“Why the rush to kill them, My Love?” said Dominic. “If Falkon wishes to partner with you--”
“I don’t know that he wishes to partner with me,” said Melissa. “I only know that his slave told me as much. What I do know is that the Evans family was important to his plans. Without them, his work will be slowed considerably.”
“What have you learned?” Dominic asked. “What are his plans?”
“Oh, Dominic, the answers we sought were here, and how huge and intense the answers are! These two were at work on a secret project for Falkon. He was paying them handsomely to carry out experiments at Ventigen’s facility in Maryland.”
“What kind of experiments?”
“Outrageous, ambitious, heinous experiments,” said Melissa. “The more I learned about the work these people were doing, the more impressed I became with Falkon Dillinger. He takes the long view. He has been at work on a single project for well over a century, and it appears he is getting close.”
“If you are so impressed, why not accept his offer of friendship?” said Dominic.
“I may well accept his offer,” said Melissa, “but not from a position of weakness. Last night, Nicky Bloom had the upper hand in our conversation. Falkon knows about our business and threatened to reveal us to the clan if we got in his way. I don’t like that he exercised that power over me. Tonight I turned the tables. If I decide to meet with him, I will be the one who speaks from a position of strength. Hank Evans had prepared a report for Falkon summarizing his latest research. Now, Hank Evans is dead and the report is mine. If Falkon wishes to see it, he will treat me with respect.”
“I cannot wait to learn more about what you’ve uncovered,” Dominic said. “It sounds so sinful.”
“The research Hank Evans was doing for Falkon is unprecedented,” said Melissa. “And you’ll get to read all about it. You and I will find a good place to hide his report on the Farm.”
“But I want to know about it now,” Dominic said. “Can you at least give me a hint? What is Falkon doing?”
The doorbell rang. Melissa smiled.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait,” she said. “My guest has arrived.”
“You cagey little cat. Call me back later.”
“If it suits me,” Melissa said in a voice to match the “cagey little cat” Dominic described.
She ended the call and went to the front door. She loved that Shannon had to ring the bell to her own house. It was the sort of delicious irony that made her happy to be immortal. Shannon was begging to come into her own home so her guest could kill her.
She opened the front door to find someone who was most definitely not Shannon Evans. It was a middle-aged man with chocolate skin and graying temples. He quickly tempered his own surprise at seeing Melissa at the door, and said something in Portuguese.
“Who are you?” Melissa asked.
He looked taken aback. Slowly, stumbling with the English, he said, “My wife is inside.”
Feeling angry that this man wasn’t Shannon, Melissa grabbed him by the throat, broke his neck, then threw his body into the corner where he promptly curled up and died.
She went back to the front room and took a seat in the leather chair. She waited another twenty minutes for Shannon before going out to look for her. Two hours later, the girl nowhere to be found, Melissa went back to the airport. She hated to leave a loose end behind, but daylight was near and she didn’t want to be stuck in Rio any longer. She had what she came for, and Shannon wasn’t a threat.
“Take me back to Florida,” she told the pilot. “I want to go home.”
Chapter 29
They arrived at a quarter after seven. Kim was wearing a black blouse with tiny diamonds sequined in a sunburst pattern across the front. Her father, Galen, surprisingly small in stature considering how large he loomed over DC, was wearing a navy blue suit.
“Kim, Mr. Renwick, this is my mother, Senator Lisa Beaumont,” Marshall said, his one scripted line of the night. His mother didn’t want to introduce herself. Even though this gathering is about you and your money, the long-term relationship will be about me, she had said. It kind of disgusted Marshall how much stake his mother put in the opinion of Galen Renwick.
“It’s lovely to finally meet you Senator,” said Galen, grasping Lisa’s tiny hand with both of his and blasting the room with a ridiculously white-toothed smile. “I’m sorry we haven’t met sooner, but, as you know--”
“I can only imagine,” Lisa said, following it up with a nervous laugh. “Congratulations Kim on your entry to the contest.”
“Thank you,” Kim said.
“I’m looking forward to seeing how we might be able to help you reach your goals,” Lisa continued. Marshall wanted to do a facepalm on that one. Over and over and over he’d explained: it’s the new girl who’s going to win, Mom. It’s the new girl who has everybody excited.
It didn’t matter. Washington was a city of habit, and for Marshall’s mother, the habit was to bow down before anyone who had money and influence. When Galen Renwick called and said he wanted to have dinner, she cleared the calendar.
Lisa led the guests inside. They had drinks. They made awkward small talk in the parlor. As he watched his mom fawn over Galen like some preteen at a boy band concert, he wondered how it was possible that he was related to her. Then he lost himself in a daydream about discovering he was actually adopted.
After spending far too much time in the parlor, the group made their way to the dining room and acted properly impressed when the butler rolled out the first dish.
“Scallops with asparagus and a white wine cream sauce,” the butler announced.
As they were served, Lisa began quizzing Kim about her life and her interests, with random oddball questions tossed in. Kim answered every question succinctly and with an air of disinterest.
