"Diamonds Are Forever" Part 2
Scene 6, 2019, Logan's
Max walked into Logan's computer room. "You paged?" she deadpanned.
"Got a job for you," he turned his chair around to face her, "Actually, it is part of the job you're doing. Here." He handed her a slim silver case.
"Oooh a present," she opened it to reveal four small, amber-colored curved disks. They resembled contact lenses and were only slightly larger. There was also a miniature camera. "Voice activated parabolic microphones," she smiled, "Broadcasting at what, 450 Meg?"
"500, actually. The, uh, 450 megs got destroyed in Alina's little present to her father," Logan reminded her.
"Keep this up and you're gonna spoil me," she leaned on her elbows on the edge of the desk, bringing her face closer to his, "So what's the job?"
"I pulled down some email conferences between Aaron and the South Africans. They've arranged a meeting tonight and we need to be there," Logan informed her, "I'm trusting you to get these planted in safe locations."
"No praw," she assured him, "Standard spy recon. That was always my best subject."
"I thought your best subject was telecommunications," Logan recalled.
"Well, I was a prodigy. Good at everything."
He flashed her his megawatt grin that sent chills through her though she refused to let herself feel them. "I'll bet you were."
She smiled. "So, where are the boys meeting tonight?"
"10 pm, South Market. We'll be a block away, listening in."
"Ok." Max responded, pocketing the case that held the parabolic mikes. "Gotta jet before Normal has a kitten."
"See you tonight," Logan replied. Max nodded and left.
Scene 7, 2019, South Market, 9:45 pm
Max slunk around the shadows of the old South Market. Once a tourist place, it was now one of the city's more dangerous sectors.
'Figures,' she thought to herself, 'the idiots would want to play spooks and robbers in the dark ghetto. Let's 'em think they're big, strong men.'
She slid the slim case containing the mikes and video cam out of the pocket of her black vest. The case popped open with a soft pffffft. She took one of the mikes and placed it on the ground where it wouldn't get stepped on. Leaping easily on to a dumpster, she placed another there. She whirled searching for another place to stow a microphone. A windowsill caught her eye. Perfect. From there she leapt up a story to a fire escape landing. Securing the camera and final mike there, she surveyed the area. All points covered.
"You getting this?" she whispered into the mike.
"Yup. Nice job, Max," Logan's cascaded into her ear through her earpiece that he had provided her with. She subconsciously noticed that the volume of his voice was politely set to a level that would not annoy her. She smiled to herself. Trust Logan to think of that. "Come on back here," he continued, "It's 9:55, they'll be arriving soon."
"Roger. Be there in five." She threw a line up to the top of the building. The grappling hook caught and Max effortlessly scaled the building. With out much effort she ran across the top, jumped the chasm between it and the next building, ran the length of that one and jumped, landing gracefully on the hood of Logan's Aztec. She climbed into the vehicle through an open window and settled in the passenger seat.
"Four seconds, that's a record," Logan commented.
"Actually, I can do it in three," she informed him.
"Oh, well, just try not to do it too often," he turned and looked at her, "It makes me nervous."
"Is it the fear of heights thing? 'Cuz I can fix that," she grinned.
"No thanks," he said retuning her grin.
"You sure? The view from the Space Needle is really spectacular," her voice was slightly seductive.
"Yeah, thanks anyway, Max," he turned his attention to the camera monitor, where Booke and Shreck had just appeared. "Hello gentlemen."
Minutes later a jumpy Aaron showed. "Ok, I found out where the Vesper is." His voice was tight.
"Where is my diamond?" Booke sneered.
"In a museum," Aaron said, "My father put it there in safe keeping for me. It's his last laugh on all of us."
"What? A museum?" Booke considered working Aaron's face with a set of pliers to work off his annoyance.
"That's right, my father put my diamond in a museum."
"My diamond," Booke growled.
"The point is, nobody gets it," Aaron imparted.
Booke motioned to Shreck, who pushed Aaron up against a wall. Booke stepped up and planted his face right in Aaron's. "I want my diamond. And you're going to get it for me," he said slowly, but with menace, "Understood?"
