Abby rolled onto her back, unable to sleep. They concluded the planning late, taking a run out into the streets with Fox to learn the territory. Stone returned to the harbor to follow up on the boat names he'd pulled from his prodigious memory and match them to the manifests and pier moorings listed with the harbor master, who happened to be a friend. Alyssa and Gidge conferred over finance matters and the latest from L.A. about the fire, the FBI's case against Blade, etcetera. Caulder kept working on theories about a warehouse full of formaldehyde, infrequently giving up and returning to examining the roster of expected guest speakers and bio-tech firms that would attend the conference.
Which had left her, King, Fox, and Zoe free after their ride around town. King took Zoe shooting, graduating her to actual bullets from darts and arrows. She was too small to handle the magnum, but Alyssa and Gidge had altered one of Hedges' designs to minimize the kick of one of the electronic pistols. They were doing silenced rounds into targets twenty feet away in the garage level of their base. Fox crashed, and Abby helped Zoe do the same on the couch in the living area, retiring with King on her heels after they were sure Zoe was asleep. They had sex, and King passed out in short order. She did not.
Now, it was the wee hours of Thursday morning. They had one week until the conference. Giving up on sleep for a while, Abby padded out of her room, tossing on one of the tacky souvenir shirts she'd picked up at the airport. She picked up her quiver, which sat atop a chair in the corner of the dining area. Gingerly, she pressed upon the leather, depressing it and sliding away the false bottom. A black case fell out, and she set the quiver aside. She opened the case and switched on the PDA, removing the stylus and waiting, poised to type.
She checked her e-mail; there was one new message. It had no subject, it would be entirely blank save for a time. The time was 2:00 a.m. GMT -8 Hr. The clock on the wall read 1:54 a.m. She would be just in time; she signed onto a messaging client as WhistlingDixie, set aside the PDA and fetched a glass of water. To pass the time, she prowled around the apartment. Abby checked on Zoe, who remained as she had been before, fast asleep. Alyssa and Caulder's door was ajar, and his light snores could be heard through the crack. Eli wouldn't be back for another few hours. Fox dozed, stirred when she walked by, and fell back to sleep after ascertaining Abby was no threat.
"Hey," King called when she turned back from their room, wresting a creak from the boards beneath the carpet. She hadn't intended to check on him, seeing as he usually slept like the dead. Abby ducked her head in through their door. "Something up?" His eyes and posture were alert. The enemy had caught him sleeping once in the last few weeks, and that was enough.
"No, just couldn't sleep," she slid through the door, crossing to the bed and sitting down on the end of it.
"Tragic heroines rarely do," King said, lying back. Abby walked back towards the pillows on her hands and knees, gave him a charming smile that visibly alarmed him, then drove her fist down into his gut. He grunted and knocked her off balance by sweeping her supporting arm. She fell onto the pillow beside him.
"Smartass," she growled, good-humoredly, then made a show of reconsidering this. "Well, the ass part at least is true." He said nothing, just reached under her to gather her back towards him, and she allowed it. It struck her as friendly and not romantic, this silent reassurance.
"Everything's okay, right?"
"Not everything," Abby confessed. "I don't know what we're doing here. It's easier just to kill them. All this planning..." She couldn't quite put her finger on it. Mostly, she had never considered just how different this new weapon would make their fight. Her training felt obsolete, incomplete, irrelevant to the tasks at hand. "It's just too complicated."
"That's life."
"Maybe," she said, noncommital. "I wanted to hunt tonight. Take out some locals, low-levels at least."
"Not a good idea to signal that we're here." That had been the general consensus. Abby still didn't understand it; in L.A., they took down vampires all the time, right up to the day they rescued Blade, and neither Danica nor Asher altered their plans in the slightest. Why should Leung or this Feliar person take umbrage on behalf of a few familiars or low-level vamps?
As if reading her mind, King answered, "Because they're already worried Blade's still in the area." Abby bit her tongue to keep from saying anything.
"I'm going to get another glass of water," she disengaged from King, accepting the affectionate squeeze he gave her hand as she left again. The clock now read 2:01 a.m. Damn. She was late. When she picked up the PDA, she had a message already.
DoubleEdge: Update.
She sighed, writing back with the stylus:
WhistlingDixie: Scouting conference. Seems familiar.
DoubleEdge: The rest?
WhistlingDixie: Anxious. One week. You?
DoubleEdge: Left Prague, en route.
WhistlingDixie: Coming for the party?
DoubleEdge: Wouldn't miss it.
Double Edge signed off, as did she. Chugging her glass of water, Abby replaced the PDA in the quiver and returned to her room. Sleep still eluded her, and King didn't wake this time when she crawled under the blankets next to him. In the early morning hours, she lay, alternately thinking of nothing and everything, eyes misted and then focused. She thought about a tactical plan for taking the convention center, then traced the scars on King's face. Two were new; one was the old mark below his left eye.
