Memoria (10 page)

Max
raised a protesting hand. "She knows her decisions' worth. Shows off her strong will." He paused. "The Presiding Council, what's that about now?
Is
Gautier
in cha
rge of something else?"

"She is. Every migrants
'
camp is managed by a Leading Council. And they in turn are united by the Presiding Council."

"I see,"
Max
fell silent. "All right. Let's give the Vaccination gig a miss for a while. You tell me what the authorities tried to achieve."

Frank felt angry with himself for dwelling too much on the DC meeting. He really should keep their conversation
in check
.
He shrugged.

"You know what the authorities are like. They need to be in control."

"There!"
Max
rose. Behind the front door, an arriving car honked twice.
Max
turned to the door and added, "Still, there are three hundred thousand migrants in the New York camp alone. And you can't control them.
Gautier
is the only person who can. And if you take the whole country
...
They are a force to be rec
koned with."
Max
traced
ring
side and
head
ed
for the door.

Frank nodded mechanically and mumbled, thoughtful,

"Sure. The migrants are self-sufficient all right. They grow their own vegetables, they even have corn fields
to
the North of
the
Bronx.
They produce their own electricity, they have wind farms and tidal power. They even sell surplus electricity to the city. Their whole
infrastructure
aims for New York to depend upon the camp. In this
respect
,
the
Bronx is a
choice morsel for the authorities. But
Gautier
will never part with it."

For the first time,
he thought
about the lay of the land.
Now he understood the reasons behind the concrete fence and the roadblocks surrounding the camp. And the fact that New York still boasted the largest police force in the country. The migrants threatened stability because in act
ual fact, they were a state unto
themselves
.

So those were the reasons behind the government's
year-old
secret agreement with the Presiding Council.

Frank was just about to tell
his coach about it
when
Max
headed for the front door. He turned the key in the lock,
and the door opened, letting in
the
large shape of a man.

H
e was bearlike, with a
broad
face, a fat mustache and two powerful paws
like kettlebells
. Frank immediately recognized the cabman who'd given him a ride from the airport.

"Come in, quickly,"
Max
grabbed the visitor's hand and pulled him inside.
"This is Frank She
lby," he pointed at an open-mouthed F
rank. "And this is
Barney
Douggan
," he
clapped the bea
rlike man on the shoulder. "O
ld friend and partner."

Max
locked the do
o
r and gave
Barney
a light
shove
, "Come in, don't just stand there. Want some tea?"

Finally,
Barney
Douggan
came
back
to reality. He blinked, adjusting
his old army jacket with
the
shoulder mark of the 101
Paratroopers Division
.
"What's
he
doing here?"

The coach turned to him, but
Barney
di
dn't give him a chance to reply.
"I'm six hours out of the police station. Had to give evidence in
the Shelby case. Are you crazy
? He's in for a murder and terrorist connections. They can easily trace him by his bracelet. How on earth did he get here?"

His powerful voice echoed over the gym.

"Frank is an old friend,"
Max
said calmly and disappeared inside the locker room. "
The police are
taken care of,"
they heard from inside. "They
removed Frank's bracelet and didn't have a chance to replace it. So they can't trace anyone, I'm afraid."

He reappeared with the device from Kathleen's parcel in his hands and gave it to
Barney
. "There, have a look. Tell me what you think about it. You're the expert."

Frank came closer.
Barney
took the device and turned it
around
in his hands.
He touched the connector, sniff
ed
at
it a
nd went on inspecting the box
.

"What does he do?" Frank whispered.

"He's a field engi
neer and liaison officer,"
Max
answered. "Hopper's radioelectronic intelligence group. He's the best. Computers, gadgets, booby traps, the Net, you name it. Just shut it and try to look cool."

"Will do."

Barney
looked around
,
mumbled something about the lack of lighting and headed for
Max
's office. Frank and the coach followed him. Frank tried to get his head around it. How could this
burly wrestler of a
man
—
you couldn't, in all honesty, call him old
—
be a what
,
a computer whiz
? He looked more like a navy Seal
, but not a geek.

Frank took a chair by the door.
Max
sat at his desk opposite
Barney
who was inspecting the device under the desk lamp.

"This is
some kind
of data carrier. Military hardware."

