Repairman Jack [02]-Legacies

"Oil guys?" Jack-san said. "What's in this for them?"

"That is the question I was sent here to answer. Obviously Kemel Muhallal's mission here is to secure the Clayton technology at any cost."

"Obviously. But doesn't that go against your theory that this Iswid whatever blew up Clayton's plane?"

"I assure you that it is so very more than theory."

"Yeah, but think about it: If Kemel wants this 'technology,' why would he and his group blow up the guy who invented it?"

"Perhaps because the inventor was intending to sell it to us instead of to them."

Jack-san stared out the window. "Yeah, but to blow up a whole plane just to stop one man… two hundred forty-seven people dead…"

"Nearer to two hundred and sixty now," Yoshio said. When Jack-san gave him a puzzled look, he added, "You must count the arsonist, the lawyer, and Miss Clayton's first investigator. Also the pair that I removed at the Clayton house. Plus whoever you killed last night. Do you know how many?"

Jack-san shrugged. "Couldn't tell you. Didn't hang around to count. But whatever, the body count was way too high already. And all this is making less sense by the minute." He stared at Yoshio. "And you've got absolutely no idea what this Clayton technology is?"

Yoshio could answer that quite truthfully. "No."

"Kemel's big advantage is that he does. At least I hope he does. Hate to think he blew up a planeload of people on a hunch. So let's assume he does. That puts him way ahead of us."

Us… was Jack-san aligning himself with Yoshio—and therefore Kaze Group—or was it merely a word? This might be an avenue to explore.

"Kemel Muhallal has no right to the Clayton technology," Yoshio said. "My… country has a moral right to it because Mr. Clayton so obviously intended to sell it to us before he was murdered. And should we discover that it is so valuable as our trade minister said, we will buy it from his heir. Something Iswid Nahr does not seem to wish to do."

"Yeah, you've got that right," Jack-san said slowly. "They've offered to buy the house… they've never breathed a word about an invention or technology. Maybe they think the price will be too high."

Yoshio shrugged. "Something so valuable will pay for itself, I would think."

"I would think too," Jack said. He twisted farther in the front seat. "So where does that leave us? Do we work together on this?"

"No," Yoshio said quickly. He always worked alone. To have a… partner—especially one not aligned with Kaze Group—was unthinkable.

Jack-san almost looked relieved. "Good. But I assume we can have a nonaggression pact. And can I assume that should Alicia and I dig up this Clayton technology, whatever it is, that we've got a buyer?"

"A potential buyer," Yoshio said. "It may be that this technology is of no use to us."

"Fair enough," Jack-san said, "but we'll give you first refusal." He extended his hand over the top of the front seat. "Deal?"

Yoshio hesitated. Something was wrong here. He had the weapon, but somehow this Jack-san had taken charge. And somehow this meeting had been all to the American's advantage. He had learned much while Yoshio had learned only that Ronald Clayton was a pedophile who had defiled his own children.

But still, an ally would not be a bad thing… if this was a man who could be trusted to keep his word.

Yoshio had a sense for these things, and he felt Jack-san was such a man.

They shook hands.

"It is a deal," he said.

Yes… a deal. But as Jack-san drove him back uptown, Yoshio decided it would be a good thing to keep a close watch on this man. If he could find him.

"What do you do now?" he said as he stepped out near the garage where he had parked his own car.

"Going home to play with a toy," Jack-san said, and sped off.

6.

Jack watched the little Rover race across his living room carpet and butt against the wall. The uptown wall. He was already farther uptown than Murray Hill, but apparently that wasn't enough for the Rover. It wanted to go farther. Always uptown, always north.

Except out on Long Island. Then the little bugger had run off toward the northwest.

But where was the directional control?

Jack grabbed the truck, turned off the motor, and popped off the body. He checked that out but it was nothing more than molded black plastic.

The chassis was more complicated—wheels, undercarriage, electric motor, steering control, battery compartment, and antenna. Jack knew his knowledge of remote-control toys was rivaled only by his understanding of quantum mechanics, but he pulled out a magnifying glass and made like Sherlock Holmes.

No help. Just a bunch of wires.

As long as he was here, he should check the battery compartment to see what kind it took, just in case it ran out of juice. He popped the lid and saw that it took two AAs. But the battery slots were empty. Instead he found a silvery cylinder about half the length of his pinkie wired to the contacts.

"What the hell?"