BETA - Project Avatar, page 17
“He told you?”
“No, I figured it out on my own. In fact, I wasn’t actually sure, but of course I am now. Ha!” He elbowed her playfully, and she grimaced. “Devilish game, what?”
She sulked for a while, watching the scenery roll by.
The forest thickened again as they came to the head of the valley, then passed up and over a ridge to enter a high wilderness stretching on to the horizon. He turned down a small side road, poorly marked with an old wooden sign. The road plunged deep into the darkness of the forest. She was just starting to feel spooked when the view opened up onto a large and tranquil mountain lake.
He stopped under a great, spreading willow near the water’s edge and shut off the engine. “This ought to do for a picnic, wouldn’t you say?”
“Wow. It’s beautiful!” Dee gushed.
The water was perfectly still, reflecting the rich shadows of the dense evergreen forest that blanketed the steep hillsides, and the silver and blue of the cloudless sky beyond. The shores of the lake were lined with the brighter green of oaks and willows, crowding in front of the pines to assert an ancient claim to the valley’s narrow riparian strip. The silence that poured in through the open windows as soon as he stopped the engine gradually gave way to primordial forest noises, unsullied by any human sound. Warblers sang overhead, and wood doves courted in their sad voices among the branches. It was one of the most beautiful places she had ever visited.
“How did you know this was here?”
“I was stationed not so far away, in Lyon, for a couple of years. I can’t say I really know these hills very well, but I do remember this spot.”
She sighed. “It would be hard to forget.”
They gathered their picnic supplies, and John led the way along a lakeside path. There was no one fishing or hiking anywhere along the shore—no sign of anyone in the valley at all. The air had that strange electric clarity found only in the mountains. A family of improbably ornate ducks watched them curiously as they passed along the path. Farther on, they accidentally flushed a pair of pheasants, and Dee started in alarm at the sudden, fast wing beats as the big birds flew heavily away over the water before banking up over the woods.
He led them to an old wooden park bench, apparently a remnant of a time when this spot had been more popular. It was mossy and half buried in brambles, but its planks were still sound. They sat down and spread out the food between them, almost without a word, and John produced a corkscrew and a pocketknife. Dee didn’t want to break the stillness of this place with her voice. They ate and drank and, for a long time, didn’t speak at all.
At last, John said, “Sooner or later, you’re going to have to trust someone.”
“I have people I trust.”
“I’m not talking about Abe. He’s a fine fellow, but he can’t hide you from the people who are chasing you. Even he knows that. And you can’t possibly hope to keep running from them, if that’s your idea of a plan. Frankly, it’s nothing short of miracle they haven’t sunk their teeth into you yet.”
“Well, what do you suggest?” she asked, knowing she wouldn’t like the answer.
“I have a number of contacts in Lyon and access to a safe house for tonight,” he told her. “Property of the Service. French intelligence might know about it, but to the best of my knowledge this is the first time anyone’s breathed a word of it to a Yank. So it should be quite safe for you. I would be honored if you’d be my guest there.”
“So much for that story about you not being on your government’s payroll.”
He held up his hand in what was clearly supposed to be a Scout’s-honor salute, though he had the fingers all wrong. “I am strictly private sector these days. Just calling in an old favor, that’s all. On your behalf.”
“For a humble civilian, you keep some strange company. How, for example, did you ever get so chummy with UMBRA?”
His sheepish smile gave a fair simulation of innocence. “At the risk of sounding disingenuous, I should avoid going into details on that point. Suffice it to say that we have amicably parted ways. I am out of the loop, UMBRA-wise.”
“Really?”
“We had irreconcilable differences a few years back. A bit of a shame, really. I’m curious what could possibly be on the general’s mind these days.”
She gave him a narrow glance. “Right. Now, would that be personal curiosity? Or just your duty as a loyal subject of the Crown?”
“A bit of both, I confess. Curiosity is a weakness of mine, true enough, but I must point out that you are a beneficiary of that weakness. Had I not found myself wondering about your whereabouts, you might be situated even now in a cabin with insufficient routes of exit, possibly subject to the untoward advances of uncivilized company. Whereas instead, here you are, safe in the bosom of nature, savoring the last drop of this intriguing vin jaune.”
“Yes, and on my way to some sort of cozy accommodation in Lyon,” she added, narrowing her eyes. “This is the second time you’ve offered me a place to spend the night. Do these offers come with any strings attached?”
“Why, whatever can you mean?” he asked archly.
“Your so-called safe house wouldn’t consist of a quiet basement where I might be induced to remember something, now, would it?”
“Of course not. If you should choose to share what you know about these strange events of recent days, I would sit spellbound. But it is not required.”
She gave him a peevish look of acquiescence. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
He raised his eyebrows and gave a tentative smile. “You’ll do it?” he repeated. “Smashing! There’s a bit of good news!”
“What choice do I have? I’ve got to go somewhere.”
She looked him in the eye and said, “And I know I can trust you.”
He smiled uncomfortably and paused. Then, looking out at the lake, he said, “As luck would have it, yes, you can.”
