Analog Science Fiction and Fact 100112 by Dell Magazines

Author:Dell Magazines
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dell Magazines
Published: 2012-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

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SHORT STORIES

Deer in the Garden

Michael Alexander

How much compromise is enough?

He sat across a plain table from a nondescript middle-aged woman and worked on keeping his mind blank. She glanced down at a tablet, appeared to read something, and then looked up at him. "Is there anything you would like to talk about?" she asked.

"Is this an interrogation?"

"Not really, Mr. Wallingford. But feel free to speak. One of your associates already has. The one who picked you up afterwards."

He looked over her head at the wall behind her. "I’d like to speak to a lawyer."

"Under the terms of your indictment you are not entitled to a lawyer at this time."

He leaned back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest. "I guess that pretty much sums up where we stand," he said. "Or sit, in this case."

Wallingford always paid in cash.

He reached up to give a twenty to the lone toll taker at the west side of the George Washington Bridge. "Whad’ja do, forget to pay your E-ZPass bill?" the man asked. Wallingford gave a shrug and a sheepish grin. The sniffer made its quick pass around the car, attached a rif, and the attendant waved him on; the car accelerated and entered the traffic flow leading toward the lower deck, subtly speeding up or slowing down to keep a more or less constant distance from the vehicles around it.

He exited onto 178th Street and then turned down Fort Washington, looking for a parking space. He was patient, cruising carefully, turning west on 177th, then north on Cabrini, finally finding a spot just above 181st being vacated by a very nice-looking Mercedes. When he got out he no longer wore a beard. It was a six-hour space, but he didn’t care, since he had no intention of retrieving the car.

He walked over to Broadway and hailed a livery. "Hundred-sixty-third and Amsterdam," he said as he got in. The driver automatically gestured at the swipe box and Wallingford smiled guiltily, pulling a fifty out of his money clip. "Forgot my wallet," he said, climbing in and sliding the bill through the rollers underneath the window. "Don’t tell anybody."

"Fine by me," the driver responded as Wallingford closed the door and settled back into the seat, avoiding looking at the camera. The dark windows cut the sunglare. There was a bill before the state assembly to ban dark windows.

"Why did you do it?" she asked.

"How did you know?"

"Answer me first," she replied. "Then I’ll tell you."

Wallingford shrugged.

She cocked her head to the left. "Could you be a little more specific? A coordinated attempt to disrupt the Northeast Information and Control Network is a serious thing. Knowledge of the main connection points is highly classified. And that little device was quite nasty. Where did you get it? We searched your apartment, but didn’t find anything."

He looked around the room before answering. A plain box of a place: table, two chairs. He couldn’t spot the cameras, which meant nothing. "My mom made it for me.

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