Part 10 (1/2)

aI thought of that.a The wizard looked at him closely and then nodded. aVery well. You are welcome.a aWe,a Kuznetsov said with a gesture at Vasily and himself, awill go with you.a Gilligan scowled. aWhy?a aTechnical expertise. You need someone who knows the areaa”a he glanced at Gilligan significantly aa”and will tell what he knows.a Then he shrugged. aBesides, thumbing your nose at authority is a Russian thing. You would not understand.a Mick shook his head. 'This particular nose-thumbing is gonna get you thrown out of the countrya”or worse.a Kuznetsov grinned broadly. aThat is why it is Russian thing. It is no fun thumbing nose at authority unless you can get in big trouble for gesture.a Then,a Mick predicted, ayou're gonna have more fun than you've ever had in your life. You may even the laughing.a The Russians only grinned.

aOkay, so we've got to get six people and a twenty-foot dragon in there and land on a dry lake bed. That's going to take a pretty special plane.a Vasily, who had been leaning up against the wall spoke for the first time. aI think I know where.a aSo far the buzz is positive.a Mark Toland gestured toward the Hilton suite's window and the Convention Center beyond with a wave of his champagne gla.s.s. aEveryone's impressed and no one's quite sure what we've got.a He smiled broadly. aFUDware at it's finest.a Toland had coined the term FUDware in a speech to an industry conference several years ago and he used it whenever he could. In this case he was justified. Gigantopithecus Softwares pre-pre-beta technology direction disclosure of its new API had sown Fear, Uncertainty and Doubta”FUD to connoisseursa”among potential customers, technology partners, retailers and VARS. FUDware was the equivalent of a rolling artillery barrage on the computer battlefield. Its purpose wasn't so much to cause casualties as to pin everyone down while the attackers moved in for the kill. The software being shown in another suite here at the Las Vegas Hilton was packed with nifty features. Better, it was far enough along that it might be the prelude to a real product. Then again, it might not, and that was better yet.

As a result Sasquatch was performing its intended job of paralyzing the market, exciting the trade press, and making buyers hold off committing to a compet.i.tor and stretching everyone's acquisition cycle.

Keith Malinowski slumped down on the couch and grunted. He was wearing his aSave The Sasquatcha sweats.h.i.+rt over his hand-tailored sport s.h.i.+rt. His champagne was going flat.

aThe beauty is we caught Microsoft and IBM/Lotus in mid-FUD cycle,a Angela Page, his marketing VP put in. aIt will be at least eight weeks before they can counter with FUDware of their own.a aBut when are we going to release it?a asked Joe Kroeber from the suite's bar. He was head of software development, and pouring the drinks for everyone was part of his job at these things.

aSecond quarter of next year,a Page told him. aIt's in the briefing sheet we use to leak to reporters.a aNo, I mean when are we really going to have it ready?a Page and Toland looked at Kroeber like he'd farted. Malinowski ignored them.

I should have stayed behind and gone sailing, he thought. Three years ago he would have been bouncing up and down like a miniature poodle at an industry coup like this. Now it was flat as his champagne. Even the knowledge that he'd put the screws to Microsoft, his former employer, just didn't thrill him. The millions more this would add to his net worth were even less important.

These days Malinowski thought of himself as a cryptozoologist more than a software entrepreneur. Ever since he was a teenager he had been convinced the planet was teeming with undiscovered animals, from Sasquatch in the Pacific Northwest and as far south as Arizona to dinosaurs in central Africa to serpents in the seas.

The zoologists of his acquaintance thought he was a nut, but that didn't bother him in the slightest. Like a tot of people in the computer industry, Keith Malinowski had spent his whole life being the smartest person in the room, and like most of his fellows the experience left him with a rather high opinion of his opinions.

With his newfound wealth Malinowski also had the ability to back his beliefs with more than on-line arguments. In the last two years he had sponsored expeditions to places all around the world, provided computer and technical support for the people who claimed to have seen something or thought they might have gotten something on film or tape.

The ringing phone at his elbow jarred him out of his ruminations and nearly made him spill his flat champagne. Before he could focus, Toland grabbed it like the well-trained subordinate he was. He listened for a second, then put his hand over the mouthpiece and turned to his boss.

aIt's Al Benedict. He wants to talk to you.a aWho?a aAl Benedict, the guy who's handling on-floor PR. He insists on talking to you.a Malinowski frowned. Jesus, what now? He knew from experience that a call from the show floor usually meant he was going to have to pay out a lot more money. But that didn't bother him as much as having to fight another fire at the behest of someone he didn't even know. There was a time when he knew all his employees by face and name. Now he couldn't even tell which building they worked in. What the h.e.l.l, he decided, it's better than sitting here watching champagne go flat. He nodded and reached for the phone.

aKeith?a The voice on the other end was high-pitched with excitement and nearly drowned out by the combination of background noise and a lousy cellular connection. aIt's me, ALa Vaguely Malinowski remembered a frenetic little fox terrier of a man with a rusty beard and an exaggerated interest in his boss' hobby. aListen, we, uh, ran into something on the show floor.a aYeah?a Keith said flatly.