Dee stood up, feeling uncomfortable and not at all convinced.
“There’s no hurry,” he told her. “The day is yet young, and we’re no more than a couple of hours from Lyon.”
“I think I need a few moments by myself. I’ll be back.”
“Oh, dear.” The corners of John’s mouth turned down. “If memory serves, the last time you said that, you promptly scampered off two continents away.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised. “Give me ten minutes to myself.”
She wandered thirty yards away and stood at the edge of the rushes, throwing pebbles pensively into the lake. She glanced over her shoulder. He was lying down on the bench, pretending that he wasn’t watching her every move.
“Beta,” she said quietly.
“Yes, Karen.”
“I need you to follow these instructions. I will explain how to check Abe’s dead drop. Then, tell me if there is a message for me.”
After a few minutes of careful instruction, Beta replied, “There is a message for you.”
Chapter 17
A short while later, they were on their way back to the Hôtel Lajoux.
John agreed to let her return the Audi before they headed to Lyon. Dee also told him about her planned meeting with a contact of Abe’s in town this evening. John insisted that he accompany her, but she refused in no uncertain terms. He finally gave in, but only after she agreed to wear a Kevlar vest. It wasn’t too uncomfortable, though heavier than she had expected. Meanwhile, John arranged to meet a friend in the service about Operation Hydra, which Dee had mentioned after lunch. They would rendezvous at the airport car rental station after their meetings.
As they drove past the Hôtel Lajoux, she pressed her face to the glass, carefully examining as much as she could of the cabins, the forest, the shadows, seeking any sign of searchers or ambush. She saw nothing that suggested trouble. On the other hand, by now she knew that her ability to spot hidden dangers was not up to world espionage standards.
Once they had passed the cabins, John pulled over and let her off. She walked straight away from the road, to vanish into the woods as he had instructed.
She made her way back to the cabins by a circuitous route through the forest, following game trails and picking her way around shrubs and brambles. Staying well away from the road, she circled the row of cabins while staying in the safety of the shadows, observing the Hôtel Lajoux property from every angle. Then she hid behind a tree for a good fifteen minutes, just twenty feet away from her yellow sports car. She saw a young couple coming home to one of the cabins from their day’s wanderings, laughing a lot and listing a bit. Other than that, nothing was moving but the birds. If this was a trap, she couldn’t see it.
At last, she set her jaw and darted out of hiding. She ran to the Audi, jumped in, started the engine, and drove out onto the highway.
No one tried to stop her.
On the road, she checked the mirror a few times and, seeing no sign of pursuit, gave a tremulous sigh of relief and slowed down to just over the speed limit. She cursed John under her breath for having alarmed her by suggesting that UMBRA might catch up with her at any minute. She was doing a better job as a fugitive than he gave her credit for.
Clouds were gathering as she came down out of the hill country and crossed the broad plane of farmland west of Geneva. As Beta navigated her into the village of Bois des Frères, a delicate spring shower was falling. With the sun already veiled behind the mountains and the sky overcast, the street lights came on despite the early hour.
The stodgy little village, nestled on the bank of the Rhône, was a poignant blend of the quaint and the new. Rows of small stone houses lined the streets between big lindens and tulip poplars. The address Abe had left in the dead drop was the Brasserie des Frères, a modern-looking bar and grill in a shopping plaza. By the time Dee pulled into the parking lot, she was fifteen minutes late.
The rain appeared to have settled in for the evening, and when she opened the car door a wave of chilly air engulfed her. This was going to be a very cool alpine evening, and she had only her picnic clothes and a light sweater. She opened her umbrella and wandered across the plaza toward the brasserie, clutching her shoulder bag protectively against her chest.
Despite the descending chill, a dozen or more customers sat at the outdoor tables, under a wooden roof and the glow of heat lamps. She spotted Ramsey among them, recognizing him from Abe’s description. He was a dumpy but amiable-looking young man with round Harry Potter glasses and a blue shirt that clashed unforgivably with his khaki pants.
When he saw Dee make eye contact and head for his table, he stood up awkwardly and gave her a little smile and wave.
He held her chair for her. Chivalrous though it was, it came as such an unexpected bit of formality that she almost laughed. She was glad she didn’t; he looked like someone whose feelings were easily bruised.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Collins.” From the way he enunciated the words, it was clear he knew that it was not her real name.
He scrambled back into his chair, almost knocking it over. His voice was soft and nervous and, surprisingly, American. She had assumed he would be French or Swiss, though she had no basis for such an assumption. The Large Hadron Collider project had attracted intellectuals and technical specialists from all over the world, the States included.
“This place makes its own pression,” he chattered nervously. “If you like beer, I mean. They have all kinds of stuff. I think this waitress is ignoring me on purpose. Ha-ha, just kidding. I hope you don’t mind this sort of place. It’s not very authentic, if you know what I mean, but it’s away from all the main streets, you know—quite inconspicuous. Is it okay?” He kept playing with a beer coaster that was sitting on the table.
She assured him that it was fine. The heat lamp just behind their table was warming her up already. She let Ramsey natter on, filling the air with meaningless small talk, while she studied the surroundings.
