Port Casper

Chapter Seventeen

The crowded mover deposited Grace in the basement of the Frawley and sped on. She relaxed in the silence of the deserted parking garage. Grace enjoyed the cool air and rhythmic echo of a dripping sound nearby as she walked toward the lift bank. On the way home, the transport had bulged with a loud group of five friends on their way back from a party. They'd moaned as the mover veered off-course to let her out.

The lift went up. Grace avoided thinking of Raj. Instead, she thought of her interview with Van Decker. Her dismissal of Gobi as a gene addict bothered Grace, partly because Grace had dismissed him, herself. What if his life really was in danger? Corporations were ruthless about patents, right? She had the lingering feeling that his fear was warranted.

Grace arrived at her door and slid her hand into the slot. She muttered "openup" and waited for the muffled sounds of the door safeguards to complete their retraction. A door shut somewhere down the hallway. She looked up, then back. Her door was open.

Something felt wrong. Adrenaline tingled her fingertips. She slipped her hand into her jacket for Ronnie and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness before stepping into the common room. Was she the paranoid one now? Surely the moment to attack her had passed: the bright hallway no longer blinded her.

Her shoes made no sound on the soft carpet. Up ahead, the privacy wall was open, letting in the night noise. Ambient light gleamed on the furniture.

Grace had never opened the privacy wall.

She clicked through the most likely scenarios. Number one, a problem with the apartment programming caused the privacy wall to open. Number two, somebody had entered her apartment. Number two alpha, somebody was still here. It didn't matter what number three might be. She decided number two alpha deserved her full attention.

Grace unholstered Ronnie and released the safety. Then she took off her jacket and dropped it soundlessly to the floor. She slowed her breathing and opened herself to the sounds in the apartment. From her position in the common room, she had a view of the kitchen, the entry hall, and the balcony. A few movements assured her of their emptiness. She moved into the hallway, toward her bedroom.

No hint of light or sound came from the bedroom, and Grace realized that the door was shut. Her heartbeat rushed in her ears. She'd left it open this morning.

Grace backed against the wall and kept Ronnie pointed at the door. As long as she waited, she'd have the advantage. The closed door would have kept the intruder from noticing her entrance. She aimed a meter above the ground. There was no way out of her bedroom, except through that door.

She waited for a minute. Still no sound. No light.

Grace fingered her ptenda. She accessed her apartment controls, and set the privacy wall to closed. The sound of the wall snapping shut might alert the intruder. If it didn't, the newfound quiet would help her hearing.

There was a mechanical whoosh and the apartment fell silent. Three seconds passed. She heard a click. She didn't recognize the sound. A few more seconds passed. Click. Again. Her prey was a cool customer. No panic. No sudden movements. A professional.

Well, professional, how do you like this? Fingering her ptenda again, Grace turned on the lights in her bedroom.

She was gratified when she heard a hiss, followed by a thud, and then a few scratching sounds.

Silence.

Grace sprang from the hallway and hit her bedroom door with full force. It buckled easily. Grace had both weapons up and aiming by the time she hit the ground.

But nobody stood in Grace's bedroom. Instead, a small pile of metal and smoldering electronics rested on the floor. A mangled armature twitched.

"A loafer?" she murmured.

She hadn't seen a loafer since the academy. They were ancient surveillance drones that patrolled the perimeter. Grace recognized the design and construction. But this was a newer, more advanced model. She tentatively probed it with her right foot. It seemed to be completely inert. She bent over and lifted it up using Ronnie's barrel. The acrid smell of burnt electronics. It was fried.

"Who the hell sent you!" Grace bellowed.

She marched through the rooms, but she was alone. She dashed into the common room with the loafer and slammed the wreckage onto her table. She initiated an audio link with Raj.

"You okay, Grace? You left in a hurry."

"I had a visitor when I got home, Raj. A loafer."

She listened as Raj sucked in a lungful of air. Did she overhear Tim in the background? The link dropped.

Was it Raj? Had he sent it? He had been stupidly protective since she got to the city. But then why would he fry it?

Grace was attempting to reconnect when she read a message on her ptenda: STEP OUT. WILL CONDUCT SWEEP.

So it wasn't Raj, then. Maybe. She grabbed her jacket and stepped into the hallway, closing the apartment door.

Raj called again.

"Grace, what did the main body look like?"

"Oblong. Two long appendages at the bottom. Some little pointy wires sticking out of the top."

"What color was the egg?"

"Egg? What do you mean?"

"You should see it right there in the middle. You know, shaped like an egg."

"Raj, I'm in the hall."

"Oh, right. You can go in, now. It's clean."

"Gee, thanks." She walked back in.

"Sorry," Raj said. "Can you see the egg now?"

"Yeah. But it's hard to tell the color. Scorched. Looks green, though."

There was a moment of silence as Raj digested the description. "Not to be paranoid--"

"Like everyone else today?"

"It sounds like the one loitering around my place last week."

"You get those often?"

A sigh. "Grace. ITB sent it."

"ITB? What are you talking about, Raj?"

"It just makes sense. Last time I checked, UU didn't have a fleet of loafers like ITB. There's a joke going around saying ITB has more loafers than the compstate." Raj giggled on the other end of the link. A nervous giggle.

Grace glared at the wreckage. "Can we know for sure, Raj?"

"No way to know for sure, Ms. Donner." Tim's voice. "They fry and their link circuits go first. But from what you described, that's an expensive model. Not many can afford an expendable of such quality."

"What the hell, Raj!" Grace felt her temples throb. "My own company is spying on me?"

"Happens all the time."

"Not to me," she snapped.

"Yes, to you. To everyone who matters in this business."

"I understand now why you need my help, Raj. You're way in over your head. Typical."

"True, but--"

"This is dangerous, Raj. You let me walk into ITB. They knew I was mixed up with Flora's dot and Cloister Eleven."

"No, Grace, I--"

"Yes, Raj, you did. What am I, your pawn?"

She flung the loafer wreckage from the table.

"And that was some idea, Raj. Having me spy on ITB. All I have to do is sit here and they'll swarm all over me."

Her fury partly spent, Grace looked down at her ptenda. She could see the link was open, but Raj was silent.

"We'll talk later, Raj," she said, and broke the connection.