by Lee Winter
“My friend would love to knock down those bottles,” Lauren said.
“She would?” he asked, flicking a satisfied glance at Catherine.
Catherine frowned, trying to unravel the subtext between them.
“Yes. Let’s start with her.” Lauren grinned.
He nodded and pushed over a trio of balls. “G’luck, ma’am.”
Catherine realized, as she picked the first one up, that Lauren hadn’t actually asked if she wanted to do this, probably knowing she’d say no. With a quick look over her shoulder, she confirmed no one else was watching.
After an encouraging smile, Lauren leaned into her ear. “The games are rigged, of course. Those balls are hopeless without real force behind it. Remember, the aim is not for you to win—hell, I don’t expect you to—but to have a crapload of fun doing it. It’s about being a big kid.” She stepped back and gave her a thumbs-up sign.
Winding her arm back, Catherine let the first ball fly. It landed with some impact, so that was good. Although, she noted ruefully, it had missed the bottles entirely. The two boys tittered. She resisted the urge to glare and remind them they couldn’t afford to be so smug since they still had puberty ahead of them.
“So close!” the stall operator said, a hint of condescension dripping from his voice.
This was silly. She was silly. There was a reason she had a no-witnesses rule for things she wasn’t good at or had never tried before. She turned. “Lauren, I don’t think—”
“Good, that’s it exactly. Don’t think. Just focus.” Lauren gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Think of your targets as some asshole senator denying you a story.”
Well. That she could do. The second ball flew straighter and, to her secret pleasure, actually dropped the front bottle. The others all rattled.
“Ooh!” one of the boys said. “Good throw.”
Smiling, Lauren said, “Now you’ve got the hang of it. Last ball.” She handed it to her.
Catherine tossed the ball from hand to hand, briefly wondering how Lauren could ever pitch in front of crowds of thousands. The pressure would be crippling if it were her. And yet somehow, she just…did it. Catherine wound back her arm, sent the ball hurtling with everything she had, and two more bottles spun off the pyramid. Another pair gave a promising wobble.
“Whoa!” the same boy said. “That was awesome.”
Well, it was only a few bottles, but for some reason she felt spectacular. She shared a smile with the kids.
“Wow. Nice shot. I’ve never seen a first-timer do that.” Lauren sounded impressed. Her eyes were warm.
Catherine suddenly decided that fair games weren’t entirely silly after all.
The stall vendor smiled at her, and this time he didn’t sound the least bit sarcastic when he said, “Three down is pretty good, ma’am. Of course, you need four bottles down to win a mini prize. Five for the big one. All of them down for the grand prize.” He pointed to the shelf behind him, which held an enormous panda.
Catherine blinked at it and slowly turned to look at Lauren. “This was the panda you were talking about? You’ve been here before.”
“Wouldn’t be a State Fair without me right here, gunning for a giant stuffed panda,” Lauren said with a cheery grin. She slapped the other wristband on the counter, then stepped back and started rolling her shoulders. “My turn.”
“Double credits or no play,” the man said instantly.
Catherine looked at him in disbelief. “You can’t do that. She pays the going rate.”
“Double or don’t bother,” he repeated, and gave Lauren a sharp look. “And you can step back three more feet, too.”
“Joe’s just sore because of how things go with me playing his game.”
“And how’s that?”
“Double it is.” Lauren turned to Catherine and said, “And you’ll see.”
The two boys were watching avidly now, as were their parents who’d joined them.
Lauren paced back three steps away from the booth, did a theatrical wind up, paused, winked at her small audience, and threw the ball with stunning force. Bottles flew in all directions. Only one remained—the one at the far right, on the end of the shelf. Two balls left. The children squealed in such delight that the crowd began to grow bigger.
“Two more steps back,” the stall man said, pointing behind Lauren. “You moved forward last time.”
“She did not!” Catherine protested.
“She did.” He tapped a sign behind him. No refunds. No arguing with management.
Lauren laughed. “It’s okay. He says that every year.” She took another two steps back, then to Catherine’s confusion, three steps to the left and wound back her arm.
Just as she was about to let go, Joe coughed loudly. It was a startling, hacking cough. Lauren’s pitch shot wayward and padded uselessly into the rear canvas wall.
“Chest.” The man tapped it a few times, looking anything but apologetic. “My bad.”
Catherine gave him a lethal glare, one she was pleased to see was matched by the disgruntled crowd. The children were crying, “No fair!”
“Really should get that seen to,” Lauren said, not sounding the least perturbed by his dirty tricks. Like she’d half expected something. “Okay, lucky last.” She scooped up the third ball. “And if you feel the need to cough again, Joe, I can’t guarantee this won’t hit you between the eyes.” Her smile was as charming as Joe’s expression was sour.
She stepped even farther to the left, totally baffling Catherine, then turned and faced at right angles to the bottle. She wound back her arm again, let fly, and it was one of those fast balls Catherine remembered from the softball game. Too quick for her to even see.
The ball missed the last bottle, but it was clear she wasn’t aiming for it, either. It hit the edge of the prizes shelf to the right of the pyramid with force, ricocheting off it and hitting the bottle on the side. It cartwheeled off to the left, taking out the second pyramid beside it as well in a loud crash.
