Jezebel's Ladder

by Scott Rhine

  PJ shuddered at the thought of an Icarus field that could be almost a football field wide. “What the hell possessed you to send that collection of baling wire and spit up there to begin with?”

  The senator chimed in. “Mr. Smith, ever since I heard about this fiasco, I’ve been asking the same thing. If someone off the street can see the truth that plainly, then why were the top scientists on the project ignoring it?”

  This was a sore spot with Paulson. In his best diplomatic tones, he said, “We had eight months to develop a counter to the Chinese threat. The satellite had to launch when it did. Icarus was just an insurance policy. We never intended to use it. Once we did, the surprise value would be gone. We planned to have all the bugs out in the next generation and have the shuttle do an in-place upgrade.”

  “Just turn your toy off by remote control,” PJ suggested.

  Wilkes nearly whimpered. “We can’t. The protective field causes static on the radio.”

  The ghoulish Paulson shrugged. “Even if they succeed, it may not be in time. The field will take at least ten hours beyond receipt of the termination order to become completely inactive, but you’re not here to offer solutions. We want you to give us a list of every place Cassavettis is likely to run. He’s the only one with experience enough to resolve this difficulty.”

  “Just like my other suggestions, you’ve probably already got them covered: his mother’s house, Crupkin’s apartment, and the TV stations. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up on your doorstep and went postal on you.”

  “Cassavettis has been a thorn in my side from the first,” Director Paulson said. “Nothing about him has been convenient, the prima donna. To help us track Mr. Cassavettis, we’ve compiled a list of every friend and significant acquaintance he’s known since birth. Your job is to give me five new names which we do not yet have.”

  “I’m not going to be a snitch for this Gestapo trip you’re on. What are you going to do? Lock me up? Lock up my friends? Intimidate my family? You’ve already done all that, you bastard! If it weren’t for what might happen to Amy, I’d have beaten you with a table leg by now.” The guard moved conspicuously closer. “Just leave Nick in peace. If he knew how to stop the infernal thing, he would have already. Why don’t you just cut your losses and shoot the bird down?” PJ asked, lowering his volume. “If the missiles don’t work, use a laser.”

  Wilkes said, “Between the atmosphere and the filtering effects of the field, we can’t hurt it with normal lasers. We already lost one ground station trying.”

  “Then try a gamma-ray or X-ray laser.”

  This time the general intervened, his voice deep and grandfatherly. “The only one strong enough that’s in working order and mobile is on the satellite itself. Kind of ironic when you think about it.”

  Senator Braithwaite blew a gasket, “Jesus, you have an X-ray laser on that thing? Do you know what those things can do?”

  PJ winced at the ‘J’ word. As mad as he got, he never used that word to swear. It was the one line he never crossed. “They cook people from the inside out invisibly. Great assassination weapon,” he replied.

  Braithwaite glared at the general, who waffled, “The CIA insisted on it, but now is not the time to point fingers. We need to work together to contain this situation to prevent global panic and international overreaction.”

  “Just where is this bird going to crash?” PJ asked.

  Several people fidgeted in their chairs. Wilkes wheedled, “We could be off by as much as 500 miles in our estimates of the crash site.”

  “It won’t matter. It’ll still hit the middle of the Pacific Ocean,” said Paulson decisively.

  PJ collapsed into the chair provided. “The bigger the water supply, the bigger the chain reaction. Wormwood, the star that dries up a third of the waters of the world. I see now why Nick kept quoting Revelation. Japan, Hawaii, the Pacific Rim, California. Gone.”

  Paulson corrected the understatement, relishing the pain the knowledge caused. “Our simulations predict much worse than that. The explosion will be measured in mega-Nagasakis. The Earth’s crust will certainly be ruptured. The oxygen producers in the world’s oceans are the only thing keeping us breathing today. Without them, nothing on this planet will live long. The most optimistic scenario is that the satellite encounters a monsoon with clouds at very high altitudes when it re-enters. Then it would only rip off the upper atmosphere, all the remaining ozone layer.” The director sighed. “We’ll be lucky to survive the cosmic radiation that leaks through afterward unless we all move deep underground.”

