Timothy Zahn - The Green And The Gray

Zenas snorted. "Twice the mess, probably."

"I don't mean working together," Ron said. "I mean if one is working against the other."

"How would—?" Zenas broke off, a suddenly thoughtful expression on his face. "That's a good question."

"It's like they're giving out sound waves, isn't it?" Jordan asked. "I thought sound waves go right through each other."

"Actually, that depends on a couple of factors," Jonah corrected his brother. "How similar they are, whether they're going the same direction..."

He looked sharply at his father. "And whether they're in or out of phase."

"Maybe that's why Sylvia is so anxious to get Melantha back," Laurel said, her voice dark. "In fact, maybe that's why Nikolos and Cyril were so anxious to kill her in the first place. They were afraid she might not cooperate in their war, and that she might actually be able to work against Damian."

"Interesting thought, though still just a theory," Fierenzo warned. "Still, if it's true, it gives us that much more reason for us to find her." He reached out his hand to Velovsky. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Velovsky. If you care anything about Melantha, you'll keep quiet about our meeting."

"Of course I care about Melantha, Detective," Velovsky growled, ignoring the proffered hand as he stood up. "I care about all the Greens; and if I could see any way your little conspiracy could hurt them, I'd go to Aleksander in a minute."

He sent a glower toward Zenas and Laurel. "Fortunately for you," he added, "I can't."

"And we appreciate your forbearance," Roger told him, trying not to let too much of his annoyance seep into his voice.

"Zenas, what exactly does your transport look like?" Stephanie asked suddenly. "I was thinking that if we knew its shape and layout, we might be able to figure out how big this extra storeroom actually is."

"Good idea," Zenas said, holding out his hands. "It's—well, let's see. It's curved like this."

"Roger, see if there's some stationery in there," Fierenzo instructed, pointing to the desk behind him.

Roger started to swivel around, stopped as an idea occurred to him. "How about we try a threedimensional model instead?" he suggested, digging into his coat pocket and producing Melantha's trassk. "You all know how to work these things, right?"

"Perfect," Zenas said, smiling tightly. "Let me have it."

"Here, Velovsky, pass it over," Roger said. He shifted the brooch to his left hand to give to the old man—

And jerked violently as a raucous squeal erupted from his hand.

"What was that?" Velovsky demanded, twitching back as Roger reflexively dropped the trassk.

"No idea," Roger said, staring down at the brooch lying on the carpet, his ears ringing. "It's never done that before."

"Pick it up again," Fierenzo ordered, crossing behind Velovsky and standing beside him.

Gingerly, Roger did so, touching it only with his fingertips. Nothing happened. He let it drop into his cupped palm—

The second squeal sounded even louder than the first. Again Roger fumbled the trassk; but this time, before he could drop it, Fierenzo reached over and plucked it from his hand. "Jonah?" the detective called, beckoning him over with a short nod of his head as he reached over and turned Roger's hand palm upward. "You're our local expert on Gray electronics. What's the trassk doing to Roger's tel?"

"I'm hardly an expert," Jonah protested as he came over and took Roger's hand, peering at the palm like a Gypsy fortune-teller. "It shouldn't be doing anything to it."

"Then explain this." Reaching over, Fierenzo touched the brooch to Jonah's left hand. There was another squeal, this one quickly cutting off as the detective pulled the trassk away. "Or this," he said, shifting the brooch to Jonah's right hand.

And paused. The trassk sat in that hand without so much as a squeak. "I thought you had a tel on both hands," Fierenzo said.

"I do," Jonah confirmed, cupping the trassk firmly in his right hand. Still no sound. He waved it toward his left hand, moved it back as another squeak sounded. "It's just our private-line tels," he concluded, sounding bewildered. "But that's crazy."

"You said they operate on radio frequencies, right?" Fierenzo asked, taking the trassk back.

"I also said it doesn't work the same way your radios do," Jonah reminded him.

"What about my cell phone?" Roger asked. "I always hold it in my left hand, where it's right against the tel. Could it have done something to it?"

Jonah shook his head. "Tels don't operate on cell frequencies, either."

"But this isn't a standard tel," Fierenzo reminded him.

"Maybe it's not a standard phone anymore, either," Roger said as another memory suddenly flashed to mind. "Right after I met with Torvald, Caroline said she'd tried to call while I was in there and couldn't get through."

"I thought Caroline was upstate when you met Torvald," Jonah said, frowning.

"I meant the first time," Roger said. "Friday afternoon, after I talked to Sylvia at Aleksander's."

"And you didn't mention it before?" Jonah demanded, stretching out his hand. "Give it to me."

"I didn't think it was important," Roger said, digging out the phone and handing it over. "He asked about Melantha, I didn't tell him anything, and then he let me go. Just like yesterday."

"Except that on Friday you still knew where Melantha was," Jonah pointed out grimly, peering closely at the phone as he turned it over in his hands. "Did Torvald or anyone else handle this?"

"No, it was in my pocket the whole time," Roger said, thinking back. "But it definitely wasn't working."

"That may not mean anything by itself," Ron said. "He probably had a suppressor going."

"General electronic damper," Jonah added. "Third cousin to the gadget Jordan and I used to knock out the streetlights Wednesday night. Torvald probably has his whole building blanked out to make sure no one can snoop on him." He shook his head. "I don't see anything here."

"I have a question," Fierenzo spoke up. He was holding the trassk close to his face, Roger saw, studying its back. "You said you set the frequency of these private tels as far from the general band as possible so there wouldn't be any interference between them, right?"

"I didn't do it personally, but yes, that's what Garth did," Jonah confirmed. "He was afraid that—"

"Hold it," Roger cut him off as a memory suddenly popped back. "Garth? Twitchy type, always fiddling with a pocket knife?"

"That's him," Jonah said, frowning. "Do you know him?"

"Only slightly," Roger said grimly. "He was waiting at the gate when Wolfe grabbed me outside the subway and hauled me in to see Torvald."

"Son of a bitch," Fierenzo said.

They all looked at him. "What?" Roger asked.

"Take a look." Reaching to the back of the trassk, Fierenzo peeled something small and filmy from the metal. "We've been outsmarted, friends," he went on, holding it up for everyone to see. "Looks like Garth built himself a bug and put it on Roger's trassk.

"Torvald's been listening to everything we say."

For a long moment no one spoke. Roger stared at the filmy patch hanging from Fierenzo's fingers, his stomach twisting in horror.

Velovsky was the first to break the silence. "You fool," he murmured, his eyes burning into Roger's face. "You stupid, careless fool."

"What do we do?" Laurel breathed.

"We start by not panicking," Ron said firmly, gesturing to his eldest son. "Jonah, take a look at the bug. Maybe it's just a tracer and not a complete listening device."

Gingerly, Jonah took the patch from Fierenzo, turning it over a couple of times and angling it toward the light as he looked closely at it. "You're right, it's just a tracer," he announced at last, a note of relief in his voice. "There's a carrier transmitter but no microphone. In fact—" He plucked at the film with his fingernails. "Yes," he said, holding it out for Roger and Fierenzo to see. "There are actually parts of two tels here, back to back but offset," he went on. "Two separate carrier transmitters."