for any details of where VaporStrike may be. I wonder if my word "water" is a bad translation. VaporStrike has used the word
marea,
and the normal word for water is
agua. Marea
is more often associated with coasts and
tides.
I explain this to Tyler, who gets a jolt of revelation that causes him to clamp on to my scabby shoulder. "Lab monkeys? Don't you have to have a
lab?
Didn't Roger tell us while we were in Beth Israel that they hadn't found Omar's local Trinity Falls lab after the raid? Aren't there all sorts of barrier islands down that way?"
I will look on a map directly, but chatter appears.
OmarLoggi: Do not pressure me. If you want to assassinate, go find me some v-spies instead of killing my lab monkeys.
He exits, and Tyler makes some "bring it on" banter, reminding me of the USIC agents' belief that he had a death wish and suicidal tendencies. That was all before he turned in his mother as a spy, which seemed to calm him somewhat. I think now he has only a reckless streak, which could also get us killed if we are not careful.
He settles down finally and asks, "So ... you're thinking that VaporStrike is on an island in New Jersey?" Before I can answer, he makes a stinging point. "
We're
on an island, buddy.
Long
Island. New York is not that far away. And Long Island
was
the home-away-from-home for VaporStrike back in March, back when he was using the Trinitron Internet café to launch his dirty secrets."
When I was brought here from Pakistan, it was to v-spy on VaporStrike and other operatives from inside Trinitron, where I could use the café's intranet system to quickly cache their screens and translate. VaporStrike and others had launched their experiment on Trinity Falls from less than a mile from here. They scattered to the winds or were captured down at Trinity.
I shake my head, trying to sort out the confusing issues. If they are using the Jersey lab, VaporStrike would not travel three hours to his former jurisdiction simply to get rid of a deadly, telling steel drum. Unless, of course, he can't find weekend trash collection in New Jersey but he can in New York. Still, New York is huge, and VaporStrike would be stupid to return to a place where police and USIC agents have photos of him and would recognize him instantly. I do not feel unsafe, despite Omar's encouragement to have us found. I feel more concerned about what else—or who else—might wind up suffering some hideous death before USIC can catch the lot of them.
FIFTEEN
SCOTT EBERMAN
SATURDAY, MAY 4, 2002
12:10 P.M.
PARLOR
I FELT LIKE A VAMPIRE who'd had his first red meal. If intelligence were blood, I would have grown fangs after my eavesdropping session in the basement. I parked myself on the parlor couch facing the hallway, waiting for Mike and Alan to either sneak off to their third-floor hangout and talk some more or take a cell phone call, of which I could hear one end.
Jersey cities with convention centers right across from amusement piers.
I played eenie-meenie-minie-moe with Wildwood, Asbury Park, and Griffith's Landing. My problem was that, like most New Jersey natives, I could name the barrier islands in order from north to south, but I couldn't tell you what cities on the mainland were behind each one. I had no idea which barrier isles lay in front of me, but Omar's main lab is somewhere within driving distance of the strike. I didn't know whether to laugh or be stunned.
I pretended to read, though it was like pretending to sleep when burglars are in the house. Finally, Mike Tiger left in his car, heading back to Manhattan for some meeting, and the goodbye comments let me know he'd either be spending the night with his family in North Jersey or he wouldn't be back until late tonight. Alan went to the kitchen to talk to Marg. I could hear his car keys rattling in his hand, which meant he was leaving, too.
Damn.
Cora and Rain came back from a walk outside, huffing and looking not thrilled about something. Rain went for the sound
marea,
and the normal word for water is
agua. Marea
is more often associated with coasts and
tides.
I explain this to Tyler, who gets a jolt of revelation that causes him to clamp on to my scabby shoulder. "Lab monkeys? Don't you have to have a
lab?
Didn't Roger tell us while we were in Beth Israel that they hadn't found Omar's local Trinity Falls lab after the raid? Aren't there all sorts of barrier islands down that way?"
I will look on a map directly, but chatter appears.
OmarLoggi: Do not pressure me. If you want to assassinate, go find me some v-spies instead of killing my lab monkeys.
He exits, and Tyler makes some "bring it on" banter, reminding me of the USIC agents' belief that he had a death wish and suicidal tendencies. That was all before he turned in his mother as a spy, which seemed to calm him somewhat. I think now he has only a reckless streak, which could also get us killed if we are not careful.
He settles down finally and asks, "So ... you're thinking that VaporStrike is on an island in New Jersey?" Before I can answer, he makes a stinging point. "
We're
on an island, buddy.
Long
Island. New York is not that far away. And Long Island
was
the home-away-from-home for VaporStrike back in March, back when he was using the Trinitron Internet café to launch his dirty secrets."
When I was brought here from Pakistan, it was to v-spy on VaporStrike and other operatives from inside Trinitron, where I could use the café's intranet system to quickly cache their screens and translate. VaporStrike and others had launched their experiment on Trinity Falls from less than a mile from here. They scattered to the winds or were captured down at Trinity.
I shake my head, trying to sort out the confusing issues. If they are using the Jersey lab, VaporStrike would not travel three hours to his former jurisdiction simply to get rid of a deadly, telling steel drum. Unless, of course, he can't find weekend trash collection in New Jersey but he can in New York. Still, New York is huge, and VaporStrike would be stupid to return to a place where police and USIC agents have photos of him and would recognize him instantly. I do not feel unsafe, despite Omar's encouragement to have us found. I feel more concerned about what else—or who else—might wind up suffering some hideous death before USIC can catch the lot of them.
FIFTEEN
SCOTT EBERMAN
SATURDAY, MAY 4, 2002
12:10 P.M.
PARLOR
I FELT LIKE A VAMPIRE who'd had his first red meal. If intelligence were blood, I would have grown fangs after my eavesdropping session in the basement. I parked myself on the parlor couch facing the hallway, waiting for Mike and Alan to either sneak off to their third-floor hangout and talk some more or take a cell phone call, of which I could hear one end.
Jersey cities with convention centers right across from amusement piers.
I played eenie-meenie-minie-moe with Wildwood, Asbury Park, and Griffith's Landing. My problem was that, like most New Jersey natives, I could name the barrier islands in order from north to south, but I couldn't tell you what cities on the mainland were behind each one. I had no idea which barrier isles lay in front of me, but Omar's main lab is somewhere within driving distance of the strike. I didn't know whether to laugh or be stunned.
I pretended to read, though it was like pretending to sleep when burglars are in the house. Finally, Mike Tiger left in his car, heading back to Manhattan for some meeting, and the goodbye comments let me know he'd either be spending the night with his family in North Jersey or he wouldn't be back until late tonight. Alan went to the kitchen to talk to Marg. I could hear his car keys rattling in his hand, which meant he was leaving, too.
Damn.
Cora and Rain came back from a walk outside, huffing and looking not thrilled about something. Rain went for the sound
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