Rock Killer by S. Evan Townsend

Incorporated. He was to report on everything he saw and make special reports of anything unusual.
    A few weeks after arriving, he received from his contact, a taxi driver, a coin-sized camera. He’d shoot its 100-frame memory full and exchange it for another.
    One morning the same taxi drove him to work. He’d missed the bus from the dormitories to the facility again.
    “I saw something unusual yesterday,” Jackson said after turning over the camera.
    “What?” the driver asked handing back the new camera. He wondered to himself if this was going to be anything. Given a specific task a few weeks ago this engineer found nothing. It seemed unlikely he’d just stumble on something.
    “They brought something in. It was in large trucks,” Jackson reported. “They were in crates, big crates. They put them in a warehouse and put a guard on them.”
“Can you get into that warehouse?”
“Maybe.”
“Get a picture if you can. We need it today so turn it over to your secondary contact.”
“I will.”
The taxi stopped in front of the facility. Jackson left the cab, paid the driver in view of the guard and walked to the gate.
“Miss the bus again?” the guard asked.
“Yeah,” Jackson said. “Overslept.” They went through the drill of ID checking and finally Jackson was in the massive compound.
    ***
    William Thorne stared out the window of his apartment over the Saigon River. Hanoi’s capitalist reforms even extended to giving the city back its old name. The view was of row after row of expensive apartment buildings. The area was, before it was decided it had better uses by the free market, pure industrial property. Now it was where the new, rich capitalists lived.
    The glass was actually warm to the touch as the sopping late summer heat broiled those residents unfortunate to be without air conditioning. But those were few as the country’s wealth grew quickly after the liberalization of the economy. Add to that the longest period of continuous peace the land had seen since World War II and Vietnam was quickly catching South Korea as an “Asian Tiger” economy.
    Thorne turned from the window to face Thi, who was staring at him with her fierce, black eyes.
    “You heard me,” she barked. “Don’t come back.”
    Thorne looked at her. She was small, almost frail looking, in a way that suggested prepubescence. But her face was enough to dispel that notion as she glared at him in smoldering anger.
    “Fine,” Thorne said simply. In three months the lease would be up. She could have the apartment until then. After that he didn’t give a damn what she did. She had a good job working at the Toyota plant outside the city.
    She watched as he packed his bags and called the doorman to get a taxi. While waiting for his ride he thought he’d done pretty well. At almost two years, this was his longest relationship, yet.
    “Good-bye, Thi,” he said, walking out the door. She slammed it shut behind him.
    He had the taxi take him to the airport. There, he stood in the lobby, his bags piled around him, wondering what to do. He didn’t really know where he’d go. He had a few days left before he had to return to space. SRI had sent the information about his next trip. He’d be chief of security for the next asteroid under Director Chun. Chun was a good friend and he was looking forward to the trip. In the meantime, he was stuck. He was alone with no place to go.
    He found a public terminal and punched in an address that he couldn’t forget if he wanted to. He wondered if it was still the same. The screen was blank for a long time with “Please Wait” displayed in Vietnamese, English, Chinese, and for recent immigrants, Tagalog.
    The woman that answered had tight, short hair surrounding her hard face. Anachronistically, she wore glasses that were plain, black, horn rims.
    “Yes?” she said automatically. Then her face lost all its color. “Bill?”
    “Hi, Ma. Can I come home?”
    ***
    “So Griffin’s still