by Susan Grant
“Today’s Sun published some photos that suggest I take bribes. Front page. They were shot yesterday at lunch.”
“Who shot them?” she asked in a deadly voice.
“I don’t know. Not yet. But you have to get to the newspaper before Grandpa does. There’s an unfavorable article on State legislators and their ties to special interest. I’m the only one in any photos, though, and they imply that my votes can be bought. Hide the front section, destroy the front page, lie, use it for toilet paper, whatever you can do to keep him from seeing it until I can break it to him. Do it—or he’ll get sick again, or worse.”
With her mother dispatched on her mission, Jana closed the cell phone. Her crisp blue suit was already growing damp around the collar. Her silk shirt clung to her skin. She had a napkin in one hand, a latte in her other hand, and the Sacramento Sun heralding the ruin of her career sitting open in her lap.
She took another slug of coffee. The vanilla tasted cloyingly sweet. Probably straight tequila would have gone down better. Vodka, she’d rather not think about. “What bothers me most is the pain this is going to cause my grandfather. If he gets anywhere near the newspaper this morning, he’ll be back in the hospital. He’s ninety-two. He can’t take this much stress.”
Cavin’s hand slid along the seat to touch hers, pinkie to pinkie. If only she could press her hand in his as she so desperately wanted. “I will never forget the sound of his voice when he came to chase us from the lake that night,” Cavin said. “Your grandfather is fiercely protective of you and, I think, you are just as protective of him.”
She stopped, thought about that. “You’re right. I’ve always assumed it was the other way around. I do know I’d do anything for that old man.” When she turned back to Cavin, his green eyes were dark and troubled. “What?” Her hand crept over his, but she snatched it back in her lap to avoid further temptation.
He kept his voice in a low, private tone so no one would overhear. “Last night you said you would, in your Earth words, stick your neck out for me. In light of your current troubles, I don’t think that’s wise.”
“What are our options?” she whispered back.
“I go to your leadership. Alone. I don’t involve you.”
“No.” Fear formed an ice-cold ball in her stomach. “Absolutely not. As soon as they find out who and what you are, you’re in danger.” She swiped a hand over the newspaper. “Even if this blows up into a full-fledged scandal and complicates my getting people to believe you, because everything I say is suspect, the alternative is unthinkable. I will not place you at risk.”
His voice gentled. “It seems you are as protective of me as you are your grandfather.”
She didn’t argue. She loved both men. They’d both shaped her life. She couldn’t contemplate living without either one of them.
“Are you so sure your people will harm me, Jana?”
“No, I’m not,” she whispered. “But I do know that when people are afraid, they’ll do almost anything. Why is the assassin after you, for instance? Because whoever hired him was afraid.”
Cavin’s expression was dark as he pondered her reply.
The train slowed. “This is our stop.” They quickly made plans on how they’d handle the inevitable separation when she went to work and he hunkered down to wait for her. The thought of leaving Cavin alone in Capitol Park for hours made her sick. But the thought of trying to get him through security and X-ray, not to mention a gauntlet of policemen, made her even sicker.
They exited the train and walked toward the capitol. The morning was chilly and damp, but the sky was already blue. It would be a pretty spring day. Jana wished she could enjoy it. But what was the loss of one spring day if it meant the continuation of spring days for humanity for a long time to come? In her mind, there was no argument. “Okay, I go inside, and you hang out in the park.” Acres of lush lawn and trees surrounded the gold-domed capitol building. It was a beautiful place to be this time of year. “Act like a tourist.”
“How does one do this?”
“Just be yourself. Take in the sights. Relax on a bench. Think about what you’re going to say to the president of the United States when you meet her. And do not, I repeat, do not take out that roll of money.” She veered over to an ATM machine. She stopped him with her hand when he tried to come with her. “No. Stay out of camera range.”
