A SLEETY RAIN WAS hitting against the leaded windows of the small cozy restaurant. A very convincing hologram fire seemed to be blazing cheerily in the simulated stone fireplace near their table.
Marj mentioned, “You’re not eating.”
Jake glanced down at his soup. “I don’t seem to be, do I?”
Reaching across the table, she put her hand briefly on his. “I know you’re anxious to get going, Jake. But, keep in mind, decent meals will be hard to come by over there.”
“Is this part of some deal you made with Beth?”
Her eyes went wide. “You think she told me to look after you and make certain you ate at least one meal a day?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, yes, she did,” admitted the young woman. “Detective work, after all, doesn’t require fasting.”
“I know, but I’m eager to get going.”
“We’ll find your son, don’t worry.” She reached down to pick up the shoulder bag she’d deposited on the imitation hardwood floor. “Here’s a little gadget you’d better carry with you.”
He accepted the small black disk that she took from her bag and handed to him. “Good-luck charm?”
Smiling, she told him, “It’s something I developed myself—based on a somewhat larger one used by Scotland Yard.”
“And it does what?”
“It serves as a sort of scrambler,” Marj explained. “We may run into some Tek Kids over there, ones with ESP talent. This’ll keep them from tapping in on what we’re thinking.”
Holding the disk between thumb and forefinger, he studied it for a moment before dropping it into his coat pocket. “The TKs really can do that sort of stuff?”
“Oh, yes. Some of them are very gifted in some pretty strange and unsettling ways.”
“You say you came up with this gadget yourself?”
“I’ve long since given up my major calling, which was robotics. But I find I still like to tinker with small electronics projects now and then. Eat your soup.”
“Oh, yeah.” He took a few spoonfuls. “Why’d you change careers?”
“Why’d you?”
“Didn’t have much choice.”
“Well, in a way, neither did I. A few years ago I simply started feeling that I needed to work more directly with people,” she explained. “Help them in some firsthand way.”
“Designing and constructing androids helps.”
“Sure, maybe. But I was simply getting too detached from the outside world. I quit and came over here. I’m much happier these days.”
“That meant leaving family and friends to—”
“Oh, I’ve made new friends here in England,” she assured him. “And I had no family left, not after my brother died.”
Jake said nothing.
After a moment Marj spoke again. “Excuse my turning gloomy on you, Jake.”
He asked, “You have contacts in the gang sectors, don’t you?”
“Yes. People who’ll see us safely along our way.”
“Then we ought to be able to get through to Westminster Abbey tonight.”
“If it’s safe.”
“Meaning?”
She said, “There’s been a lot of feuding between gangs lately. Right now the Westminsters are having trouble with the TKs.”
“Is this the kind of feuding where kids can get killed?”
“Almost always,” she replied. “If there is any sort of skirmishing going on tonight, we may have to lie low until it’s over.”
“If Dan’s in the middle of a gang war, I don’t intend to wait around—”
“Jake, I know you’re used to being in charge,” she said. “But, really, you’re going to have to trust me. I’ll be able to tell you if it’s safe to approach the abbey or not.”
Finally he nodded. “You’re right, yeah. You’ll have to decide.”
Their waiter, an extremely polite android, approached the table with a bottle of red wine. “Excuse me,” he said, bowing. “I’ve been asked to bring this to you.”
“Compliments of the house?” asked Jake.
“No, compliments of Denis Gilford.” The pale reporter seated himself, uninvited, in the spare chair at their table. “One senses a big story brewing with you two in the thick of it. I demand all the details.”
Gomez smiled as he held out the bouquet of plazroses. “Good evening, Dr. Danenberg,” he said, handing her the fake flowers and striding on into her apartment. “We haven’t actually met, but I once broke a leg because of you.”
The plump woman looked crossly at him. “Oh, yes, you’re ... Sanchez, isn’t it?”
“Close. Actually I’m Gomez,” he explained, smiling more broadly. “I’m with the Cosmos Detective Agency and because of a case we’re working on, I thought perhaps—”
“How’d you know I was here?”
He fluffed the plyopillow on a rubberoid armchair and then seated himself. “Being an ace investigator, finding you wasn’t particularly difficult.”
“Actually, it doesn’t matter, Mr. Gomez,” she told him sternly. “The hour is late and—”
“The reason I’m intruding on you, doctor, is that you’re an expert on Tek and on the anti-Tek system that Professor Kittridge is developing.”
“I’ve had absolutely no contact with the man for quite some time now,” she said. “If you need information on any aspect of the fight against Tek, I suggest you call on the International Drug Control Agency. They have an office right here in Paris.”
“Ah, but that may not be a wise thing to do just now.” He stood up. “We have reason to believe—and this is confidential info I’m confiding in you, doc—that some of the local IDCA officials may well be in cahoots with some of the Teklords.” Gomez walked over to a wall to straighten a hanging triop picture of a field of yellow flowers.
“That’s interesting,” said Dr. Danenberg. “Yet, as I told you, I have no connection whatsoever with Professor Kittridge.”
“What brings you to Paris?” He ran his hand along the back of another armchair, then sat in it, crossed his legs, and smiled hopefully up at the plump woman.
“A vacation.”
“And you haven’t heard anything about, say, plans to sabotage Kittridge’s work?”
“The professor and I didn’t part under the best of circumstances,” she said evenly.
“But you do know a lot about how this anti-Tek system of his works, don’t you?”
“I know how it worked some time ago, though he may have modified it greatly since then,” she answered, moving toward the door. “Basically his system is based on RF waves. Radio frequency waves emitted at a high oscillation rate. Once you find the exact oscillation rate, you can shatter any Tek chip in existence. When you broadcast that high-frequency RF from a powerful satellite station, you’d be able to destroy most of the world’s supply of Tek chips all at once.”
“If a Tek cartel, or a combo of same, could come up with a way to circumvent this upcoming electronic passover, cook up a chip that was immune, they’d have a very lucrative monopoly, wouldn’t they?” He left his latest seat.
“Perhaps they would. I’m not, however, at all interested in the activities of the Tek cartels—or in your activities, Mr. Gomez. I’m afraid, considering the hour, that I must ask you to leave.”
He sat down on the metallic sofa, rested his arm on the sofa back for a moment. “You see, doctor, that case that Jake Cardigan and I are here working on—you do know Jake, don’t you?”
“We’ve met. It was in Mexico, I believe.”
“Jake and I are partners. He’s the one who didn’t break his leg.”
“I assure you I’m sorry you were once injured, somewhat indirectly to be sure, because of me, yet—”
“We think there’s a Tek angle to the murder we’re investigating. I was hoping you’d be able to assist us.”
“I can’t help you in any way.” She opened the door. “Good night now, Mr. Sanchez.”
“Gomez.” Smiling, he walked to the doorway. “Well, it’s been jolly meeting you in person at long last. Buenas noches.”
He left her apartment, started whistling, walked to the corner, and turned onto a side street. He made his way to his rented landcar and climbed into the driveseat. “They working, chiquita?”
Natalie was sitting, slightly hunched, in the passenger seat and listening to a set of portable earphones. “Yessir, all the minbugs you planted seem to be functioning just fine,” she informed him. “Dr. Danenberg, by the way, talks to herself.”
“Many brilliant people do. Me, for instance.”
“She’s talking to herself about you right now. Want to hear?”
“Nope.”
The reporter said, “I only agree with half the negative things she’s saying about you.”
“I’m eternally grateful for your support.” He started the car.