"Yeah, yeah," Aaron nodded. Shreck releases him.
"Good. We'll contact you later." Booke flexed his fingers before curling them into a fist. But to Aaron's relief he released it and walked away, with Shreck right behind.
Scene 8, 2019, La Bella Cuccina (a restaurant), the next afternoon
Max sat at a table in Bella Cuccina's outdoor patio. She was wearing a pale blue dress, and hating every moment of it. Aaron was seated across from her, babbling.
"So, I kind of rebelled. My father, well, " Aaron stopped seeing her yawn, "I'm boring you aren't I? I mean here I am, I go and cancel dinner and you're nice enough to meet me for lunch. Then I spill my whole life story to you, you must be bored."
"No, just a late night last night," she lied.
"Anyway, enough about me, tell me about you."
Max froze. "Uh, there's not much to tell."
"Oh, come on, there must have been some brothers who taught you how to play pool like that," Aaron said.
"Nope, just me and the pockets." There were brothers, but not to teach her pool.
"Well," Aaron shrugged, "You know what they say about girls who play pool."
"No, what do 'They' say?" Max kept smiling like a ditz. She felt idiotic.
"Actually, I just made that up. But just thinking that there's a 'They', it's creepy."
"Yeah, I know, I say 'They this' or 'They that' and I think who is 'They' and how do they know everything?"
"It's like they're watching us," Aaron intoned.
"The paranoids," Max joked.
"No, but Maria, I am serious. I got involved with some pretty bad guys."
She'd told him her name was Maria Allende, since 'Rachel Glasser' was now linked to her real name.
"Sometimes you just get in over your head, that's all," Max looked up and saw Logan, dressed in a suit and sunglasses, getting escorted to a table behind them. "Sometimes, you've just got to know when to say enough is *enough*." The last part was directed in Logan's direction, with a definite edge to it. Logan ignored it ordered a salad and a soda. As soon as the waiter disappeared, he pulled out his cellular phone.
A few moments later, a waiter came to Max and Aaron's table. "There's a phone call for you, Mr. Mitchellson."
Aaron looked at the waiter. "Who?"
"The caller didn't leave his name."
Aaron looked at Max, visibly shaken. "I didn't tell anyone I was here, but I'd better take it." He got up and went to the phone. Max turned to Logan.
"What are you doing here?" she hissed.
"The guys Aaron met last night? I traced them. One is Peter Verholm, alias Peter Bookham, sometimes Adrian Booke. His associate is Robert Schenk, alias Peter Shreck. They arrived two days before Mitchellson's death. They're hatchet men for one of the most radical Afrikaner movements going. These guys are old school."
"Couldn't that have waited? Aaron will be back soon."
"I'm the one who called Aaron," Logan told her, "And I figure we've got thirteen seconds before he comes back."
"You're strange."
"I prefer eccentric."
"Whatever." Max looked up to see Aaron returning. He sat down and smiled weakly.
"Who was it?" she asked, pretending to care.
"I don't know, they hung up as soon as I got there."
"Imagine that."
Scene 9, 2019, Jam Pony, a little later
Normal found Sketchy banging his head off his locker. "For the love of Mike! What are you doing?" Normal grabbed Sketchy by his collar and pulled him away from the lockers. He shoved a package in his hands, "Here, deliver this."
"Oh, no! No, I can't, please!" Sketchy was crying.
"Why not? You are a bike messenger, it's what you do. Or am I paying you feckless idiots to eat bonbons all day?" Normal rolled is eyes.
"Please, man, I'm begging you," Sketchy got on his knees, "I'll never ask for anything again!"
Cindy walked by and Normal thrust the package at her, "Here, do your job." Cindy snorted, but took it and went to grab her bike.
Sketchy jumped up and hugged Normal. "Thank you, man! I owe you."
"Yes, how nice, now let go of me you greasy delinquent," Normal said, extricating himself from Sketchy. He looked around. "Where the firetruck is Max?"