Cavin sighed through his nose but cooperated. The protector did not like being protected. Jana withdrew a hundred dollars worth of twenties, giving four of them to Cavin. “Lunch money. The park has vendors that sell hot food—just look for the umbrellas, pictures of food. I hope you like hot dogs better than lattes—skinny red sausages, not dog dogs,” she clarified when he recoiled. Sadie had Cavin so wrapped around her little paw that he was ready to come to the defense of all dogs, everywhere, including hot dogs.
“I should be out by three this afternoon. I’ve got a senate floor session this morning then a caucus luncheon or I’d eat with you. I have to stick to my routine. The more normal I appear, the more boring, the faster this scandal will get swept under the rug.” She believed it with all her heart. Her father would get out from under the attack, and so would she. And now it was more important than ever to hold on to her stellar reputation as a legislator. The fate of the world was riding on it.
The awful sensation of being swept out to sea in advance of a killer wave intensified and the tsunami finally rushed in. In one jarring, composure-ripping, soul-crushing moment, she was in over her head. She sucked in a breath as if drowning. “This thing feels so much bigger than me.”
“I rue the day I brought so much trouble to your life, Jana. I truly do.”
“No, you’re not taking the blame. This is my issue. You’re a hero. I…I don’t know if I am.”
Cavin’s hand brushed lightly down her rigid back. “I’ve found one truism when under heavy attack. And that is, worry is wasted energy. It will tear you down when you most need your strength and wits.”
“It’s hard not to worry.”
“You must try.”
She gave him a sideways smile. “Now who’s being protective over whom?”
“I’ll always be that way with you.” His voice deepened. “I suggest you get used to it.”
With reluctance, they parted ways on the sidewalk bordering the park. The goodbye was no easier than the day before, no less wrenching. She lived for the day she could be openly in love with him. Would that day ever come? Holding her attaché bag and the handle of her rolling suitcase in one hand, she pointed to a towering redwood. “At 3:00 p.m., meet me at that tree. Not in the tree, okay? Under it.”
His mouth gave the barest of amused twitches. “Understood. I will be waiting under the tree.”
She walked away as fast as she could toward the gold-domed California State Capitol, her high heels clicking on the sidewalk. The plan was simple. Go to the office, meet with her staff, plot her rebuttal to the outrageous insinuations in the paper, work up the courage to ask for a meeting with Governor Schwarzkopf regarding the alien invasion, and figure out what she was going to say to her grandfather when she brought Cavin home for dinner.
Chapter Seventeen
NORMAL FACE, Jana reminded herself as she strode into the staff-only elevator. It was packed. Jana wedged her body inside. Instead of one desk chair with an operator, there were two, one on each side of the tiny elevator. She saw the looks on the other staffers’ faces: a training session for an automatic elevator? The new-hire was young, skinny, and slouched on a padded swivel chair, looking bored to tears as Joseph coached him. Joseph had been around for years. And he didn’t call her sweet pea like Lucky did.
“Three, please,” Jana said.
“Push the three,” Joseph directed the new guy.
One of the riders snickered and received two dirty looks. “Try not to think of this when you spend your morning in meetings listening to whining over budget cuts and lack of funding for social service programs,” the assem
blyman muttered.
Jana tried to act anonymous, but she caught a few glares and a couple of curious stares. Even the elevator operator trainee studied her with dark, calculating eyes, making her feel as if she sported a huge scarlet B on her forehead. Bribe taker! Other legislators simply waited for their floor. The glaring and curious folks had seen the newspaper, she knew. The uninterested were those with unread newspapers tucked under their arms. By lunchtime, everyone would have read it and she’d be dirt. Nothing was more disgusting to honest lawmakers than someone profiting from their power. And the accusations of nepotism? It was simply the icing on the shit cake.
Steve and Nona were waiting when she arrived at the office. They shut and locked the doors and hunkered down around Jana’s desk. Jana grabbed an iced Krispy Kreme doughnut and bit into it. The sugar was like a shot of morphine. Quickly, she took another bite.
“More bad news,” Nona said.
“More?” Jana mumbled, her mouth full of doughnut.
