three times in her periphery. Her corporate handler. He wanted an update. She tapped out the menu and wrote a message summarizing the night’s events. He would be happy to find out Neer had taken the bait. When the message encrypted, she sent it along. She felt more confident sending messages since they had built additional quantum repeater stations, but she preferred the dead drop approach, which she still used with her own informants. Or maybe she just liked the subterfuge. Skulking around in the bushes was more palpable than tapping a finger. But if she added another country to her list of employers, it’d be hard to keep track.
To pacify her Chinese handler, she would have to make a stop.
The car passed the service station where her own dead drop was, but she had to make sure she wasn’t being followed. Thia turned off at the second exit past the station and meandered through darkened neighborhoods with her lights off as she prepared the message for Wu Ji.
Convinced no one was tailing her, Thia ordered the car back onto the highway, heading for the service station. Neer still slept peacefully. Must be getting old, Neer.
At the station, she exited the car and opened the back door. She grabbed a stiff leash and activated the diode. A small white terrier appeared at the end of the leash, eagerly sniffing out its surroundings. She took the dog toward the wooded area in back of the service station.
She walked about a quarter mile along a dirt path that led to denser underbrush, until it faded into brambles. The bare trees provided less cover and she decided it would be her last drop at this location. One of the telegraph poles along the old service road might do.
A decaying bench sat off to the right, half hidden under brush. Several of its slats were missing and the scrolled iron edges had rusted. Thia surveyed her surroundings, then leaned over and loosened the arm of the bench, pulling it to one side. The dog sat and panted. She slid the message into a small hole. The Chinese, too, would be pleased to hear she was in a position to receive information on their shopping list. And she knew there would be a package waiting for her the next night.
She stood up and sneezed. The spores from the evergreens always got to her this time of year. As her head bent, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as a searing heat rushed past her.
Pulse weapon!
She dropped to the ground, falling through the white terrier, who barked in protest. Thia squeezed her hand underneath her, drawing her weapon from her inside pocket. Her mind raced. Who could have known? Did Neer betray her that quickly? She doubted it. He might be an arrogant SOB, but not a snitch. Wu Ji looking for direct access to her sources? Make himself look good for the Ministry of Security? Anything was possible.
Another shot pulsed and she caught the direction. Two o’clock. Scrambling to her knees, she fired three wide-dispersal shots blindly into the dark woods, sizzling the air, then dropped to the ground. No return fire. Two more shots seared over her, this time from behind.
Fema!
There was another shooter. The dog growled in reply. She deactivated the leash and the dog faded into nonexistence. Thia crawled in the direction of the car. The thorny underbrush scratched her face and caught her hair. A hundred pinpricks needled her skin through her sweater as she pressed forward.
Something rustled behind her and she wheeled her arm around and fired twice. Blue flare cauterized the air, setting the top of the underbrush on fire.
“Aaaah!”
Then silence. Thia waited in the underbrush, straining to hear movement. Her heart pounded in her ears. Pain welled up in her muscles as she tensed and she forced herself to relax and control her breathing. Breathe, breathe. Panic was of no use.
She had to find out who was firing at her, which faction. Corporate? Chinese? Pissing off clients was something she tried to avoid, although at times it couldn’t be helped.
To pacify her Chinese handler, she would have to make a stop.
The car passed the service station where her own dead drop was, but she had to make sure she wasn’t being followed. Thia turned off at the second exit past the station and meandered through darkened neighborhoods with her lights off as she prepared the message for Wu Ji.
Convinced no one was tailing her, Thia ordered the car back onto the highway, heading for the service station. Neer still slept peacefully. Must be getting old, Neer.
At the station, she exited the car and opened the back door. She grabbed a stiff leash and activated the diode. A small white terrier appeared at the end of the leash, eagerly sniffing out its surroundings. She took the dog toward the wooded area in back of the service station.
She walked about a quarter mile along a dirt path that led to denser underbrush, until it faded into brambles. The bare trees provided less cover and she decided it would be her last drop at this location. One of the telegraph poles along the old service road might do.
A decaying bench sat off to the right, half hidden under brush. Several of its slats were missing and the scrolled iron edges had rusted. Thia surveyed her surroundings, then leaned over and loosened the arm of the bench, pulling it to one side. The dog sat and panted. She slid the message into a small hole. The Chinese, too, would be pleased to hear she was in a position to receive information on their shopping list. And she knew there would be a package waiting for her the next night.
She stood up and sneezed. The spores from the evergreens always got to her this time of year. As her head bent, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as a searing heat rushed past her.
Pulse weapon!
She dropped to the ground, falling through the white terrier, who barked in protest. Thia squeezed her hand underneath her, drawing her weapon from her inside pocket. Her mind raced. Who could have known? Did Neer betray her that quickly? She doubted it. He might be an arrogant SOB, but not a snitch. Wu Ji looking for direct access to her sources? Make himself look good for the Ministry of Security? Anything was possible.
Another shot pulsed and she caught the direction. Two o’clock. Scrambling to her knees, she fired three wide-dispersal shots blindly into the dark woods, sizzling the air, then dropped to the ground. No return fire. Two more shots seared over her, this time from behind.
Fema!
There was another shooter. The dog growled in reply. She deactivated the leash and the dog faded into nonexistence. Thia crawled in the direction of the car. The thorny underbrush scratched her face and caught her hair. A hundred pinpricks needled her skin through her sweater as she pressed forward.
Something rustled behind her and she wheeled her arm around and fired twice. Blue flare cauterized the air, setting the top of the underbrush on fire.
“Aaaah!”
Then silence. Thia waited in the underbrush, straining to hear movement. Her heart pounded in her ears. Pain welled up in her muscles as she tensed and she forced herself to relax and control her breathing. Breathe, breathe. Panic was of no use.
She had to find out who was firing at her, which faction. Corporate? Chinese? Pissing off clients was something she tried to avoid, although at times it couldn’t be helped.
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