''Tell me something, George, or I'm gonna start shooting,'' the Sarge said, but his hand didn't go for his gun. Neither did he wave Nabil out of the lot.
''It looks like one signal is in the kitchen, or maybe in the dining room. The other's in the back parking lot. East to northeast section.''
''That's half the parking lot.''
The smoker tossed what was left of his cigarette in a mud puddle and started for the back door.
NELLY, WE HAVE ONE CRACK AT THIS. ORDER THE TWO DECOYS TO BEGIN TRANSMITTING IN FIFTY-NANOSECOND HETERODYNED BURSTS, NO MORE THAN ONE SECOND APART, NO LESS THAN HALF A SECOND.
DONE.
''Sarge, something's happening. Something in the east northeast part of the back parking lot.''
''Get your butt back here.''
A gray car with several whip antennas turned into the distant northeast corner of the restaurant and drove slowly toward the Sergeant. The smoker paused to let it pass.
''It's settled down, boss. It's right ahead of me. It's not moving much.''
''Get out of here,'' the Sarge told Nabil as he pulled an aerosol can off his belt and began spraying it in front of him. Nabil put his track in drive, turned hard, and missed the cars parked on the south side of the lot by a few millimeters.
''I'm not seeing anything, George,'' the Sergeant shouted as Nabil gunned his motor.
''Are you sure you ain't reading tea leaves, George?'' was the last Kris heard. In a moment, Nabil accelerated into a break in traffic.
PUT DECOYS ON RANDOM.
DONE. NOW CAN I LOOK AT OUR TAKE?
NO. NOT UNTIL I TELL YOU.
WHEN WILL THAT BE?
WHEN I TELL YOU.
WHY?
BECAUSE I'M THE MOTHER, Kris almost shouted, but managed to keep her jaw from moving.
''What was happening, Father?'' the youngest said, sounding almost like a child.
''I do not know,'' Nabil said. ''Maybe we will find out on the news tonight.''
''Only if they want us to,'' his eldest said, then glanced at Kris. He started to say something, seemed to think better of it, folded his arms tighter across his chest, and leaned back.
Nabil drove on, his breath coming fast and shallow. They turned at several corners, seemed to be going in no particular direction. He finally glanced at Kris. ''Son of my sister's brother-in-law, you are slow, clumsy, and you could have cost me every penny I will make today if you had dropped that lamb and that woman had taken it for her own profit.''
Kris ducked her head, risking not a word.
''I will talk to my sister tonight, but I will not have you work more with me today.'' The truck slowed and pulled over to the curb at a stop light. ''Fatima's Kitchen is down this road a ways,'' he said pointing Kris to the right. ''You can walk back to her while I make the last of my deliveries.''
Kris again ducked her head, quickly opened the door, and stepped down to the cracked and broken concrete of the sidewalk. As the elder boy closed the door behind her, she could hear the younger one saying, ''Father, that boy was a—''
''Shush, son, we will talk no more about this today.''
The older boy leaned out the open window and winked back at Kris as the truck drove off. Kris took two steps toward Sorir's place and decided her cover did not require she limp all the way back. A moment leaning in the shade of a leather shop got the pebble out that someone had been kind enough to glue to the heel of her shoe. It had not put a run in a bulletproof stocking, but it sure had made her miserable.
Walking now was fine. Kris found her arms swinging; her pace fell naturally into the precise cadence the DI demanded. The day was still gray, but Kris felt damn good about a tough job well done. The urge to whistle a marching tune came, but she swallowed it. It would be totally out of place here. Still, Kris swung along, covering the distance.
A black-and-white car with Police lettered across the sides cruised slowly by. The normal mad bustle of traffic made space for it. Kris cut her pace, lowered her head, and went back to being a properly humble Arab teenager. The woman riding shotgun kept up the same kind of alert three-sixty observation that Jack did. Her eyes paused as she took in Kris, then passed on.
NOW CAN I LOOK AT THE DATA TAKE, KRIS?
WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THERE WAS A COP COMING?
YOU DID NOT TELL ME TO. NOW CAN I LOOK AT OUR TAKE?
NELLY, FOR A COMPUTER, YOU'RE DEVELOPING A ONE-TRACK MIND.