“Brace Bowie’s going to be on KBFK this afternoon. The Tom Kennedy Show.”
Jana went rigid. Nona hovered close, poised to smack her on the back should she start choking. But somehow Jana steered the bite of doughnut down the right pipe. Maybe she was getting used to the carnival of shocks her life had become. By next week she bet people would be able to say anything to her and she wouldn’t even twitch. “Why is Brace going on a talk show?” But even as she asked the question, the answer lodged in her brain like a poison arrow. “Kick me while I’m down, why doesn’t he? I’d like to get my hands on the queen’s plasma sword and lop off his male organs.”
It was suddenly silent in the office. She glanced up to see two confused and worried faces. “It’s a figure of speech,” she said. Everyone went back to eating and drinking.
“Obviously, he’s piggybacking on the attack to pull you down with him,” Nona said. “It’s not impossible that he was behind getting those photos to the Sun. The restaurant is, of course, an investment of his.”
And Brace was, after all, curiously missing from the lunch. She’d assumed it was because his presence would have made things awkward, but maybe there had been another, darker reason for his absence. Like picture taking during the perfect setup.
Jana couldn’t imagine Brace hating her so much. Or hating her family. At one time, they’d had something good, she and Brace. He’d never made her blood run hot, but he wasn’t a coldhearted man, either. Since their breakup, Brace had been a pain in the butt with his attempts to regain his reputation at the expense of hers but she’d attributed it to his need to have someone to blame after being humiliated, not on deliberate cruelty. Maybe she’d been too lenient.
Jana stuffed the rest of the doughnut into her mouth.
Steve pushed the box toward her. “I brought extra today.”
“Good man,” she mumbled.
“I’ll try to get you on the talk show tomorrow,” Nona said. “I’m talking to the station as we speak.”
“Excellent. If Brace is going to kick me while I’m down, I’m kicking back.” She wasn’t going to let it go unchallenged when he accused her of padding the Natural Resources budget. Because if the public turned against her, the budget would surely be cut the next round, and she’d lose the money she needed to maintain enough Fish and Game wardens—her “thugs” as Viktor had dubbed them—to fight the growing poaching threat.
All her efforts since taking office to preserve endangered wildlife would be lost in the current fervor for government spending cutbacks. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in fiscal responsibility, but some things you just didn’t get back after losing them—like entire species of animals. When it came to extinction, there were no second chances.
Like Earthling extinction. Her stomach rolled as the reality of impending doom returned and tumbled over her. Shouldn’t she be doing something about that? Or was she still living in denial? The looming invasion was where her focus ought to be, not on her detractors’ attempts to turn the state into a poacher’s playground, because if Cavin’s plan failed and the Coalition “acquired” Earth, there’d be nothing left to poach.
REEF STALKED down the street where the news reports had claimed the EMP had originated. His computer detected faint traces of energy that could only be from Coalition equipment. His target was near. But where? He stopped periodically to take measurements. His idea of acquiring Earth clothing had served him well. Not only did the local Earthlings ignore him, they avoided him altogether, crossing to the other side of the street and casting him nervous glances. He was only a few inches over six foot tall and in perfect physical condition, but with no scars to speak of or fearsome weapons that were visible, he didn’t understand why they were so afraid. He was dressed like them, was he not?
A large boxy vehicle drove up to one of the dwellings. UPS, it read. A man dressed in a brown uniform hopped out. Energetically, he carried a box to the door. When no one answered, he left the parcel, took a few steps toward his truck and noticed Reef. He slowed, eyes narrowing.
No, Reef thought. There was something wrong with the way he’d dressed. His attire may have been appropriate where he’d spent the night, but not here.
After the man in brown climbed into his vehicle and departed, Reef removed the necklaces from around his neck. Not a single individual he’d spied on this street had sported such a cluster of necklaces. He crushed them in his fist and, with a burst of energy, powdered them.
Immediately, dizziness made his head swirl. His vision dimmed, and a piercing whine filled his ears. He took a staggering step forward to gain his balance. Were his energy reserves so low that a simple act such as destroying the necklaces drained him? Or was he still malfunctioning?