A roasted foie gras with mustard seed and spiced honey was the next course, served with a 1973 Bordeaux. Marshall wolfed it down, foregoing any attempt to join the conversation, which was now all about Lisa’s initiatives in the Senate. The Renwicks sat quietly and listened as Lisa went on and on and on. Marshall sensed that he was being set up, that the Renwicks were waiting until Lisa was comfortable and drunk before they attacked. Sure enough, when dessert (white chocolate soufflé) rolled out, so did the big question.
“Have you decided how you’re going to spend the money you won at Brawl in the Fall?” Galen asked.
“I’ve certainly been giving it some thought,” Marshall responded, “but no, I haven’t decided yet.”
“You’ll have to forgive us,” Lisa said. “Marshall is being cautious. He doesn’t understand how these dinners work, and he’s probably a little nervous, aren’t you dear?”
“Nope,” Marshall said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“We’ll be putting together the best bid on Kim at the Date Auction that we can muster,” Lisa said.
“We won’t be doing anything,” Marshall said. “It’s my decision, and I haven’t decided yet.”
“A fair-minded young man who understands the gravity of this occasion,” said Galen. “I can respect that. It’s wise to get all the information you can before you make a decision.”
“He really wants to do this right,” said Lisa. “He always wants to do things right. But you may rest assured--”
“No, Mom. There is nothing about which they may rest assured,” Marshall said. “They came here to blackmail us. It’s what they do.” He looked straight at Kim. “Am I right? Is that why you’re here? Tell us, what have you got? Does my mom have some racist donor in the fundraiser base? Or maybe my dad did something that could send him to jail? Let’s hear it then.”
“Marshall, may I please speak with you in--”
“Mom, anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of our guests,” Marshall said. His heart was racing now. At that moment, he wished Kim were a dude so they could just throw down, then and there.
For
a few seconds, it seemed he had misjudged the situation. Everyone at the table was silent. The servants had fled to the kitchen. Kim looked at him curiously, as if sizing him up, but said nothing. Maybe the Renwicks didn’t have any dirt on them. Maybe they really were here to try and charm their way into his support, to beg for his money.
Kim broke the silence. “Where did you say Marshall’s father was tonight?” she asked.
“It’s about him, isn’t it?” Marshall said. “You’ve got something on my dad and you’re disappointed you can’t deliver it to his face.”
“I am disappointed,” Kim said. “But not because we have anything on him. It’s you we came here to blackmail, Marshall. I just wanted to see the look on your dad’s face when he learned about you and Ms. Benchley.”
At this remark, the silence at the table became a perfect pallet for the word that was screaming in Marshall’s head: FUCK.
“Do you think he’d be angry?” Kim said. “Or would he be proud of his son, the little stud who shacked up with teacher.”
“What’s this?” Lisa said.
“It’s nothing, Mom,” Marshall said. “It’s idle gossip. They’re trying to start a rumor about me. We’re not falling for it.”
“You had sex with your teacher?” Lisa said. She seemed unusually relaxed as she spoke, as if, now that they were down to business, she could finally be herself.
“He had a long, passionate romance is what he had,” said Kim. “Started mid-way through last year and continued through the summer.”
“Shut up!” Marshall said. “I will not have people tell lies about me to my own mother!”
“Your mother will want to hear this,” said Galen. “The implications can be severe for the family. Daciana is careful to protect the brand of her precious school. A teacher having an affair with a student is something she would take very seriously. I fear that, in the face of such a scandal, her response would be to make all parties…quietly disappear.”
“I think we’re done here,” Marshall said. “I’m going upstairs.”
As Marshall left the table, his mind raced through the past twelve months. They had been so careful. Both of them knew the gossip hounds were watching. Every single liaison with Patricia had been perfectly secret. They hadn’t left a shred of evidence anywhere. No paper trail. No photos. No one spotting them together outside of school. The cloak and dagger of it all had been half the fun. They worked hard and planned way ahead to keep their encounters a secret.
The Renwicks had nothing.
Relax Marshall, he told himself as he neared the stairs. There was no proof. No proof in the slightest.
“Honey, I think you should come back,” Lisa said. “We can talk through this. Everyone in Washington has secrets. The key is how you deal with them.”
Marshall ignored her and continued his trek.
“Your mother’s right, Marshall!” Galen called after him. “We don’t have to be enemies. We’d actually make one hell of a team.”
“Fuck you!” Marshall yelled back.
He was past the landing and onto the second flight, almost out of ear shot, when they caught him like a calf at a rodeo. It was Kim who said it.
“She’s pregnant, Marshall. You’re going to be a father.”
Chapter 30
Jill returned to school on Monday fearful that she would have to spend the day explaining her absence from the Brawl.
She was pleased to find that nobody cared. Brawl in the Fall was simultaneously the most interesting topic of conversation at school, and an event most of the students wanted to forget. The gossip about the night was intense, but in a shameful way. Students were in full-on damage control mode, every one of them spinning the gossip to their favor.
Sure, I was there when the riot started, but I didn’t participate.
No, I didn’t see what happened. I just wanted to protect my girlfriend.
I only had a few drinks. I’m embarrassed at the way our classmates behaved.
