Turning at the corner of Avenida Rio Branco, she hurried away from the sleek, low-slung skimmers with their shaded windshields, the quiet streets—too quiet at noon—and walked for several blocks through the fashionable district, admiring corner vid displays for colorful boutiques in Rio do Sul Mall. The street was almost deserted, save for a pink-uniformed maid scolding two tiny children. A side street looked inviting, and Andie stopped at a café, lured by bright tablecloths and the shade of a jacaranda tree in full purple bloom.
Most of the tables were empty. A skinny man in a bathing suit sat at one, smoking, staring at his watch, scanning something. Near the compubar, another man, bearded and wearing dark glasses, nursed a beer.
Andie selected a table by the tree. The waiter, a hazel-eyed mulatto with blond, curly hair, took her order in lilting Portuguese.
“Cup or caffeine hypo?”
“Cup, please.”
Andie watched him insert her order into the bar. She leaned back in the curved plastic chair and surveyed the street. Even the distant tempo of traffic was muted here. She was tempted to wander down the block and out of sight, to forget about congressional investigations and strange eyes.
A deeper shadow fell over her.
“Excuse me,” a tenor voice said in perfect American English. “Is this seat taken?”
Andie looked up to see the bearded man from the table by the bar standing at her side. Before she could protest, he had seated himself.
“I’m not looking for company,” she said stiffly. The man smiled and removed his glasses. His eyes were bright gold.
“Are you certain you wouldn’t like my company, Ms. Greenberg?” He sat back in his chair, studying her. The waiter brought a tiny cup of steaming black liquid. Mechanically, she spooned sugar into it until she’d almost filled the cup to the brim. When the waiter withdrew, Andie quickly turned back to her companion.
“H-how did you know my name?”
“Why wouldn’t I know the name of cousin Eleanor’s administrative assistant?” He shrugged, took a sip of beer. “My name’s Skerry. And I’ll save us both a lot of time and trouble, Ms. Greenberg. I know why you’re here. I might have some information you can use.”
“Such as?”
“You’re worried about this supermutant thing, even more than my lofty relative. Well, you should be. She’s wrong. Try to get her to see that, before it’s too late.”
“You mean there are supermutants here? It’s not just a rumor?” In spite of herself, suddenly Andie wanted to believe him.
He shrugged. “Hard to say. Right now, all we know is that they’ve come up with some kind of mutagen that not only isolates but enhances the potential for specific mutations. At least, that’s what their results indicate. Don’t ask me how they do it. And I have no idea how far they’ve gone.”
“Who’s involved with this?”
“Most of the medical research community here. Ribeiros is your point man, all right. But don’t waste your time. You’ll never get through him. He’s too well protected, as, I believe, the sainted Eleanor is discovering.”
“Why should I listen to you? How do you know this?”
He smiled. “I’ve got connections—and ways of finding things out. And I’m not hampered by official rules and regulations.”
“What are you doing here anyway?” Andie demanded.
“Do you think the Congress of the United States is the only organization interested in this supermutant rumor?”
“But how did you hear about supermutants? What’s your source?”
“I’ve got ears. Better than most of those in Congress, in fact.” He leaned back in his chair. “Your coffee’s getting cold.”
Andie took a sip and grimaced at the sugary taste. She put the cup down. “So I’m supposed to believe that some stranger who pops up out of nowhere, speaking perfect American English, is conducting his own private investigation of the same issue we’re looking into, only he’s got all the answers? Is it too much to ask whom you represent?”
“Let’s just say it’s a very special interest group.”
“Special as in mutant-special?”
He gave her a mock salute. “Very good. You’re even smarter than I thought.”
“Are you down here alone?”
“No, there are a couple of us looking around.”
“Why not talk to Jacobsen?”
He shook his head. “A waste of time. She’s a by-the-book lady. And I’m not exactly welcome in certain well-established mutant circles.”
“I see. Well, what if I go to her for you?”