"Right here," she said tapping him on the shoulder.
"Max, how nice of you to take time out of your busy schedule and join us. You must be very busy between mediating on Mount Kilamanjaro, selling Girl Scout cookies and performing on Star Search. As told to me by your brainless coworkers."
"Actually, I overslept."
"Oh, well, do me a favor and take this moron with you to Kilamanjaro, would you?" Normal said pushing Sketchy in Max's direction.
Max pulled sketchy over to the couch where Herbal was reading the newspaper. "What'd you do now, Sketch?"
"Okay, um . . . you know Big Joe? Well, he caught me flirting with his girlfriend . . ."
"Sketch, you idiot," Max whacked him upside the head.
"Ouch! He threatened to beat me up if he saw me again. I can't go out there, Max. Not unless . . ." He looked at her with big, pleading eyes.
"No, no way. Ask some one else." She shook her head.
"My brother, you will not get far on the path to righteousness if you continue to pant after every Chiquita that crosses your path. You forget about Natalie?" Herbal said, "I will not help you, and neither will Maxie. You on your own, brother."
"Oh, come on, please guys! I'll do anything!"
"Anything?" Max asked
"Anything."
"Nope. Still not enough."
Scene 10, 2019, Manticore, that same day
Booke sat in a chair in his boss's office. His boss was none other than Donald Michaels, aka Donald Lydecker.
"Where's the diamond?" He demanded.
"Mitchellson put it in a museum. We have to steal it back."
Lydecker shook his head. "If only people knew how common diamonds are," he gestured at a computer screen that displayed the diamond mines of South Africa, "They're as common as grass, but one family controls distribution and therefore, perception. So every one thinks diamonds are rare. People are like sheep, Mr. Booke. We get them to believe our ideas are their genius notions."
"But then we wouldn't get a good price for it, would we?" Booke replied.
"No, we wouldn't. And with that amount of money, I'll be able to take Manticore to Level Three and recapture the renegade X-5's," he said, "Starting with her."
He was pointing at Max's picture.
Scene 6, 2019, Logan's
Max walked into Logan's computer room. "You paged?" she deadpanned.
"Got a job for you," he turned his chair around to face her, "Actually, it is part of the job you're doing. Here." He handed her a slim silver case.
"Oooh a present," she opened it to reveal four small, amber-colored curved disks. They resembled contact lenses and were only slightly larger. There was also a miniature camera. "Voice activated parabolic microphones," she smiled, "Broadcasting at what, 450 Meg?"
"500, actually. The, uh, 450 megs got destroyed in Alina's little present to her father," Logan reminded her.
"Keep this up and you're gonna spoil me," she leaned on her elbows on the edge of the desk, bringing her face closer to his, "So what's the job?"
"I pulled down some email conferences between Aaron and the South Africans. They've arranged a meeting tonight and we need to be there," Logan informed her, "I'm trusting you to get these planted in safe locations."
"No praw," she assured him, "Standard spy recon. That was always my best subject."
"I thought your best subject was telecommunications," Logan recalled.
"Well, I was a prodigy. Good at everything."
He flashed her his megawatt grin that sent chills through her though she refused to let herself feel them. "I'll bet you were."
She smiled. "So, where are the boys meeting tonight?"
"10 pm, South Market. We'll be a block away, listening in."
"Ok." Max responded, pocketing the case that held the parabolic mikes. "Gotta jet before Normal has a kitten."
"See you tonight," Logan replied. Max nodded and left.
Scene 7, 2019, South Market, 9:45 pm
Max slunk around the shadows of the old South Market. Once a tourist place, it was now one of the city's more dangerous sectors.
'Figures,' she thought to herself, 'the idiots would want to play spooks and robbers in the dark ghetto. Let's 'em think they're big, strong men.'
She slid the slim case containing the mikes and video cam out of the pocket of her black vest. The case popped open with a soft pffffft. She took one of the mikes and placed it on the ground where it wouldn't get stepped on. Leaping easily on to a dumpster, she placed another there. She whirled searching for another place to stow a microphone. A windowsill caught her eye. Perfect. From there she leapt up a story to a fire escape landing. Securing the camera and final mike there, she surveyed the area. All points covered.
