Читать книгу Redback - Lindy Cameron - Страница 13

HMAS Harris, Pacific Ocean

Tuesday 11.10 pm

Gideon wondered whether shock had finally set in and rendered her package if not speechless then at least floundering for the usual chitchat. Not one to ruin a precious moment of silence, she turned to the small wall mirror so she could both watch her visitor, and give her short freshly washed hair a cursory brush.

Jana fiddled with her own fingers, glanced around the tiny cabin, then finally asked, 'Um, who were you talking to?'

'No one,' Gideon looked perplexed. 'Oh sorry, yes I was. We Redbacks are fitted with spanking new comm devices,' she said, tapping her collarbone.

'Well I am; the others only have the aural gadgets so far. Mine is the whole aural-vocal catastrophe which, so far, is bloody annoying.'

'Did you say fitted?' Jana asked.

'Surgically implanted,' Gideon said. 'On, off,' she indicated by squeezing her left ear lobe.

Jana shook her head. 'But you were all wearing microphones, I saw them.'

'Yeah. The guys were still being fitted when we had to, ah, come and get you. So I have two-way comm with home; but until we get back to the lab, they can only hear the Link.'

'Link?' Jana narrowed her eyes. 'Who or where?'

'Not sure exactly.' Gideon pinched her left lobe. 'Link? You still at work, Oliver?'

'Well, yeah. It's not like I take you home with me, Gideon,' said the voice inside. 'Why?'

'Dr Rossi wanted to know. Out.' Gideon pinched her lobe again. 'Sydney,' she said, as if that answered everything.

'So is it Oliver or Sidney or Link in your head?'

'Um,' Gideon's bemused smile was little more than a quick pursing of the lips that lifted one corner of her mouth. 'Oliver is in Sydney,' she said.

'During ops - operations - Oliver gets called Link, coz it's easier; and because the Link is not always Oliver. And you don't have clearance for the rest.'

'Oh,' Jana said, none the wiser.

'I can tell you,' Gideon continued, 'that on the next shift, the Link is a woman. And, that they swear it's only ever going to be one of two people.'

Fascinating - not! Jana thought. Come on woman, ask her about the dead rebel. She stuck a hand in her pocket instead.

Mistaking Dr Rossi's expression as a case of not getting her drift, Gideon did a rare thing - for her. She elaborated. 'I mean it wouldn't be productive to have us prototypes go stark-raving from a high rotation of strangers yakking away in our skulls.'

Jana frowned and shook her head. 'Who are you?'

Gideon simply raised her eyebrows.

'I mean, who sent you? No, actually I do mean who are you? It seems you've told everyone,' Jana waved at the boat, 'something different. So, Ms Gideon, are you a commander, doctor, soldier, agent or what?'

'Yes,' Gideon said, noting how much Dr Rossi used her hands when she spoke.

'And a woman of few words, I see,' Jana commented.

Hands, but not her arms though, Gideon was thinking. There was no Latin-style expansiveness in the woman's gestures. In fact she kept her upper arms close to her body, while both hands circled, or one waved thoughtfully or emphasised a point.

As if confirming Gideon's observation, Jana flipped her hand questioningly away from her chin.

'Okay, how about this,' she said. 'Who sent you?'

'Specifically - I have no idea,' Gideon said. 'Truly,' she added, in response to an expectant look.

'I don't understand. How can you not know?'

'We're retrieval agents,' Gideon shrugged. 'You know, government sanctioned re-abductors.'

'You're kidding,' Jana laughed, and then registered surprise. 'So our government…' Jana began, then changed tack. 'Was I really your, um, what did you call me?'

'My PO. And yeah.' Gideon's tone implied of course, although her curiosity was nudged again by the fact that Dr Rossi seemed clueless about her own status, whatever it was.

'This is too weird,' Jana said to herself. 'And our government actually sent you?'

'Requested our services, would be more accurate.'

'I don't understand.'

'We're a non-government organisation, so we mostly do private work. In your case, however, who but the government could organise all this?' Gideon raised her chin slightly to indicate their surroundings.

'I don't know,' Jana shrugged. 'Murdoch or Packer or Lane,' she suggested. 'I mean, Alan Wagner seemed to think he was important enough for someone to rescue.'

'Who's Alan Wagner?'

'You know, the TV journo from This Week, The World.' When Gideon looked unenlightened, Jana twirled her right hand, and added, 'The fuckwit you saved me from.'

'Oh him. Wouldn't know him if he fell at my feet,' Gideon said, tucking her white T-shirt into her jeans. 'And you really don't know why you? Or who would?'

'No,' Jana said emphatically, because the only person who came to mind, wouldn't.

