The Angel & the Brown-eyed Boy

by Sandy Nathan

They’d drafted junior congressmen to do the dirty work of hauling and arranging things in the bunkers. It was pitch in and buy yourself a place down below, or start digging your own shelter. Hard to be so callous, but that’s the way things were. The congressmen did the work of the janitors just fine. Better than janitors!

  The telephone console beeped. It was a call from the Anti-Terrorism Unit director. “Pick it up, would you?” he barked to the congressman from... darn! Who could keep all those states straight?

  23

  Val threw a few things into a bag, carefully placing the container holding the combat packs in the bottom. She was going to go up-country for a while, so might as well prepare for anything. Pain would not stop her. Nothing would stop her.

  She needed to pick up the confession from the enemy agent, Wally, at the office. And she was sure they’d have good intelligence on Mrs. Edgarton’s location.

  Val put on her suit jacket and looked at herself in the mirror, frowning. The medic had taped a splint across her nose. She had a small dressing on her right cheek, hiding stitches. A butterfly bandage held together the edges of a cut on her temple. Add bruises and she looked like shit. Pissed her off.

  Val had an image to maintain. She had her regulation suits tailored just a little: an inch off the hem, a couple of darts, and wow— she was memorable. The mirror indicated that the rest of her was up to par.

  Before she left her apartment, she went to her jewelry chest and took out the ring. She put it on the finger where a wedding band would go. Might go, someday, if she ever had a man in her life.

  The ring was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, worthy of Mrs. Edgarton. When she’d seen it in Tiffany’s, she’d had to have it. They’d put it away for her—no one had credit anymore, even federal agents. It had taken three years to pay it off. It was a square sapphire—over two carats—with smaller sapphires on each side. Tiny diamonds surrounded the larger stones. She didn’t know why she wore it. Didn’t think about it at all.

  When she got to the office, it was closed and locked. The six-story Anti-Terrorism Unit office building shut down on a workday? Impossible. She had the necessary keys and IDs, so she let herself in. A photo of Will Belmont was displayed in the entry, bordered in black, and, under it, the date and the words, “Killed Fighting Terrorism.”

  Val realized why no one was in the office—they were having a memorial for Will and the others. Well, she’d give them the memorial they deserved by catching their killer.

  Getting into the director’s office was easy. It was unlocked, with the door open. A note reading, “Good-bye and good luck, everyone,” sat on his desk, with their paychecks. That was weird. She took hers, wondering what was up.

  The director must have left in a hurry, because his computer was still on. She knew something about computers. She typed, “Where is Veronica Edgarton?” into the search box. The computer crashed. She looked at the machine, shocked. Was that a coincidence or a safeguard? Well, that wouldn’t stop her.

  Thumbing through the classified government directory in her boss’s desk, she found the number she wanted right away. She dialed, taking a few calming breaths while she waited for an answer.

  “Lieutenant Valerie Zanner of the Anti-Terrorism Unit of the FBI to speak to President Charles.”

  She heard some scuffling in the background, people talking. A harried voice said, “This is Lincoln Charles.”

  That voice made her breath catch. “Mr. President, I believe I have uncovered a plot that would explain what’s going on.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I’ve found the thread that runs through a number of cases. The school that blew up in Manhattan? You heard of that, I’m sure.”

  “Yes.”

  “My investigation shows that a secret computer lab was located under the school. There’s a ring of subversives. The plot involves the highest levels of society, sir.”

  “Really? Who?”

  “Mrs. Edgarton.”

  “What?! Veronica doesn’t have a disloyal bone in her body. We’re very good friends.”

  “That might be the best cover, sir. I’d like your permission to investigate her further. I believe she may be responsible for the incidents we’ve been seeing lately.”

  He stopped talking for a moment, and then continued cautiously, “What do you know, Lieutenant?”

  “Everything, sir. I’m on the ground floor.” In truth, she’d been cut out of all high-level departmental meetings. No sense telling him that.

