Cloud Dust: RD-1

by Connie Suttle

"Cori, didn't you take your pain medication?" James waited in the kitchen for us, a cup of coffee in his hand.

  "Not on an empty stomach," I said. "I have it with me." I pulled the small bottle from my sweater pocket, the pills rattling against plastic as I shook it at him.

  "I'll get milk," James offered and slid off his barstool to walk to the fridge.

  "Thank you."

  "I beeped Colonel Hunter; he wants to see both of you," James said, handing a small glass of milk to me. I took my pill while Rafe made two cups of coffee.

  "Does he want eggs?" I asked, shuffling to the proper cabinet to get a skillet.

  "He's had breakfast, but he might want coffee," James said as Auggie walked into the kitchen.

  "I do want coffee," he said, sliding onto a barstool next to James'. Rafe made a third cup and placed it in front of him.

  "Ted Ryan and his bombing buddies died after driving off a bridge in Seattle last night," August said pleasantly, as if he were describing the weather instead of five deaths.

  "Gee, that's too bad," I muttered, setting the skillet on the stove and heading toward the fridge for eggs. "Honey, do you want eggs and bacon or an omelette?" I asked Rafe.

  "Omelette. Let me help."

  He chopped ham, onions, tomatoes and mushrooms while I beat eggs and added milk. Honey, I sent in his direction, you are amazing. I've never had a man who knew his way around the kitchen before.

  I poured eggs into the skillet, and he followed shortly with enough meat and vegetables to make a nice omelette. Two omelettes turned out to be enough for all four of us—Auggie decided he was hungry after all.

  "How's the pain?" Dr. Shaw asked as he wandered into the kitchen twenty minutes later.

  "Okay," James answered first, holding up his cast-covered wrist.

  "Medication's helping," I said. "Want anything to eat?"

  "Just coffee. I had breakfast earlier," he said, turning the coffee pod carousel and choosing the coffee he wanted.

  "Coffee?" Maye walked in.

  "Have a seat, I'll get it," Leo offered.

  "You guys don't look so good," Maye said, nodding to us.

  "You should see the other guys," Rafe grinned.

  "Will we be sent after Nick?" Maye asked Auggie, her frustration over his absence evident in her voice and expression.

  "I haven't gotten a call from the White House yet," August said. "This is a tough decision, Maye. Surely you realize that."

  "I know. I just feel powerless and angry. Angry that Kevin and Ken are dead. Angry that Becker is more of an asshole than anybody suspected. That Gene is leading him down the wrong path. That Nick felt he had to take matters into his own hands."

  "We all feel that way," Leo said. "It's understandable. Would you like an appointment this afternoon, so we can talk about it?"

  "Yeah. Colonel Hunter, will you let me know the minute you get an answer from the President?" A silent plea clouded Maye's blue eyes as she blinked at August.

  "I'll come to you first," he promised.

  "Thank you."

  Chapter 13

  Corinne

  We heard the helicopter approaching from a distance. I'm sure half the villa's population was staring out windows as the chopper landed on the helipad behind the house.

  The Vice President and two guards stepped out of it and met August, Jeff, Leo and several others on the back patio. They were locked inside Auggie's office for an hour.

  The Vice President flew away again after that. Then, the knock came on our door. James was outside when Rafe answered. "Colonel Hunter wants to see you in his office," he said. Rafe turned and motioned for me to follow.

  * * *

  "I've been named Director of the Program, or what's left of it," August announced when Rafe, Maye and I were called to his office for a short meeting. What he didn't say was that he'd be appointed Secretary of Defense in a few days, too, following Congressional approval.

  That wouldn't make Cutter happy at all.

  "Congratulations," I said. "You deserve that and more."

  "Corinne, that means a lot to me," he said, his dark eyes shining. "Would you mind having dinner with me tonight, so we can discuss what to do about Nick? The President can't make up her mind on this, so I'd like your help."

  "If you want. Just me, or Rafe, too?"

