by Ted Krever
Fifteen
We sat on the balcony staring at the night sky, full of dinner and tipsy from the villa’s good wine, going over the G8 agenda. Billy arranged a five-minute preliminary meeting with the head of credentials; Max walked out with full access to all events and the run of the island for the four of us. Billy handed me $100 on the spot. “Don’t bet against Max,” I told him. Now we were going over the details.
“They won’t wait long,” Tauber said.
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it. They wanta kill hope. She’s only hope till she’s made her pitch. After that, either they’re all in it together or more’n likely they knock it down and she’s over. So if they’re gonna kill hope, they’ve gotta take her out early.”
“In public,” I added.
“What’s not public now?” Kate asked. She was as tipsy as the rest but she was on the same couch as me, with her head on my shoulder. “There’s a hundred events this week and you need one cell camera to record it forever. So almost anything qualifies.” She stabbed at the agenda without looking. “’Pediatrics for Africa, twenty minute event, ten children who’ve survived traditionally-fatal diseases. With Heads of State, entourage and Media Pool.’ There’s twenty more like that tomorrow and that many more every day to the end.”
“Shit!” Tauber groaned. “This is no good. We can’t sit around guessin’.”
“I can’t start probing,” Max said. “The one advantage we have is if they think we’re dead. I can’t blow that without a reason.”
“Why’s it always probing?” Tauber spat. “Kidnap somebody, knock ‘em on the head and sodium pentothal ‘em, do something! Drag some information outta somebody!” Kate took a step back, involuntarily. “I’m sorry but it’s time ta get our hands dirty or admit we’re fakin’ it. You’re not stoppin’ these guys politely—they’ll walk right over ya.”
“I don’t think—” Kate started and fizzled out.
“So who do we kidnap?” Max asked. “Pietr Volkov? Marat? Surely they know the plan but I don’t want to try taking them. The drones don’t know anything. I could feel it when we were filing out of L Corp headquarters; they send out a message, they don’t know what they’re sending and it vanishes as soon as they’re finished.”
“Somebody’s gotta know,” Tauber snarled. “They’ve got a system—they don’t have all those people beamin’ out all those messages without somebody riding herd on ‘em.”
“Well, there’s the question,” Kate said. “Their own men are with security, right at her hip. If they’re going to shoot her, why beam anything out at all? I can feel the humming all night long. They’ve got crowds of drones on it right now! What are they beaming out? To who?”
“We’ve got to narrow the possibilities,” Max said, “and be ready to defend her at a moment’s notice.” He blinked at Kate. “You’ve got to work on making shields.”
“Now?” She was blinking too. We were all fried, braindead. It had been three days since that morning.
“We’re not getting a second chance.” He turned to me. “You’ve got to work on blocking yourself and reading danger when it’s near. You could be an early warning.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing; I‘ve got no power.”
“But you’re not preoccupied with twenty other things. Concentrate on that.” He turned to Tauber. “And you can—”
“I can get zapped in the head or run over or otherwise beat the shit out of because we don’t have a plan,” Tauber said. He was boiling over finally, after simmering for days. “Because we’re too pure to start a fight.”
“We’re here to prevent damage,” Kate said. “First do no harm.”
“I’m not a fuckin’ doctor, sweetie. I’m a spy. Nice people put the garbage in the can; my job’s takin’ out what nobody wants. If it stinks, it’s mine. And if I don’t take it, ain’t no molelike son-of-a-bitch comin’ up behind me to do it.” He headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Max demanded.
“Out!” Tauber replied, slamming the door behind him.
We stared at the door like the answer was written in the wood. The air was thick now—nothing felt right.
“Okay, let’s get to work,” Max told Kate. “Make a shield.”
Kate sunk into the chair. “I don’t think I can make coffee right now,” she replied, head in her hands. “What if they attack and we’re so worn out we can’t respond? Does that help anyone?”
Max sighed. “Let’s try these things once or twice— just get the feel of them—then sleep if you need to.”
Kate constructed an energy shield. Max tested it with his hands—it gave and pushed back. Then he held up his fingers, sitzing and sparking. He tried to throw a lightning bolt but the spark only went a couple inches before fading out. He zapped the shield and Kate flinched.
“Once you’ve made it, let it go,” he instructed. “It grows from energy but then it has it’s own life. If you try to retain control, you only make it weaker.”
“So Tauber was right—it’s alive?” she asked.
“The Universe is alive. Children, birds, mosquitoes, those are reactive forms of matter; rocks, not so much.” Renn’s voice was firm. “I’m only comfortable with a philosophy that develops out of what I know—which is not necessarily what I can prove. What I know is, the same little things make all the big things. Electrons are electrons—everything is one thing.”
“You’re working on lightning bolts,” Kate murmured—it was a reproach, though a polite one.
Max shrugged. “I don’t have a plan, so I have to prepare for everything. Mark is right—at the moment, they’re running the table.”
