by Scott Rhine
“You took a DNA sample of my wife?” the billionaire objected.
“Of everyone involved in the project,” she admitted. “Even you.”
“That’s…” he began in outrage.
“Just what we need to find her within the hour. I’d only use something like this for life-or-death emergencies.”
Fortune calmed. “You’re right. I should have thought of it myself after her last kidnapping. Why didn’t you tell anybody?”
“In case I had to go after Crusader for extracurricular activities.”
“Oh, dear,” Fortune remarked. “Thank you. The waiting will still be agony.”
“Did you ping the Virus?” she asked.
“Not yet.”
“He’ll tell you if anything happened. He may steal for a living and screw sewer rats, but he keeps his word. He promised Starlet safe passage,” she encouraged. “Now, I need you to focus on your Quarterback. We’re at third down with ten yards to go. Do you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“We need people in Washington behind this joint effort. Get everyone you can to pressure NASA into cooperating.”
“What’s the emergency really about?”
“Someone named PJ Smith has an idea that could save everyone. I’m not sure if he’s been infected with the gold bug or not, but I’m planning to meet him soon.”
“Saving us from what?” Fortune demanded.
“Someone let a genie out of its bottle,” she said, avoiding details. “If you’ve got any favors saved for a rainy day, this is it.”
“Understood,” said the billionaire, drifting.
“Elias, she’s my best friend. I want to help her, too. But if you don’t do this, she’ll be one of the first to die.”
When she hung up, Talos nodded. “Take no prisoners, fashionista.”
“My call sign is Iron Butterfly,” she corrected.
“No doubt,” he laughed.
“Who can I put pressure on to make this rescue a team effort?”
The fixer sighed. “NASA command and control has been a mess since Challenger. At a high level, they’re unified to make safety the number-one objective on each mission. The head guy stays at Marshall, in Alabama. He has deputy directors at each launch site: Johnson and Kennedy. They had operational authority, but funding comes through another channel…”
“And you complain shoes are boring,” she jibed. “Give me a name.”
“Morton Wilder, in Huntsville. He’s the man in charge, but he’s off grid. We need to find someone who can authorize a special appropriation through the GAO or maybe an executive order.”
“I need the president?”
“You need the vice president or a former president to send a message to the president. There’s one in New York City who has a think tank of his own and doesn’t mind a pretty face. He goes running every morning around six. I’ll get you a flight,” he said, disappearing.
Tired, Jez activated her assistants, putting them to work in shifts around the clock until further notice. Marcie said simply, “You need a real honeymoon.”
“Schedule a Caribbean cruise for two leaving Florida on Tuesday afternoon.”
Jez pulled every string she could to get the morning-run meeting. On the line to the bunker, Jez said, “Officially this is about me sharing third-world economic models with his think tank. I might not be able to sway him. I need you folks to find another heavy hitter to convince in case I don’t pull through.”
Amy agreed. “Good plan. So you’re not going to come visit us?”
“There isn’t enough of me to go around. I’ve got to fly three hours to New York, recharge my laptop, buy a complete jogging outfit, and shower by six. Talos will swing by as soon as I’m on the plane. I’ve got confidence in you. Anyone who can turn a disaster this big into a landmark science demonstration can get to Cape Kennedy without me.”
“That was PJ,” the former aide said modestly. “He’s the idea man.”
Jez replied, “I was a magician’s assistant for years. He’d come up with some brilliant illusion, but I was the one who had to do all the contortions to make it look effortless. We both know that an idea man is nothing without a practical woman who gets things done.” That earned her a laugh. “Seriously, when this is all done, I want to talk to both of you about a job.”
“So this is all just an elaborate job interview? Wow, tough crowd,” Amy joked.
The battery on Jez’s phone was almost dead. After she hung up, Talos gestured for her come over to the glass door. Thinking nothing of it, she hopped off the desk. Then, dizziness made her sink to her knees. The large, African-American man rushed in to help her to her feet. She clutched Tannenbaum’s steel-cased laptop like a teddy bear.