  "Just you, if you don't mind."

  "All right."

  * * *

  "I didn't know they did this," I said, turning in a circle to take in the private dining room located over the sunroom at the back of the villa.

  "Started just before we left for Scotland. Isn't completely finished yet, but it makes sense, doesn't it?" Auggie said. "People can have private dinners without the noise of the cafeteria and everybody else listening in."

  "Yeah."

  We waited to begin our conversation after drinks were served. Champagne flutes were set in front of us, along with water goblets and a basket of bread.

  "I didn't know you liked champagne," I said as it was poured for both of us. "I can only have a sip—concussion, you know."

  "I know. This is in celebration of my new job," he said. "Since my wife can't be here," he lifted his glass in a toast.

  "More power to you, Auggie," I clinked my glass against his.

  "Now," he said when food was placed in front of us and our waiter left. "What do you know about Nick, and what should we do about it?"

  "Nick is doing just fine," I said. "He wants Becker and Gene, but if Cutter happens to be in the way, it'll be too bad for him, too."

  "This isn't something he can do alone, even if he does manage to find them."

  "Auggie, sometimes things aren't what they seem on the surface. You know that."

  "I sure know you turned out to be more than a pretty face."

  "I don't know whether that's a compliment or not."

  "It's neither, and it's a little insensitive," he acknowledged. "Will you tell me what you know about Nick, or is that something I don't need to know right now? I'm worried about the fact that he has no cash or credit cards."

  "Auggie, he has money," I admitted.

  "How?"

  "I gave it to him."

  "What the hell?" August dropped his butter knife and stared at me.

  "He was about to explode. I knew that. I slipped an envelope of cash beneath his door before we flew to Scotland. I worry about him feeding himself, just as much as you do."

  "He still has to find Gene and Becker."

  "He'll find them. He knows what to do, too, when he does."

  "He can't do this alone."

  "Auggie, this is where you'll have to trust me, okay? I think Nick will be all right. You know," I watched as he lifted his butter knife, then frowned at the smear of butter on the white tablecloth for a moment.

  "I know what?" He turned his eyes to me, then.

  "I think Maye needs a project to keep her mind off Nick," I said, although that wasn't what I'd been about to say.

  "Shaw says the same thing." He took another pat of butter and placed it on his roll.

  "Do you think she could work at the Smithsonian without drawing too much attention or punching too many people?"

  "Why?"

  "I think somebody may target it, next."

  Auggie thought for a few seconds before speaking. "Somebody wants the Hope Diamond, then?"

  "Possibly."

  "I don't need possibly, Cori. I need facts."

  "They want it. I know that for sure."

  "You think Mary Evans may be here in the States?"

  "It's possible."

  "Then I'll talk to the President and see if we can't get Maye into the Natural History Museum at the Smithsonian."

  * * *

  "What did you talk about?" Ilya asked when I got back to our suite after my dinner with Auggie.

  "About Maye and the Hope Diamond. I think that's Mary Evans' next target. I'm amazed that she can get into the country with every department in existence looking for her, right no
w."

  "She's done this before," Ilya frowned. "Many times. Perhaps she will arrive via Canada. Or Mexico. Or by private yacht."

  "I just want her caught," I said. "I'm hoping Maye can do that. Ilya, I'm worried about Auggie."

  "Why?"

  "Well, first off, Cutter will be pissed. That'll paint a bigger target on Auggie's back. Second, I don't think his wife is gonna like being married to the next Secretary of Defense."

  "He will receive that promotion as well?"

  "I think that's the plan," I said dryly. "He's not telling anybody, but I figured it out. Keep it quiet, please, until the official announcement is made."

  "I will."

  "I really, really want a drink right now," I said, flopping onto the sofa in our sitting room. "I only got a sip of Auggie's champagne at dinner, to celebrate his promotion."

  "How about a trip to the hot tub instead? For your muscle aches?"

  "That would be nice."

