"Vincent, what the hell is going on out there?" Shark demanded. "You are supposed to eliminate just five people—five people—perhaps none of them armed. Kurt tells me that they are a man with a broken arm, another that looks like a wrestler, a young female, and two elderly psychics.
"You have virtually unlimited funds. You have a resource—Kurt on his grid—that gives you an advantage beyond the imagination of governments, that lets you follow and predict the movements of those people. You have access to a network of professional collaborators, available and ready.
"So tell me, if you please, why the hell this ragtag group is still alive and running around loose."
Shark was using the videophone because Gracco couldn't carry on an explicit and detailed telepathic communication except with or through the gridman. Now Gracco fixed him with his eyes.
"Shark," Gracco answered, "don't give me that sarcastic bullshit. I'm not one of your flunkies; you didn't hire me. I was chosen by The Lords, the same as you, and I don't squirm or embarrass worth a shit. I know as well as you do that I'm the best.
"And something else: the only sonofabitch as good as me at what I do blew himself up a few nights ago, messing with those same five people. So if you're looking for apologies or alibis, look somewhere else; I don't even need to give you any explanations. If you want information, that I give to you."
Hardman, on the grid, was also listening, keeping awake on speed now. Watching the black pickup tool through the Texas night did not require close attention.
Gracco, he told himself, could afford to stand up to Shark; Gracco wasn't susceptible to the kind of psychic punishment that Shark could deal a gridman.
"We're dealing with some high-powered psychics," Gracco went on, "You know that as well as me. If they were easy, I wouldn't have even heard of them. Hardman would've taken care of them days ago with some nice little accident."
Gracco smiled cold-eyed into the video pickup on the phone, a smile with neither humor nor hostility. "Just so we understand each other," he added.
"Now, what I've been doing is setting up a network of booby traps for them, like a fucking mine field, and they're just getting into the perimeter of it. With people like them, the odds of any one of the mines getting them aren't all that high, but the odds of them getting through the whole mine field, you can stick in your ass and never even notice it.
"You already know that the organizations out of Oklahoma City, Kansas City, and the Twin Cities are laying for them. And those people run the rackets in other places, from Wichita to Des Moines to Duluth, so we got good coverage. If they'd taken the western route north, I had that covered, too. And Rinaldi, in Dallas, was ready if they went across farther south.
"Now I've done something else. The capos all have a lot of influence outside the organizations. A lot of people owe them, and a lot more want to be on their good side, so I got them pulling in all the favors they've got coming. It's costing us plenty, but you said don't worry about the cost.
"On top of that, I told them that Merlin and his people have been working on a new superdrug, that they're heading for Canada to sell it to a pharmaceutical company there, but they don't have it written down. They're going to deliver it from memory, and each one of them knows the whole formula.
"This drug gives a high, but it's not addictive and it doesn't hurt anyone, so governments will let drugstores sell it over the counter cheap. It'll put everyone else out of the drug business.
"I know that doesn't make sense if you really look at it, but it's got these guys worried, and they're not taking any chances. They're spreading the word to every two-bit local boss from Oklahoma to the Canadian border. The odds of Merlin and his people getting as far as Minnesota are shit.
"That's the story I told everyone but Olson. I didn't tell him anything I didn't need to, but what I've told him is about eighty percent true.
"Anyway, I've got all these people watching for them, and that includes some fuzz on the take. And meanwhile, we've got Kurt. Right, Kurt? He keeps me informed, and I pass the word along to whoever I think can do anything with it.
"And if they get through that, some way or other, they've still got to get to the island. Olson tells me it's about twenty miles out to it from the nearest place on the north shore, and like maybe eighty or a hundred from the south shore. They get storms out there that can sink ships, and winter is the big storm season on Lake Superior, which is likely to turn them off all by itself. The harbors and shore lines are frozen over, and a small boat is all they could drag out to open water. And, of course, a grenade will sink anything small.
"So they aren't likely to try a boat.
"And if they fly, they'll be sitting ducks; Olson's got a couple of planes that can shoot them out of the air. Kurt shouldn't have to do anything but keep track of them."
He smiled at Shark again, a smile like ice. "There's no way they'll get to the gate; you'll never get a safer bet than that on anything."
Shark smiled at Gracco's refusal to propitiate or even alibi. "Thank you for the report, Vincent; it does sound reassuring. Keep me informed of any developments. And now, unless you have something more for me, I'm sure each of us has things to do."
"You got it, Shark," Gracco said, "you got it."
With that, Gracco disconnected, turning the phone screen blank. Shark stared thoughtfully at it. "Kurt," he said silently to the gridman, "how does it look to you now?"
"Gracco's right," Hardman replied. "There are too many different obstacles for them to find their way through. But meanwhile, like I told you, they've separated, and I can't monitor both vehicles. I've stayed with the vehicle that Merlin's in because he seems to be the most dangerous. As soon as he's been taken care of, I'll find Sigurdsson, even though I'll have to do it with a direct psychic reach. If I'm quick enough, I should be able to find him, make the monitor connection, and get free before they know what's happening and jump me. Then I'll stay with him visually until he's been eliminated."
Shark nodded mentally. "Thank you, Kurt. And how are you doing personally just now? I realize that you're operating on virtually no rest."
Fuck you, Hardman thought privately, You're afraid I'll break down and won't he able to continue; otherwise, you wouldn't give a shit. "This type of monitoring isn't that hard," he transmitted mentally. "It's just so damned continuous. I'm using a little chemical help to keep going, but I can stand that. When this operation is over, I'll take a few days off the grid and be okay."
"Good. Let me know at once when there's been a successful strike on any of Merlin's people, or if any problems come up. And now, I'll let you give your full attention to our quarry."
Shark let the psychic line drop. Despite himself and despite all that Gracco was doing, he was worried. Not extremely worried, but he felt some concern. Sordom had been within a minute of eliminating the whole nest of them—had actually lit the fuse—and failed. Then Rinaldi had Merlin himself captive in a Texas jail, and somehow Merlin managed to get himself freed. Now they had separated, which suggested that they knew they were being monitored. Merlin, at least, was dangerous. Sigurdsson apparently was, too. The others were unknown quantities, but they must have significant ability; otherwise, why would Merlin take them along?
If Hardman burned out and lost his visual connection, that would really be a setback. Perhaps, through Hardman, he should establish his own psychic connection to Merlin—just a quick touch, sufficient that he could reconnect if he had to fly to Dallas and ride the grid himself.
But not now. Hardman's challenge to him to ride the grid himself had been rhetoric; the gridman was jealous of his prerogative. It was best to let the toad get a little more exhausted, more willing to let someone else move into his area of responsibility.