  “So you know about what’s supposedly happening tomorrow morning?”

  Val lied, “Yes, sir. I do.”

  “And you believe that your investigation may lead to a resolution of that situation?”

  “I do, sir.”

  “What do you propose?”

  “I’m going to secure the Piermont estate in the Hamptons and search it for subversives. I suspect that a secret computer lab and terrorist cell are located at the mansion.”

  “A terrorist cell in that historical masterpiece? Are you crazy?”

  “No, sir. I have very good intelligence. It’s a good cover; no one would suspect, including you.”

  His silence was filled with a background of shuffling sounds and talking. She heard someone say, “Excuse me, sir. We need to get through with the painting of Thomas Jefferson.”

  “Look, Lieutenant, I suspect that it’s too late to do anything. But go out there and nose around. Veronica is a good friend. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “But if it is?”

  “If it is, you have my permission to use sufficient force to bring down the terrorist threat. If you can stop this thing, stop it.”

  “Is that an order, sir?”

  “It is an order.”

  “Thank you, sir. You can count on me.” She couldn’t keep herself from asking. “Sir, have you heard of my work and of me?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Could I ask you something, sir?”

  “Certainly.”

  Val’s hands trembled, but she kept her voice steady. “Things are kind of strange here, sir. There’s no one here.”

  “That’s fine, Lieutenant. It’s a drill.” The president’s tone told her everything was truly fine. “They’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “Oh, I see. I wasn’t told.”

  “It’s a secret drill. Anything else on your mind? Tell me your dreams. What do you want out of life?”

  His voice was so kind, just like on the broadcasts. He really cared about people attaining their dreams. She took a deep breath and said, “Do you think I have a shot at bureau chief? It’s my lifetime goal.”

  “Lieutenant, if you can pull this off, I’ll make you bureau chief tomorrow afternoon.”

  24

  Linc felt sorry for that woman on the phone, but what could he do? Bring her into the bunker? The phone beeped again. Three times, then once. That meant it was top secret.

  “Boys, just put the portrait over there. You can hang it later.” Linc dismissed the congressmen and picked up. It was his chief of staff.

  “What’s up, Ron?”

  “Sir, you’d better come down here. We’ve found something.”

  “What?”

  “You need to see. You were right. There’s much more down here than we knew about. We discovered a whole underground... mansion or something. It’s... you’d better see for yourself. Come to the rec room we discovered earlier.”

  President Lincoln Charles, his chief of staff, and a bunch of secret service men stood in a room intended to be a bar or nightclub. Ron directed Linc to a large rectangular hole cut in a paneled wall.

  “The doorway was behind a dart board,” Ron said. “A few of the senators were in here, testing the room out. One of the senators was retrieving his dart and fell against the panel. His arm went through it. We opened it up—look.”

  A guard shone a high-intensity beam into the opening. A passageway went on for what seemed like forever. They couldn’t see th
e end of it.

  “Shine the light on the walls,” Ron directed. Linc gasped.

  “What is it? It looks like steel, sort of.” The walls glistened. They were like the formally paneled walls of the rest of the White House, but made of dark metal.

  “We don’t know what it is. We sent some for testing. It seems to be an alloy that we don’t know about.”

  “How could that be? If it’s down here, we must have made it. We should know what it is.”

  “Well, it’s not toxic. I sent a team down there to check it out. They’ve got every kind of equipment you can imagine with them. They look like spacemen.” Ron chuckled. “They’ll let us know what this is. They’re wired to this.” He pointed to a speaker on the floor.

  He and Ron continued to peer into the opening as the secret service shone lights down the corridor. They heard a commotion down the passageway, out of sight.

  “Mr. President, you have to get down here,” came the voice from the speaker.

  Linc bridled. He didn’t have to do anything. “Why?”

  “Because he says so, sir.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “Tsar Yuri.”

  “He’s been dead for a hundred years.”

  “He’s not now, sir. He wants to talk to you. You’d better hurry. He’s really mad.”