  * * *

  We found James sitting in the hot tub when we arrived, his cast-covered wrist held out of the water and propped on the slate floor surrounding the spa.

  "So, found a way around not getting it wet?" I smiled at him.

  "Yeah."

  "Want a towel beneath your wrist before I get in?" I asked.

  "Would you?"

  "Sure." I grabbed a towel from a stack next to the door and brought it to him. He lifted his arm while I placed the folded towel beneath it.

  "Much better," he sighed as Rafe held out a hand to help me into the spa.

  "Those stones are hard," I agreed and took a seat between James and Rafe. "Water is nice, though. I think I ache all over."

  "Did Colonel Hunter talk to you about your pay?"

  "What pay?"

  "He wants to set up an account for you—the others draw a paycheck that they spend through me or through finance. Until now, you didn't get anything—you've supported yourself for the most part, except for a few expenditures here and there."

  "I know. I really don't need more money, James," I said.

  "But that's not right. Colonel Hunter wants to name you as a special consult, with an official pay grade and everything."

  "But," I said.

  "I've already set up the paperwork and the President signed off on it."

  "Wonderful. Can I build a separate residence in the backyard of this behemoth, too?" I asked. "I really want a beach house, but that's not in the cards."

  "That probably won't happen. Colonel Hunter has asked for a new facility somewhere to house the Program."

  "He's probably right to do that," I agreed with a sigh. "But I hate being fenced in and confined."

  * * *

  "Thank you for being here so late," President Sanders offered Dr. Richard Farrell a seat in the Oval Office.

  "I didn't have much choice. Your minions were particularly persuasive, Madam President," he replied. "Which one is on the loose?"

  "There are two on the loose, but only one of them is with my less than savory opposition," Amelia Sanders responded. "Becker has defected, and Nick has taken it upon himself to track him."

  "What do you want to know?"

  "What Becker in the hands of an enemy might do to us."

  "That depends."

  "On what?"

  "On whether they want to reproduce the Program, or if they merely want to kill ninety-five percent of the population instead."

  "How quickly could they do both?" President Sanders did her best to mask her growing alarm.

  "Not long, if they get on the right track. The drug is dangerous. You read the dossier when you took this office, I assume?"

  "Yes. If the Program had begun during my term, I would have canceled it early on. The risks were just too great."

  "I understand that. I also understand that Cutter may have been informed of this long before you offered him the position of Secretary of Defense."

  "Because he was friends with the previous President?"

  "Yes."

  "Then why did they appear to butt heads at every turn?" the President asked.

  "For obvious reasons. I was never fooled. If you'd contacted me beforehand, I could have told you that."

  "I have one in the Program who could have told me the same thing, I think," she muttered. "I just didn't know to ask at the time."

  "Who? I wasn't aware of any of them having that sort of talent."

  "Then you should update your files. Corinne Watson can probably tell you what you had for breakfast yesterday, and what you'll have for breakfast tomorrow, most likely. All she has to do is see your face."

  "Corinne Watson? Are you sure?"

  "She's been one hundred percent accurate so far," President Sanders said.

  "A latent talent," Dr. Farrell mused. "Interesting. I'd like to see her, if you don't mind."

  "I can arrange it whenever you like."

  "Tomorrow?"

  "Yes. I'll see to it."

  * * *

  Corinne

  "We're having visitors," August announced as Rafe and I walked into the kitchen. It was Thursday morning—I only knew that because the calendar on my desktop said so.

  "Your food order arrived half an hour ago. James put it away for you," August added. "What is the likelihood of getting a fresh breakfast? I'll help."

  "That depends on what you want," I said, covering a yawn. "Coffee, first."

  "You should probably repeat your message about the visitors in ten minutes," Rafe said behind me. He steered me toward the coffeepot, just so I wouldn't be confused as to my original destination.

  After I got started on my first cup of coffee, we put eggs, sausage, toast and juice together. "Who's coming?" I asked.

  "Dr. Richard Farrell," August said. "He has at least six degrees listed after his name. I don't remember half of them."

