Part 11 (2/2)

Desh went on to repeat the conversation they had had earlier when he had filled Griffin in on the night before. He then repeated the specifics of the a.s.signment he wanted Griffin to work on, an extensive foray into Kira Miller's past. ”Look, Matt, I'm really sorry about this, but I still need to regenerate. Do you mind if I continue to sleep on your couch while you work?”

”Go ahead,” said Griffin.

”Thanks. Can you wake me in exactly two hours and give me a progress report?”

”Will do,” responded Griffin.

Desh gave the thumbs up signal to Griffin and then put his finger to his lips. He carefully returned the bugs to the soundproof container.

”Nicely done, Matt,” he said appreciatively.

With any luck anyone keeping tabs on them would relax for a while and decide that any satellite use for the next few hours would be a waste of resources.

Desh continued to visualize different scenarios that might arise and considered making a stop at his apartment for bulletproof vests, but quickly ruled this out. It would be risky and take too much time. Besides, the vests could only stop handgun fire and not rifle-fire. If the military were involved in this, even a small rogue element, they would a.s.sume he was wearing a vest and choose their weaponry accordingly. In this case the vests would be a disadvantage rather than an advantage. He enjoyed the Star Wars movies as much as the next guy, but had always seen Storm Troopers as the height of stupidity: their head-to-toe white body armor did nothing but slow them down and make their movements awkward while failing to protect them one iota from even the weakest blaster.

Desh removed the thick wad of hundreds from the case he had brought and held them out in front of his face to show Griffin. ”An ample supply of cash can prove just as useful in certain emergency situations as a weapon can,” he said, and then shoved the bills into his front pants pocket.

Griffin raised his eyebrows. ”And here all these years I was under the impression that carrying a huge amount of cash actually put you in greater danger, not less. Who knew?”

Desh grinned. ”Do you have a cell phone on you?” he asked.

Griffin nodded.

”Leave it. I'm sure you know they can be used as homing beacons.”

Griffin pulled his phone from his pocket and set it on his desk. ”Okay,” he said, nodding toward Desh. ”What about your phone?”

”It's a special design issued by my firm. It can't be tracked. You can't protect people effectively if their enemies can track you.”

Desh slipped out the door and scouted the area for ten minutes, until he was satisfied the coast was clear. Even so, they took separate exits from the building, keeping their heads down and walking as un.o.btrusively as possible.

Griffin retrieved his car, a blue Chrysler minivan, and met Desh two blocks from the apartment complex. Griffin slid over into the pa.s.senger seat. Desh jumped in, quickly adjusted the seat and mirrors, and drove off. The minivan hadn't had a bath in some time and it was cluttered with empty water bottles, Starbucks containers, and even an empty pizza box.

Desh turned to Griffin and raised his eyebrows. ”A minivan?” he said with a smile. ”Interesting choice for a single guy like you, Matt. I hear these are real chick magnets.”

”You Special Forces sissies may need flashy sports cars to attract the fairer s.e.x, but not us hackers,” responded Griffin with mock bravado. ”Women find us irresistible. We get swarmed like rock stars.”

Desh laughed. ”I see. So the minivan is actually a tactic to fend them off?”

”Exactly,” replied Griffin with a grin.

”Good choice, then.”

Griffin laughed. ”Actually,” he said, ”I use it to haul around scores of old computers, sometimes rebuilding and reselling them and sometimes cannibalizing parts.” He smiled slyly. ”And as for women, I do very well for myself. And I really don't need a fancy car. I meet and attract them all the old fas.h.i.+oned way.”

Desh gazed at Griffin quizzically.

”Online, of course,” he said in amus.e.m.e.nt.

Desh's smile remained for several seconds. When it was finally gone, a grave expression replaced it. ”All right, Matt,” he said. ”It's time to tell you what I know, incomplete as it is.”

Griffin's face reflected both eagerness and anxiety, in equal measure.

Throughout the long drive to Emporia, Desh told Griffin everything he knew and the current state of his a.n.a.lysis, forcing himself to obey the speed limit as he did so; battling his nature so they wouldn't risk getting pulled over. The day remained overcast, with intermittent rain, although it appeared they were driving away from the rain rather than toward it.

When Desh had finished, Griffin was dumbfounded. ”This is truly astonis.h.i.+ng stuff here, David. If any of this is true the implications are staggering,” he said.

Desh pursed his lips and nodded in agreement. ”I know I've managed to put you in the middle of all this, but if it makes you feel any better, you and I could be standing at the crossroads of human history. The decisions we make now could well play a role in stopping a bioterror threat and bringing the fountain of youth to the world.”

”Thanks David,” said Griffin, a pained expression on his face. ”Now I feel a lot more relaxed.”

”I was shooting for inspiration.”

”And you succeeded. I'm inspired and freaked out at the same time.”

Desh smiled. ”Why don't you tell me what you learned about Kira while I was asleep,” he said.

Griffin was five minutes into his report when Desh's cell phone went off. He pulled it from his pocket and eyed the screen warily. It was Connelly. And given the call was unsecured, it had to be urgent. Connelly's cell, like Desh's, was untraceable, but it paid to keep the communication short and to the point.

”Yes,” snapped Desh as he answered the call.

”I'm tracking non-stop toward our rendezvous point, with an ETA as planned,” said Connelly. ”Managed to flush out some company. I think I lost them but can't be sure.”

”Understood,” said Desh. He paused in thought for a moment and then added, ”Stick with the original plan. I'll monitor your perimeter after you arrive.”

”Copy that,” said Connelly, ending the connection.

Griffin eyed Desh questioningly as he put his phone away.

”The colonel detected a car following him,” explained Desh. ”But he thinks he lost them.”

”Thinks he lost them?” said Griffin nervously.

”We have to a.s.sume he hasn't.”

”But I heard you say, *stick with the original plan.' Why would you do that if you still think he might have been followed?”

”Because we need information and this might be our best chance to get some.”

”How?”

”By setting up an ambush for any unwanted guests,” responded Desh gravely.

Griffin shook his head vigorously. ”No way!” he croaked, his lofty vocabulary invariably coming down to earth when he was scared or angry. ”That's not what I signed on for. You may thrive on all this macho military bulls.h.i.+t, but I'm not interested in any of it.”

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