The conference center would be well staffed; nothing secret would be divulged to the doctors in attendance. That would be saved for the private party on Thursday, which, undoubtedly, would have an entirely familiar and vampire guest list. But they had to be sure of that before attacking in order to minimize civilian casualties.
He'd never said what had caused that old scar.
If Leung could be charmed as easily as Fox thought Feliar might be, perhaps she would put Alyssa to that job. As much as the woman loathed all discussion of her former life under her master, she still had the glyph and could still probably pass as a familiar, for mingling purposes if nothing else. And Leung had only recently moved up; it was possible he didn't know the glyph system that well.
His shoulder would still need time to heal, especially if King refused to take it easy for more than a few hours at a time.
What the vampires wanted with artificial blood was obvious enough, but what was being presented that merited so many traveling from the old world and relative security? The money California voted to spend on stem cell research aside, there weren't going to be any major breakthroughs announced. Perhaps they wanted to match up ambitious scientists and private and public benefactors?
Her head swam, dizzy with the possibilities. King rolled onto his side, pressing up against her warmth, unconsciously nuzzling her with his nose. Abby surrendered to vertigo, letting it overwhelm and exhaust her, relying on the steady breathing in her ear to center her. Her last thought before she succumbed was he didn't want to She was too tired even to know hardly what that meant or to investigate why it cheered her.
"I don't remember calling you."
"Look, sir, this is listed on my daily roster, and I have an invoice for a Rolm450 caller ID service repair for a Tony Baker." Gidge glanced pointedly at the white plastic nameplate on the glass cubicle. "You're Tony Baker." He moved his gaze purposefully along from the name tag on the wall to the phone at the desk. "That's a Rolm450." He clicked a button on his cell, which was disguised as one of those dumbbell-shaped phone testing devices. The phone on the desk rang, but no number came up. "That's a caller ID problem. Q.E.D."
"But I didn't make the request for the repair."
"Doesn't matter. Often, these things are just routine. Someone's secretary or intern comes around and checks the phones late at night, finds a few not working. See, I've got your pal Janice Owens over there, too," Gidge pointed a finger roughly in the direction of the desk belonging to that name and then picked her out on the invoice.
"Hah," Tony actually laughed, and Gidge caught the relief in it. Sure, it was too suspicious, the phone guy showing up right after some other imposters cleaned out a huge vampire nest egg, but he had to risk it. Fortunately, though he stood out, modern technology wouldn't. After he left, Tony could take apart the phone for all it mattered, he wouldn't find the bug; so long as he used the phone-and it would attract too much attention for him not to use it-Gidge would have the information from the caller ID. Once it was working, that was.
"It's gonna be ten-fifteen minutes for me to isolate the problem, maybe five-ten to fix the rest."
"You know what it is?"
"If it's the same thing Mrs. Owens had…"
"Miss," Tony corrected him, almost an automatic response, "Miss."
"Woo-hoo-hoo," Gidge laughed. "Man, didn't see that one or anything."
"Yeah," Tony chuckled, lowering his voice, "I bet her caller ID was sabotaged, right?"
"I'm not supposed to give out sensitive, private client information," Gidge said loudly while tapping the side of his nose with his finger. He crawled under the desk to rearrange the jacks. "This, uh, might just be a tad distracting, so, if you could, you know, give me some space, man, that'd be great."
"Sure," Tony agreed, attempting to surreptitiously close his top desk drawer, which, from the brief glance Gidge had caught of it, was full of personal and business-related effects. Gidge spied the cell phone clipped to Baker's belt buckle. An LG C2200, not a popular model, but wouldn't you know…
"Hey, great phone, man," Gidge commented, turning his attention fully back to the jack in front of him. "Got one myself." He unhooked that exact model from the pouch at his side, double-checking as he handed it up that it was the same.
"How do you like it? Mine's too new for me to get used to just yet."
"Well, I like the camera feature, but the resolution's shitty. My wife bought it for me," he elaborated.
"Yeah," Tony laughed again. They were getting to be pals. "Mine, too." Tony, in the inevitable fashion of all people handed something to play with, began to investigate, searching through the pictures Gidge had saved. He heard a whistle as he split the telephone wire to insert the tracer within the plastic coat; Tony had found the nude photos. "Uh, is this your wife?"
"Yeah, isn't she beautiful?" Gidge said, inanely, distracted, pretending not to know that his 'wife' was naked in the pictures Tony was looking at. Baker sat down, hard, in his chair, surfing between the last three or so pictures Gidge had uploaded. The resolution was shitty on the phone, so it masked the fact that girl on it wasn't always the same girl.
"She's lovely," Tony mumbled.
"Figure I ought to keep her on it. Remind me why I keep the damn thing when the battery dies on me every other day, you know?"