aNo, not like that. Or not really anyway. This was two guys with a dragon. A real dragon!a Suddenly Keith was like a beagle sniffing on a hot trail. He was up, he was excited, he was alive! FUDware and the eternal Darwinian software struggle paled to insignificance. This was important.

aYou're sure this wasn't some kind of robot?a he demanded.

aIt was definitely real. It's not real tame either. It nearly knocked our guy off his stilts.a aOld Cheng was right! They do still exist. This is fantastic!a aI think it's genetic engineering of some sort,a Keith's informant added, but Keith was gone in transports of ecstasy. Suddenly life had meaning again!

aWe've had reports from remote areas of China.a aYeah, wellaa aThere's even a rumor that a top-secret Air Force project in Alaska got a picture of a dragon in the air a few years ago. But to find one, and here of all places. It's just unbelievable.a By this time Page and Toland had figured out the subject of the conversation and they exchanged looks. aUnbelievablea was the word they would have chosen all right, but obviously their boss did believe it. They had been sounding out major investors about replacing Malinowski for a couple of months because of his diminis.h.i.+ng interest in the business and growing weird-ness. If they handled this right it could be the capper for their campaign. Meanwhile, he was still the boss and they had to act like this was important.

aAnyway,a the voice on the phone went on, aI checked and found out more. The authorities have known about it for a couple of days and they're keeping it quiet. Meanwhile, the police are hunting for it.a aThe police?a aYeah. They want to kill it because it's dangerous.a Malinowski unfolded off the couch as if it had exploded under him.

aWe can't let them do that! Angel, get our lawyers on the phone. Joe, use the phone in the other room to call Bill Reeves at Interior. We've got to protect this thing.a aYou really think you can get the government to move on this?a Toland asked.

Keith paused, phone in hand, to look at him. aThey'd better, after all I did for that twit in the White House.a Malinowski had been one of the high-technology business leaders the inc.u.mbent had paraded during the election to support his anew technology vision for Americaa Like a lot of them, Malinowski had been sorely disappointed with the results. After the election they discovered their guy thought high technology meant anything with a lot of blinking lights and he couldn't use his computer consistently because he kept putting floppy disks in upside down. His computer problems got significantly worse after his teenaged daughter went back to school.

aMaybe that dope will be good for something after all,a Malinowski said as he reached for the phone.

The rest of the day pa.s.sed uneventfully, if not smoothly. By dint of a little fast talking, steadfast denial of any knowledge of anyone in the truck and a firm promise to get it off the hotel grounds immediately, Jerry was able to recover the vehicle. By waiting until the hotel corridors were packed with Comdex attendees, s.h.i.+elding Moira in the back of an elevator behind himself, Taj, Bal-Simba, the Russians and Gilligan, and employing a few other expedients, they were able to get Moira out of the hotel and into the truck a few hours later. Then he and Bal-Simba made arrangements to meet Vasily's friend with the airplane that evening and drove off with Moira safely in the back, hidden behind a stack of boxes salvaged from the dumpsters.

Jerry was getting a headache.

They were sitting in a lounge off the casino at the hotel. Perhaps a hundred tables were packed into a s.p.a.ce big enough for fifty. Each table would have been small for two normal people and, while Mick was a little on the short side, Jerry definitely was not and Bal-Simba was huge. As a result things were decidedly crowded. The Russians were sitting at the table just over Jerrys shoulder, and when he leaned back he b.u.mped heads with Kuznetsov. Moira was waiting in the rented truck.

It was early evening and the other tables were mostly occupied. Occasionally a burst of laughter or a s.n.a.t.c.h of conversation would rise over the level of the general racket, but mostly it was just noise with a country-western beat. The band may not have been good, but they fulfilled one of the primary requirements for any lounge act by being loud, almost loud enough to drown out the unrelenting cacophony from the slot machines on the other side of the railing.

aMy head hurts,a he muttered.

aBest place for a private meeting,a Kuznetsov told him. aNoise drives listeners crazy and even digital signal processors have trouble picking out one conversation.a aHow do you know that?a The Russian just smiled. aHeads up everyone. Here comes our contact.a Jerry turned in his seat and saw a man pus.h.i.+ng his way through the crowd. Save for bushy white eyebrows and an enormous white mustache there wasn't a hair on his head. He looked like a walrus, if you can imagine a sunburned walrus wearing aviator sungla.s.ses and an orange flight suit decorated with a wildly improbable collection of patches. Jerry saw insignia from everything from the 23rd Fighter Squadron to something called Miz Lai's Cottontail Ranch and Sporting Club. He looked over at Gilligan.

aI don't know and I don't want to know,a Gilligan muttered.

The man nodded to the Russians and pulled a chair over to the table where the others sat. aCharlie Conroy,'a he boomed, extending a paw that was sunburned as pink as the rest of him. aMy friends call me Cowboy.a As Jerry shook the preferred hand he saw the wrist was decorated with a watch the size of a can of snuff, with dials and b.u.t.tons and hands galore.