  PJ could hear his guard’s stomach churn. The general offered one of his antacids to the man. Evidently, the news often had this sort of effect on people. How had the president taken it? Had he even been told yet?

  Wilkes shook his head. “Even if we manage to deploy the solar panels to increase drag, it wouldn’t help. The best-case scenario is that the satellite slows down enough to crash over land…which, in the current flight path, would place it over the Bering Strait. The interaction between the Icarus field and ice causes the same chain reaction, only more tightly focused. Those projections show the explosion causing a fatal shift in Earth’s orbit.”

  The general added, “But we would never live to see it because the Russians would view the explosion as an intentional act of aggression. They’d retaliate with every missile they and their allies possess. World War III. Of course, our primary defense against said attack will have just crashed. Again, you’ve got to appreciate the irony.

  “We’ve seized the Brazilian civilian launch facility just in case we come up with a plan. They had a commercial shuttle of their own prepped to launch. The cover story will hold till Monday morning. However, when they fail to launch, CNN will suspect. By then it won’t matter.”

  “How long have we got?” PJ asked.

  Paulson weighed the question. “Sixty-five hours till splashdown. Anything else? Good. You’re dismissed.”

  The leaders were still arguing when the guard escorted PJ out. Once in the hallway, the older guard whispered, “So let me get this straight: they’re putting you in a cell for trying to stop this disaster?”

  PJ nodded. “I’ve lost my job, car, friends, and freedom trying to stop these jerks. Since I got dragged into this mess, I’ve lived in constant fear except when you shocked me into unconsciousness. Although, it hasn’t been all bad; I got to meet this really nice girl, Amy.” The programmer’s face lit up as idea occurred to him. “I’ll give you everything in my wallet, everything I have left, if you let me spend my last sixty-five hours with her.”

  The guard smiled crookedly and offered him a cigarette. “The name’s Joe.”

  PJ declined. “You know those things will kill you.”

  When Joe lit up, his partner yelped about regulations.

  “Shut up,” the older agent ordered. He put PJ in Amy’s cell and locked the door shut. Then, Joe said to his associate, “You don’t know nothin’. Take a walk with me, kid.”

  Amy had already stuck gum over the camera lens in defiance. At first, he just meant to comfort her, but it escalated fast, kisses hungrier and more demanding. While the others were casting blame for death, she and PJ took the opportunity to celebrate life.

  Chapter 43 – Facing the Juggernaut

  Jez stared at the computer screen until her plane passed into darkness and the low battery warning prompted her to shut down or lose her work. She wanted to learn everything about the abomination that would destroy all life on this planet. Eventually, she couldn’t see through her own tears. She wasn’t smart enough. Worse, her Ethics training warred against itself. If she did nothing, the world was doomed. If she cheated, it was murder. And they wouldn’t let her phone her family to use a lifeline.

  God, she wanted a drink.

  When she least expected it, Talos gave her hope. “I found that scientist you wanted, Crupkin. NASA is holding him for questioning, but no one’s coming for him until Monday. I can get hi
m sprung and flown anywhere you want tonight, but he doesn’t trust the government.”

  “Liberal?” she asked raising her voice over the loud engines.

  “Russian,” he replied.

  “Stable?” she asked.

  “Rock solid, but poor as a church mouse,” Talos informed her.

  “Get me a phone line,” she shouted. A few minutes later, he did one better, supplying her with a noise-cancelling headset.

  A thick accent answered her, “To whom am I speaking?”

  Jez said, “My name is Jezebel Hollis. I’m better at this in person. Do you know my husband, Buddy Hollis?”

  The voice brightened. “I loved him in that movie!”

  “Yes, well the two of us work for Fortune Aerospace. He’s on the public relations side and I manage the think tank.” She listed a few names in the organization.

  “I’ve heard of it,” Crupkin said warily.

