William Shatner - Tek War 6 - TekPower

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Tek Power [158-011-3.4]

By: William Shatner

Synopsis:

book six in the tek war series.

Book Published by G. P. Putnam's Sons

Publishers Since 1838 200 Madison Avenue New York, NY 10016

parts thereof,

may not be reproduced in any form without permission. Published

simultaneously in Canada

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Shatner, William.

Tek power I William Shatner.

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p. em.

ISBN 0399139974

I. Cardigan, Jake (Fictitious character)-Fiction.--2. Private

investigators--Fiction. I. Title.

PS3569.H347T415 1994

94-16649/CIP

813'.54-<to20

Printed in the United States of America

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

And the drums keep beating... And the books keep coming... And Tek

continues to multiply.

From a modest beginning in October 1989 to now, the tidal wave that is

Tek contains six novels, twenty-four comic books, four movies, and now,

the Holy Grail of popular literature, a TekWar television series on the

USA Network.

Obeisance must be paid to Ron Goulart, Carmen La Via, Susan

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Allison, Mary Jo Fernandez, Ivy Fischer Stone, and to

Sterling and Martika, my two Dobies, who have guarded the

Tek books and have a couple of dog-eared copies themselves.

LIFE CHANGED for good and all on a stormy night in the summer of the

Year 2121. A vidphone call began the process.

It was a few minutes short of midnight in Secure Zone 2 of Manhattan

when the phone in Richard Bascom's tower-apartment bedroom buzzed

harshly.

Out beyond the wide blanked windows of the room lightning crackled.

Thunder seemed to be rolling along the rainswept pedestrian ramps and

streets out there in the night.

A lanky, sandyhaired man in his middle thirties, Richard hadn't yet

fallen asleep. Sitting up in the oval bed, he said, "Lights."

As the room filled with soft light, he nodded toward the small vidphone

screen resting on the floating bedside table. "I'll take the call."

The rectangular screen whirred faintly as it turned to face him. But

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it remained blank. "Listen, old buddy," came a slurred male voice.

Richard didn't recognize it. "Who is this?"

"Just pay attention," continued the unseen caller. "No matter what

they try to tell you--she was murdered."

"Who was murdered?" Swinging his legs off the bed, Richard stood up.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Eve, old buddy. I'm talking about your loyal, loving wife." The

phone clicked off.

He frowned at the dead phone. "Jesus, has something happened to

Eve?"

Turning on his heel and grabbing up his robe, he went running from the

room.

The high, wide window of their apartment living room hadn't been

blanked. A sudden blaze of bluish lightning showed him the towering

apartment houses out there, the rainy pedramps and the flitting sky

cars as he hurried to Eve's bedroom.

His wife went out on a dinner date with some client or other tonight,

but he'd assumed she had long since come home.

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She hadn't, though. Her bedroom was empty, the oval bed neatly made,

just as the servobot had left it this morning.

His frown deepening, Richard glanced around the room. He had no idea

what he was expecting to see. Her memo pad screen was sitting on a low

table, but he had no way to access it.

"A practical joke," he decided. "Sure, that damn call was just a

practical joke."

Eve wasn't dead.

"That guy sounded as though he was drunk or high on something. A

Tekhead maybe, who believes in his hallucinations." Eve wasn't dead.

Couldn't be.

The thing to do was find out whom she'd gone to dinner with and

where.

"Problem is," he said to himself while he wandered around his wife's

silent bedroom, "Eve hasn't been all that confiding lately."

He had no idea where she'd gone this evening. Not only that, he wasn't

even sure which person at Larson-Dunn, the public relations outfit Eve

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worked for, he could call to ask for information.

"Is Terry Wollter still with L-D? Seems to me she mentioned he was

fired couple months back."

Wollter was just about the only one at the firm he knew well enough to

contact at this hour.

He sat on the edge of her bed. He'd pulled the robe on over his

pajamas, yet he was feeling extremely cold. He clenched his fists to

keep himself from shaking.

Eve wasn't dead.

It had to be a joke. Some damned drunk, some Tekkie with a sense of

humor.

Funny how thorough the servobot had been. There was hardly a trace of

Eve left in the bedroom. It was chill and smelled faintly antiseptic.