"You getting this?" she whispered into the mike.
"Yup. Nice job, Max," Logan's cascaded into her ear through her earpiece that he had provided her with. She subconsciously noticed that the volume of his voice was politely set to a level that would not annoy her. She smiled to herself. Trust Logan to think of that. "Come on back here," he continued, "It's 9:55, they'll be arriving soon."
"Roger. Be there in five." She threw a line up to the top of the building. The grappling hook caught and Max effortlessly scaled the building. With out much effort she ran across the top, jumped the chasm between it and the next building, ran the length of that one and jumped, landing gracefully on the hood of Logan's Aztec. She climbed into the vehicle through an open window and settled in the passenger seat.
"Four seconds, that's a record," Logan commented.
"Actually, I can do it in three," she informed him.
"Oh, well, just try not to do it too often," he turned and looked at her, "It makes me nervous."
"Is it the fear of heights thing? 'Cuz I can fix that," she grinned.
"No thanks," he said retuning her grin.
"You sure? The view from the Space Needle is really spectacular," her voice was slightly seductive.
"Yeah, thanks anyway, Max," he turned his attention to the camera monitor, where Booke and Shreck had just appeared. "Hello gentlemen."
Minutes later a jumpy Aaron showed. "Ok, I found out where the Vesper is." His voice was tight.
"Where is my diamond?" Booke sneered.
"In a museum," Aaron said, "My father put it there in safe keeping for me. It's his last laugh on all of us."
"What? A museum?" Booke considered working Aaron's face with a set of pliers to work off his annoyance.
"That's right, my father put my diamond in a museum."
"My diamond," Booke growled.
"The point is, nobody gets it," Aaron imparted.
Booke motioned to Shreck, who pushed Aaron up against a wall. Booke stepped up and planted his face right in Aaron's. "I want my diamond. And you're going to get it for me," he said slowly, but with menace, "Understood?"
"Yeah, yeah," Aaron nodded. Shreck releases him.
"Good. We'll contact you later." Booke flexed his fingers before curling them into a fist. But to Aaron's relief he released it and walked away, with Shreck right behind.
Scene 8, 2019, La Bella Cuccina (a restaurant), the next afternoon
Max sat at a table in Bella Cuccina's outdoor patio. She was wearing a pale blue dress, and hating every moment of it. Aaron was seated across from her, babbling.
"So, I kind of rebelled. My father, well, " Aaron stopped seeing her yawn, "I'm boring you aren't I? I mean here I am, I go and cancel dinner and you're nice enough to meet me for lunch. Then I spill my whole life story to you, you must be bored."
"No, just a late night last night," she lied.
"Anyway, enough about me, tell me about you."
Max froze. "Uh, there's not much to tell."
"Oh, come on, there must have been some brothers who taught you how to play pool like that," Aaron said.
"Nope, just me and the pockets." There were brothers, but not to teach her pool.
"Well," Aaron shrugged, "You know what they say about girls who play pool."
"No, what do 'They' say?" Max kept smiling like a ditz. She felt idiotic.
"Actually, I just made that up. But just thinking that there's a 'They', it's creepy."
"Yeah, I know, I say 'They this' or 'They that' and I think who is 'They' and how do they know everything?"
"It's like they're watching us," Aaron intoned.
"The paranoids," Max joked.
"No, but Maria, I am serious. I got involved with some pretty bad guys."
She'd told him her name was Maria Allende, since 'Rachel Glasser' was now linked to her real name.
"Sometimes you just get in over your head, that's all," Max looked up and saw Logan, dressed in a suit and sunglasses, getting escorted to a table behind them. "Sometimes, you've just got to know when to say enough is *enough*." The last part was directed in Logan's direction, with a definite edge to it. Logan ignored it ordered a salad and a soda. As soon as the waiter disappeared, he pulled out his cellular phone.