  “We need your expertise. I’m willing to double your current salary.”

  The man laughed, “I don’t have a salary. I’m a peon.”

  “Want a place in the most advanced science organization in the world, a credit card with no limit, and an office with any toy you can imagine?” she offered.

  “Who wouldn’t? How do I know you’re for real?”

  “Name a scientist you know off my list.”

  “Phineas. I’ve met him at a conference. Very funny.”

  “I’m going to give you his home number. Ask him if you can trust me. Better yet, ask him about the new planets we’ve discovered in the Goldilocks zone. Tell him Butterfly said it was okay to share.” She read off the number from her phone.

  “No shit? This is fantastic! If it checks out, I’m in. Why are you asking me now?”

  “Because you need to fly to Brazil tonight,” she said. “You’ll get the rest of the details when you’re in the air.”

  “The right people, the right place. You listen,” said Talos with approval.

  ****

  Over the headset, Crusader heard from his man walking by the boarded-up house. “Cornflake is leaving. She’s wearing the same clothes as this morning.”

  “Follow her,” he ordered as his driver raced down the freeway toward Long Beach.

  “She’s leaving in Steve’s car, heading north.”

  “Fall back, don’t get spotted. When we leave, you’re responsible for checking the house. Wait till she’s out of sight for two minutes.”

  “Roger.”

  “Car one, follow at a safe distance. She’s heading my way. I’ll turn around and use the tracking device to stay just ahead of her. After fifteen minutes, we’ll switch. By then, we’ll have the helicopter in position.”

  There was a lot of weaving through traffic and a sharp turn that rattled his teeth. After several loops, they were halting on the northbound ramp, ignoring angry honks.

  His phone rang; Dirt Bag’s name showed on the caller id. “Busy,” Crusader snapped.

  “Where’s Claudette?”

  “My man Steve has burns over 30 percent of his body, and I’ve got a lead on the bitch who did it to him. Your wife’s body wasn’t at the scene. We’ll assume she’s unharmed. If I don’t catch this killer today, we might never see her again. She’s packed her bags, cleaned her back trail, and your son gave her everything in his bank account. I think it’s highly unusual that the only other person in your will disappears after Daniel makes a payment to an assassin.”

  “I’m sure Daniel had nothing to do with it.”

  “He’s not thinking clearly.”

  “She can keep the money. I just want Claudette safe.”

  “That’s what kidnappers count on, sir. If you’ll excuse me, I’m in hot pursuit.” His car accelerated to 70 in the next few seconds, and he shut off his phone.

  The plan went well till they got close to the city, and she pulled off onto surface streets. The helicopter couldn’t follow, so he called their resident hacker over the headset. “Where is she going?”

  “She Googled singles nightclubs from her phone,” said the hacker.

  He listed several of the top choices before Crusader stopped him. “They’re all within a few blocks of one another. Call in everyone we have. Get them to that triangle now. I don’t care what you need to do, threaten, or promise. We’re playing catch-up.”

  He got lucky. They kept the target under covert surveillance while gathering resources. She hopped from club to club, men buying her alcohol at every stop. One spotter said, “Talk about jail bait. She’s a fish, sucking down every drop and dancing like there’s no tomorrow. She’s been putting out feelers for a three-way.”

  “Good, I want her loaded and clueless when I drop the hammer.”

  When everything was in place, he had twenty-three men surrounding her in the current club. Crusader got out of his car at nightfall and chambered a round in his gun. The music was painfully loud and repetitive, but the head of security couldn’t have repeated the words if asked. He was focused on one task alone, stopping this killer.

  He could feel her from across the dance floor. She stopped the grind she was performing against a pair of football players and bopped over to her tiny booth. She tipped back a fluted glass and drank something sweet and melon colored. Afterward, she collapsed onto the red, leather seat, her well-formed ass sticking up in the air.

  Crusader knew this was a distraction. She was on to them. “Light her up,” he ordered, pulling his sidearm. Around the room, and perimeter, the other men did the same. Red laser pinpoints danced on her chest and forehead. “Freeze, Horvath!” he bellowed, not four feet from the blonde.