I AM FULLY CAPABLE OF MULTITASKING, KRIS. YOU, HOWEVER, ARE GIVING ME VERY CONFUSING INSTRUCTIONS. FIRST YOU TELL ME TO BE TOTALLY QUIET, JUST KEEP A TRICKLE OF ENERGY GOING. THEN YOU ASK WHY I DO NOT MAINTAIN A FULL SITUATIONAL SURVEILLANCE. TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT. AND CAN I LOOK AT WHAT THE BUGS GOT?
Kris remembered arguing like this with Eddy, her six-year-old brother. But Eddie had been kidnapped and left to die twelve long years ago. Kris shivered, then took a deep breath and let the ghosts out, forcing herself to concentrate on the now.
YOU MAY LOOK AT THE DATA IN A MOMENT. FIRST TELL ME IF WE ARE UNDER SURVEILLANCE. ARE THERE CAMERAS WATCHING US? BUGS LISTENING TO US? ARE THERE MORE COPS AROUND?
NO, NO, AND YES, THERE'S ANOTHER COP COMING UP BEHIND US.
NO, NO? Kris's gut was doing flips and flops; she was struggling to keep every muscle and bone in her body lashed down and doing just what she wanted. The order of her last set of questions to Nelly had some how fallen out of active memory.
NO CAMERAS, KRIS. NO MIKES EITHER. I AM NOT PICKING UP ANY EVIDENCE OF NANOS. OTHER THAN THE HUMAN COPS, I HAVE NOTHING THAT COULD THREATEN US IN RANGE OF MY SENSORS, NOW CAN I LOOK?
ARE THERE MORE COPS THAN NORMAL?
KRIS, I DO NOT KNOW WHAT NORMAL IS AROUND HERE. REMEMBER, I WAS ALMOST OFF-LINE AND NOT DOING A LOT OF LOOKING.
NELLY, I LEFT MY VIEWING GLASSES IN MY PURSE, SO I CAN'T LOOK AT WHAT WE COLLECTED UNTIL I GET BACK TO FATIMA'S KITCHEN.
YES, BUT IF I START PROCESSING RIGHT NOW, I CAN HAVE IT ALL ORGANIZED AND CORRELATED FOR YOU. Nelly was wheedling.
IS IT THAT IMPORTANT TO YOU, NELLY?
I WANT TO KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON AT THAT BIG PLANT.
YES, I DO. I WANT TO KNOW. I AM CURIOUS. SO SUE ME.
So sue me. Where did that come from? Kris found herself shaking her head in wonderment as the next cop drove by. Only one fellow in this one, and he was too busy picking his way through traffic to do much looking around. Maybe this was just the normal way of things in the Arab quarter.
NELLY, MAKE A FULL REPORT OF THESE CONVERSATIONS WITH BACKUPS OF YOUR PROCESSING THAT SUPPORTED THEM, AND STORE IT FOR REVIEW BY AUNTIE TRU WHEN WE GET BACK.
DONE.
NOW YOU MAY LOOK AT THE FEED.
DOING IT, Nelly snapped and went very quiet. Kris continued her saunter down the street, eyes fixed on the cracked and narrow sidewalk. Old cars and pickup trucks rubbed against the low curbs or were half on them, adding their daily bit to the crumbling. She tried not to jostle any of her fellow pedestrians, even as she studied how other youths reacted upon meeting their elders. Most said something that probably passed as the local equivalent for ''Hello'' or ''How are you?'' Kris didn't dare say a word. Still, she nodded and hoped her silence met at least part of the proper respect due those she passed.
The streets were looking familiar just as Nelly announced, THERE IS A LOT OF ACTIVITY ON THE POLICE BANDS. IT IS CODED, AND IT WOULD TAKE ME TIME AND PROCESSING TO BREAK IT. SHOULD I?
ARE THE SOURCES CLOSING ON US?
I CANNOT TELL.
Schooling every muscle in her body to walk no differently than the other youths on the street, Kris passed a greengrocer, then a clothing store, followed by a silversmith, tanner, and a dry goods store, all small, all probably owned by the people standing at each door, encouraging walkers to stop in or talking to the next store owner. Kris was about to cross the street when another black-and-white rolled by, moving fast. Kris crossed the street, then leaned against a fruit stand, trying to spot where the cops were collecting.