The Credulity Nexus by Graham Storrs Page B

now. They're not a player any more.
Besides, they've got a bigger Muslim population over there than
Palestine these days.”
    Rik looked at
her large, dark eyes, prominent cheekbones and wide mouth, suddenly
seeing her Persian ancestry. He'd vaguely assumed her features and
colouration were Jewish, biased by her surname, he supposed. Now he
knew better.
    “ And how come you've decided to 'fess up
about not being CIA after all this time?”
    Freymann
actually laughed. “Because it was getting to be embarrassing, and
you're not such a big, dumb asshole as you look. Anyway, I figure
we can work together a lot easier with our cards on the table. We
both want to get that package off the streets and to keep it out of
the hands of whoever's looking for it, right?”
    Rik was
noncommittal. “You got any backup out here?”
    “ In LA? Hell, no! We've got a listening
post and a couple of people to run errands, that's all. So no
cavalry, if that's what you were hoping.”
    “ Something like–”
    The van sagged
on its suspension as something heavy landed almost silently on its
roof. Rik and Freymann had their guns up in an instant; he covered
the front and she took the back. Rik's breathing stopped, but his
heart pounded on his ribs like a panel beater.
    The driver's
door opened and the upload slid into one of the bucket seats, her
coal-black body sinuous and fast. Rik pushed the barrel of his
machine gun into the small of her back.
    “ Don't turn around,” he told her, seeing
the upload's body stiffen. “Just drive us away from here. We've
both got Heckler-Koch MG6 light machine guns pointed right at your
precious brain-box. I don't really know how fast you are, lady, but
these things fire fifteen rounds a second. That's thirty chances of
killing you every single second. Do you want to play Russian
roulette with a machine gun?”
    Without a
word, Rivers started up the van, took manual control, and moved
off. At the first available turning they took a left. The FBI
troops waiting behind the hospital building glanced at them. Rik
watched one man put a finger to his ear, obviously asking for
instructions. By the time he started shouting at the others to get
after the van, it had turned out of sight around another
building.
    “ They'll try to stop us leaving the site,”
Freymann said.
    Rik shook his
head. “This van's tougher than it looks; bullet-proof glass,
armoured walls, cellular tyres. It was built to survive a bit of
rough treatment. Am I right, driver?”
    Rivers
shrugged, pushing the van to ever-higher speeds. “Why should I
care? You're the ones that get perforated if you're wrong.”
    Rik dropped
down between the seats, bracing himself with his legs and one arm
as Rivers threw the van into a tight turn. Freymann slid to the
floor too, landing with a curse and a clatter as she dropped the
machine gun and had to scrabble to pick it up again.
    Two FBI agents
flashed by the side of the van and were left behind. A rattle of
bullets against the back doors didn't even leave a dent.
    “ Where can I drop you guys?” Rivers called
over her shoulder. “I'm going as far as the airport, if that suits
you.”
    “ I'm glad to see having a gun at your back
doesn't inhibit your sense of humour,” Freymann said. Rik glanced
at her as she nudged against him. She was having a hard time
keeping herself from falling around. Unlike Rik, she couldn't keep
the big machine gun pointed the right way with just one
hand.
    Rik raised his
head and took a quick peek. Up ahead, at the exit, a dozen FBI
agents were taking up firing positions, some of them packing more
than standard-issue hardware. He cursed under his breath.
    “ You know,” the upload said, as if nothing
untoward was going on, “I was just beginning to think the last
twenty-four hours had been a complete wash-out, and then, right out
of the blue, you turn up in the back of my van. It's a miracle. The
very man I was looking for just walks right into my hands. I can
hardly