Almost as soon as Charlie sat down a waitress wearing not much, and that black and slinky, slithered up to take his order.

aHoney,a he boomed, abring me over one of those Tanqueray and tonics. Make it a double.a The waitress reflexively avoided a pat on the rump and swivel-hipped off through the tables.

He turned to the Russians. aVaseline you old commie, how's it hanging?a aOkay, sky pirate. Burned any babies lately?a aNaw, I got out of that end of tie business. How about you, Ivan? Still doing them dirty deeds?a aI get by,a Kuznetsov said with a slight smile. Jerry got the impression he wasn't nearly as charmed by Conroy's antics as his partner. Gilligan was obviously un-charmed, but he was keeping his mouth shut.

ah.e.l.l of a crowd, ain't it?a Cowboy boomed to Jerry and Bal-Simba. aBetween the tourists and the computer geeks, whole d.a.m.n town is packed. I ain't seen anything like it since the fall of Saigon.a The waitress returned with Charlie's drink and Jerry paid for it. Charlie emptied the gin and tonic in one gulp and held up the gla.s.s. Fill'er again will you, darlin'?a Obviously he had never heard of the atwenty-four hours from bottle to throttlea rule either.

aNow,a he said, setting the gla.s.s on the tiny table, aI understand you boys want to make a little excursion.a aYeah,a Jerry said, glancing around the table. aFour of us and, ah, some cargo. About five hundred pounds of it. We need to make one trip to a place about a hundred and fifty miles from here.a aNo problem,a Charlie said. aBut there are some conditions.a He leaned forward and put his meaty forearms on the tiny table. Gilligan grabbed his drink just as it was shoved off the edge.

Their guest was oblivious. aNow understand, I don't smuggle dope. Leastways not for strangers. And I won't stand for murder on my airplane. Beyond thata”a he shrugged. aI don't see nothing and I don't hear nothing.a That, Jerry reflected, was probably going to be the most important characteristic of all.

aWhere are we gonna make pickup and will it be a day or night flight?a aYou can pick us up at the airport,a Jerry said. aDay is probably better than night. It's the destination that's a little tricky.a aWhere you going?a aUh, Groom Lake, Area Fifty-One.a aJust outside inner fence toward the end of runway,a Kuznetsov added, leaning over from his table.

Charlie looked at the Russian narrowly. aThis cargo don't explode does it? 'Cause as a patriotic American and a veteran of four wars I don't hold with blowing up US air bases.a aIt doesn't explode,a Jerry a.s.sured him. Then he thought of the Las Vegas police car. aWell, not unless you get her angry.a aHer?a aThe cargo's kind of livestock.a aI may charge you boys extra for mucking out the airplane. Can this thing be trusted to use a sick sack?a aWell, she's a flying creature anyway,a Jerry said, aso I don't think she's subject to airsickness.a aWhat the h.e.l.l is this critter?a Charlie roared, just as the music ended and there was a lull in the casino racket aA five-hundred-pound canary?a Suddenly half the people in the bar were looking at them.

Jerry turned beet red under the attention. aUh, something like that,a he whispered.

Charlie grinned and leaned back in his chair. aBoys,a he boomed, aI think I'm gonna enjoy this little trip.a Looking at their pilot, Jerry wasn't so sure he would be able to say the same.

FIFTEEN - BIPLANE BYE-BYE.

The morning was bright, cold and crystal clear. The mountains on the other side of the airport looked like they were only a mile away.

When the truck pulled up to the gate on the general aviation side of the field, Jerry and Taj were in the front seat as the least conspicuous of the group. Moira, the Russians, Taj and Bal-Simba were in the back.

The guard came out of the shack huddled in his flight jacket, his breath leaving little puffs in the frosty air. He kept his hands in his pockets until he needed one to hand the clipboard under his arm up to the cab.

There was a sign by the gate informing them that all vehicles were subject to search when entering and leaving. For an instant Jerry was afraid the guard was going to ask to look in the back of the truck, but he only nodded as he retrieved his clipboard.

They'd be more likely to check them on the way out, Jerry decided. But that didn't matter.

Jerry pulled the truck into a parking s.p.a.ce in back of a row of tan metal hangars. Although there were a number of cars in the parking lot, the place looked deserted. Then he remembered that pilots liked to take off at dawn. Those cars probably belonged to people who were already airborne.

Quickly Jerry and Taj rolled up the truck's tailgate. 'Okay- We're here.a aAbout time,a Kuznetsov said as he hopped down. aThe dragon is getting carsick.a Moira followed him out, gulping deep lungfuls of air and looking decidedly green around the gills, even for a dragon. aI am sorry, My Lord. I am not used to riding in closed conveyances and this body is unwell.a aNo harm done,a Gilligan a.s.sured her.

aBut five minutes moreaa aNever mind that,a Jerry cut the Russian off. aLet's go find our ride.a Just at that moment Charlie came around the corner of the hangar wiping his hands on a rag. In the light of day his orange jumpsuit looked even gaudier than it had in the c.o.c.ktail lounge. He saw Moira, did a double take and got his composure back.