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couldn't figure it out&
"Where the hell did you come from?"
"From the trunk of your car."
"The trunk?" Jack couldn't believe it. "When did you ?" Then he got it. "Oh,
hell. Back in Chelsea, right?"
He wanted to kick himself. He hadn't had the car long enough to notice the
extra weight in the rear, but still, he shouldn't have left anything to
chance.
Yoshio nodded with a strained smile. "A most uncomfortable ride."
"I'll bet," Jack said, remembering all the bumps they'd bounced over and
holes their tires had dropped into on the way up here. "Jeez, you must've
wanted to get here bad."
"Yes, Jack-san. Very bad. And what of your promise to share information? What
had happened to that?"
"Our deal was right of first refusal," Jack said, gently as he could. Not a
good idea to rile the man with the gun. "And we don't even know what we've got
yet." He turned to Alicia. "By the way, this is Yoshio, the Japanese gentleman
I told you about."
Alicia looked about ready to shed her skin. She stood stiff and still, her
eyes never wavering from the muzzle pointed their way.
"Say, 'Pleased to meet you,' " Jack whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
"Pleased to does he have to point that at us?"
"Very sorry," Yoshio said. "If Jack-san will please to give me his weapon, I
will put this away. It is only to protect myself, I assure you."
So damn polite, Jack thought as he pulled out the Semmerling and handed it
over.
But true to his word, Yoshio pocketed the little .45 and then holstered his
own 9mm. It occurred to Jack that this was a guy who had to be pretty sure of
his physical abilities.
"Now," Yoshio said, "shall we see what is inside?"
Jack nodded. "All right. On my count& "
The door cracked around the latch plate on their first simultaneous kick; the
plate buckled on their second, and they were able to pull the door open.
The first thing Jack noticed was that the lights were on inside.
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But then, considering what this place supposedly housed, why not?
"Please," Yoshio said. "After you."
Polite, Jack thought. And not letting me get behind him.
The single room inside was like Ted Kaczynski meets Radio Shack. A table, a
chair, a cot, a couple of throw rugs, and a pair of filing cabinets completed
the list of furnishings. The rest, taking up a good three quarters of the
space, was an electronic nightmare of wires and metal boxes and blinking
lights. And in the center of it all was this glass tube with a beam of
brilliant white light shooting through it. The beam looked almost& solid.
Now Yoshio moved ahead of them, inspecting the humming equipment, staring at
the beam.
"I don't understand," he said. "Is this the Ronald Clayton technology? What
does it do?"
He wasn't putting me on, Jack thought. He really doesn't know.
He glanced at Alicia. "Should I tell him? He's a buyer."
She nodded. "Go ahead."
Jack went to the lamp sitting on the table and checked to see if it had a
cord. It did& but it wasn't plugged in. A small aerial jutted up from the
base.
"Here," he said, motioning Yoshio over. "This says it all."
He handed him the lamp. Yoshio took it and stared at it.
"I have seen a lamp like this before."
"Then you should know."
The Japanese looked at him questioningly. "Know what?"
"Figure it out," Jack said, then moved toward the filing cabinets.
He wasn't in an explaining mood. Better to let Yoshio figure it out on his
own. An epiphany beat out a lecture any day.
Alicia had one of the file drawers open and was staring at something that
looked like a blueprint.
"Circuit diagrams," she said. "Do these& mean anything to you?"
"I can program my VCR and turn on my computer," Jack told her. "Beyond that&
I don't do wires. I am the Sergeant Schultz of electronics: 'I know nussing.'"
Suddenly Yoshio let out an "Ayiiiieeee!" followed by a Sten gun barrage of
Japanese.
Jack said, "The light, so to speak, has dawned."
He watched Yoshio carry the lamp over to the electronic jumble, where he
stood wide-eyed and red-cheeked, his head jerking back and forth between the
lamp and the Clayton gizmo as he mumbled in Japanese.
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