He was after George G. Battle. Jerry hadn't liked being drafted by him, hadn't liked the way Battle looked or spoke, or the company he kept. Jerry wouldn't be surprised if Battle were involved in some anti-wild card plot, in spite of the fact that George G. had employed aces in his covert team. Jerry figured Battle was one of those people, who, the better you know them, the more you despised them. Finding out more was his top priority right now.
He always started with a person's credit record. Almost everybody had one, and the systems were fairly easy to get into and around in. He'd tried two, but so far no BATTLE, GEORGE G. Jerry stretched and made his way over to the red light on the coffee-pot, then poured himself half a cup. He'd already put away most of the pot. If he didn't slow down, he'd be typing from the ceiling.
Jerry sat back down and tapped into the next system. He typed NOBODY, his superuser ID. Jerry started the listing with Battle, G, and began paging slowly through.
"Bingo," he said, locating his target. Jerry punched into the general history screen and started printing. He rubbed his moist palms together. There was always an adrenaline surge when he found what he was looking for, but this was something else. Maybe it was just the coffee. Then again, maybe it was that he thought George G. Battle might be a bad guy straight from the movies. There were four pages of material on as many screens, with plenty of base information. Jerry jumped out of the system as soon as the last sheet of paper slid up from his printer.
He turned on the lights and flipped through the pages. There was a lot to go on, home and secondary address, phone numbers, SSN, drivers license number. It was a good starting point.
He leaned rack in his chair and sipped at his coffee. If Jerry's theory about Battle proved out, Jay was going to have to eat a heaping helping of crow for not taking the case.
Which would be just fine with Jerry.
♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
Midtown traffic had been a snarl south of Central Park and Jerry was late. There wasn't a line of people waiting to get into Starfields, which was not too surprising, given the public's current level of paranoia and the fact that Starfields was run by a Takisian. Hastet.
The decor was different enough to be alien, but also had a curiously homey feel. Jerry took a few deep breaths and tried to relax. Although the food was superb, Hastet scared the bejesus out of him. Like Tachyon, she had a way of looking right through you. Unlike Tachyon, she didn't mince words. Jay had a bowl of something turquoise in front of him when Jerry walked up.
"Evening, partner," Jerry said, sitting down.
"Hi. You should try some of this soup, it's fabulous." Jay motioned to a waiter, who immediately walked over. "A bottle of your best red wine."
"I didn't think Hastet liked you to tie one on," Jerry said, opening his menu.
"She doesn't. I'll have a glass or two. The rest is for you." Jay smiled "I'm going to get you drunk and have my way with you."
Jerry set down the menu and looked hard at Jay. "You think I'm after Battle, don't you?"
"You just may make a detective yet," Jay said. "You wouldn't keep it to yourself unless you had some ideas about the guy."
"You're right. If you'd accepted the case, we might have more than my ideas right now, but you didn't." Jerry shook his head. "Sorry, that came out a little sharper than I intended."
"I think it came out exactly as sharp as you intended." The waiter arrived with the wine, opened and poured it. Jay took a sip. "Wonderful, just what I had in mind. We'll need a couple more minutes before we order." The waiter nodded and left.
Jerry ignored the wine. "Hastet doesn't have that thing here tonight, does she?" Jerry didn't much care for Hastet's pet. It reminded him of some of the things he'd run into under the Rox, and it always looked hungry.
"Changing the subject on me?" Jay paused, as if on the verge of pursuing his line of questioning, then slowly exhaled "I promise you'll be safe as long as I'm around. It's never even drooled on you."
Jerry gave in and took a sip of wine. It warmed, caressed, and soothed all the way down. He wondered why in hell Jay had taken him on in the first place. His partner had plenty of other operatives, and with his wealth from Takis, he certainly didn't need Jerry to bankroll the agency. Maybe it was just plain guilt. Jerry had almost died trying to help Jay out. "Why don't you put Peter Pann or Topper on me to find out if I'm after Battle?"
Jay shook his head. "I can't waste them on anything so stupid. You need a stable woman in your life, Jerry. Get you to toe the line. Whatever happened with Beth?"
That one still hurt. Beth had moved to Chicago and Jerry had refused to go with her. New York was the only place worth living as far as he was concerned, and he had been sure he could convince her to come back. He was wrong.
"Irreconcilable differences, I suppose. And anyone who speaks ill of unstable women should spend a few nights with Ezili. However, there is one thing I know we can agree on."
"It's time to eat," Jay offered.
Jerry set down his menu and signalled the waiter. "Common ground at last."
"That's why we're partners."
♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
It was perfect weather for a drive. The October air was crisp and cool, even in the full sunlight. The pictures of Vermont in the fall didn't really do it justice. No photograph could capture the movement of the red, gold, and brown leaves against the blue sky.
He was driving an ash-gray Ford Taurus. He'd rented it under the name Anthony Carbone, one of a half-dozen false identities he'd created. His hair and skin were dark, and he had a small scar on his chin. If someone spotted him at Battle's house, they might figure he was Mafia. Battle could easily have enemies in the mob, or at least someone who might hire a hit.
Jerry pulled down the sun visor. He'd made a map of the area on a Post-it-note. If he had navigated right, Battle's place was only a couple of miles away. The area was still rural, with most houses out of sight of their nearest neighbors. That's what Jerry was counting on anyway.
Battle spent most of his time in DC, so the Vermont place was a logical starting point. There would be security, but he'd planned for that. He'd phoned earlier in the day and gotten a generic recording. He planned to have the house all to himself.
Jerry turned off the main highway and onto a narrow asphalt road. It turned into gravel a few hundred yards in and Jerry saw a yard bordered with a high stone wall. He pulled the Taurus as far onto the shoulder as he could and killed the engine.
Jerry stepped out of the car and looked both ways before trotting across the gravel roadway to a wooded area by the wall. He jumped and caught the edge with his fingertips, then swung a leg over and hoisted himself up. Jerry paused for a moment, listening, then dropped over the side. Evening was coming fast, and Jerry crept toward the house, using trees for cover. The house was two stories of wood and stone, not formidable, but not friendly looking either.
Jerry made his way around back to the power and telephone lines. One thing he'd learned was that his body responded to electric current by converting it to mass. For the few moments his body was in flux, he could discharge the current; otherwise it became a part of him. At that point it became a little trickier to get rid of. He pulled out a knife and cut carefully into the power and telephone lines. He caught the juice from the power line and waited a moment then discharged a portion of it into the house's main line. He reached over to the phone line and gave it the rest of the juice. He figured the electricity had tripped every breaker in the house. The phone equipment should be fried too, so even if a security system was working, it still couldn't contact anyone on the outside.
Jerry walked over to the nearest window. It was heavily bolted from the inside. Jerry pulled out his glass cutter, and removed a section big enough to get his arm comfortably through, then unbolted the window and lifted it.