some numbers on the eye-level keypad, while Ms. Smith kept her finger pressed on the positive access button under her desktop that activated the keypad.
The door swung open and automatically shut behind him. Racine stood in a narrow hallway and started to walk to the door ahead. His footsteps activated the floor sensor and a somewhat female metallic voice filled the small enclosure.
"Identify please. Name, number and code. You have ten seconds." The voice went twenty decibels lower as it began the countdown.
Racine was in a hurry and the voice stopped at six. Racine didn't even bother to glance at the small portals that held the incapacitating gas should he fail to make the ten second countdown. He found it quite an irritating routine to go through.
A drawer slid open from the wall. "Deposit all weapons please."
Racine slid the pistol out of his shoulder holster and dropped it in the drawer. He carried a Desert Eagle, a massive gun made by the Israelis and chambered for .44 magnum cartridges. It made a solid thump as it hit the bottom of the drawer. He did the same with three knives from various hidden spots in his clothing along with the garrote secreted on the inside of his belt. He pushed and the drawer slid shut. A red light flashed and he knew a magnetic sensor was being activated. The light flashed green, then went red again, as a puff of wind from the grating below blew up and explosive, chemical and biological sensors in the ceiling sniffed the air. The light turned green and stayed that color.
"Proceed, please."
The far door slid apart and Racine entered Nero's office. He took the chair in front of the desk and waited. As long as he’d been coming here, the room had not changed, nor had Nero’s discourteous manner of greeting. The damn lights were pointed right at the seat and Racine took a pair of cheap plastic sunglasses from his pocket and slipped them on.
Nero pulled a pack of cigarettes from his inside breast pocket and made a gesture of offering it to Racine. The pack was withdrawn before Racine had time to say no and Nero was inhaling before Racine could completely wipe the distaste from his face.
Racine waited and watched the old man smoke. When the ritual had ended, Nero capped the hole in his throat and reached for the voice box.
Nero's voice through the wand made the computerized one in the hallway sound like Greta Garbo. Racine took no notice of how the old man sounded. He was interested in only one thing: Why had he been sent for?
"I'm so pleased that you could make this appointment on such short notice, Mister Racine."
Racine felt a bead of sweat on the back of his neck slowly roll down. This place was always warm. Or was it the lights?
“I understand you visited Baltimore last week,” Nero said, his empty, scarred eye sockets staring over the desktop as if he could see into Racine’s soul.
Racine finally spoke and his voice was tenser and more rushed than he would have liked. "Look, Mister Nero, I'm sorry about what happened in Baltimore. Trust me. It was just bad luck. No harm, no foul, right?"
Nero straightened and continued turning the smoldering butt of his cigarette against the glass edge of his ashtray with his free hand. "Mister Racine, surely you can imagine my dilemma in trusting anyone, least of all you. It causes me concern when a government contractor does freelance work. It causes me to consider a possible conflict of interest.”
“But there’s no conflict, I--” Racine shut up after only five words.
“Interesting,” Nero said. He shifted in his seat ever so slightly. “But we're not here to discuss the unfortunate incident in Baltimore."
Racine smiled with relief. "Mister Nero, it won't happen again."
Mr. Nero returned the wand to his throat. "Let's not push, Mister Racine. Let's agree that you have made your mistake for this year."
The younger man didn't bother to respond. He could see the fog of smoke wafting through the beams of light directed at
The door swung open and automatically shut behind him. Racine stood in a narrow hallway and started to walk to the door ahead. His footsteps activated the floor sensor and a somewhat female metallic voice filled the small enclosure.
"Identify please. Name, number and code. You have ten seconds." The voice went twenty decibels lower as it began the countdown.
Racine was in a hurry and the voice stopped at six. Racine didn't even bother to glance at the small portals that held the incapacitating gas should he fail to make the ten second countdown. He found it quite an irritating routine to go through.
A drawer slid open from the wall. "Deposit all weapons please."
Racine slid the pistol out of his shoulder holster and dropped it in the drawer. He carried a Desert Eagle, a massive gun made by the Israelis and chambered for .44 magnum cartridges. It made a solid thump as it hit the bottom of the drawer. He did the same with three knives from various hidden spots in his clothing along with the garrote secreted on the inside of his belt. He pushed and the drawer slid shut. A red light flashed and he knew a magnetic sensor was being activated. The light flashed green, then went red again, as a puff of wind from the grating below blew up and explosive, chemical and biological sensors in the ceiling sniffed the air. The light turned green and stayed that color.
"Proceed, please."
The far door slid apart and Racine entered Nero's office. He took the chair in front of the desk and waited. As long as he’d been coming here, the room had not changed, nor had Nero’s discourteous manner of greeting. The damn lights were pointed right at the seat and Racine took a pair of cheap plastic sunglasses from his pocket and slipped them on.
Nero pulled a pack of cigarettes from his inside breast pocket and made a gesture of offering it to Racine. The pack was withdrawn before Racine had time to say no and Nero was inhaling before Racine could completely wipe the distaste from his face.
Racine waited and watched the old man smoke. When the ritual had ended, Nero capped the hole in his throat and reached for the voice box.
Nero's voice through the wand made the computerized one in the hallway sound like Greta Garbo. Racine took no notice of how the old man sounded. He was interested in only one thing: Why had he been sent for?
"I'm so pleased that you could make this appointment on such short notice, Mister Racine."
Racine felt a bead of sweat on the back of his neck slowly roll down. This place was always warm. Or was it the lights?
“I understand you visited Baltimore last week,” Nero said, his empty, scarred eye sockets staring over the desktop as if he could see into Racine’s soul.
Racine finally spoke and his voice was tenser and more rushed than he would have liked. "Look, Mister Nero, I'm sorry about what happened in Baltimore. Trust me. It was just bad luck. No harm, no foul, right?"
Nero straightened and continued turning the smoldering butt of his cigarette against the glass edge of his ashtray with his free hand. "Mister Racine, surely you can imagine my dilemma in trusting anyone, least of all you. It causes me concern when a government contractor does freelance work. It causes me to consider a possible conflict of interest.”
“But there’s no conflict, I--” Racine shut up after only five words.
“Interesting,” Nero said. He shifted in his seat ever so slightly. “But we're not here to discuss the unfortunate incident in Baltimore."
Racine smiled with relief. "Mister Nero, it won't happen again."
Mr. Nero returned the wand to his throat. "Let's not push, Mister Racine. Let's agree that you have made your mistake for this year."
The younger man didn't bother to respond. He could see the fog of smoke wafting through the beams of light directed at
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