“I’m okay,” she said weakly.
“Really, ‘cause you look two shades more Caucasian than when you came in here.”
“I just haven’t eaten or slept today, and it’s probably starting to catch up with me.”
As he walked her out to a brown four-door he got from the motor pool, he said, “There are no more scheduled flights tonight. We had to charter one from a commercial airline. Since we have two hours till take off, there’s plenty of time to get you to the chow hall.”
“Breakfast food,” she requested. He nodded and pulled up a twenty-four hour diner on his GPS. “And we need to stop at BoxMart for sneakers and a power cord for the laptop. I can’t meet a former president in bloody bunny slippers and with no slideshow.”
When the diner came into view, he complained, “Isn’t this the restaurant chain that wouldn’t serve the black Secret Service agent? How are they going to treat a black man coming in with a white girl?”
She snorted. “We’ll tell them you’re my personal trainer. Leave the waitress to me—there won’t be a problem.”
He ordered coffee and a muffin. She ordered a Belgian waffle with strawberries, hash browns, and fruit on the side. When Jez saw the eggs Benedict topped with steak, she ordered a complete second meal. “Bring my side of chicken noodle soup out with the drinks,” she requested.
While they waited for their meals, Jez let her senses expand a bit. Something she had seen while ordering bothered her. On her phone she typed, “Watch man in red Mustang.” The man in question wore music headphones.
Talos nodded. He was facing the window to the parking lot while she watched people in the restaurant.
“What does a walrus have in common with Tupperware?” she asked.
“What?” he rumbled.
“They both like a tight seal.”
The man in the car laughed. An Asian man in the booth facing hers had a newspaper on his lap. Jez could tell the man was listening to her. They were being miked. People were following them.
Jez excused herself, taking the laptop with her. “Excuse me; I need to wash my hands.”
The Asian man fell into step behind her. When she pushed the swinging door open to the ladies’ room, the man trailing her closed the gap. He was either there to kill her or take the laptop. She stood at the sink, watching with her extra senses. As he stepped across the threshold, Jez kicked the door into his face. He landed on his butt in the hallway. When the angry man pulled a gun, Talos kicked it out of his hand. The Asian man started to threaten them when Talos snapped his neck with a jerk. “Time to run,” he said, picking up the assailant’s gun and pulling one of his own.
She was even dizzier than before and could barely breathe. The brutality and hate emanating from both men had been overwhelming. Being connected to a person at death had broken something in Jez. As Talos dragged her through the restaurant like a mannequin, she speed-dialed Fortune with the push of a button. She got his answering machine. Slurring her words, she said, “Smith is now Quarterback. Protect your…”
The moment they got outside, gunfire erupted. Talos jerked her so hard that her phone clattered to the sidewalk.
Things were getting fuzzy, her batteries were running low. Aiming both guns in the direction of
the red Mustang, Talos searched for the sniper.
Her empathic senses told her that the man behind the black SUV had hostile intent. Without planning, she raised the laptop to shield the back of Talos’s head. Three shots shattered the metallic laptop case. The last bullet grazed her hand.
“Fug, that hurts!” she slurred like a drunk as she dropped what remained of the destroyed laptop. She pulled in her senses, afraid of what might happen next.
Talos finished the driver of the Mustang with the efficiency of a lumberjack removing and burning a tick. When there was no chance of a pulse resuming, Talos checked her for injuries. Her nose was bleeding more than the fleshy area between her thumb and forefinger. She had double vision and her right arm was going numb. She tried to reach for her phone to dial 911, but the arm wouldn’t move. “Stroke?” she muttered.
“Probably just shock, Butterfly. You did fan-damn-tastic. I would be honored to take you shoe shopping…after we get you to the hospital.”
People inside had already called the police and emergency vehicles. Talos would be detained. PJ was in danger. “Go, protect Quarterback,” she mumbled.
