“Yes, but I’m quick and strong on initiative,” Livvy said. “Look, Bruno, I’m going after McGregor with or without your help, and I don’t have much time.
“If it comes down to numbers, which we can surely anticipate it will, McGregor, or even you, won’t weigh in that much heavier than I do. It’s your tricks and my enterprise. Synergy.”
Bruno assessed her. He wasn’t going to find a nick in her resolve, she thought, which meant that he was worrying about her capabilities. She sat up straight and firmed her jaw, concentrating on projecting the kind of image that would dispel his concerns about her atrophied tactical skills.
“Okay, so we need to start with the basics,” Bruno said finally. “I’m gonna guess it’s been a while since you’ve been on the street in some situations. You know about the reversal implants the pros are getting now? They’re better than ours.”
Livvy nodded.
“These mickey-mouse gangs of security guards most of the rich are hiring get them, too. The guards put it on their friggin’ resumes.
“So. In a take-no-prisoners kind of scenario you want to use duoloads and put two in everyone. They have a short, very fast-acting sop and a much longer-acting one. They’re still considered safe so you can use two even on non-players, but even three is unlikely to kill anyone, especially if they have an implant. Use ‘em if you need to. I’ll set you up with some clips of duoload darts that will work with a standard Stinger.
“What else do you think you’ll need?” Bruno asked.
Livvy put her elbows on Bruno’s desk, rested her chin in her hands, and prepared to pay close attention.
“What kind of bombs do you have?”
Bruno smiled.
When Agnew had called Bedford’s mansion a fortress he had exaggerated. There were no ramparts, canons, or visible guards, other than one man at the gatehouse. There was a complete seven meter tall perimeter wall topped with glass and razor wire with an ironwork gate at the driveway – the old ways were often still the best, especially if one worried about technical failures – and there were undoubtedly security acueyes with comprehensive coverage of the house, inside and out. The rest of the guards would be inside. Not a fortress, a fortified mansion. She parked three blocks away, and resigned herself to waiting. She was so tired of waiting.
During the half hour she’d delayed before confronting Agnew in the bar, she’d accessed 3-D utility maps of all of Bedford’s known properties in the city and narrowed her search down to a few possibilities. By mentioning the bunker, which of course wasn’t portrayed on anything official, Agnew had given her a final direction. She couldn’t confirm; Chris’ comu positioning system was jammed, as it had been all day, but this was her one chance and her best information. McGregor had to be in this house.
“Why should our luck start now?” Livvy muttered to herself. From the passenger seat, Louie wagged his tail hesitantly.
“Yes, Louie, we’re going in to look for Chris,” she said. “Soon.”
She had an hour before the time she had selected for going in, and while she waited she unpacked and repacked her satchel of Bruno’s gifts, reviewing the use, operation, and position of each one. LLE was even more powerful than she’d imagined but she knew she was going well beyond its legal mandate, both in what she was going to do and how she was going about it. It no longer mattered. Later, when she had time, she’d dwell on the twist LLE gave her philosophical question: did this make her a good cop or a bad one?
Chris had warned her: a private little war. Megan and the Chief had unofficially sanctioned it. Bedford had asked for it. At the moment, fueled by rage over Mickey Bedford’s death and Jesse’s kidnapping, she was looking forward to it. Handy thing, rage.
She was counting on a number of factors to make her effort possible: Chris would be in the underground bunker, safe from her first assault and retaliation from the guards. The element of surprise, and the fact that she would be almost alone, would make it difficult for Bedford’s security to respond effectively. And more importantly, Bedford’s guards wouldn’t be calling in anyone from the public sector because the last thing Bedford wanted was regular Enforcement responding to the breach. She was cool with that; secrecy was part of her mandate, and everyone she met would be his private security, and fair game.
And last but not least, they wouldn’t expect that she could be lead straight to Chris’ location. They wouldn’t expect Louie.
Her hour was up. She got out of the car, Louie following, and hefted her pack onto her shoulder, where it settled securely. It was a cool night with a quarter moon and a slight breeze. The only sounds were from a few mechanicals along the distant arterial roads, the whispery scrunch of her shoes on the sidewalk, the crickets, and Louie’s intermittent excited panting. When she got to a point across the street and far enough from Bedford’s property that she should still be out of range of the acueyes at the gate, she paused and dropped to one knee by Louie’s side.
This part couldn’t be helped. She could only hope that Louie was as smart as she believed he was.
“Louie, gate,” she said, speaking clearly and pointing at the ironwork gates 80 meters ahead. “Gate. Sit. Stay now.”
If Louie was puzzled, he didn’t show it, other than to cock his head to one side and look her in the eyes. He sat silently and watched her walk away.
This part of the city was full of mature trees and some of them, fortunately, were close to Bedford’s perimeter wall and probably cherished by neighbors who didn’t share his paranoia. If Bedford was obeying the strict privacy laws enacted at the beginning of the century, and she was counting on his powerful neighbors to compel him to do so, then he’d have no acueyes overlooking his neighbor’s property. On the other hand, Bruno had assured her that those same neighbors would respect her LLE sleeve insignia when they saw it glowing for their acueyes. They would certainly monitor her intrusion like an owl tracking a mouse, he’d said, but would know better than to interfere. She was LLE.
She crept along the outside of Bedford’s perimeter wall a short distance through the neighbor’s yard and approached the tree she had spotted earlier during her drive-by. Using it would allow her to avoid any early contact with the wall, which was probably touch-sensitive, or at least she had to assume so.
Tonight, getting into her first position would be the last time she would be able to hesitate. Once she left there, she couldn’t stop again until she found her partner. As she climbed up and settled into a good place to sit in the lower branches she thought briefly of Robert Maas, and experienced a bitter aftertaste of vulnerability. If there was after all a perimeter acueye capturing her every move, they were just waiting to find out if she was alone before starting to take shots at her, and she would have no chance at success.
Forcing herself to wait one more minute, she took her first good look at the house. As far as she could see Bedford’s house plans and the security plans for the neighbor’s were both precisely matching the plans she’d gotten from the city’s building permit files. She opened her expandable pack, and while she continued to survey the compound with half her attention, she took out the launcher piece by piece and she assembled it by touch. Now, she heard only the crickets, the soft rustling of the leaves surrounding her, and the incongruous clicks of the launcher pieces snapping together. Other than the guard at the gate, she saw no movement.
Here we go, she thought. With the launcher set to automatic fire and her entire supply of 30 Spritzer’n’Smokes, or Spritzers as Bruno called them, fit into the magazine, all she had to do was aim so that they landed, one every 2 seconds, in variable positions on the roof. The launcher made only a small puff when the bombs were fired, but they hit the roof and occasionally the side of the house with thumps and clanking that was surely enough to awaken everyone inside. The Spritzers that landed on the roof all rolled off onto the balconies and decks and terraces with which the mansion was generously outfitted, making rattling sounds as they rolled.