Payback

28

Dean felt his “pre-go” adrenaline build as he and Karr placed fresh video bugs around the bank. Some people were stricken with all manner of jitters; Dean had known a sniper in Vetnam who always threw up before leaving camp. Dean didn’t get nervous before an assignment, but he did feel his pulse quicken and stomach tighten. There was nothing to do about it but wait for the mission to begin.

While the batteries in the small video units were state-of-the-art, they could provide power for only a few hours and had to be replaced for the night’s mission. The Art Room had analyzed their earlier coverage plan and come up with a few tweaks, improving what the geeks called the redundancy of the system — if one or two bugs failed, they’d still have a complete virtual surveillance net over the area. Dean moved along planting his share of the bugs, nonchalantly pressing them against different surfaces. The fit wasn’t always perfect, and in some cases the sticky material on the back had to be reinforced with a small blob of additional stickum. Doing this wasn’t exactly hard — but doing it without attracting attention took finesse and patience. Dean felt his adrenaline working against him, pushing him to rush the task. He kept reminding himself to move more slowly and not press.

Karr passed him as he worked a bug onto the back of a road sign. The other op smiled but didn’t make eye contact. To provide possible diversions in case things got complicated inside the bank, Karr was planting small explosive panels along the block. About the size and thickness of a checkbook calculator, the devices were essentially flat firecrackers that could be ignited by radio signal. Their sound was much worse than their bite, and they were meant only to temporarily confuse the police unit that would normally be stationed outside, or anyone arriving to assist them.

Dean finished planting his last bugs and went to meet Karr at a café a few blocks away. By the time he got there Karr had used his very elementary Spanish to order himself a hot chocolate, which was advertised here as French Cocoa.

“Why do you think this is French Cocoa?” asked Karr as Dean slid into the booth. “Do Peruvians think the French make great chocolate?”

“Maybe they realize it’s not as good as Swiss,” said Dean.

Karr laughed. “I’m kind of tired. What do you say about going back to the hotel and taking a nap?”

“I have to talk to Rubens,” Dean told him.

“Why?”

“I want to make sure he knows that was a setup at the demonstration.”

“Telach told him by now.”

“I want to tell him myself. I told Lia I would.”

“I’d leave that part out. Or make it a group thing — tell him we’re all concerned.”

Karr’s protectiveness was touching, and Dean remembered it two hours later, back in the hotel, when Rubens called him back. He was in a helicopter — even the Deep Black communications system couldn’t completely erase the turbines and blades in the background.

“Mr. Dean, you wanted to speak with me?”

“The incident in front of the restaurant where the UN monitors were gathering seems to have been a setup. Lia saw two men who were not policemen come out of a building and fire into the crowd. A short while later, there was a television interview with a victim who lied.”

Rubens listened impassively, not even muttering a “yes.” Dean couldn’t tell if he was interested, uninterested, or even still on the line. Maybe it was just the nature of the communications system they were using, but Dean felt like he was talking to a machine. He expected some sort of reaction.

Was this just Rubens being Rubens? Or was it a subtle way of telling a field op that his job was to simply follow orders and not analyze what was going on around him?

“I don’t know who was behind the riot,” added Dean. “Lia wasn’t sure, either. Someone trying to make the police look bad.”

“Very well. Anything else?” asked Rubens.

“That’s it.”

“Please do your best.”

The line went clear.