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speed.
Lak Volunza continued to study the passengers, the stranger accepting
citizens of Forsenia, while the train hummed and hissed along.
When the train slowed in its approach to the next to the last station on
the western line, called Red Brook, Volunza stood, along with a handful of
others. The majority of passengers remained seated, obviously headed for the
end of the line, as he stepped out onto the platform.
While the DomSecs appeared slow, they might be one step ahead, and
waiting for him to exit the train at the end of the lineùany line. Even if
they could track which cards he had used, they would have to wait until he
left the station, unless they wanted to stop every passenger on every
platform, whether incoming, outgoing, or transferring. He doubted that the
DomSecs were worried enough yet to blanket some sixty stations; many of which
had much higher traffic volumes and more than one exit.
If their data system were good enough, they could track anyone from the
two tube stations that were equidistant from the Herklonn home and compare the
names against addresses. That would take a few minutes, but not many, and
would certainly narrow the focus of the search.
That possibility was the reason why the credit card he had used did not
bear the name or credit codes of Lak Volunza, but those of a newshawk
association, the kind of card given to people who traveled on business too
frequently to be justified as personal use. Such cards were registered in both
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individual names and in the names of the organization. His card represented
the state news organization, FPNS.
Brisk steps took him up the inclined ramp to street level, where he
turned southward along the boulevard lined by squat and oversize dwellings of
gray stone, presumably the homes of well-paid functionaries of some sort.
Volunza checked the time. Only midafternoon, far earlier than he would
have wished to be less conspicuous.
At the next corner he turned westward, keeping an eye open for uniformed
DomSecs and anyone else. He passed a young woman wheeling a buggy, in which a
sleeping infant lay, covered with a light, but bright red blanket.
He nodded, somberly, without smiling, as he passed.
Surprisingly he received a tentative smile in return.
He reached the green expanse of the Novaya Park without passing another
soul on the broad streets, and with just two or three electrocars humming
past.
The park had no gates and presented a series of grassy areas
interspersed with dark conifers and the heavy trunks of the ancient and
imported oaks. The size of the trees, if nothing else, confirmed the age and
stability of Varenna.
As he headed toward the permanent summer pavilions, he wished he had
made his hair even grayer. Then he could have joined the group of older men at
their endless games of chess.
While the cool breeze felt warm enough for him, he suspected most
Imperials would have found Forsenia far too chilly, especially in any season
besides the too-short summers.
A whining sound tickled his hearing, coming from the road to his left
where it wound toward the common area a hundred meters in front of him.
Volunza set his case down by an oak and wiped his forehead, leaning against
the tree as if to rest for a moment. Then he sat down.
From the base of the old oak, he had a clear view of the men at their
stone tables, as well as of the women playing cards at a second row of tables.
His position also kept him shielded from direct observation from the perimeter
roads around the park.
The electrovan continued to the common area and the summer pavilions,
where it stopped. A uniformed man and woman climbed out and walked over to the
men playing chess, stopping by an older man who was watching, standing in the
kiosk that sold drinks and dressed in a gray tunic. The seller nodded as the
three talked for several minutes.
The two security officers walked into the section of tables shaded by
the pavilion roof. The female DomSec pointed to a white-haired man, then
looked back at the man in gray, who nodded.
The white-haired man, the object of her attention, bolted upright.
Despite his obvious paunch, he charged the male DomSec, bowling him into
another table, and scattering chess pieces in the process.
Both DomSecs turned, but did not draw weapons, as the paunchy man
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careened off the immobile stone table, pounded past the kiosk, and threw
himself through the still-open driver's door of the electrovan. The door
slammed closed.
The van began to whine, picking up speed and volume as it whipped back
down the road toward the far side of the park.
Wsssh!
The man who temporarily called himself Volunza blinked.
A searing flash of light flared across the grass, so quickly it cast no
shadows.
Volunza blinked, rubbing his eyes to regain his vision.
The first thing he saw, when he could see again, was the seething lump
of metal that had been the DomSec electrovan. He turned his head slowly to
survey the park, but could see nothing else.
"Booby-trapped," he observed to no one in particular.
He watched the group in the center of the park. All but a few of the
older men and women returned to their cards and chess. Those that did not
merely sat and stared blankly.
The gray-haired kiosk attendant and the two DomSecs strolled casually up
the winding road toward the hot metal that had once been a paunchy man and an
electrovan.
Volunza quietly eased himself farther down at the base of the oak,
nearly invisible to anyone more than a few meters away, and took out a
tattered book. Better to wait for the time when everyone was going home before
trying to move anywhere farther.
He reminded himself not to borrow any government vehicles. Their rental
rate was more than he wished to pay. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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