  "Makes it hard to print business cards," I said. "Maybe he should have stopped at three. To save money and paper. Why is he coming?"

  "To talk to you. The President gave permission."

  "Really?" Yes, the word was flat and sarcastic as opposed to upbeat and excited.

  "Corinne, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't revert to old habits," August said. "He'll be here with a military escort in two hours."

  "My outfit for meeting people with at least six degrees is in the laundry."

  "Cori."

  "Yeah."

  * * *

  Notes—Colonel Hunter

  "She writes the Sarah Fox novels," James explained to Dr. Farrell as we walked toward the sunroom at the back of the villa. I'd instructed Corinne to wait there for our arrival.

  Dr. Farrell's escorts—two Navy men, were standing guard near the helicopter.

  "A novelist? I admit I don't read fiction," Farrell confessed.

  "That's all right," James said. "You asked about her; that's what you haven't heard yet."

  "I'll be interested in what she has to tell me," Dr. Farrell said.

  "It would be wise not to push too hard in that respect," I said.

  "For what reason?"

  "There are two possible outcomes. She could have a panic attack, or she could attack you verbally. Either way, you won't win the fight."

  "Interesting."

  * * *

  Corinne

  They wouldn't allow Rafe to be with me. I had to meet this man on my own. I'd hoped Auggie and James might stay for the questioning. I knew that wasn't to be the moment he entered the sunroom.

  Dr. Richard Farrell studied me for a moment while August nodded in my direction before turning James around and marching away.

  "Corinne?" He lifted an eyebrow at me.

  "Well, I see the Program had eight survivors before two were killed," I said.

  "Tell me," he took a seat on one of the cushioned rattan chairs decorating the sunroom, "why you didn't display that talent early on?"

  "I was in mourning. Do you not understand that concept?" The other eyebrow lifted to join the first. "Besides," I added, "nobody
needed to know six years ago. They need to know, now."

  "They never told me who you were, before. It's the only hole in my knowledge of the Program."

  "It will remain a hole. I'm not telling you or anyone else."

  "You sound so defensive."

  "I have a right to be. I didn't volunteer. You knew that and administered the drug anyway."

  "You were dying."

  "I know. Somebody wanted information, or they wouldn't have ordered you to give it to a potentially unwilling participant. They had six days to get you to Paris. They were waiting to see if anybody needed it, weren't they?"

  "That was the previous administration's decision."

  "Yes it was, wasn't it?"

  "You don't trust them. The previous administration."

  "Not even a little."

  "Good. I don't trust them, either. That's why I was in Antarctica, until the President sent someone to collect me."

  "I'm not surprised that the opposition wants you," I said. "You ought to be careful."

  "I was. Still intend to be."

  Can you hear me? I sent in his direction.

  "I hear you fine," he said. "I didn't think it was possible," he breathed.

  "Good," I said. "If I send a message and tell you to get the hell away from wherever you are, will you listen?"

  "I will after today."

  "Awesome. We don't need anybody else dying at the hands of those fuckers."

  "Corinne, I admit that I would love to study you now, although I doubt you'd cooperate."

  "True. I wouldn't. You might regret it, too."

  "Why would I regret it?"

  "Because I would beat you into a greasy stain on the carpet," Rafe released the shield about himself and sat next to me with a grin.

  "Holy fucking shit," Richard Farrell muttered.

  * * *

  "When did you discover you could make yourself invisible?" Richard Farrell walked with us around the perimeter of the villa grounds.

  "When Corinne told me it was possible," Rafe replied. "I had no idea."

  He hadn't—I'd told him before he left for Dublin. I didn't want him hurt if I could help it. The shield might not hide him from thermal cameras, but that remained to be seen.

  "You think I'm safer here at the moment?" Richard asked.

  "For now. I'm not sure you can avoid captivity," I said. "At the moment, they're not sure where we are. You leave, they'll pick up your trail somewhere unless you're very careful."