Two pyramids down. Just one ball. A dozen bottles were tumbling all over the ground.
The kids screamed. The adults roared, whooped, and clapped. Lauren preened. And Catherine felt a wild surge of pride that was utterly ridiculous. Now she understood why these games were so popular.
“Christ,” came the man’s disgruntled sneer. “Ring in.”
Lauren beamed and pointed. “The grand prize panda, please.” She bounced on her feet, her grin as wide as a slice of watermelon.
The man grumbled as he handed the enormous stuffed animal to her. Lauren turned to give it to Catherine, who gave it an alarmed look.
“Oh no,” she said hastily. “She who wins it, hauls it.”
“But I won it for you.” Lauren’s expression dimmed. “You don’t like it?”
“The panda has your big, innocent eyes. How could I not like it?”
Lauren chuckled and hoisted it on her hip.
“How did you do that?” Catherine gestured back at the stall they were walking away from.
“I worked out one year that the bottle on the bottom row, far right of each of the pyramids, has a little tab behind its base that stops it going backwards. You have to hit it side-on to win. I do it every year. Joe hates me for it. Although I’ve never flattened two pyramids before. He’s lucky I didn’t ask for two pandas.”
As they headed closer to the grandstand, Catherine caught the sound of a microphone. She listened for a moment. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Are you asking is that a political speaker?” Lauren adjusted the panda on her hip. “Yes. All your dreams have come true. That’s where the Political Soapbox is.”
“No, I didn’t mean that. It’s just I swear it sounds like…” Catherine stopped and scowled. “Is he following me?”
“What? Who?”
She
sighed. “Come on. Let’s see.”
Chapter 11 –
Past, Present, Piñatas
Catherine made a beeline for the sound of the speakers. As they rounded a corner, sure enough, there was Senator Frederick T. Hickory on a small elevated stage, surrounded by hay bales. A tiny cluster of people sat in chairs in front of him.
“What are the odds?” Catherine muttered.
“I’d say pretty good, given he’s one of Iowa’s senators. What’s he rambling about?”
They listened for a few moments. Embedding microchips was good for efficiency. Cost-cutting. Safe. Won’t someone think of the veterans?
Catherine eyed the crowd. They didn’t seem terribly interested, but they hadn’t left, either. Maybe the chairs were comfortable?
“See?” Lauren said. “He can’t even enthuse his own supporter base, and you’re worried the tech’s gonna take off and be a thing.”
“It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t take off. My issue is that it’s a scandal having even one person who feels pressured to do this just to get their medical needs addressed. And to do it to the vets is the lowest.”
“Hey, wanna heckle him?” Lauren’s chuckle was pure evil.
Catherine smiled. “Want to? Yes. Should I?” She indicated with her head a local TV camera filming him. “Perhaps not.”
“Yeah. Would have been fun, though.”
“Technology is opening a whole new world for us right here,” Senator Hickory continued. His bushy white eyebrows jiggled like dancing caterpillars.
Catherine’s gaze slid down. His jeans looked new. Probably an attempt to look downhome. Although he maybe shouldn’t have paired them with a silk shirt and thousand-dollar shoes.
“We have close to six hundred new jobs thanks to Ansom Digital Dynamics International opening its Iowa plant here a year ago, which I’m proud to say I fought to bring here. And they have the contract to create, right here in Iowa, the technology I’m talking about. So this isn’t just about veterans. It’s about jobs for Iowans. The cutting-edge…”
“Ansom?” Lauren nudged her. “Hey, that’s John’s company. He works in their cars division.”
Catherine processed Hickory’s words, dread filling her.
“What’s wrong?” Lauren furrowed her brow.
“He just said he fought to bring that company to Iowa?”
“So?”
“Why? Hickory doesn’t care about tech. I’ve read his book. The most high-tech thing in it is his fishing rod.”
“Jobs are always good for winning elections.”
“But he’s talking up more than just the company. He’s specifically touting their hand-chipping tech everywhere we turn. I mean he’s virtually Ansom’s PR man on Capitol Hill.”
“It makes sense he’d want them to succeed,” Lauren argued. “If they don’t, he has egg on his face for championing a dud company. Plus, there’d be the job losses if it fails. So, wouldn’t it be logical that he’d want their newest and most talked-about product to be a big success?”
“It’s more than that.” Catherine frowned. “Ansom’s an enormous global company. It would hardly fold if Senator Hickory of Iowa doesn’t get behind it. I smell a rat.”
“You think maybe it’s quid pro quo, then? What, they brought the plant here only if Hickory agreed to do all the hype and wave the banner for their most controversial product? He takes all the hits?”
“That will be the least of it. What I don’t get is why him? He’s sixty-three, has no power or authority, and couldn’t possibly be able to wrap his brain around half their product lines. There had to be a dozen better-suited senators out there who’d be willing to take whatever deal Ansom offered. That company is not run by fools. Yet they chose him.” She stared at Hickory. “Why?”