He hesitated. A woman in a nurse’s outfit ran out.
“Back away, give her room,” the nurse ordered.
Talos palmed her purse as he got into his car. He’d find the Jane Doe in an hour or so. Until then, anonymity was her best defense. Hopefully, all they had wanted was the laptop.
“Damn drug dealers,” the nurse swore as Talos drove away. Jez was beyond commenting.
When Talos reached the bunker, he left his keys over the visor in the car he’d checked out from the motor pool. He was relieved to see a face he recognized. It was a pudgy man with almost no hair, but an amiable grin. “Spacely, you old dog.” The Jetson code names for the NASA adjunct security team were an old joke.
“I didn’t think you’d make it,” said the intelligence officer, nervously. “I’ve been hearing some ugly rumors.”
Talos came over to shake his hand. “Yeah, people are dropping like flies around me today. I lost the laptop.”
Spacely looked surprised. “Elevator’s over here. What happened to it?”
Talos walked ahead and pushed the button. “Shot to pieces. It saved my life, though. I’m the only one left who can testify to Congress.”
“Wow,” said the lead spook, drawing his silenced pistol. “You’ve made my job easy.”
Puzzled, Talos turned around as the other agent fired two rounds into his chest. Spacely located one of the guards. “The terrorists sent another infiltration team. Help me dispose of the body.”
Chapter 46 – An Expert in Handling Nutcases
After Benny finished the phone call with his new wife, he called his mother with the political request. As expected, there were strings. “I want you to get married in our cathedral, full press coverage. I want you to look like royalty,” his mother said.
“Uh…we kind of already eloped. Someone already leaked it though Twitter.”
“I see.” There was a long pause. “That accelerates matters. There’s a fundraiser dinner for the Republic party at that big, new hotel tonight. You need to go there.”
“You want me to put in a word for your husband? Get people to donate?”
“No,” she said. “I want you to get off your ass and run for office. At least announce an exploratory committee. The Democrats are weak in that district. I think you could win that seat in your sleep.”
“Mom!”
“One call from me will net millions for your coffers.”
“But I’m not interested in State Congress.”
“I was talking about Washington, Benjamin. I want to be one of the new Kennedys. My grandbabies are going to meet world leaders.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I don’t know what you think I do for a living, but I’m good at it. People in the party are already calling me a kingmaker. In ten years, with some hard work and the right coaching, you could have a chance at the presidency. You’re a natural.”
His gut twisted. “I can’t use my talent like that, it wouldn’t be right.”
“Do you want your favor?”
“Yes.”
“Take the first step, that’s all I ask. You can stop any time you like,” his mother assured him. He felt like Faust being seduced by the devil.
He railed at the walls and cursed, amusing the FBI agent who was channel-surfing. Eventually, because he had promised Jez, he put his tuxedo back on. As he was dressing, Fortune called. “Nobody is answering their phones!”
The billionaire told him about the DNA cache needed to find Claudette. Benny soothed his feathers. “I’ll get the packet myself and call the swami. He’s not as strong, but if she’s close to where we last saw her, it won’t take long to triangulate.”
He fumbled with the tie as he wandered into Jez’s office. Tan greeted him from the hall. “I thought you and your bride would be sleeping on your side of the house.”
“I had to get something from her safe,” Benny said, pulling Starlet’s DNA pouch out. “Could you do me a big favor?”
Tan crossed his arms. “Why does everybody start their conversations with that today?”
“Yeah, well if you hadn’t taken Daniel to his love shack, I wouldn’t need to ask. Jez found a way to locate Claudette. Give this to Swami Rama and drive him to the flophouse that burned down. I have a feeling she needs a rescue. I’d go myself, but my wife and the devil have other plans for me.”
“So I have the easy task,” Tan noted.
“With a Fed chained to my ankle, I have to ask a room full of pork bellies to help me bend the rules in Washington without lying, breaking national security, or signing away my soul.”
“Makes me nostalgic for grass huts,” commented his friend.
