There was a moment of embarrassed silence as the two left the room. Naismith
rubbed his cheek with a faintly palsied hand and gazed across Highway 101 at the
pale lights just coming on in the Shopping Center. So very much had changed and
all the years in between were blurred now. Shopping Center? All of Santa Ynez
would have been lost in the crowd at a good high-school basketball game in the
1990s. These days a county with seven thousand people was considered a thriving
concern.
It was just past sunset now, and the office was growing steadily darker. The
room's displays were vaguely glowing ghosts hovering in the near distance.
Cameras from down in the shopping areas drove most of those displays. Paul could
see that business was picking up there. The Tinkers and mechanics and
'furbishers had trotted out their wares, and crowds were hanging about the
aerial displays. Across the room, other screens showed pale red and green,
relaying infrared images from cameras purchased by Wentz's clients.
In the next room the two officers' talk was a faint murmur. Naismith leaned back
and pushed up his hearing aid. For a moment the sound of his lung and heart
action was overpoweringly loud in his ears. Then the filters recognized the
periodic noises and they were diminished, and he could hear Wentz and Rosas more
clearly than any unaided human. Not many people could boast such equipment, but
Naismith demanded high pay and Tinkers from Norcross to Beijing were more than
happy to supply him with better than average prosthetics.
Rosas' voice came clearly: "... think Paul Naismith can take care of himself,
Boss. He's lived in the mountains for years. And the Moraleses are tough and not
more than fifty-five. In the old days there were some nasty bandits and
ex-military up there
"Still are," Wentz put in.
"Nothing like when there were still a lot of weapons floating around. Naismith
was old even when they were going strong, and he survived. I've heard about his
place. He has gadgets we won't see for years. He isn't called the Tinker wizard
for nothing. I
The rest was blotted out by a loud creaking that rose to near painful intensity
in Naismith's ear, then faded as the filters damped out the amplification.
Naismith looked wildly around, then sheepishly realized it was a microquake.
They happened all the time this near Vandenberg. Most were barely noticeable ў
unless one used special amplification, as Paul was now. The roar had been a
slight creaking of wall timbers. It passed... and he could hear the two peace
officers once more.
"... at he said about needing an apprentice is true, Boss. It hasn't been just
us in Middle California who've been after him. I know people in Medford and
Norcross who are scared witless he'll die without leaving a successor. He's
hands down the best algorithms man in North America ў I'd say in the world
except I want to be conservative. You know that comm gear you have back in the
control room? I know it's close to your heart, your precious toy and mine. Well,
the bandwidth compression that makes possible all those nice color pictures
coming over the fiber and the microwave would be plain impossible without the
tricks he's sold the Tinkers. And that's not all ў"
"All right!" Wentz laughed. "I can tell you took it serious when I told you to
specialize on our high tech clients. I know Middle California would be a
backwater without him, but-"
"And it will be again, once he's gone, unless he can find an apprentice. They've
