It was Decker. He pushed her without warning directly into the elevator, crowding roughly behind her.
“What the fuck,” Lulu began, when she noticed the gun in his hand poking out from the windbreaker draped over his arm. It was the assassin’s Smith & Wesson 500, bright silver, with that black Sorbothane grip.
Lulu glanced up at the camera mounted in the roof of the elevator. Someone had covered the lens with a thick wad of chewing gum. “That’s a big gun, Special Agent Decker,” she said. “Someone might think you were, you know… overcompensating.”
Decker laughed but he didn’t reply. He wasn’t even looking at her. He was watching the lights on the panel as the elevator climbed to her floor. When it was almost there, he said, “And I don’t want to use it, so, please — let’s take a nice quiet walk to your loft without raising a fuss.”
With a ping, the elevator ground to a halt and the doors opened. The hallway was empty. A moment later, they were standing by the door to her condo.
“I’m glad to see you’re alive,” Lulu said as they entered. She locked the door behind them and turned on the lights. “I heard you’d been shot. Some kind of car-jacking or robbery in Georgetown. At least that’s what they said on the news. I thought—”
“You were meant to.” Decker moved through the loft, looking for signs of activity. “We’re alone?” he inquired. He stopped at the foot of the black spiral staircase, peering up at the landing above.
“Except for my Brazilian lover, the one I keep chained in my closet.”
Lulu set the Whole Foods bag to one side. She turned just in time to see Decker loom over her. He pushed her hard to the wall, jamming his forearm up under her chin.
She struggled for a moment, then finally relaxed. He could have crushed her windpipe and larynx if he’d wanted to. He still could.
“This isn’t a joke,” he said, his mouth next to her ear. “I want to know who you’re working for. Why did you tell me it was Unit 110 who set up the Crimson Scimitar cell? Jamal and the rest? Why?”
Lulu tried to swivel away but he held her tight in his grasp.
“I told you,” she answered, trying to squeeze out the words. “I traced the signal to China.”
“Then why didn’t anyone else at NSA confirm your analysis?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself the same question.”
“And?”
“I don’t have an answer.”
“They’re not idiots,” Decker said.
Lulu laughed. “Exactly. And yet they chose not to see what I saw. What does that tell you? I’m good but not that good.”
For a moment he hesitated. “And why didn’t you tell them about the IP address you discovered, the one at the Center?”
“Because you asked me to keep it a secret.”
“That’s it? For no other reason? You don’t even know me.”
“It wasn’t like I was hiding it from them. They had the same hard drive I did. Besides, you were obviously surprised when you saw it. That told me something about you.”
“What?”
“That you’re in deep shit, Special Agent Decker. Why would you be so surprised to see your own address compromised unless someone else besides you was responsible?”
“You knew it was mine?”
“Of course I did.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“Why should I? Either you were surprised because the truth had been discovered and you were busted, or because you were being set up. Either way, it made no sense for me to admit it was yours.”
“You think I’m a spy? A traitor! If that’s the case, why didn’t you alert someone at the NCTC, or one of your NSA friends?”
“Because if you’re a traitor,” she said, “you’re a pretty incompetent one. And if they’re not onto you already, they soon will be.”
Decker smiled. After a moment, he released her and took a step back.
Lulu stood there for a moment rubbing her neck. “You could have just called, you know,” she began. “No need for this rough stuff. Not that rough isn’t bad, once in a while. It depends.”
Decker smiled his crooked smile. She had quite the ovaries, Decker thought, for a woman her size. Five foot something of nothing but trouble.
Lulu moved into the kitchen area and began to wash out her coffee mug in the sink.
Decker followed her, checking to see that there were no knives in the dish drain. He still held the gun in his hand. When he got to the sink, he pulled off the windbreaker which covered his arm and set it aside on the island beside him.
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t do that,” she said.
“What?”
“Bleed all over my floor.”
It was true. His left sleeve was soaked. “It isn’t all mine,” he responded. “Though I appreciate the concern.”
With casual indifference, he reached into the windbreaker and pulled out what appeared to be a mass of dried blood, hair and skin which he threw into the stainless steel sink. It looked like a freshly cleaved scalp.
Lulu visibly blanched. She took a step forward and leaned over the sink. “What is that?”
“I was hoping you could tell me. I carved it out of the forearm of the man who tried to kill me this morning in Georgetown”
“Kill you? I… I see.” Lulu poked at the bloody red flap, and then — very delicately — picked it up with the tips of her fingers. On each end, it looked like plain skin, with hair and hair follicles, and beauty marks too. But, in between, it appeared like a three-by-four-inch clear plastic sheet. Underneath, on the opposite side, the entire flap was imprinted with micro-components.
“I’ve seen this before,” Lulu said. “In some trade journal. Well, not exactly like this, but similar. It’s a digital tattoo, made of ultra-thin silicone, designed to monitor glucose levels in diabetics. But they’re highly experimental. Not ready for prime time and…” She turned on the water in the sink and washed off the flap like an animal skin.
“And what?” Decker asked.
“They usually don’t come with a matching pixel display.” Lulu shook off the skin and began to dry it with a paper towel. “The ones I’ve read about are designed to link with an iPhone or some other G4. This one seems to have its own modem. Again, probably tied to an earpiece or implant, like some Bluetooth-enabled cochlear device. Was your assassin wearing an earpiece?”
“I don’t think so,” said Decker. “But as far as an implant’s concerned, well… the last time I saw him, there wasn’t much left of his head.”
Lulu looked over at him. “I’m going into my workroom now, Special Agent Decker. Just to let you know. Don’t get nervous. I’d like to look this up on the Net. Maybe get a fix on the source.”
Lulu put the flap of skin on a plate and together they moved toward the rear of the loft. As before, the workroom was an absolute mess, with half-built PCs and other devices scattered all over the tables. Lulu parked herself down beside her Alienware M17x laptop and began typing away. Decker sat on a chair right beside her, looking over her shoulder.
“Yeah, here it is at physorg,” she said. “Each circuit is inserted through a tiny incision as a tightly rolled tube which unfurls automatically to align between the muscle and skin. Through the same incision, two small tubes are attached to an artery and a vein on the patient allowing blood to flow to a fuel cell converting glucose and oxygen directly to electricity. Talk about wearable tech. The top surface features touch-screen control through the skin. Instead of ink, the display uses tiny microscopic spheres, field-sensitive, designed to change from transparent to black.”
“This one was in color,” said Decker. “And it delivered a satellite feed, a live video image of Georgetown.”