously.

“It’s important to
me
, Marty!” exclaimed Syd.

Sara interjected, “Are you afraid you’ll lose
your job?”

Marty laughed heartily. “Heavens no! You gals
don’t really know me at all, do you?”

Sara replied, “I’ve seen you on TV, and in
magazines and newspapers. You’re a big mogul. What I meant, though,
was you don’t want to disobey one of Hatch’s orders, even if Syd
wants you to.”

Marty sipped his wine, stroked his
chin, then said, “I
do
want
to know more about you, Syd—
and
you, too, Sara.”

His blue eyes bore into Sara’s and she
tingled all over.

He continued, “Maybe a short summary of
your background would be in order, but first let me tell you a
couple of things about
me
, so
you’ll understand where I’m coming from. Now,
that
sounds egotistical, doesn’t it?” He
laughed. “First, I’m not afraid of being fired. I do not need a
job. I do like this one, however. When I joined Hatch, I was
already very close to being a billionaire. Yes, that’s with a ‘B.’
Now, of course, I am. After my heart attack in 1996, I retired, but
after a year, I was climbing the walls. I needed to be doing
something. Hatch rescued me, and now I’m a high-priced errand boy,
but best of all, I am the public image of Lincoln Industries. As
you might have noticed, Sara, from the number of times you’ve seen
me in the media, I thrive on being in the spot light—Hatch does
not. We’re a perfect match. Second, except for Hatch, I know the
most about the details of all of Hatch’s holdings—secrets that no
one else knows. Or, I should say, I know the road map to the places
and people where the secrets are. I don’t think Hatch wants to
break in a new man—person. Now, Syd, tell me your deep, dark
secrets, if you wish.”

Syd now looked into Marty’s blue eyes for a
few seconds, then said, “Marty, first, let me apologize. I
understand you a little better now, and you are certainly no errand
boy! You hold Hatch’s empire together so he can focus on things he
prefers—like LRD. I can see now that I would never have met him if
it wasn’t for you!”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” he
laughed.

Syd continued, “Now, here are some things
about me …”

She gave him a quick review of her
background, including a sanitized version of her stint in the
MOSSAD. She did not tell him about any of the events involving
Shadow choppers or Lincoln’s Liberators. Marty sat silently for a
moment and toyed with his filet of sole, which had been brought in
by Stan during Syd’s discourse. He looked back up at Syd, then
Sara.

“You knew this, Sara?” he asked.

“Of course. She’s one fucking, amazing lady!
I’ve been in action with her in situations that come under the
umbrella of need to know—established by Hatch. Situations that are
better for you legally if you don’t know too many details.”

“How intriguing! I hardly know what to say!”
he said.

“Now you understand, Marty,” said Syd, “why
we need your help. Help us find Hatch’s attacker. We’ll do the
rest.”

When Marty didn’t say anything, Syd smiled
and added, “This fish is excellent, and the wine is superb! Could
you pour me another glass, please?”

• • •

As the meal came to a close, Marty’s mind was
reeling with a variety of thoughts. He knew of Hatch’s involvement
in the CIA, even that he was a NOC agent for a few years. He also
knew that some of the actions taken by Sara’s HRTs sometimes pushed
the cutting edge of legality. He had been able to make intelligent
guesses about some of those operations by comparing news reports
with internal documents and his own knowledge of where in the world
Hatch and Sara were. He was completely smitten by the aura of these
two gorgeous, and obviously dangerous, women. He could see how
Hatch was attracted to Syd. He wondered if he could get closer to
Sara. She excited him tremendously! He decided to let things
progress a little further before making a move on her.

Syd had asked Marty for help in
tracking down possible candidates for Hatch’s attacker. She had
mentioned Tessitore—without giving any reason for suspecting
him—and Lucchese, also giving no particulars except that he was
killed by Tessitore, but the
Catena di
Morte
organization still existed. She did mention that
they were involved on the periphery of the Monterra conflict. She
also told him about the partial number she got off the assassin’s
chopper.

“Well, Syd,” he said as coffee was served,
“you obviously need access to various files—law enforcement, FBI,
CIA, and who knows what others. I, of course, have no such
access.”

“Shit!” exclaimed Syd.

“Don’t get discouraged! Remember, I told you
I am sort of the traffic cop around here. I can’t know all the
details in Hatch’s vast empire, but I can direct you through the
various mazes. I suspected you would need something like this, so I
set up an appointment for you with Cornelius Campbell, called
‘Soup’ by most of his associates.”

Sara laughed, “Soup Campbell! Campbell Soup!
How quaint!”

