Don Pendleton - Civil War II by Don Pendleton Read Free Book Online Page B

aide for a light. When the guy brought the lighter up, Winston studied the hands and not the flaime, and found there the telltale clues he sought. The fingernails and the palms told it all, as he exhaled the smoke from his lungs, Winston asked the senate aide, "Is Senator Marvin aware that he has a Tom working for him?"
    The guy flushed and told Winston to go to hell. Instead, he tried some stunting from hovercar to surface taxi and back to airborne shuttle, and was satisfied at the third shift that he had lost the double shadow—then he proceeded directly to a downtown Washington hotel which, by tacit agreement between the races, catered to those of light skin and tender sensitivities.
    He did not register, but went directly to a telephone turret in the lobby, closed the door and locked it, made himself comfortable on the lounge, and dropped his AMS card into the meter. A soft tone sounded and he placed the call in precise audibles, then sat back and folded his arms to await the connection.
    A feminine voice filtered up from somewhere beyond the meter to announce, "Mr. Waring's office."
    "This is Mike Winston. Is the Chief in?"
    "Oh. Are you calling from California, Commissioner?"
    "No. I'm in Washington, Becky. This is important. Put me through, eh?"
    "I'm sorry, Mike," the warm contralto declared. "He's gone for the day. Will you be staying overnight?"
    Winston recognized the tone accompanying that question. He let his own tone become more formal as he told her, "Maybe. Uh, look, this is pretty hot stuff. Can't you zot-spot him for me?"
    "I'll try," she replied, a hint of frost settling into her voice. "Just a sec."
    A barely audible click sounded and Winston was treated to a minute of soft music, then the contralto returned and the music vanished. "I found him," she reported. "He stopped off at CAC on his way home. Be there about another thirty minutes."
    "He still living in Silver Spring?"
    "Uh huh. But you could probably catch him at CAC."
    "Which CAC is this?" he inquired.
    "The Community Accomodation Center," she replied. "The white one, of course."
    "Uh . . ."
    The woman laughed through the connection. "Don't tell me you've never ... It's at the Federal Center, Mike."
    "Oh yeah. Okay, I'll try him there." His mind crawled, and he quickly added. "Do something for me first, Becky. Get me passkey codes for Central Computer, data retrieval on military weapons and munitions. Also demographic data on interurban and landflow characteristics."
    "Are you calling from a turret?"
    "Yes."
    "All right. I'll code you through and patch you right now, if you'd like."
    "Yes, I'd like that."
    "My pleasure." She hesitated a moment, then said, "By the way, I live at the same cube." She laughed with a trace of embarrassment and added, "I mean, if you decide to stay overnight."
    He replied, "Okay, thanks. No promise though, Becky—I mean, don't sit up waiting for me. I told you I'm on something hot. But I'll let you know. Okay?"
    "Okay. Here's your patch."
    She was gone abruptly and the automated voice from central computers was making the standard announcement. Winston fed in the data request, using precise audibles, then poked a button on the turret panel to switch in the printer. Within seconds the machine was running rapid-fire tabulations and the paper was falling in perforated folds into a small box at Winston's knee. He scanned the information as it came through, jotting quick notes along the way, and he was ready with the cross-check interrogation by the time the initial data scan was completed.
    Moments after he had programmed-in the interrogation, the data picture he had sought and feared began to take form on the perforated sheets as a data summary. Ten
    minutes after he entered the turret, he was fumbling his way into the lobby, hands shaking slightly with the knowledge of the dynamite packed into his briefcase. He ran outside and hailed a hovering air-taxi, and within another few minutes was feeding his AMS card into the