  Sedna pulled a pack of explosives out of her oversized purse. From the size of the package, she could take at least fifty people with her. Attached to the bomb by a leash of wires was a held-held detonator. A green LED lit up when she squeezed the control.

  “That’s a deadman’s switch, no one fire!” Crusader shouted.

  The music stopped.

  “You and me,” he offered into the silence.

  Sedna nodded, licking a drop of Midori off her lip.

  “Get these people the hell out of here!” Crusader ordered. People screamed and his men did their best to evacuate over a hundred civilians.

  When the room had been cleared of all innocents and his men had pulled back to the perimeter, he held up his hands and placed his gun on the floor.

  “Your backup, too,” she insisted.

  He pulled the gun off his ankle and put it beside the first.

  “Come sit next to me,” she ordered.

  “Why?” he demanded. At this distance, he had a slight chance of survival. Any closer and he didn’t have a prayer.

  “You killed my sister.”

  “I didn’t expect to survive that fall. I was just trying to take one of you traitors with me.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We can’t stop the wheels now. You made the trade, your life for all those others. I didn’t ask for that.” She looked vulnerable and beautiful, but he knew this was going to be his last night on earth unless he handled the viper very carefully. She held the detonator in her left hand and patted the seat beside her. Terrified, he sat beside her.

  “Am I pretty?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Smart?”

  “The best mass-murderer I’ve ever faced,” he admitted.

  She smiled at this. “That means a lot coming from you. You’ve probably studied me more than any man on this doomed planet.”

  “What do you want?”

  Suddenly, she was crying, surprising them both. “I don’t want to be alone. My…my sister couldn’t be here with me. She has a family of her own now.”

  He nodded.

  “Hold my hand,” she said.

  He grasped her right hand with his left.

  “I have to burn my DNA,” she explained. “It’s part of the rules.”

  “I understand. Leave no evidence. You can’t get caught.”

  She sniffed, �
��Finally, someone who gets me. How screwed up is that?” After a pause, she asked, “Do you think I have a soul?”

  “I think it’s pretty damn tattered, but yes,” Crusader said, trying to keep hope alive.

  “Give me a kiss and tell me it’s the best you’ve ever had.”

  He leaned in, and when their lips touched, Crusader grabbed for the detonator. She let go a fraction of a second before he got there. She knew a moment of pure peace, like the instant before the supplicant is crushed by the idol of the Jagganath.

  Chapter 44 – A Desperate Plan

  PJ and Amy lay in each other’s arms on the blanket later that night, neither of them talking for a long time. Eventually, she broke the glowing silence by speaking his name, “Percival.” It sounded great when she said it. “I guess I’ve always had a weakness for white knights. Tell me more about how you got your name.”

  “That would be the story of my mom, Gwenevere. You’d like her. Her family was British, Grandpa was in the military. Mom vowed she would never move around like that again and her husband wouldn’t be gone six months out of the year. After they settled in Canada, she went to nursing school in Pennsylvania where she met Dad. He was an accountant for the state who had never left his hometown except to visit the seashore one week every summer. His father was a missionary who had died overseas during some outbreak. I guess the wandering gene skips a generation, because I’m a techno-gypsy. I haven’t been in one place for more than two years since age eighteen.”

  “My, a poor Virginia girl seduced by a man of the world,” she embellished with a Scarlett O’Hara accent.

  PJ felt a little sheepish, not wanting to imply anything of the sort. “The end of the world has a powerful effect on people. Normally, I wouldn’t do this on a first date. I don’t think you would either.”

  He ran his hand over her beautiful hip as he struggled with how he could tell her. Barely audible, he mumbled, “This was the first time I’ve ever gone all the way.”

  PJ expected a lot of reactions: that explains it, what’s wrong with you, and so forth. Instead, she nuzzled into his chest and said, “I think it’s sweet. My husband was a virgin when we met, too.”