Marty went on, “That may be the reason for
the nickname, but I’ve heard him referred to as ‘Super Nerd’ and
‘Super Hacker,’ so it’s not clear how he got tagged with it. In any
case, his IQ is off the chart. He is—among other things—the system
architect of our computer and communications systems here. He
spends a lot of time in Arizona with Dr. Robert Mills, Director of
Research and Development at LRD, but you’re in luck—he’s here
today. You’ll meet with him at 3:00 P.M. For security reasons—and
maybe legal ones as well—Sara and I will not attend that meeting.
After your meeting, you will have to make an assessment as to
what—if anything—you want to share with anyone. Mr. Campbell was
reluctant to meet with you at all, even after I informed him of the
Power of Attorney. I had to play him the recording Hatch made when
he gave me the document. It essentially orders everyone to treat
you, Syd, as if you were Hatch. That’s why he agreed to meet—but
only with you, Syd.”

Syd shook her head in amazement. “What a
strange company! Everyone has secrets from each other! You don’t
know what Sara does, Sara can’t know what Soup does! Soup can
refuse an order from you, Marty! Who in the hell is driving?”

Marty peered at Syd and said, “Hatch.
Or at least he was. Now
you
are.”

“Shit! Nobody really believes that!”
spat Syd. “Especially not
me
!
I guess Hatch
is
the bridge
that spans a lot of mysteries. Well, let me go and find out what
Mr. Soup knows that no one else does! I need help!”

• • •

Soup Campbell was shorter than Syd. He was 5
feet 6 inches tall, 140 pounds, 42 years old, had brown eyes, and
had bushy, brown hair. At least, Syd noticed, he did not wear thick
glasses like most of the nerds she had known in high school and
college. Marty had introduced them, then left them alone in Soup’s
office, which had a desk and three tables, all covered with
computer screens, keyboards, and other assorted equipment that Syd
did not recognize.

Soup said in a pleasant voice, “Pleased to
meet you, Syd—may I call you that?”

“Of course, Soup. I want us to be comfortable
with each other,” replied Syd. “Do you know what it is I’m
after?”

“Briefly. Marty gave me an overview. You want
to catch the bastard who shot Hatch. Right?”

“Absolutely! Can you help?”

“Maybe. First, let me warn you that if I
decide that I can help, everything you see me do cannot be talked
about. Understand? The other way is for you to give me a list of
things you want to know, then leave the room for awhile.”

“I will keep your secrets, whatever they are.
I don’t want to cause anybody any trouble. Hatch would kill me if I
did! I just want to catch an assassin!”

“Then welcome to the Con—the Control Room for
the Good Ship Lollipop,” he said as he motioned for Syd to sit in a
swivel chair in front of one of the consoles. He sat down in a
wheeled swivel chair, then faced the computers on one of the
tables. His hands moved swiftly over switches, then a keyboard.

“I can monitor and control the systems in the
sub-basement from this room. It’s like being in the conning tower
of a submarine,” he laughed.

Syd was finding him to be quite pleasant for
a nerd. “Hence, the Good Ship Lollipop?”

“Yes. Childish, eh? I’ve always been a kid at
heart. And look at all my toys! OK, let’s start with something
easy. Give me that partial ID from the chopper.”

Syd got out the list she and Sara had
compiled and showed him the ID. “This is easy? If the cops have
figured it out, they sure haven’t notified me.”

“And they probably won’t. We don’t need them,
however. Some of the files I need, I can access legally, because
Triple Eye has agreements with many agencies so we can access their
files for a transaction fee. I assume you are authorizing payment
of such fees?” He laughed.

“Stop fucking with me, Soup!” Syd
chortled.

“The file I’m going to access now is one such
file: the FAA file that holds the IDs of all aircraft. I’ll search
for all IDs that contain ‘HG23' and see how many hits we get. I’ll
further restrict the search to choppers,” Soup explained to Syd as
he typed.

He swiveled around to face Syd and said,
“This will take a minute. Their system is not as fast as ours. They
should upgrade, but they’re always having budget problems.”

Ten minutes later, Soup had identified the
chopper as one at a rental company at Miami Airport.

Syd said, “That was amazing, Soup! The
friggin’ cops have to know that, too! Wonder what they’re doing
with that information?”

“Who knows? I know what we’re going to do
with it. This next step,” he said, “is to find out who rented it on
the day in question. You may want to leave the room, because this
step is definitely not legal. Even the cops would need a subpoena
to get this data.”

“I’m not leaving! I’m with you all the way!”
exclaimed Syd, remembering that her life as an assassin had been
borderline illegal, and some of her activities in the past few
weeks would not pass the legal litmus test. “Go for it! And tell me
what you’re doing. This is interesting!”