The site was, as Ramsey had said, inconspicuous. The shopping plaza had the feel of a small piece of urban sprawl wedging its way into a country town. Then again, this wasn’t exactly the countryside—they were much closer to the city than she would have thought. Whenever the drizzle abated for a few moments, she could see a tall, pale blur in the sky to the east: Geneva’s famous supersize fountain, the Jet d’Eau, with a column of water four hundred feet high. Judging from the fountain’s appearance, she doubted they were more than a few miles from the city center.
“Originally, I’m from California,” he was saying. “Santa Barbara. I’ve also worked for years and years in Silicon Valley, doing all kinds of things. Mainly designing IC. In fact, I was working at a firm just a mile or so from Stanford University back when you were a student there.”
She glanced at him sharply. “How did you know I went to Stanford?”
He gave her a nervous, obsequious smile, eager to please and afraid of giving offense. “Everyone knows that.”
“Of course they don’t. Why would they?”
He leaned in a little closer and whispered excitedly, “You’re famous, Ms. Lockwood! You did the crypto for the Fed, and . . . and for the Saudis, and for, like, half the E.U. databases, too! You’re the greatest cryptographer in the world.”
It was at this point that Dee realized she was talking to the biggest geek in human history. Imagine thinking that being competent in the field of cryptography turned you into a celebrity! “I’d love to give you my autograph,” she joked, “but I’m going incognito.”
He nodded and whispered, “I understand.”
“I have to admit, I’m surprised Abe told you my real identity.”
“Me, too,” he replied. “I was kind of flattered, to tell you the truth. Then again, I wouldn’t have come here, otherwise.”
“Oh. That explains it.”
“At first he just said he wanted me to meet some woman named Karen Collins, and that I should be careful because it might be dangerous. And of course I said, ‘No way!’ But when he told me it was actually you, I told him, ‘Sure!’ I guess I’m kind of a fan.”
Well, she reflected, that sounded harmless enough. “Okay, but listen, Ramsey. Please do me a favor and don’t speak about my past anymore. I really am trying to stay incognito.”
His eyes widened in alarm, giving him the look of an owl unexpectedly awakened in the middle of the day. “Hey, I’m so sorry! I guess I’m not very good at this. Like I said, I mainly just design integrated circuits.”
While she was assuring him that no harm was done, the waitress finally deigned to take their order. Dee asked for café noir, and Ramsey ordered a draft beer. He spoke in fast, voluble French. The waitress, with the look of a local girl bored with her job, jotted down their orders without a word and went away.
Dee spotted the plastic globe of a security camera on top of a light pole in the middle of the parking lot, not more than fifteen yards away, and pointed it out to Ramsey.
“Mind if we move inside? I’d prefer not to sit in front of a security camera.”
He looked at the camera as if noticing it for the first time. “I guess we ought to,” he admitted. “But you know how it is. Hard to get away from security cameras in a Swiss city, even in the suburbs.”
She moved her chair around to the other side of the table so that her back was to the camera, thinking, better late than never.
“Sorry,” Ramsey muttered, looking eager to redeem himself. He leaned across the table and said, “I believe you need some information about Brice Petronille . . . and XCorp.”
“That’s right.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place. I can give you all the dirt on XCorp you could possibly want. I have a good friend who used to work there.” He leaned even closer and whispered, “He’s one of us.”
This comment left her baffled for several seconds, and she dropped her gaze to the tabletop to give herself time to think. Then it dawned on her that he was speaking of the Substructure. She glanced up at him, surprised. He was watching her closely, as if he had just flashed a club membership card or given some kind of secret handshake.
What, exactly, was the Substructure? She had always assumed that it existed more in Abe’s mind than in the real world. Obviously, Ramsey didn’t think so. Then again, Ramsey looked like someone who desperately needed to belong to something. But if twenty people like Ramsey believed they were members of the Substructure, then, in a sense, it was real. And if two hundred people were involved in one way or another, then it was not only real but a substantial international organization.
Before she could reply, the waitress passed by again, carrying a tray. She placed their drinks in front of them without losing any momentum and left them alone again.
“So tell me, what does Brice have to do with XCorp?”
He rolled his eyes, as if the answer to this were too obvious to be worth saying. “What do you think?” he said. Then, when Dee shook her head, he added, “Brice Petronille is an industrial spy. You didn’t know that? He was selling them secrets.”
She rocked back. It was going to take her a moment to absorb this. “Brice was working as a spy for XCorp,” she repeated, making sure she had it right.
“Yeah, them and pretty much anyone else who would pay. I thought everyone knew that about Petronille. Well, not everyone, but I mean, the rumor got around. Look, people were sending classified information to Petronille from all over the world. Government leaks, corporate whistle-blowers, political manipulators, you name it. Believe me, not all of that stuff ended up as public access information on his website. According to the gossip, he started selling some of the juiciest leaks to the highest bidder. Inside traders, mainly, but also competing businesses, and maybe some governments, too.”
Dee touched her forehead. “What a disaster,” she said. “And I designed his security.”