  When Linc stepped into the opening, he was suited from head to toe. His head was covered by a bulletproof helmet with a clear visor. Shoot, they could hit him with a missile and nothing would happen. Made getting through that doorway hard, though. Besides that, so many commandos crowded around him that they could hardly move down the passage.

  The trumpets started the minute he got fully inside the hallway. He looked up. Must be speakers hidden all over. “Hail to the Chief” blasted. Lights along the ceiling went on and began moving down the dark metallic tunnel in front of him. How bad could it be? They were playing his favorite song and welcoming him with lights.

  He strode out in front of the column, not sure what he was heading for, but enthused. This was so much better than the gloom and doom his staff was feeding him. The metal paneling was exquisite, whatever it was made of. The lights along the ceiling directed him halfway down the hall and then made a ninety-degree turn to the right. He followed them. He saw a pair of wide doors thrown open and bright lights radiating from a room on the other side.

  Linc slowed. “You guys OK in there?” he said into his mike.

  “Yes, sir. We’re fine. He wants to talk to you.” The voice sounded tense. The secret service guys wanted him to wait, but Linc couldn’t see why. This was way under the White House, his own domain. Tsar Yuri had been dead for a century. He was a nice old Santa Claus, anyway. Got rid of the atomic weapons and brought their current state of peace to the world.

  “Holy moly,” Linc exclaimed when he peeked inside the room. It was like the Senate chambers but in gunmetal gray. An arched dome with elegant smooth moldings rose high in the air. Sounds reverberated from the walls, the sounds of the commandos shuffling and breathing hard. A light shone from the center of the dome onto the floor, illuminating a circle twenty feet across. The exploratory party surrounded it, white-ringed eyes visible through their helmets.

  “Come in, President Lincoln Charles! I have waited a very long time to meet you!” Standing in the center of the light was Tsar Yuri Sokolov. Linc would have recognized him even without pictures from the history books. His image crackled with electricity. “Come in. And tell your boys to go. We need to talk.”

  25

  Jeremy charged across the lawn, down the path between the roses, past the maze, and out to the fountain. He didn’t care that Eliana squirmed because of the tight hold he had on her arm, or that her stupid shoes made her stumble, and her dumb coat dragged on the ground. Curved stone benches circled the fountain, which was dry and half-filled with dead leaves and debris. He shoved her down on a bench and sat next to her, turning to face her. He put the gun next to him on the bench.

  “Shoot me?” she said. Her eyes glinted silver in the light.

  “No. No.” He was angry with her, but didn’t want to hurt her. Or have her out of his sight. “Marauders.” He mouthed it carefully. “Bad people.”

  Eliana put her hands to her face. “Bad people here?”

  “Maybe they weren’t bad to start with, but they get that way. They escape the city and end up out here with nothing to eat. The others can’t see us from the house.” Jeremy waved his hand, showing her that they were all alone.

  “Beautiful,” she said, noticing the garden’s unkempt wonder. “Look, flower fly.” She started to chase it, but he pulled her back.

  “Those are butterflies,” he said grumpily. He wanted to smile. A flower fly! He had to be stern with her; he had something important to say. He grabbed her arm again.

  “Oh, hurt me,” she said.

  “Oh, God. I’m sorry.” Jeremy let go and looked at her arm. He’d made a mark on her arm dragging her. He rubbed it. “I’m sorry. I needed to talk to you away from the others.” He faced her and took her by the shoulders, making her face him. He stared into her eyes, refusing to be dismayed by their color. “Whatever you’re doing to me, you have to stop. I can’t take it.”

  She looked at him, taking in all the parts of his face and body for the first time. “Jeremy no look at Eliana before,” she remarked. “Now he look at me.” She studied him. “Jeremy beautiful. Eyes black.” She touched his face, fingers running down his cheeks and over his nose. “And skin dark.” Her eyes lit up. “That good.”