The few times Jill did have to explain her absence from the Brawl, once to Mattie and once to Andrea, Annika came to her rescue. To Mattie, Annika said, “Girl’s been sick, give her some space.” To Andrea, who made a crack about Jill ‘finally deciding to join us today,’ Annika said, “Yes, I’m honored that Jill made that decision. Now you should decide to get lost.”
Lunch for Jill that day was at Budokan, just her and Annika. Over shrimp tempura and miso soup, Annika told Jill about another phone call she had with Shannon, this one early in the morning.
“She asked if you could get two IDs,” Annika said. “She told me she’ll have an escort get her out of the country when it’s time, some girl named Raquel. That girl will need a fake ID too.
“Not a problem,” said Jill. “I need some way to identify this Raquel person in the Brazilian database. Personal stuff. Name, date of birth, government ID number.”
“I’ll get it,” said Annika. “Maybe I can stop by tonight and give it to you.”
“Just bring it to school tomorrow,” Jill said. “I won’t be home tonight.”
“Really? Where are you going?”
“Just got some business to take care of,” Jill said.
Annika didn’t press for more. Jill’s just-in-time discovery that Melissa was chasing after Shannon had made her into something of a mystic in Annika’s eyes. Jill found she could be as weird and cryptic as she wanted and Annika wouldn’t ask any questions, which was good, since tonight’s business, and every night’s business until further notice, was to go to Nicky’s house in the hopes that Melissa Mayhew would show up.
From school to lunch, from lunch back to school, from school to home—everywhere Jill went, the green station wagon followed her. The sloppy stalkers had given up on Nicky altogether and were all about Jill now. She drove slowly to her house, making it easy for them to follow. That night, she went to Nicky’s, and waited. Melissa never came.
On Tuesday, all the teachers brought traditional Chinese mooncakes to school and served them during first period. While Jill and her classmates ate the sweet snacks of the lunar harvest festival, her teacher, Mr. Donovan, told the legend of Chang’e.
“She was the most beautiful girl in the village,” Mr. Donovan said, “so beautiful that the god of the sun came down to visit her. He offered her a pill that would grant eternal life. He said he wanted her to come live in the sky with him where all the world could admire her beauty. She agreed. She became immortal and moved into the night sky. But the sun is a jealous lover. On nights that he can’t see Chang’e, he doesn’t allow us to see her either. Once a year, on the night of the harvest moon, the sun gets a complete and unobstructed view of Chang’e, and shines so brightly on her face that we can’t help but marvel at her beauty. That is what we celebrate with the Festival of the Moon. The beauty of Chang’e, the first immortal goddess of the night.”
The week between the Brawl and the Date Auction had nightly events to continue the Festival of the Moon. On Tuesday, students gathered in the courtyard and released a thousand paper lanterns into the sky. On Wednesday, the theater club performed traditional Chinese fire dragon dances on the north lawn. On Thursday, the Thorndike arts center became a gallery for the best artists in the world, who displayed their latest creations in honor of the immortals.
Jill skipped all these events, and Annika made sure no one questioned her about it. Every day after school Jill went home and checked in with her mom. Every evening she went to Nicky’s. Every night she waited up late with the assassins. Melissa never came.
And all the while, the two teens in the green station wagon stayed on her tail.
“They’re kind of unnerving,” Jill confessed to Gia one night. “I feel like I should go introduce myself to them or something.”
“Just a few more days,” Gia said. “We should be thankful for their presence. They are proof to us that Melissa hasn’t given up.”
“But when is she going to act? What’s she waiting for?”
“W
e have to remember that vampires live on different timelines than we do. To you, it seems like she is taking forever. To Melissa, hardly any time has passed at all.”
“Well she needs to get moving,” Jill said. “I can’t spend my nights at Nicky’s house forever. Things are fine right now because my dad is out of town. When he gets back, he’s going to wonder why I’m never home at night.”
“We’ll get some movement soon,” Gia said. “I’m sure of it. We just have to be patient.”
Gia might have been content with a wait and see approach, but Jill wanted to know more. She had some ideas about how to beef up the Where in the World is Melissa Mayhew program, and on Friday afternoon she rushed home from school to work on the software before it got dark.
Driving faster than the speed limit, but not so fast as to lose the green station wagon, Jill got home before four o’clock and raced up to her room. She sat at her computer and shook the mouse to bring up the login screen.
But it never came. The computer went straight to an open session, with no security login of any sort. It was a jarring break from the norm, one that instantly sent her into panic mode. She thought she had been caught, that Clean Street or Melissa Mayhew or Kim Renwick or somebody had ratted her out as a Network spy. There was no other explanation for her security measures to be off. Someone with high level access had hacked into this computer.
The usage log only added to her terror. It showed activity on the computer barely twenty minutes ago. Someone, or something, had cracked this terminal open at nine in the morning and had been running processes on it all day. How did they get past her security?
Even more disturbing was the type of activity she saw in the log. All open programs had been closed except one. One at a time, all the processes on her machine were shut down, giving a single program full access to the computer’s resources.
The Festival of the Moon (Girls Wearing Black: Book Two) Page 23
