Electromancer
Page 24
The rest of the game simply came down to politics. Politics where convoluted plots and conspiracies were born that juxtaposed allies and enemies like pawns on a chessboard while the major players vied to reshuffle the weight of the world’s economic powers. This time, it was the Russians and Americans trying to outmaneuver the Chinese. After the missile was destroyed, the Americans and Russians would side with Iran; the Chinese with Germany. And when the Chinese moved to invade Iran as they intended, the rest of the players would come down on them like a hammer.
So next week, if all went as planned, sanctions would fall on the Chinese, the Russians would sell a little more vodka, and Big Brother U.S. would have gotten a favorable foot back inside Iran’s door to keep a watch on their nuclear development, and the rest of the world, including the repressed citizens of Iran, would be a little safer … for a while.
Jordan had nothing to do with the political stratagem. Her job was purely logistics. It made her feel like she was in control and that she could make a difference, regardless of the reality.
That Friday night, after inserting the application into the computer program, Jordan had returned to Ben’s side, where she slipped her hand into his and whispered in his ear. “Are you ready to go?” She brushed his sloppy dark curls from his dark brown eyes.
He replied without any hesitation. “Absolutely.” Had he known this was the last night she’d lie in his arms, that this was the last night he’d ever make love to her with a passion so rich words had no meaning, that this was the last time she’d feel the warmth of his breath on her shoulders, he would have understood the reason she cried in her sleep.
There wasn’t another place on earth that Jordan wanted to be that Friday night and there wasn’t another man she wanted more. She was dying inside and would soon have nothing more than Chou’s words to haunt her. You got too close …
Jordan zipped across the drive-through lane of the cleaners and tossed Mr. Taylor’s jeans through the narrow opening of the sliding glass door. The jeans were gone and so was the life Jordan had lived for the past year.
She just had one more stop to make before catching her flight.
• • •
Kara Murphy entered Ben’s lab at NASA. “You got your ticket to the Cape yet?” she asked.
“I’ve got a television at home,” Ben replied casually, as if discussing the weather. Then he turned the dial on a piece of lab equipment.
“All this time, you finally get a payload and you’re not even going down to watch the launch?” Kara shook her head in disbelief.
When he didn’t comment, she continued. “I’d be down there in a heartbeat watching my baby fly.”
“Yeah, well, what’s the point?” Then he pressed the start button on the machine. “It’s not like they let anyone get all that close.”
“Man, I’m so jealous,” she said.
Ben looked over at her.
She threw a hand to her hip. “Yeah, I said jealous.”
Kara had been instrumental in helping Ben get his Laser One experiment on board the SpaceX Falcon 9 rocket — one of the rockets developed by a private sector company that had taken up where NASA left off in spaceflight — but she had never talked about her own ambitions.
“What?” she said when he didn’t say anything. “Don’t you think it’d be cool to look at my bubbles in space?” she asked, referring to her own medical research.
He quickly agreed. “Yes, you’re right.”
“But I’m super-excited the bone density experiment made the flight.”
Ben suddenly realized how insensitive he was. “Kara, I’m sorry. Your science is solid. Your work should have been considered. To tell you the truth, I don’t even know how my laser experiment got approved.”
“Don’t be sorry, you ham. My project wasn’t ready, you know that. I was just razzing you, man.” With hardly a pause, she redirected the conversation. “Hey, you want to grab some lunch?”
He checked the machine still running. He really wasn’t in the mood for company or food, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings again. “Can I get a rain check?” he said. “I’ve got to wait on the spin coater to wrap up this run.”
“No problem,” she said, letting him slide, then paused a moment before leaving his lab. “Do you mind if I say something here?”
He looked at her; he had an idea what she was going to say next. “Lay it on me.”
“You really ought to take a rest with those crystals and head down to the beach with that dry cleaner chick of yours.” She paused. “Not that it’s any of my business. I’m just saying.” She tapped the top of the lab table with her file to make her point.
He forced a lighthearted chuckle. “Yeah, I hear you.”
She touched a light fist to his arm. “Later, dude.” She left the lab.
Ben hadn’t told Kara about the split. He couldn’t. It was too fresh and he wasn’t ready to talk. No one knew about it, except some idiot on a barstool who’d exchanged spit with Jordan.
But what kind of guy would stand by and let his girlfriend kiss another guy like that? Didn’t that give him the right to become jealous … even to completely lose it?
How had a perfect Friday night turned so disastrous? He’d lost the perfect girl, the perfect relationship, and missed the perfect opportunity to tell her how he felt and what he wanted. None of this felt real.
Ben stared at the paint peeling off the edges of the white cylinder block walls. He wanted to be mad, he wanted to throw something, he wanted to cry, laugh, or be happy again. He wanted to be something, anything, that would help him make sense of what had gone wrong, but all he felt was numb.
• • •
“Box 1044,” Jordan said to the branch manager of her bank.
“Yes, of course,” he said. “Right this way, ma’am.”
Once she was alone in a private chamber, Jordan removed a metal case from the safety deposit box. She opened it and inspected her baby, a Beretta XX-Treme. She looked through the scope, examined the silencer and laser, and then secured the latch. Next, she removed a large manila envelope and quickly inspected the contents, then stuffed it into her bag along with the weapon.
She had one last task. Grasping her hair to the side, she slipped a long gold chain from around her neck and over her head. A pendant securing a three-and-a-half-carat diamond dangled from the end of the chain.
She hesitated a moment, admiring the glint of the stone, listening to the hum of the fluorescent lights. The necklace was all she had left of her parents. There was nothing else, not a card, not a photo, a single souvenir, or an ounce of their ashes. And she wasn’t prepared to lose it under any circumstances.
She never took it with her into the field. It didn’t make sense to bring it. Nor was she permitted to wear it.
However, each time she left the necklace behind in that cold little box, it felt harder to do so, more emotional. And for some reason, this time felt the hardest. A part of her wondered if she would ever see her beloved jewel again.
She slowly lowered it inside the confines of the safety deposit box and fastened the lid. She rose from her chair and stared down at the box. The tick of the light fixture irritated her to no end. And the longer she stood there, looming over the metal case, the more aggravated she became until she was suddenly overcome with an inexplicable impulse and reopened the box.
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Praise for The Libra Affair:
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