“She would believe that even less.”
“Then why approach me?”
“You’ve got official access, and you’re on the right team. You can steer them toward the appropriate directions. To facilitate the involvement of, shall we say, appropriate agencies.”
“The CIA? I’ll need some hard proof for that.”
“Try this.” Skerry took a memorypak from his pocket and dropped it in her palm. She looked at it skeptically.
“What is this?”
“A record of genetic experiments on human embryo splitting from a clinic near Jacarepaguá.”
“What? But that’s illegal. And how’d you get it?”
He smiled: “I stole it.”
Andie pushed her chair back from the table and shook her head. “I can’t accept this. I’d be an accomplice to the crime. Not to mention how much trouble this could cause if somebody learns we have stolen information.…”
His laughter cut her off. “You might not be as smart as I thought. Don’t admit it’s stolen. That clinic will never say a word. Believe me.”
“I’d rather play by the rules.”
He stopped smiling at her. “This isn’t the United States, Ms. Lawyer. There are no rules here, save for who you know and what you know. And, even more important, who knows what you know. So be very careful. Take this information, but don’t show it to Jacobsen until you’re back in Washington. She’s being watched here.”
“By whom?”
“A hundred eyes. The police. A few foreign interests. And other mutants, of course.”
Andie imagined a crowd of strangers staring through lenses and keyholes at her boss. At her. An army of spies, if she could believe this stranger.
“How do you know?” she demanded. “And why do you care, anyway?”
“To borrow a phrase, if not me, who? And if not now, when? Look, toots, this is serious business. For you as well as me, not to mention the cast of characters watching your boss. And while everybody’s wasting time going through official channels, these experiments continue.”
“On human subjects?”
“It seems that way.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep. So look sharp. And be careful.” He wavered before her as if a gust of torrid wind had passed between them. Andie rubbed her eyes. Was she suffering from eye strain, or was he fading from view as she watched? The trunk of the jacaranda tree was visible right through his T-shirt. She tried to keep her jaw from dropping.
“Wait! What if I need to find you?”
The chair opposite her was empty. A cool breeze blew past her cheek.
“I’ll find you.” It was a whisper in her ear, in her mind. She looked down, half expecting to see the memorypak vanish as well. But the blue plastic oval nestled in the palm of her hand like an egg. She tucked it into her belt pocket and looked at her watch. If she ran, she could just make that meeting at the Cesar Park.
Bill McLeod reached for the airbrush. The nose of the Cessna ultralight needed a touch-up, and he had just mixed a fresh batch of silver paint especially for the job.
Behind him, he could hear Kelly chatting with that mutant girl, Melanie Ryton, as they chipped paint off the Cessna’s tail. Kelly insisted on hanging around that family, despite his misgivings. Well, maybe it was just a phase. Melanie was a nice kid. And, as Joanna kept telling him, so was Melanie’s brother, Michael.
The hell with nice, McLeod thought. He’d promised Joanna that he’d keep his mouth shut on the subject, but he didn’t like his daughter dating that mutant boy. And McLeod had a fair idea of how far his daughter and Michael Ryton had ventured into matters sexual. He didn’t like that, either. But she was eighteen. As long as she behaved with discretion, he could at least try to respect her privacy.
McLeod laid down a bright patch of liquid silver in a gleaming, controlled arc. The crysacrylic pigment dried instantly, upon contact. He eyed the new paint critically. Some detail work here wouldn’t hurt, he thought.
“Kelly! Are you interruptible?”
“Sure, Dad.”
“Would you bring me the small kit in the trunk of the skimmer?”
“Okay.”
He watched her jog toward the skimmer with Melanie close behind. The May sunshine glinted off her hair and her yellow pantsuit. For a moment, he imagined her jogging across a runway toward a plane, her slender figure covered by a different sort of garb, a gray flight suit. What a fine pilot she’d make. He’d tried to talk her into applying for the Air Force Academy. If only she’d set her mind to something besides mutants.