“You’re making a lot of assumptions. It could be he approached them and offered to champion them. Now he’s riding Ansom’s coattails. Local jobs are a massive vote winner around here. And also, their fancy data chip has got him on the international news. Hell, he’d have paid them to do that for him. And, by the way, John raves about how great it is working there, so the company is actually decent.”
Catherine had a hard time imagining silent John raving about anything. “It’s not decent, though. It greases politicians’ palms on a regular basis. Think: why would an international technology company bother with Iowa? They must be getting something really good out of the deal.”
“What?” Lauren glared at her. “Iowa has cheap land, and last year we were number one nationally in infrastructure. We’re not out in the damn sticks. We have top-class airports, too. Why not deal with Iowa?”
Catherine stopped, and her brain skidded back over what she’d just said. She exhaled. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that until now, Ansom’s always set up near the major power hubs. Silicon Valley. Tsukuba in Japan. Guangdong in China. Silicon Allee in Germany. You can see why Iowa sounds a little odd on that list. I didn’t mean to impugn your state’s honor.” She paused and offered a charming smile. “Well, this time.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “God, you’re impossible. And I looked Ansom up back when John first told me he got a job there. It’s one of America’s biggest IT companies, a huge player on the world stage. No scandals. No dirt. So where are you getting this greased-palm stuff from? And how do you know where Ansom’s plants are off the top of your head anyway?”
For a moment, Catherine said nothing. Well. She supposed she’d have to have faced this conversation eventually. She wished she could put it off for a little longer, though. She ran her hands down her pants. “My grandfather’s name was Mason. Mason Ayers.”
Peering at her, Lauren said, “Okay?”
Catherine sighed. “When he wanted to form a technology company, he came up with a name that was an anagram of his name. Mason became Ansom.”
The silence was terrifyingly long as Lauren processed that. “Oh! Wait, so that’s the family company you talk about? Your family… They have a stake in Ansom?”
“They are Ansom.” Catherine bit her lip, not anxious to hear the part that always followed when she revealed that fact. It was why, after her middle school years, she’d stopped telling anyone at all. And apart from occasional vague, unspecific mentions of Lionel Ayers’s family in financial publications, it wasn’t widely known he even was a father. He almost never spoke of his daughters, and even his Wikipedia page didn’t name them. No family photo had ever publicly surfaced. The result was that so far it had never been revealed, online or offline, that one of Lionel’s daughters was actually a well-known DC bureau chief.
“Holy shit, Catherine.” Lauren stared at her. “That’s some high-powered family business. And talk about mega rich.”
And there it was. Everyone got hung up on the money. She supposed she understood that; it was such a lot. But still.
Lauren frowned. “Why am I only finding about this now?”
“I don’t see how it matters, since I was disowned after I became a journalist.” Well, not the whole truth. But near enough.
“Yes, but—I mean—God. It’s…” She shook her head. “I mean, you said your parents were well off, but you never said they were billionaires.”
“What’s the difference between somewhat rich and obscenely rich? Why does it even matter?”
“Why does…” Lauren sputtered. “It just does! Your family could buy all of Iowa if they wanted.”
“Except they aren’t interested in any part of Iowa, which is why even having one plant here is suspicious. But trust me on this—they didn’t get to be a world leader in tech purely on their abilities. I met a lot of politicians over Sunday lunches growing up. I heard a lot of hypocrisy and lies and greed around that table. Deals were done, certain veiled rewards were promised. It was early training for me. I learned all about the way Washington really worked.”
&nbs
p; Lauren said nothing.
Taking her hand, Catherine said softly, “Please tell me this won’t change anything between us. I couldn’t bear that.”
Swallowing, Lauren said, “I know you’re not your parents, but even so, I think it’ll take a little adjustment in my brain. I still can’t quite grasp with the fact your dad’s company’s not just a Fortune 500 company, it’s like a Fortune 10 company.”
“More like number three these days.” Catherine exhaled. “My father does have plans to be number one. He’s not quite there. Yet.”
“How is it no one knows who you really are?”
“Ah. That. Because, for starters, my birth certificate has me listed as Cathy. My parents usually don’t mention me to anyone. They’re not any fonder of the family connection between us than I am.”
Lauren tilted her head. “Have no journalists ever dug this out? Asked where the missing Ayers daughter went?”
“I’m always ‘overseas traveling,’ apparently, if family friends or associates ask after me. Dad gives no interviews to reporters anyway, unless they’re purely running business content.”
“I don’t get it. Why aren’t your folks proud of you? You’re so successful.”
“Remember, they had other plans for me than journalism, and I was punished for not complying. Dad does love everyone to do exactly what he wants. No exceptions.” Catherine’s gaze flicked back to Hickory. “And I can see my father’s been working on some new strategies. We’ll have to reassess a few things now we know his company is behind the senator’s groundbreaking data chips.”
Glancing over at Hickory, Lauren said, “If Ansom’s behind it, I doubt MediCache is intended for a small market or one isolated to just veterans.”
“No,” Catherine said. “It couldn’t be. Ansom is a global operation.”
Lauren drew in a deep breath. “Catherine? Your dad employs my brother.”
“I know. However, I doubt my father’s aware. King is not an unusual surname. And there are over a hundred Ansom plants worldwide, employing hundreds of thousands of people.”