'Do you want me to find out?'

'I could take a wild guess,' Jana was saying absently, 'but that's all it would be. On top of which,' she shook her head, 'highly unlikely.'

Gideon frowned at the woman's irritating need for superfluous chatter. 'It's a limited offer, Doc.'

'What? Oh, yes. Could you?' she smiled. 'And for heaven's sake, stop with the Doc and Dr Rossi nonsense. Please, call me Jana.'

'Sure,' Gideon agreed. 'If you head back to the de-briefing room now, I'll check this out for you.'

Bugger. 'Do I have to?'

Yes. And enough now. Gideon pointed to her earlobe. 'Clearance, remember.'

'But,' Jana frowned.

'What?'

'I wanted to talk to you about, um, about what happened on the island.'

'Oh. Yeah, sorry.' Gideon cocked her head. 'That's actually why I wanted to see you; to talk before Agent Brand started his debrief. Are you okay? I mean, did that guy hurt you before I came back?'

'No,' Jana said hurriedly. 'Well, not really. No, he didn't. But he would have. So I wanted to thank you,' she held up a hand when Gideon shrugged, 'and, um, verify that you did in fact kill him.'

'Why? You want to go back and make sure he's dead?' Gideon asked, puzzled.

'No,' Jana raised her hands. 'That's not what I meant.'

'Oh,' Gideon said, remembering that a civilian might actually be concerned about a bloke, even a bad guy, being taken out like that.

'Yes, I shot him. He's very dead. Coop could have taken him out with a T-dart, but I,' she hesitated, and rubbed the back of her neck. Dr Rossi's frown was prompting her to elaborate - again. 'It's a dart from a long-range weapon, a bit like a stun gun, that's designed to incapacitate not kill. But I only had the real deal. So it was the rebel with my gun, or you with his knife.'

Jana nodded.

'Are you okay with that?'

'Oh yes,' Jana nodded again. 'With the me not being dead part, I mean. The other will take a bit of getting used to.'

'Don't lose any sleep over him Doc. Jana. He would have raped you. Then he would have killed you.'

Jana's skin crawled, but she smiled. 'I know. And again, I thank you.'

Gideon shrugged. 'I've already apprised Agent Brand of the incident, so we don't expect you to talk about it in front of your annoying ex-roommate.'

'That's a relief.'

Easy Spur Ranch, Carthage, Texas

Tuesday 6.10 am

Jesse-Jay Bagget looked at his dumb-fuck pseudo-stepbrother and decided this may indeed be the best way to go about things. If Kero wanted to drive the truck so much, then he could. He could drive it straight in, make his point and that'd be the end of it. Either way, the Colonel would be way pleased, and Jesse-Jay would've shown his delegating skills. The timing would be better for him and the other thing too.

And even if shit-for-brains Kero screwed the first part up, which was so possible, well then - as long as he screwed it up proper - then it'd be no great loss.

Jesse-Jay checked his watch for the umpteenth time since rising and eating breakfast in the dark. Once the boys arrived and the stock was loaded, the drive to Dallas would take a bit over three hours. That'd put them midtown about mid morning. Perfect. The city would be open for business, the Colonel would make his call, and the deal would be done.

Jesse-Jay saw the orange fog-lights reflecting all spooky-like off what was left of the misty morning, and then the small convoy crested the rise on the road at the border of his land.

He hit the Star Brigade icon to save Level 8 of his Global WarTek game and switched off his TekBox. It was time for the real game to begin.

'Wake up Kero,' he said, slapping the guy on the chest. 'We got important company. The Colonel's here.'

Tokyo, Japan

Tuesday 8.20 pm

Scott had squeezed behind 11 noodle-eaters arrayed along the inside counter, avoided a knife-waving chef and his 'you no go that way' and collided with a kid hauling a box of fish - and he was still about 20 feet from the back door which had just slammed shut in front of him. He apologised in several languages - none of them Japanese - to the two old women still startled by the previous invader of their back room, then wrenched open the door and threw himself into a badly lit laneway.

There was no sign of Kaisha. There was a faulty flickering light; of course. Scott swore in frustration.

So, it's dark. He waited.

Light, dark, light. And it's confined, dark, light and cluttered and dark.

Scott turned away from the nearest dead-end and headed for the only obvious way out.

Man! Forget the bald gaijin on blades. Sumo-sized Yakuza dudes are gonna get you here, you moron.

And then, 50 feet from the neon-lit safety of a crowded wet Tokyo street, they did just that.

A strong hand grabbed him by the scruff of his suede jacket and yanked him backwards through a doorway, into the very dark, and onto his arse.