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warm, avuncular voice.
"Yes, Prof, I need some more stuff on the Great Forest plan and how it's
policed," she told the seated robot. "But, listen, I can't afford more than a
hundred dollars of info this week."
Prof Smattz winked. "Well, we can slip you a little extra on the side, dear."
Jake reminded himself he had a date and moved on.
An up slanting ramp had an arrow and the words STUDENT FACULTY DRINKING
AREA imbedded in its slick surface.
He started up the ramp. Jake stopped just inside the silver-beaded
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curtain that masked the entryway to the High Technology Saloon. It was a few
minutes past ten in the evening, and every light in the New
Hollywood Sector of Greater Los Angeles could be seen glittering far below the
curving vie walls of the crowded tower bar.
Down at the far end of the long chrome and ivory bar Jake spotted the pretty
Chinese young woman he'd come here to meet.
A pudgy man in a candy striped suit was sitting too close to her,
swaying on his ebony stool and steadying himself by clutching at her
nearest knee.
Smiling in a seemingly cordial way, she touched his temple with the ring
finger of her right hand. The pudgy man sat suddenly upright, looking
surprised in the few seconds before he toppled over face first into the bowl
of soy pretzels in front of him on the ivory bar.
"What'd you do to him, Patricia?" asked Jake as he stopped at her side.
Continuing to smile, Pat Wong showed him the simple silver ring.
"Low-grade stunner. I worked it up myself. It won't keep him out for more than
an hour or so," she explained. "It's good to see you again, Jake."
"Remind me not to fondle you."
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She eased off the stool. "There's a table over there for us."
"Leaving him here?"
"Good a place as any. I don't like to be approached by strangers," Pat said.
"How are you doing?"
Following her to a chrome and ebony table, Jake answered, "I'm actually
feeling not bad."
She smiled. "That sounds a trifle better than rotten."
He sat opposite her. "I need some information."
"So I figured from your call. What sort of information do you need?"
"You're still writing for Electronics Week and teaching part-time at
SoCal Tech."
"I'm in the same rut, yes. I've changed less than anyone while you were away."
"I'm working for the Cosmos Agency now and--" "With Gomez--you make a good
team." "Except he's sidelined."
"I heard about that. You weren't hurt?"
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"A few bruises," he replied. "We were assigned to find Dr. Kittridge and his
daughter, Beth. Any idea about what happened to them?"
"They crashed, down in Mexico. Week or so ago."
"What information do you have about that?"
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"Only what came into the magazine by way of AP/MEX."
Jake rested an elbow on the table. "What about their reasons for traveling
down--"
"Each guest is required to order a drink within five minutes of arrival,"
reminded the table's voxbox in a cultured and polite voice.
Jake looked across at Pat. "Still drinking the same thing?" "The rut is
all-encompassing." "Two dark ales," he told the table.
It whirred and two compartments opened in its dark top. Two glasses of ale
popped up.
Jake ignored his. "About Kittridge?"
"About eleven months ago Leon took a leave from SoCal Tech,"
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Pat said, running a fingertip along the frosted side of her glass. "He started
working in the lab he had in their home in the Woodland Hills
Sector. I heard, though, that there's also a laboratory someplace down across
the border. I'm not sure where that one is. Beth has been working at home with
him on his private project. I can't confirm this next, but supposedly Bennett
Sands is financing him--in part at least."
"Sands again," said Jake. "What are the Kittridges working on?"
"Kittridge has had two major interests. Robotics--specifically the building of
super androids ones that can pass for human in every way.
His other interest, a more recent one, has been to come up with a way to stop
Tek. A brother of his, the ne'er-do-well that most families have at least one
of--I'm the one in the local Wong clan. This brother died from using the stuff
three years ago--a seizure."
Jake tapped his fingers on the tabletop. "They say Kittridge has succeeded."
"Who says?"
"My boss for one," he replied. "This anti-Tek device--any notion what it is?"
"It involves RF waves--radio frequency waves emitted at a high
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oscillation rate," said Pat. "At least, that's what I suspect--based on
various hints and clues I've pieced together. As yet I don't have enough to
try a piece for the magazine."
"How'd you use that on Tek chips?"
She smiled at him. "Well, Jake, if you could set up just the right oscillation
rate--you could shatter the chip."
"How many of them at once?"
"If you worked it right--if you, say, broadcast your special high frequency RF
by way of a satellite setup--you ought to be able to access every single Tek
chip on the globe at once. Maybe those on the
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Moon and in the various orbiting colonies, too." "Access and destroy them?"
"That's it." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]