"Yeah," Tony sounded wistful. Good, there, he had the connection. He cut the plastic jack off the end, aligned the colored wires and crimped a new end on a few inches farther down, concealing the slit he'd made in the casing. The problem with phone bugs on the tapped person's end was that, traditionally, they'd been too large, too noticeable, too easy to remove. These new ones, however, he could slide into the wire and have barely a bulge. Cut the end off the cord, fix a new head on it, and no one would notice the cable was an inch shorter than it ought to be.
"How's that?" He called up to Tony. "Dial it from your phone or something, would you?" He smacked the red box with his phone in it. "This thing's on its last legs." From beneath the desk, he saw Tony unclip his cell and dial with his free hand. The dummy phone was still open to the porno pictures in his other hand.
"No good. It's not showing my name or even my number. I know I programmed this one in."
"The new one? You're sure?"
"Kept my old number."
"Damn, hang on," Gidge crawled out from under the desk, and picked up the phone, unscrewing the receiver cover and pulling at the wires. He made a show of twisting and fiddling with pliers, closing the cover, opening the back of the phone base, and repeating the process. Tony watched him, both phones open. He hit 'SEND' on his own. The caller ID showed nothing.
"Damn," Gidge went back under the desk with his pack. "Hey, can you do me a favor?"
"What's that?"
"Go to the next desk over and call from there. I want to see if this is purely an external line problem or if I need to do a complete rehaul."
"Sure thing." Tony walked away, putting both cell phones down on the desk, his on the right, the dummy on the left. Gidge groped for one cell phone, looking at it, closing it with a show of mistaken identity, then putting it back on the opposite side of the other one. Now, the dummy was on the right. The old bait and switch.
He withdrew from under the desk and saw the caller ID register nothing as Tony gave him the thumbs up from the cubicle directly across from him. He held up one finger-wait. Opening the base of the phone, he removed and replaced some wires, allowing the screen to light up again. That, he prided himself, had been real genius. Instead of messing with complicated algorithms related to caller ID, he'd simply turned the display screen off. He'd done it an hour and a half earlier when he'd visited a few other cubicles pretending to have problems with their phones, long before Tony Baker arrived at the office. To Tony, he nodded, gave the thumbs up back.
"It's funny," Tony said, coming back in. "I didn't notice there was a problem."
"Most people don't," Gidge confessed, conspiratorially. "Until some big wig can't get the number of the hooker he hired so he can screen it before the wifey picks up. Then we catch hell. But, uh, you didn't hear that from me," Gidge covered his mouth with one hand. Tony smirked, nodding. "There were a few others here that were fine," he nodded at the invoice still on Tony's desk. "Probably someone's idea of a joke."
"Stupid joke," Tony said, swallowing against a lump; he was clearly nervous, if relieved and overjoyed that he, specifically, hadn't been targeted. Just went to show what an idiot he was, Gidge figured.
"Well, I'm off to the next exotic location," he held out his right hand to shake Tony's, and reached for the right cell phone.
"Yours is on the left," Tony said quickly. "Put 'em down that way."
"Thanks," Gidge smiled, taking the one on the left, "that would have been a mess, huh?" He wagged the cell at Tony. "You should be more careful when you play with these. Pretty soon, everyone's going to have one, like the VX6000. Take care," Gidge waved, collecting his gear as he left. He rounded the corner, removing the battery and popping open the back of the phone with one swift spin of the miniature screwdriver attached to his keys. Waiting for the elevator with another man, he politely nodded at him, barely looking at what he was doing and getting on the next elevator that arrived with only a, "Could you hit lobby, please?"
The cell was back in one piece and in his bag when the doors opened again, and he feigned surprise when a breathless Tony caught up to him at the front entrance.
"Wait"
"Oh, hey, Tony Something wrong?"
"Think…we…got…these…mixed…up," Tony heaved, holding out the dummy phone. Gidge slowly, deliberately, fished for Tony's phone, opened it, eyes jumping open wide.
"Well, shit on me, you're right. Sorry about that, man." He handed it back without hesitation and accepting the other one in exchange. "Next time, keep a better eye on your stuff, man."
"You, too," Tony snapped. "Wiseass."
"My pleasure," Gidge bowed his head. "Cheers." He didn't turn around to see what Tony would do, just looked down at wrinkled piece of paper he'd pulled from the satchel at his waist. He walked in one direction two steps, shook his head, then went the opposite way. As he turned, he caught a glimpse of Tony retreating back upstairs, his cell phone out; his thumb moved back and forth over it a few times before he closed it. Then he was gone.
Tony's checking it to be sure this time it's his. Gidge chuckled to himself, stuffing the paper back in the leather bag. It didn't matter that the phone technically belonged to Tony. With the new card in it, that phone belonged to him. Just like the office phone.
"Should have listened to my advice, Tony."
All in all, not a bad start to the day.