“Your dad’s terrific,” Melanie said, trying to keep up with Kelly’s long-legged stride toward the car park. The April wind blew her fine hair in her eyes and she envied Kelly’s neat black braids.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s funny. Nice. And handsome.” Melanie giggled. “I know I make him uncomfortable, but he’s good about trying not to show it.”
“He doesn’t understand mutants.”
“Didn’t he work with any in the Air Force?”
“Only occasionally. They seem to avoid the draft pretty easily.”
Melanie smiled. She knew how deftly her older male cousins had influenced draft boards with a little telepathic push.
“Don’t take it personally,” Kelly said. “But you’re a mystery to my father. To most people. And that makes them feel uncomfortable.”
“How do you think it makes me feel?” Melanie said. “Do you think I like it? People either try too hard to be nice and overshoot, making things worse, or they’re rude.” Melanie leaned against the blue skimmer while Kelly rummaged in the trunk.
“Yeah. I don’t know why mutants even bother to try and get along with nonmutants. Most of the time we act like such waveheads around you.” She pulled a green pack out by its handle and sealed the car.
Melanie shrugged. “We can’t hide forever. Besides, we don’t have a choice. There’s more of you than of us.”
“Haven’t the numbers of mutants increased each year?”
“Sure. But we’d have to spend all our time making mutant babies if we wanted to catch up.”
“Sounds like fun.” Kelly swung the pack in a circle, then stopped, midtwirl. Her face was serious. “What about half-mutant babies?”
“There aren’t many.”
“Do they have mutant abilities?”
“Some. But the clan discourages intermarriage.”
“So you’ve said.” Kelly stopped walking and gazed off into the distance.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’m just thinking about the future.” She turned toward Melanie.
“You’re thinking about my brother, aren’t you?”
Kelly nodded. “I’m in love with him,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
“You are?” Melanie grabbed her by the shoulder. “Have you told him?”
“No.” Kelly’s voice cracked.
Bewildered, Melanie hugged her. “Don’t cry,” she said. “I’ll bet he loves you, too. Why don’t you ask him?”
“I’d feel silly. He has to tell me without my asking, or it doesn’t mean anything.”
“I guess.” Melanie released her. She felt torn between wanting to help and not wanting to get involved. She had her own plans. And she’d taken enough of a chance lying to her parents about this afternoon. Her brother’s love life was his own concern. But Kelly was her friend. How could Melanie tell her that what she longed for most was impossible?
“Come on. You don’t want your father to see you crying, do you?” She handed Kelly a tissue.
“Thanks. Let’s talk about something else.” Kelly wiped her face. “What are you going to do after graduation?”
“I think I’ve lined up a summer job in Washington.” Melanie’s eyes began to shine at the thought of it. “After that, I don’t know. I don’t want to go to college right away.”
“Doesn’t your father want you to work for him?”
“That’s what he keeps saying. But I’d rather work someplace else. Arrange something on my own and show them I can take care of myself,” In her mind, she played back the ad she’d seen on the vid: “Are you eighteen or older? Jobs for the summer in Washington. E-mail code 7172A.…” She thought of the fat envelope sitting in her closet. She’d filled out and sent off the applications last week. Yesterday, the notice had arrived. A job as a hostess at the Washington Convention Center! Maybe she’d even meet some vidjocks there. “I wish I knew what I wanted to do,” Kelly said. She sounded envious. Melanie gave her a sympathetic look while she tried to remember the last time anybody had envied her for anything. It was a nice feeling.
8
a bit breathless, andie seated herself at the long teak conference table. The tablemech had already served the first round of coffee in the obligatory tiny white cups. The entire city seemed fueled by Brazilian caffeine. For those who wanted more concentrated dosages, syringes were arranged in sterile paks on a silver tray on a serving table by the door. Craddick had two empty hypos by his setting. Andie wasn’t surprised. She’d seen his head nodding drowsily through more than one conference on this trip.
