Show of Evil

Fourteen

The man leaned over his worktable, concentrating on the job of soldering a cobweb-thin piece of wire to a chip smaller than his fingernail. He was a husky man; his shirtsleeves were rolled up over machine-moulded biceps. A pair of magnifying goggles was perched on his nose.

'Hey, Raymond, goin' to lunch?' Terry called to him.

'Can't stop now,' Raymond answered without taking his eyes off his task.

'Want me to bring you something?'

'Yeah. Cheese crackers and a Coke.'

'You got it.'

Raymond heard the door slam shut. He finished the soldering job and placed the hot iron in a small, fireproof tray, took off the goggles, and leaned back in his chair. He stared through the window at the office across the way, watching the secretaries as they puttered around, getting ready to go to lunch. Creatures of habit, he thought. He could set his watch by their moves. Noon, five days a week, and they were out of there. He watched them until they left the office, then he walked across the small repair room choked with VCRs, TVs, and PCs and picked up a VCR and brought it back to the worktable. He removed the top and took out a small minicomputer and a black box about two inches square. He attached the box to the minicomputer with a short length of phone wire, then turned on the computer. He typed MODEM on the keyboard and a moment later a menu appeared on the screen. He moved the cursor to RECEIVE and hit enter. A moment later, the words ON LINE flashed in the corner of the screen. He watched the empty office across the way while he waited. Five minutes passed and the words INCOMING CALL flashed on the screen and a moment after that:

ARE YOU THERE, FOX?

HERE, HYDRA. ARE YOU PREPARED?

ALWAYS, FOX.

HAVE YOU SEEN THE SUBJECT?

YES, FOX. THREE DAYS AGO.

AND THE REFERENCE?

IN MY HEAD.

EXCELLENT. LEAVE TONIGHT.

OH, THANK YOU, FOX. IT HAS BEEN SO LONG.

THE TIME IS PERFECT. THANK YOU, THANK YOU. IT IS AN EXCELLENT PLAN. BE CAREFUL.

ALWAYS.

IN TWO DAYS. SAME TIME. TWO DAYS.