I hit the banks, and so did she. We needed multiple IDs of pre-paid, collateraled cards, because I didn’t intend to make payments. We’d use them until they were depleted, or until we had to scrap IDs. So each ID had three to five cards with a limit of ten grand each.
Each day she went to work for a couple of divs. Each afternoon she came back with more resources, and an intel report. For all I know, she showed up on base in uniform and had a cover of being out on local assignment, which would technically be true.
I really wanted to take a week and do a bare bones insertion, starting in the mountains and walking/hitching back, and break into my own perimeter, and possibly on base as well. But, the latter posed a serious operational security leak, and the former part would take time we just couldn’t spare, with me about to abandon my business for as long as it took.
At least we had intel. She brought us DNA scans, a list of previous victims with bios and backgrounds, lengthy lists of connections.
One afternoon she came in, looking very serious, and said, “We believe he’s in Caledonia.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. We have tickets for tomorrow at two-seventy.”
“Won’t those be a bit obvious and pricey?” I asked.
“No, we’ve had open tickets on retainer. Typical for business these days.”
“Really. I should know things like this. Except I’ve not been off planet since I got back.” I was paranoid enough not to mention I had a similar setup. I should have made the connection, too.
“Well, can we do it?” She looked hesitant, about the mission or about me, I wasn’t sure.
“Yes.” I was nervous, too. I felt that gutfall that I recalled from last time. Kiss everything goodbye and hope you’ll see it again.
“I’ll pack personal stuff.”
I nodded. “I need a div alone with my daughter.”
“Absolutely,” she agreed, and was out as fast as the door moved.
It was time for a discussion with Chel, that I’d never wanted to have, and would rather avoid. I had to, though, for all the reasons you can guess.
I cooked up a lamb curry, with her favorite vegetables, and got out the good root beer and a bottle of Silver Birch Special Reserve.
It didn’t fool her, of course.
She came in from school, smelled the food, saw the bottles, and said, “You’re leaving tomorrow.”
“I am,” I said.
I got tackle-hugged. This was going to be hard on me, too. I’d never been away from her. Not since she was three days old.
We ate, and it was somber. I’m not a vid person, so there was nothing to distract us, though it might have helped. She had one shot of the liquor, and two of her root beers, and picked at her curry. I wasn’t that hungry myself, but I knew I needed food.
I cleared the table, and said, “So, we need to cover some things.”
She tried to smile. “Don’t burn the place down. If the thought of something makes me giggle I shouldn’t do it. I don’t need to set any records . . .”
“Yes, all the usual stuff. But this is more important, and new.”
She nodded and came over.
“Now, I told you you can’t come. This is a military mission and the people involved are dangerous pros. In addition, don’t talk to anybody. Nothing. Not even Andre. I’m so ass over heels I took my new girlfriend and went on a trip and left you behind. You hate the fossil-hunting bitch. Whatever. But not a hint that it’s duty related. Your life depends on it. And stay armed. It won’t do you any good, but there’s no reason not to.”
“They don’t like us armed at school, Dad. You know that,” she said.
Playing me off against the school, of all places. I could only assume it was adolescent rebellion on her part. “I don’t care what they like,” I said, exasperated. “It’s your right, and I pay a lot of money for you to go there, so they can get stuffed. Carry a fucking gun.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. That told me she believed that I believed what I was telling her.
“Good,” I said. “Don’t be nice, either. If someone makes a move on you, shoot. Don’t give them first-aid if wounded, just keep shooting until you get the head. Then get it again. You’ve got court legal cause to be afraid. This type of asshole is especially dangerous if wounded.”
“Ripper?” she asked.
“About that mean,” I nodded. “A ripper is slightly faster. Slightly. But this guy and his cohorts are much smarter and much trickier.”
She said, “So you’re going to kill someone?” She looked really bothered and trembly.
I sighed. Dammit.
“Yes. I am. I can’t tell you why and you need to forget it, but a lot of people’s lives are riding on it and I have some specific skills, so does Silver. I shouldn’t even say this much, and you’re at risk if you ever mention it. Remember what I said we were doing?”