Jacobsen sat at the center of the table, notescreen open before her, a cup of what looked like tea cooling beside it. She nodded at Andie as she entered, but continued speaking.
As Andie had suspected, there was little to report. Horner and his aide sat smugly silent throughout. Craddick made an occasional comment, but it was essentially Jacobsen’s show. And the mutant senator looked tired.
“Doctor Ribeiros appears to be cooperating fully,” Jacobsen said. Was that an ironic note in her voice? “In the week left, I suggest we divide our efforts. Beginning next week, I propose that Senator Horner make use of his religious connections to meet with the archbishop here. Senator Craddick, perhaps, could visit the clinics in Jacarepaguá. I’ll continue the interview with Dr. Ribeiros.”
Jacarepaguá? Wasn’t that the clinic where Skerry had found the information on genetic experiments? The hell with spies. Andie had to talk to Jacobsen, alone. She waited impatiently until the meeting ended, and watched the room clear. Karim waved at her. She’d see him later, at Ribeiros’s clinic. But as she turned to Jacobsen, somebody loomed over her.
“Young lady, excuse me. A word with you and the charming senator?” Reverend Horner sank into the chair between her and Jacobsen, who smiled frostily.
Andie took a deep breath and fought the urge to grab the arms of Horner’s chair. Just one good push, and he’d roll back and back, crash, through the plate-glass window, mouth rounded in an O of surprise. And slowly he’d sink, backward and down, twenty stories, to the street pulsing with traffic. She imagined the thin scream floating on the humid air. Closing her notescreen with a snap, she gave the senator a big smile.
“What can we do for you, Mr. Horner?” Jacobsen asked. Her tone would freeze saltwater, Andie thought.
“Well now, pretty lady, I’ve been thinking that, rather than divide our efforts, it is imperative that we combine. We must come together to maximize the results of this trip.” He was using the same voice he invoked for his vidnews sermons. His words coated the air like an oil slick. Treacherous. If she touched him, Andie wondered, would he feel as oily as he sounded?
Jacobsen crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair.
/> “How so?”
“Let’s admit that the interests of your constituents and mine are one and the same. Present a united front, so to speak.”
“Similar to the United Moslem Front?”
Jacobsen’s sarcasm was unmistakable. Andie tried not to giggle.
“Well, yes…I mean, no.” Horner seemed flustered. “What I’m trying to say is, won’t you reconsider my suggestion? It would certainly make me inclined to pass along any information I might come across—”
“Senator Horner, as you know, you are legally required to share with the committee any information you may uncover during this investigation. Otherwise, you have no business being here. And if I suspect you’re withholding anything in order to buy favors or force compliance, I’ll reach right into your mind and pull out the information myself!” Jacobsen’s voice was almost a whisper. “I’ve told you before that I have no interest in aligning myself with any special interest group.”
“Aside from the one you already represent.” Horner’s voice no longer sounded oily. He was braying like a donkey.
“I represent the state of Oregon,” Jacobsen said quietly.
“You represent the mutants! And mindrape is against the law!”
Andie held her breath, wondering what Jacobsen would do. To her amazement, her boss started laughing.
“Oh, come on, Joseph. You can do better than that. Mindrape?”
Horner’s face was red with anger. “I wouldn’t laugh too hard, Senator. You do your constituency a disservice by denying it the aid and comfort of The Fold.”
Jacobsen smiled wryly, but the laughter was gone from her eyes. “Joseph, it doesn’t take a telepath to know what you’re after. I’m sure that The Fold would dearly love to have a group of talented mutants. Would, in fact, welcome them with open arms. And purses. And any mutant who wishes to join you is free to do so.” Her tone hardened. “But I will not sponsor a blanket endorsement of any group, yours or others. I don’t have the authority. Or the interest.”
The Mutant Season Page 9