The sandalwood perfume she usually wore wasn't discernible at all.

Richard got up, slowly, and made his way into the living room. "But

where is she?" he said, stopping near the window. "Where the hell is

she?"

The heavy rain kept slamming down through the night. Everything out

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there was blurred, looking as though it might melt away at any

moment.

"Okay, I'll wait another fifteen minutes," he decided. "Then I'll get

in touch with Wollter."

Even if the guy no longer worked at Larson-Dunn, he ought to know

somebody who could tell him where Eve had gone tonight.

Richard told himself, not for the first time, that he was going to have

to work harder on his relationship with his wife. "Lately things

haven't been going--"

"Sir?" came the soft, polite voice of the apartment computer.

He turned to glance up at the grey overhead voxbox. "Yes, what?"

"There's someone at the pedramp entrance, sir," announced the

computer.

"Who?"

"Two people, actually, who identify themselves as members of the

Manhattan Police Service," replied the slightly metallic voice. "I'm

afraid, sir, that your wife has suffered an accident."

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JAKE CARDIGAN WAS, he decided, in pretty good shape. "For a guy who's

getting ever closer to fifty," he added.

Twilight was slowly spreading across the Malibu Sector of Greater Los

Angeles and Jake was running, alone, along a stretch of beach that led

to the apartment he shared with his son.

He'd done two miles out and was now heading for home.

He kept up a steady pace, not winded at all.

The surf was relatively quiet tonight, the foam came whispering in

across the wet sand.

Trotting along the water's edge, coming in Jake's direction, was a

highly polished chrome plated robot. He was holding the glowing

fiberoptic leashes of two listless peppermint poodles.

"Bonsoir greeted the got as he and the two dogs passed Jake. "Evening.

Where's the third one?" "Un peu real," replied the robot.

Nodding sympathetically, Jake continued on his run.

Up ahead on his right loomed a brightly illuminated beach house, only a

few months old, built of glittering metal struts and large curved

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panels of tinted plastiglass. Out on the glowing nco-wood sundeck

about thirty people were gathered, talking and drinking. On the small

holostage at the far side of the deck a projected string quartet was

playing chamber music that didn't match the look of the party.

Spotting Jake passing, a plump pretty blonde in a tight yellow slaxsuit

hurried over to the beach side railing and waved. "Jake, hey," she

called. "Didn't you get my invitation, hon?"

He slowed his pace but didn't stop completely. "Can't make the

festivities, Maggie," he shouted. "Sorry."

"We're going to have fun." Maggie brought up her clenched fist from

her side and opened it for a few seconds. She was holding what looked

to be a Tek chip.

Sudden anger hit Jake, but he only gave her a thin grin and a farewell

wave. "So I see." Kicking up his pace, he soon left the party

behind.

He'd been jogging along for about another ten minutes when he heard a

muffled cry from up near an unlit beach house some three hundred feet

inland from him.

Jake slowed again, then halted to scan the shadows beneath the place.

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It was one of several plastiglass and simulated redwood stilt-houses

that had been built along here back in the early 2100s.

Nodding to himself, Jake sprinted up across the sand. "What are you

lads up to?" he called.

He'd spotted two bulky figures struggling with a smaller, slimmer

figure.

Two large thickset young men were assaulting an auburn-haired young

woman. The largest had an arm lock on her and was trying to get her

shoulder bag free of her grasp.

"Keep on jogging, asshole," the other lout advised Jake. Letting go of

the struggling woman's arm, he spun to glower at him.

Jake kicked out, hard, connecting with his kneecap. He followed that

with three jabs to the young man's fat chin.

The lunk made a few unhappy grunting noises before dropping to the

sandy ground.

Jake took hold of the second lout by the back of his laminated shirt

and yanked. Spinning him around, he delivered two effective punches to

his sagging midsection and another to his left temple as he doubled

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摘要：

TekPower[158-011-3.4] By:WilliamShatner Synopsis: booksixinthetekwarseries. BookPublishedbyG.P.Putnam'sSons PublishersSince1838200MadisonAvenueNewYork,NY10016 Copyright1994byWilliamShatnerAllrightsreserved. Thisbook,orpartsthereof, maynotbereproducedinanyformwithoutpermission. Publishedsimultaneous...

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