"A data carrier,"
Max
pulled his glasses on and took the device.

"You could say so,"
Barney
glanced at Frank. "But they've worked on it. They've made it lighter,
to start with. It feels as if it's steel but it's not.
Some kind
of composite, I suppose."

Max
placed the device onto the desk.

"Second, the connector."
Barney
turned the device to them and poked the connector with a thick finger. "It's been tampered with."

"Which is good or bad?"
Max
asked.

"No idea. All army models used to have two ports for cable connection. This one only has one. My educated guess would be," he slid his fingers along the grooves cut in the edges of the case, "that these are to insert the thing into
some kind
of
docking device
. Hermetic, maybe. To use it underwater or-"

"I see,"
Max
glanced at Frank. "Anything else?"

"Inside there's a
en
coding system.
Most likely, more than one. You need a key to access it, and the key is normally stored in the Pentagon database. Alternatively, it can be wired into
the
long-term memory of a submarine, a fighter plane or an aircraft carrier." He shrugged his wre
stler's shoulders. "All depends what's in it. What
it
's
for and how important it is. To activate the key you need a password. Even if you bypass the connector and hook the thing up to a regular PC, you still can't read it without the key and the password.
You can try and use special password-
hacking software but this way it could
take you years, with no guarantee of success."

"We need to read it,"
Max
said.

"We?"
Barney
glanced at Frank and chuckled. He tapped the device. "Any idea where the server would be?"

"I know," Frank said. "It's in Memoria
's
HQ."

Barney
's face darkened.

"And how do you suggest we get there? Shall we storm it with machine guns? Or walk in nicely and ask the receptionist to show us to the source station? Is that what you
're
suggest
ing
?"

"We do know the source station,"
Max
said. "Don't we, Frank?"

"We do. It's Kathleen Baker's."

"How can you be so sure?"
Barney
chuckled.

"If she sent it to Frank, then it stands to reason she was the one who
recorded
it,"
Max
said.

Barney
fingered his mustache as he stared at Frank.
Finally, he
turned to the coach.

"
You sure you need it?
Max
? Any idea what you're dragging me into?"

"You think you can go all the way?" The coach's eyes glistened behind his glasses.

"
Max
, I've asked you a question."

"Like in the good old days?"

"Answer me."

The two veterans stared in
to
each other's eyes. The coach leaned to
ward
Barney
who rested his elbows on the desk,
the device in his hands.
Frank wriggled in his chair.

"I think,"
Max
reached out and took the device from his friend, "that somebody's trying to start a new war."

Barney
slapped his hand on
the desk and swore
under his breath. Better not
ask questions now, Frank thought. These two need to
work
it out between themselves first.

"All right,"
Barney
's voice sounded tired. "Tell me what you have."

"Tell him your story, Frank. Then we'll see what we have between us."

They didn't have much. Kathleen's murder and her parcel, plus two attacks on Frank: one to get rid of the witness and the other to get hold of the device. That was i
t. The Memoria trail was apparent
but it had to be proven first.

They couldn't go to the police as whoever it was could
make an
attempt
on
Frank's life again. And veterans had no sources of their own in the police department.

"Where are we expected to gather intelligence?
Max
?"
Barney
tapped on the desk. "You know?"

"I'm thinking about it."

"How about watching the TV news?" Frank said.

"I am your TV news, man,
"
Barney
pointed his thumb at his chest. "The Mayor has
declare
d
C
ode
O
range. They're about to introduce a curf
ew and put up street blocks with strip searches at the
subway
exits.
The airports and the railway stations are already under
surveillance
since the first mention of a terrorist threat." He pulled up his sleeve and glanced at a massive waterproof watch. "If DC confirms the curfew,"
Barney
pressed two buttons, setting the timer,
"then within two hours they'll be able to block all the
traffic." He raised his eyes to
Frank. "Your picture is
plastered all over
the
TV,
and
the media are screaming about your involvement in Kathleen Baker's murder
.
Apparently, she was about to make a media statement when you zapped her just in time."

"Yeah right," Frank turned to
Max
. "I forgot to te
ll you. The place was chock a block full
of media. I mean, the house where I live. The lob
by was crawling with reporters.
"
He turned back
to
Barney
. "So it was Kathleen who called them?"