William Shatner - Tek War 4 - Tek Vengeance

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Tek Vengeance

The man who found out what was going to happen didn't get the time to

tell anyone about it. They killed him before he could pass along what

he had learned.

That happened in Berlin, just at dawn, on a chill, misty day in the

spring of the year 2121. He was a tall, lanky man in his late

thirties. His name doesn't matter.

He got back to his flat on a narrow street near the Kemperplatz as the

morning light was beginning to show at the panes of colored glass in

the leaded windows of the bedroom.

The woman he was living with was already awake, sitting on the edge of

their, old-fashioned fourposter bed. Wearing a white robe, she was in

the process of tying back her long blonde hair with a strand of black

ribbon.

The dawn light touched at her pretty face as she smiled up at him.

He crossed the room, feeling safe and secure. And happy that he'd

found someone like her.

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Leaning, he kissed her on the cheek. The instant his lips touched her

flesh, there was an enormous explosion.

The force-of it ripped him to pieces, tore the wall of the bedroom into

jagged chunks, smashed every window into thousands of glittering

shards, threw what was left of him down toward the grey, misty street

below. The woman was destroyed, too. The metal frame of her

body, the plastic skin, the intricacy of wires and tubes, chips and

circuitry were scattered across the new day by the violence of the

explosive charge that had been hidden inside her.

Everything mixed and tangled together--flesh, blood, mortar, wire,

metal--as it flew free of the exploding room and fell down through the

greyness of the morning.

So the agent never got to make his report to the International Drug

Control Agency. If he had, somebody there would probably have told

Jake Cardigan. And because of that Jake's life was going to change,

profoundly. But he had no premonition of that, no notion of the

darkness that lay ahead.

His troubles began, although Jake wasn't aware of it at the time, on a

warm, clear afternoon on that same day in the early spring of 2121.

As the agency sky car approached the Seawall Commercial Complex in the

Santa Monica Sector of Greater Los Angeles, Sid Gomez said, "We're

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arriving at our destination, amigo."

Jake, a good-looking, though weatherbeaten, man of near fifty, was

slouched in the passenger seat. "So I notice."

Below on Landing Lot3 rose up a 100-foot-high replica of the torch

bearing arm of the Statue of Liberty. It was trimmed with throbbing

crimson neon tubing and above the flaming torch floated, in 5-foot-high

letters, the words -was ^TRUTH alternating with GLA FAX-TIMES. At the

edge of the lot loomed the impressive 20-story newspaper building,

constructed of silvery metal and panels of multicolored real glass.

Hunching slightly, Gomez punched out a landing pattern on the control

panel. "You've been somewhat melancholy thus far today. You brooding

about something?"

Jake replied, "I suppose I am, yeah."

"Would the topic be Beth Kittridge?"

The sky car circled the elbow of the neon-trimmed arm once and then

settled into a space near its base. A few dozen yards away the foamy

surf of the Pacific Ocean was hitting at the rocky beach.

Jake said, "I don't like the idea of Beth's having to go over to Berlin

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next week."

Gomez was a dark, curly haired man, ten years younger than his partner.

"From the scraps of information you've brought back after visiting the

lady up in NorCal, I gather she doesn't much favor the jaunt

herself."

"That trip is going to be damn dangerous for her, risky." Unhooking

his safety gear, Jake eased out of the vehicle.

His partner joined him on the grey lot surface. "The International

Drug Control Agency is going to be looking after her," he said. "You're

going along, too. Beth'll be safe."

3ake shrugged his left shoulder, thrusting his fists deep into his

trouser pockets. "The Teklords are a vengeful bunch," he said. "Right

now they're not especially fond of Beth--nor of me."

The two of them started walking along an illuminated pathway. It led

them across the landing lot, through a plastiglass door and into a

large foyer. As the door whispered shut behind them, the sound of the

ocean died and unobtrusive string music swiftly surrounded them.

Directly ahead a large viewscreen rose up silently through a thin floor

slot. The face of a very handsome blond man appeared, smiling.

"Welcome to the Executive Wing of the GLA Fax-Times," he greeted in a

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deep, booming voice. "I am obliged by SoCal state law to inform you

that I am nothing more than an electronically generated composite image

and not, in point of fact, a real person."

"Don't feel bad," consoled Gomez. "I'm a real person and there are a

lot of disadvantages."

"Ha ha," said the image. "Well, enough goodnatured kidding,

gentlemen. Please--Mr. Cardigan first--enter the ID Booth and allow

us to check your ret patterns and fingerprints."

Jake obliged, stepping into the cubicle to the left of the screen.

"Name? Affiliation? Destination?" requested the booth out of its

sound box

"Jake Cardigan. I'm an operative with the Cosmos Detective Agency," he

answered. "An editor of yours, Miss China Vargas, wants to see us."

"Look into the eye slots and at the same time press your hands,

both of them, to the recogplates. Thank you."

Jake complied.

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After exactly eleven seconds the booth announced, "Yes, you're Jake

Cardigan."

