Chasing the White Lion by James Hannibal (best free e book reader .TXT) 📗

They were not alone. The restaurants surrounding the plaza were open. Several pedestrians crossed their path. None of them gave a pair of women in heels and business suits a second look. There was a train station nearby. Luggage was a common sight.

“I wish we had comms right now,” Talia whispered to Val. “I hate going in there blind.”

The comms were a big problem. First thing upon their arrival in the city center, Eddie had run an analysis of signals in the square and caught Boyd testing a localized frequency jammer on his upper floors. After consultation with Franklin, Eddie and Darcy had gone on a mad dash around the city, picking up parts and pieces for a work-around.

Eddie had briefed Talia and Val when he handed them the finished products. “Boyd will leave the upper end of the RF spectrum free for his own internal security comms and Wi-Fi. Basically, the Bluetooth frequencies—extremely short range. I’ve modified your earpieces to send Bluetooth comms to a long-range directional relay Darcy and I cobbled together. The relay box will sit in your room and quite literally burn through Boyd’s jamming to reach my station.”

“If the towers have Wi-Fi,” Val asked, “can’t we use the signal like we did at Club Styx?”

“Negatory. At Club Styx we wanted to get caught. This time we don’t. And Boyd’s network security is top-notch. Keep in mind, earpieces are small, so I can make them work on one end of the frequency spectrum or the other, but not both. They won’t talk to our SATCOM net without the relay, which has to be plugged into a wall outlet.”

Eddie had gone into a dissertation on jamming, VHF directional burn-through, and the resultant power requirements. The short answer was, Talia and Val couldn’t talk to the team until they reached the room and plugged in his device—a rather not-so-subtle oversize hockey puck.

An intense Thai man waited under the tower’s curved platinum awning. He said nothing. Val went first. She typed her code into a number pad, and the door unlocked. Talia tried to follow her through, but the guard blocked her path until the door fell closed. He gestured at the pad.

“I get it. No tailgating.” Talia used her own code to unlock the door and smiled at the guard on her way in. “You run a tight ship, buster.”

She doubted he understood a word.

Lobby wasn’t the best word for what greeted her on the other side. Mall would have been better. Three stories of luxury shopping space, supported by sweeping gold pillars, surrounded a cylindrical elevator shaft with four cars. Shifting neon lights colored the rippling waters of a pool-sized fountain.

Next to the fountain, Boyd’s people had set up a security checkpoint, a backscatter X-ray machine, and a bag scanner. Two carbon copies of the doorman stood ready to funnel the Frenzy players through the checkpoint, wearing the same intense glower. Either Boyd had rigid physical and temperamental requirements for his security men, or he was growing them in a lab. Talia blinked. Maybe that explained the mutism.

Clone One hefted the duffels onto the conveyor without the slightest grunt. Talia lifted her chin. “You two and your buddy outside must be triplets.” She handed her roller bag to Clone Two. “No? Then are the three of you a boy band or something?”

With the roller bags on the move, Talia followed Val through the backscatter machine. No alarms. As expected. They’d hidden all their contraband in the bags.

Clone One watched the X-ray monitor, while Clone Two moved to intercept the luggage on the other side. He unzipped the first duffel, eyeing the rows of Velcro pouches inside. He drew one out, poured a handful of gold coins into his palm, and looked at the girls in relative surprise—a slight change in his glower.

Talia gave him a hands off the money frown.

Val backed her up. “That’s not a bribe, friend, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Whether or not he spoke English, they got their point across. Clone Two let the coins slide into the pouch and lobbed it down the conveyer to land in the still-moving duffel.

Talia did her best not to wince. Not everything in that bag was stable.

“You done?” Val asked, yanking her rollerbag down and extending the handle. “So now where do we go?”

Clone One, looking not unlike the Ghost of Christmas Future, extended an arm and a long finger. Talia looked, half expecting to see a gravestone with her name on it. Instead she saw a much more vibrant man waving from the elevators. “I guess we go with that guy.”

The clones were mute, but the man at the elevators had a voice, high pitched with some Oxford British mixed into the accent. “Welcome, Panthers Eight One and Eight Two,” he said with an exaggerated bow. His silk suit reflected the neon lights of the fountain. “I am the Frenzy’s Master of Ceremonies. Let me show you to your rooms.”

The MC helped them place their bags on a luggage cart in the elevator, and the three rode up countless levels while Thai music videos played on screens within the walls.

Talia folded her hands in front of her. “You don’t seem surprised we arrived together.”

“The White Lion suspected you might. You each may have a suite if you desire, or you may room together.”

“Can we get adjoining suites?” Val asked.

“Adjacent rooms are not possible.”

“Well, yeah, they’re possible. You just have to—”

His eyes flashed. “You will understand when we reach the game floors.”

Room accommodations were a weakness of Val’s. She had a lot of rules, whether on or off the job. Talia nudged her elbow to keep her from arguing. “We’ll bunk together. It’s fine.”

“Very good.” The car jolted to a stop, and the MC handed them each a paper-thin tablet, more of a slate—little more than a pane of glass with gold edges. “These will lead you to your room and open the doors. Be inside by a quarter to