He shook it off, set his jaw and pressed on, looking for the source for the energy pulse. There. He stopped in front of a large brown dwelling. Readings confirmed that his target was here—or had been here.
An odd sound caught his attention. Reef increased the volume of his auditory implants. “Yarp, yarp, yarp.” He could not identify the sound. It emanated from the front window. Reef narrowed his eyes. Through partially open window coverings, he saw something darting back and forth across what appeared to be the top of a piece of furniture—a couch.
“Yarp, yarp. Yarp!”
He zoomed in on the strange sight. It was a creature of some sort. And frenzied, apparently. Moisture fogged the window, obscuring flashes of white teeth.
Frowning, Reef accessed his computer: Species: Canine, Earth. Breed: Chihuahua. Purpose: Humanoid pet. Weight: 4 pounds, 7 ounces.
Reef dismissed the creature as a potential danger. Nothing of that infinitesimal size would be of any threat to him.
He opened a side gate and walked into the backyard to look for further hints and perhaps a way inside the dwelling. There was an azure, rectangular pool for swimming, an area of lawn and dozens of potted planets. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw what resembled a small, golden missile shoot through an opening in the rear door of the dwelling. It was the Chihuahua.
“Yarp, yarp. Yarp!” The little beast came at him, brown eyes wide, blazing with fury. And wholly oblivious to the danger into which it had hurtled.
AFTER AN ABBREVIATED, pre-Easter break floor session, a spate of meetings, phone calls to and from her family, worried constituents, and newspaper reporters, and frantic peeks out the window futilely looking for signs of Cavin, Jana waited for the elevator to take her up to the luncheon. The floor session with the other senators had been somewhat chilly. On the other hand, no one had wanted to waste time with chitchat. Most were anxious to hurry out of the capitol and back to their districts for spring break. Jana expected more reaction at the caucus lunch with only senators in her party in attendance. They would have seen the damaging photos and, she hoped, would sympathize. They knew her, knew her character and record. That is, if things like character and record still mattered.
The elevator doors opened. The car was crammed with legislators. Jana walked
in, stuffing last-minute paperwork into her attaché. All at once, the elevator emptied. She felt like a salmon swimming upstream as staffers and legislators flowed past, jostling her, until the only people left were her and Lucky.
Everyone else who’d been on the elevator formed up to wait for the next one. She stared forlornly after them as the doors closed. No doubt about it, it was a deliberate snub.
It was like going back in time; she was the kid in the school yard no one wanted to play with, all over again. I’m normal, I really am. I can talk, I can, just give me a chance. The pain of embarrassment was a familiar knife twisting in old wounds. I don’t take bribes. My family is honest, I tell you. Come back! Don’t ostracize me. I don’t have an alien waiting outside in the park for me, really I don’t!
“Hi, sweet pea,” Lucky said. “You’re having a bad day.”
“A bad week.” Jana tried her darnedest not to pout. “Three, please.”
“Three.” Lucky went back to knitting a pale green baby-size sweater as the elevator ascended.
“Well, Lucky, this is just the beginning. Soon no one’s going to return my calls. Meetings will be called and I won’t be told. And until my name’s cleared, even though I’m innocent, I’ll be riding the staff elevators alone. Just me and you, Lucky.”
“That’s how things work around here, sweet pea. See, you’re like a freshly painted fence post right now. Don’t matter what the wood’s like underneath—clean and sanded or worm-eaten—no one wants to brush up against wet paint.”
“I feel like wet paint.” Jana felt like a lot of things, crying her guts out, followed up by a primal scream, included.
In the moment before the doors opened, Lucky took Jana’s hand in her strong, roughened one. “You gotta hold your head high. That’s what I tell my girls. Keep up the fight. You know what you have to do.”
“I know,” Jana said in a thick voice and squeezed the woman’s hand. “I do.”
The doors opened. The people waiting to ride gave her a wide berth as she exited.