  He pushed her hands away. “Stop it. I’m called café au lait. My mother’s white and my father was black—African American. My eyes aren’t black; they’re dark brown, like my dad’s.” Jeremy felt himself trembling. He was an ugly shrimp, the shortest guy in his class. “You’ll see my father’s picture up at the house.” She looked at him quizzically.

  “Listen, you’ve got to leave me alone. I don’t want you to cuddle up to me, or try to be close to me. Do you understand? Stay away from me. I’m not good for you.”

  “Jeremy bad person?” Her forehead wrinkled and her head cocked to one side. She worked so hard to understand him that he wanted to laugh.

  “I’m not good for you. You need to stay away from me.” She looked so bewildered that he kept talking, trying to explain. “I’m autistic. My mom took me to a shrink after my dad died. He said I was autistic.”

  “Jeremy artistic?” she said, brightening.

  “No, autistic. I have trouble relating to people and feelings. I’m better with objects—like computers.”

  She looked perplexed.

  “Look, I’m screwed up. The most famous shrink in the country said so. Everyone says so.”

  She looked at him with an accepting, kind expression. He went on without thinking, “Not only that, I’ve got the most screwed-up family in the world. My father was Chaz Edgarton. Have you heard of him in outer space?” He mimicked an announcer introducing his father. “‘It’s Mr. Chaz Edgarton, Mr. Jazz. Chaz is Jazz. Break my heart, Mr. Chaz.’ You never heard of him?”

  She shook her head.

  “That’s what I like about you, Eliana. You don’t understand a thing I’m saying.” He never talked about his family, but he felt safe with Eliana. She was utterly trustworthy. He’d felt it in the car and he felt it now.

  “My dad was the most sought after musician in the world. And the sexiest man on earth, the magazines said.” Jeremy sighed. “I guess he was, from the way he acted.

  “My mom was the perfect wife for him. Being married didn’t slow either of them down. They had boyfriends and girlfriends all over the place. Do you know what that means?”

  She shook her head.

  “You didn’t miss anything. My mom got a big surprise when they got married.” He made a movement like injecting something into his arm. “He was an addict!” Jeremy spit the words out. “He died when I was nine. He stole my allowance. He earned tons of money performing. Mom gave him more th
an he could count. He spent it and then ripped her off. He was a thief and a junkie, and she’s a slut.

  “So that’s my family.” He felt furious. She’d wheedled it out of him. He grabbed her forearm and shook it.

  “Jeremy angry.” She pulled away. “No hurt Eliana.”

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry.” He yanked his hand away from her. “I didn’t mean to do that. I brought you out here to tell you to stay away. I’m fucked.”

  “Fucked?” Her eyes were squinched up as she repeated the word.

  He laughed. “Whoever taught you English didn’t know that word. I’m no good to anyone.

  “Being autistic isn’t all bad. I need to work all the time or I get nuts. My mom’s friends bent the laws and let her buy me all the toys I wanted so I could keep busy. They let me construct an underground shelter under the lawn over there. My jungle gym, my mom called it. Mom and that shrink gave me the keys to the kingdom.

  “Everything I’ve got here, and everything I had at the school, was legal. They put people in camps for having a laptop, but I had two major computer labs. That’s what happens when you have Veronica Piermont Edgarton for a mom.” He kept talking. Eliana’s sweetness made it easy.

  “You wouldn’t believe what growing up with her was like. She was this fertility goddess running around the house in dresses cut down to here.” He indicated his waist.

  “Her boyfriend has killed more people than anyone in history. I had this huge fight with her about him when they started going together, but nothing changed.” He frowned. “Doesn’t that make you want to get close to me?”

  “Yes.” She nodded, eyes innocent.

  “You’re as crazy as I am.”

  “I crazy as Jeremy.” She beamed.

  For the first time in ages, Jeremy laughed. “You are really funny. By the way, what you did in the car today was so cool. You mimicked my mom perfectly—and the president. How did you do it?”

  She shrugged. “My people help me.” She put her hand in the coat’s pocket, fingering something.

  Jeremy was very interested. What did she have in that pocket?