“You and me both.”
****
Around 10:30 p.m., Tan strode into a high-school chemistry classroom to join a growing crowd of spectators. There was a giant periodic table displayed above the chalkboard. The swami led him to the heart of the crowd of custodians and people setting up for a science fair. Using materials like modeling clay, yardsticks, and Popsicle sticks, Claudette was constructing an image from memory. The shape was an intricate, convoluted nest of sixteen loops. The only complete whorl hurt his eyes to look at. Someone in the group was videotaping the starlet’s efforts, and several others took photos.
When he could tear his gaze away from the bizarre sculpting efforts, Tan phoned Benny. “How is the devil?”
“Throwing a party. It’s like fat-cat Christmas. Sharks, all of them. The House Committee on Science is the agency responsible for investigating NASA problems. The chairman of that committee is a Republican. He’ll do me a personal favor and back the story we cooked up. In return, I have to put pressure on the weak Democratic seat. On the news tomorrow, I have to announce my intent to launch an exploratory committee to run for office.”
“Is that like sorority girls getting pinned?” Tan asked.
The actor laughed. “They’d like to do more than pin me. I keep telling these politicians the truth, and they laugh. It’s surreal.”
Tan watched the actress build another twisted arch. “Not as surreal as here. Tell Dirt Bag we found his wife. She’s very active.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I think we’re going to need a lot more Popsicle sticks.”
Benny left the political event early and raced to the high school. As he arrived, he managed to reach Fortune on the phone. Benny opened with, “Tan found your wife at an old school near Virus’s place. We’re heading into the building now. Tell Jez I got Congressional oversight on our side. That just means when she succeeds, they’ll share the credit.” When he saw the sculpture, the actor blurted, “Holy shit.”
The FBI agent behind him echoed, “What he said.”
Benny remembered he was on the phone. “No, no, Elias, Claudette is unharmed, but infected by a page. Look, everyone here is spooked because of t
he explosion downtown. I have no idea what’s going on; we can’t reach Crusader, so I’ve ordered all our people into lockdown, by the book.”
Fortune explained, “That’s because the explosion was Crusader. Continue with the lockdown. This may be the beginning of another offensive.”
“Yes, sir. We have guards on your boy’s love shack, and I have to get back home. I promise I’ll take Claudette along.”
Closing his phone, Benny turned to Tan. “Is this model math of some sort? God, I wish Jez were here. She’d just read for an hour and tell me what it is. I feel like my arms are in casts again without her.”
The science teacher next to Benny said, “I think it’s a Calabi Yau superstring. Remember the PBS special called The Elegant Universe?”
“How do you spell that?” asked the FBI agent.
“Don’t ask me,” said Tan.
Then, Benny tried to talk the obsessed starlet into abandoning her project for the night. She didn’t budge until he said, “This is much easier with the CAD programs that the planet search fellows have. I’m sure Kyle Anderson could have his team show you how to do this in their IMAX room with computer gloves much quicker.”
She put down the clay and walked toward his car, not even wiping her brown-stained hands. To the crowd, he announced, “This is what my science documentary team will be working on tomorrow. Stay tuned to PBS for the next installment.”
He talked the cameraman into doing a 360-degree walk around the shape from several angles, in case the shape was damaged in transit. Without being told, Normandy confiscated the video and called a clean-up crew.
Claudette wanted to go to the lab that night. Benny said, “Why don’t we get you a clean set of clothes and some food?”
After eating three meals worth of Chinese at one sitting, Claudette collapsed in the car.
“How do you know how to handle these nutcases so well?” asked Normandy.
“My wife does stuff like this all the time. You just have to remind them they’re still human and the problem will still be there tomorrow,” Benny said. In the back of his mind, he felt he had lied to all the people at the fundraiser by not telling them about being a killer. They put Claudette in Jez’s old bed, and put the usual cheat alarm on the door in case she wandered out to do more work while normal people were sleeping.
