The Merchant’s War

Another wild goose chase, Judith told herself gloomily. No sooner had she gotten back to the serious job of shadowing Mike Fleming like he was the president or something, no sooner had she managed to breathe a series of extended gasps of relief at the news-that Source GREENSLEEVES fingerprints had been all over the casing and it was missing from inventory and Dr. Rand had punched in the PAL code and switched it off without any drama, and all the other weapons in its class were present and accounted for-than the colonel came down with his tail on fire and a drop everything order of the day: absolutely typical. "Leave a skeleton team on site and gel everyone else up here now," he said, all trace of his usually friendly exterior gone. Crow's-feet at the corners of his eyes that hadn't been there the week before. Something's eating him, she'd realized, and left it to Rich Hall to ask what the rush job was and get his head bitten off.

Which was why, four hours later, she was sitting in the back seat of an unmarked police car behind officers O'Grady and Pike, keeping an eye on a strip mall and a field with a big top in it and a sign saying HISTORY FAIRE outside.

"What is it we're supposed to be looking for, ma'am?" Pike asked, mildly enough.

"I'll tell you when I see it." The waiting was getting to her. She glanced once more at the laptop with the cellular modem and the GPS receiver sitting next to her. Seven red dots pocked the map of Concord like a disease. Updated in real time by the colonel's spooky friends Bob and Alice, no less, the laptop could locate a phone to within a given GSM cell... but that took in the mall, the field, and a couple of streets on either side. "There are tricks we can play with differential signal strength analysis to pin down exactly where a phone is," Smith had told her, "but it takes time. So go and sit there and keep your eyes peeled while we try to locate it."

The mall was about as busy-or as quiet-as you'd expect on any weekday around noon. Cars came, cars went. A couple of trucks rumbled past, close enough to the parked police car to rock it gently on its suspension.

O'Grady had parallel-parked in front of a hardware store just beside the highway, ready to move.

"We could be here a while," she said quietly. "Just as long as it isn't a wild goose chase."

"I didn't think you people went on wild goose chases," said Pike. Then she caught his eye in the rearview mirror. He reddened.

"We try not to," she said dryly, keeping her face still. Her FBI credentials were still valid, and if anyone checked them out they'd get something approximating the truth: on long-term assignment to Homeland Security, do not mess with this woman. "We're expecting company."

"Like that?" O'Grady gestured through the window. Herz, tracked his linger, and stilled a curse. On the screen beside her, an eighth red dot had lit up in her cell.

"It's possible." She squinted at the coach. Men were coming out of the big top to open the gate, admitting it.

The laptop beeped. A ninth red dot on the map-and another coach of HISTORY FAIRE folks was slowing down to turn into the field.

"Just what do they do at a history faire anyway?" asked Pike. "Hey, will you look at that armor!"

"Count them, please," Judith muttered, pulling out her own phone. She speed-dialed a number. "Larry? I've got two coachloads that showed up around the same time as two more positives. Can you give me a background search on-"she squinted through her compact binoculars, reading off the number plates"-and forward it to Eric? He's going to want to know how many to bring to the party."

"What's that they're carrying?" Pike grunted.

Judith blinked, then focused on a group of men in armor, lugging heavy kit bags in through the door of the marquee. "This doesn't add up-" she began. Then one of the armored figures lifted the awning higher, to help his mates: and she got a glimpse at what was going on inside.

"Officers, we're not dressed for this party and I think we should get out of here right now."

"But they-" began Pike.

"Listen to the agent." O'Grady grimaced and started the engine. "Okay, where do you want me to go, ma'am?"

"Let's just get out of the line of sight. Keep moving, within a couple of blocks. I'm going to phone for backup."

"Is it a terror cell? Here?"

She met his worried eyes in the mirror. "Not as such," she said grimly, "but it's nothing your department can handle. Once you drop me off you're going to be throwing up a cordon around the area: my people will take it from here." She hit a different speed-dial button. "Colonel? Herz. You were right about what's going on here. I'm pulling out now, and you're good to go in thirty..."

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