"Thanks," said Jake. "That's good to know."

"You can, as soon as your associate has been cleared, enter Doorway 5

and proceed to the Executive Dining Area."

After Gomez established the fact that he was Gomez, the two detectives

used the indicated doorway and then started down a curving ramp.

"Do you think," inquired Gomez, "that I'd do better with women if I had

blond wavy hair?"

"Doubtful. Besides, how can you possibly do better than you're doing

now?"

"Es ver dad You can't top perfection."

The Executive Dining Room was large and below the sea. Through the

wide tinted windows the ocean of the Santa Monica Sector coast could be

seen, rich with flickering marine life.

At a table beside a sea view window sat a broad shouldered silver

haired young man and a slim young woman. They watched Jake and Gomez

for a moment and then the woman, who was completely bald and wore a

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crimson business suit, stood up.

She came striding over and halted about five feet away. Hands on hips,

she scrutinized them.

"Shit," she said finally, "I didn't think you guys would be this China

Vargas had a small tattoo of a spread winged raven on her gleaming

hairless head. She rubbed at it thoughtfully with her forefinger as

she gazed across the lunch table at them. "Shit, I don't know," she

said to the young man with silvery hair. "Do you think they're up to

handling this, Larry hon? It's liable to be, you know, strenuous."

Larry Knerr scowled. When he shrugged, the fur trimmed lapels of his

suitcoat brushed at his earlobes. "I've already told you, China, that

I can do this particular chore without any--"

"Maybe," suggested Jake as he slowly rose up out of his chair, "you'd

better start over again with a different detective agency, Miss

Vargas."

"But I can't," she complained, sighing. "What I mean is, you're the

one who was specifically requested."

Knerr, who was an Associate Field Editor of the Fax-Times Newsyndicate,

said, "No one apparently realized what sorry shape Cardigan is in these

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days. Leave him on the bench, China,

and let me and my crew do the job."

"You know I'm not--"

"Besides, the guy has a terrible rep," the silver haired editor pointed

out. "He's an ex con for one thing. He has a foul temper, an ex wife

who's in the jug because of fraternizing with Tek biggies and--"

"Do we," Gomez inquired of their hostess, "absolutely need Mr.

Knerr in our little discussion group?"

"Not exactly, no. Except Larry is in charge of our Latin America desk

and so--"

"Mightn't he," continued Gomez amiably, "be happy taking a stroll along

the beach? He might perhaps skip pebbles across the pounding surf and

commune with the gulls."

"Well, I suppose we don't truly need him to--"

"Wait a flaming minute." Knerr glared at Gomez. "I'm a major exec

with this organization. If anybody is going to take his leave, buddy,

you--"

I'll escort you to the exit." Smiling thinly, Gomez arose.

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"Like hell you will." Knerr's chair fell over backwards as he jumped

to his feet.

Jake walked around the table, took hold of the man's left arm and

twisted it up behind his back. With his other hand he caught the fur

collar. "It would be a good idea to depart right now," he advised.

"When Gomez starts smiling like that, it--"

"Allright, okay." Knerr tried to wiggle free. "I'm not one to force

my company on anyone. Although, China, I really think you're making a

mistake in dealing with these superannuated gumshoes. Especially

since--"

"Mr. Knerr is leaving us now." Jake escorted the struggling editor

across the underwater room and let him go near the door.

"It's not smart to antagonize the media, Cardigan," warned Knerr as he

pushed out of the room.

Back at the table Jake asked China, "Are you ready to talk about why

you wanted to hire us?"

"Shit, yes," she answered. "Sit down, will you? Larry annoys lots of

people. Most of them ignore him, but some, like you, prefer to toss

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him out on his ear."

Gomez, both elbows resting on the table top, said, "Walt Bascom, our

boss at Cosmos, didn't give us too many details on this case.

Suppose--"

"It isn't my case. Until my father, who's the publisher of this rag,

stuck me with this job, I'd never heard of Will Sparey."

"Will Sparey?" Frowning, Jake sat down again. "What's he got to do

with this?"

"Will Sparey is the case. What I mean is, you two guys have to go down

to Brazil, locate him and bring him safely home. That's not my idea,

but my father insists we owe it to Sparey."

"Sparey disappeared ten or eleven years ago down there," said Jake.

"Nobody's heard of him since."

"Until now," said the bald young woman.

Gomez said, "He was a war correspondent for this very paper, wasn't

he?"

"Yeah, he was covering the final Brazil War, when he vanished somewhere

in the back country," answered Jake. "We were pretty good friends,

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摘要：

TekVengeance Themanwhofoundoutwhatwasgoingtohappendidn'tgetthetimetotellanyoneaboutit. Theykilledhimbeforehecouldpassalongwhathehadlearned. ThathappenedinBerlin,justatdawn,onachill,mistydayinthespringoftheyear2121. Hewasatall,lankymaninhislatethirties. Hisnamedoesn'tmatter. Hegotbacktohisflatonanar...

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William Shatner - Tek War 4 - Tek Vengeance

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