A few moments later, a waiter came to Max and Aaron's table. "There's a phone call for you, Mr. Mitchellson."
Aaron looked at the waiter. "Who?"
"The caller didn't leave his name."
Aaron looked at Max, visibly shaken. "I didn't tell anyone I was here, but I'd better take it." He got up and went to the phone. Max turned to Logan.
"What are you doing here?" she hissed.
"The guys Aaron met last night? I traced them. One is Peter Verholm, alias Peter Bookham, sometimes Adrian Booke. His associate is Robert Schenk, alias Peter Shreck. They arrived two days before Mitchellson's death. They're hatchet men for one of the most radical Afrikaner movements going. These guys are old school."
"Couldn't that have waited? Aaron will be back soon."
"I'm the one who called Aaron," Logan told her, "And I figure we've got thirteen seconds before he comes back."
"You're strange."
"I prefer eccentric."
"Whatever." Max looked up to see Aaron returning. He sat down and smiled weakly.
"Who was it?" she asked, pretending to care.
"I don't know, they hung up as soon as I got there."
"Imagine that."
Scene 9, 2019, Jam Pony, a little later
Normal found Sketchy banging his head off his locker. "For the love of Mike! What are you doing?" Normal grabbed Sketchy by his collar and pulled him away from the lockers. He shoved a package in his hands, "Here, deliver this."
"Oh, no! No, I can't, please!" Sketchy was crying.
"Why not? You are a bike messenger, it's what you do. Or am I paying you feckless idiots to eat bonbons all day?" Normal rolled is eyes.
"Please, man, I'm begging you," Sketchy got on his knees, "I'll never ask for anything again!"
Cindy walked by and Normal thrust the package at her, "Here, do your job." Cindy snorted, but took it and went to grab her bike.
Sketchy jumped up and hugged Normal. "Thank you, man! I owe you."
"Yes, how nice, now let go of me you greasy delinquent," Normal said, extricating himself from Sketchy. He looked around. "Where the firetruck is Max?"
"Right here," she said tapping him on the shoulder.
"Max, how nice of you to take time out of your busy schedule and join us. You must be very busy between mediating on Mount Kilamanjaro, selling Girl Scout cookies and performing on Star Search. As told to me by your brainless coworkers."
"Actually, I overslept."
"Oh, well, do me a favor and take this moron with you to Kilamanjaro, would you?" Normal said pushing Sketchy in Max's direction.
Max pulled sketchy over to the couch where Herbal was reading the newspaper. "What'd you do now, Sketch?"
"Okay, um . . . you know Big Joe? Well, he caught me flirting with his girlfriend . . ."
"Sketch, you idiot," Max whacked him upside the head.
"Ouch! He threatened to beat me up if he saw me again. I can't go out there, Max. Not unless . . ." He looked at her with big, pleading eyes.
"No, no way. Ask some one else." She shook her head.
"My brother, you will not get far on the path to righteousness if you continue to pant after every Chiquita that crosses your path. You forget about Natalie?" Herbal said, "I will not help you, and neither will Maxie. You on your own, brother."
"Oh, come on, please guys! I'll do anything!"
"Anything?" Max asked
"Anything."
"Nope. Still not enough."
Scene 10, 2019, Manticore, that same day
Booke sat in a chair in his boss's office. His boss was none other than Donald Michaels, aka Donald Lydecker.
"Where's the diamond?" He demanded.
"Mitchellson put it in a museum. We have to steal it back."
Lydecker shook his head. "If only people knew how common diamonds are," he gestured at a computer screen that displayed the diamond mines of South Africa, "They're as common as grass, but one family controls distribution and therefore, perception. So every one thinks diamonds are rare. People are like sheep, Mr. Booke. We get them to believe our ideas are their genius notions."
"But then we wouldn't get a good price for it, would we?" Booke replied.
"No, we wouldn't. And with that amount of money, I'll be able to take Manticore to Level Three and recapture the renegade X-5's," he said, "Starting with her."
He was pointing at Max's picture.