Legacies

4.

Startled, Jack whirled and reached for his Semmerling, but held his hands wide when he saw that the newcomer already had a pistol pointing at him.

Yoshio.

Jack knew he had to look stupid standing here and gaping at him, but he couldn't figure it out…

"Where the hell did you come from?"

"From the trunk of your car."

"The trunk?" Jack couldn't believe it. "When did you—?" Then he got it. "Oh, hell. Back in Chelsea, right?"

He wanted to kick himself. He hadn't had the car long enough to notice the extra weight in the rear, but still, he shouldn't have left anything to chance.

Yoshio nodded with a strained smile. "A most uncomfortable ride."

"I'll bet," Jack said, remembering all the bumps they'd bounced over and holes their tires had dropped into on the way up here. "Jeez, you must've wanted to get here bad."

"Yes, Jack-san. Very bad. And what of your promise to share information? What had happened to that?"

"Our deal was right of first refusal," Jack said, gently as he could. Not a good idea to rile the man with the gun. "And we don't even know what we've got yet." He turned to Alicia. "By the way, this is Yoshio, the Japanese gentleman I told you about."

Alicia looked about ready to shed her skin. She stood stiff and still, her eyes never wavering from the muzzle pointed their way.

"Say, 'Pleased to meet you,' " Jack whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Pleased to—does he have to point that at us?"

"Very sorry," Yoshio said. "If Jack-san will please to give me his weapon, I will put this away. It is only to protect myself, I assure you."

So damn polite, Jack thought as he pulled out the Semmerling and handed it over.

But true to his word, Yoshio pocketed the little .45 and then holstered his own 9mm. It occurred to Jack that this was a guy who had to be pretty sure of his physical abilities.

"Now," Yoshio said, "shall we see what is inside?"

Jack nodded. "All right. On my count…"

The door cracked around the latch plate on their first simultaneous kick; the plate buckled on their second, and they were able to pull the door open.

The first thing Jack noticed was that the lights were on inside.

But then, considering what this place supposedly housed, why not?

"Please," Yoshio said. "After you."

Polite, Jack thought. And not letting me get behind him.

The single room inside was like Ted Kaczynski meets Radio Shack. A table, a chair, a cot, a couple of throw rugs, and a pair of filing cabinets completed the list of furnishings. The rest, taking up a good three quarters of the space, was an electronic nightmare of wires and metal boxes and blinking lights. And in the center of it all was this glass tube with a beam of brilliant white light shooting through it. The beam looked almost… solid.

Now Yoshio moved ahead of them, inspecting the humming equipment, staring at the beam.

"I don't understand," he said. "Is this the Ronald Clayton technology? What does it do?"

He wasn't putting me on, Jack thought. He really doesn't know.

He glanced at Alicia. "Should I tell him? He's a buyer."

She nodded. "Go ahead."

Jack went to the lamp sitting on the table and checked to see if it had a cord. It did… but it wasn't plugged in. A small aerial jutted up from the base.

"Here," he said, motioning Yoshio over. "This says it all."

He handed him the lamp. Yoshio took it and stared at it.

"I have seen a lamp like this before."

"Then you should know."

The Japanese looked at him questioningly. "Know what?"

"Figure it out," Jack said, then moved toward the filing cabinets.

He wasn't in an explaining mood. Better to let Yoshio figure it out on his own. An epiphany beat out a lecture any day.

Alicia had one of the file drawers open and was staring at something that looked like a blueprint.

"Circuit diagrams," she said. "Do these… mean anything to you?"

"I can program my VCR and turn on my computer," Jack told her. "Beyond that… I don't do wires. I am the Sergeant Schultz of electronics: 'I know nussing.'"

Suddenly Yoshio let out an "Ayiiiieeee!" followed by a Sten gun barrage of Japanese.

Jack said, "The light, so to speak, has dawned."

He watched Yoshio carry the lamp over to the electronic jumble, where he stood wide-eyed and red-cheeked, his head jerking back and forth between the lamp and the Clayton gizmo as he mumbled in Japanese.

"This is real?" he said, returning to English as he approached Jack and Alicia. "This is true?"

"Near as we can tell," Jack said.

"No wonder Iswid Nahr killed a plane full of people," he said, his voice filled with awe. "They would kill thousands, millions to stop this." He stared at the lamp in his hands. "And to think I was this close to an identical lamp and did not realize. I thought they were staring at something by the light of the lamp… not at the lamp itself."

"Yeah, whatever," Jack said. He hadn't the faintest idea what Yoshio was talking about. He pointed to the file cabinets. "Looks like all the specs are right here. Think your people would be interested?"

"Interested? Oh, yes, I am—"

"Hands up! Everyone! NOW!"

Jack jumped at the shouted commands, delivered with a military bark, but his hands acted on their own, the left rising as ordered, but the right snaking toward the Semmerling—and then he remembered… Yoshio had it.

And Yoshio's hands were loaded down with that damn lamp. He was no help.

So Jack raised both hands and slowly turned, knowing who he'd see.

Yeah… he'd figured it would have to be Kemel and Baker and the remainder of his crew. Thomas Clayton—with his swollen nose and blackened eyes—was a surprise, but not a big one.

Jack felt his gut tighten. This was bad. Worse than bad.

Of the five newcomers pushing through the doorway, Kemel was the only one without a personal grudge against Jack. And he wasn't all that sure about Kemel.

But how the hell had they got here? He damn well knew they hadn't shared the trunk with Yoshio.

What'd I do—leave a trail of fluorescent paint along the way?