Neon Redemption: An Urban Fantasy Adventure (Words of Power Book 2)
Page 23
They slid into a restaurant patio booth with palm branch festooned outdoor tables which offered some privacy. Everest informed London he was paying and ordered. Drinks arrived in the personal pitcher size, and both men took a few sips. If he got to the bottom of his cup, sleeping on the sidewalk would be more comfortable. London leaned back after a minute, continuing to watch Everest with interested eyes.
“You missed Olive’s service.”
“It didn’t seem appropriate for me to be there.” Swallowing a few bites of hamburger, Everest focused on the reason London sought him out, “You’re here for the rest of the list.”
“Carpeaux checked the sample you sent him. All guilty. He needs the rest of the names before he moves so it can be dealt with all at once. I’m helping with the investigation—filling in the gaps so we can start summer with a clean house. You saved Sana Baba. Five more years of this and I can see the tipping point: when it would have made sense for Mordred to come into the open. Of course, we’ve taken a huge hit, but we’re still standing. We’ll slowly regain the books we’ve lost and work out new measures to guard against internal attacks. It’s not the first attempt to bring us low and it won’t be the last, but as it’s the one in our lifetime, we’ve overcome it.”
“You’ll be hip deep in blood, London. You haven’t seen the list. I have. They’re not strangers. They’re people in your community. Men and women you’ve gathered with and fought with and called family. Carpeaux will have you in the middle, figuring out whatever I missed and pointing your finger at anyone who could be guilty. Can you live with that, once it’s done?”
London shrugged, “Someone has to.”
Everest sighed and let it go, “How’s Alma?”
“Angry. As usual.”
“Tell her I miss her.”
“She’s on strike. Says she’s not working until you come back.”
“She’ll get over it.”
“I know. So you’re done? This is it?”
Everest passed over the question and unzipped his threadbare canvas backpack to extract a sheet of loose leaf. “I have some conditions in exchange for the information on the list.”
London plucked the paper from his outstretched hand and glanced it over. “Continuing immunity, of course. No unsolicited contact from us…” London continued to read, “A senior board? This is what you want to spend your influence on?”
Everest could devise nothing better. Thirteen or more linked agents who completed their twenty-year commitment and retired from active duty—who were not assigned to command, diplomacy, or consulting—would form an ethics group to advise on and be involved with community rearing and linking efforts. Without a minimum of thirteen retirees on the committee, all linking would be suspended until the requisite number of seats were again filled. This would ensure Sana Baba was incentivized to have a baker’s dozen or more agents actually make it to retirement who probably otherwise wouldn’t, and it would provide some level of ethical oversight for children in the program.
Once he handed the list over he had no more leverage and they could do what they wanted, but he believed Carpeaux, at least, would keep his word and form the committee. Bureaucracy, once rooted, was almost impossible to remove, guaranteeing the board’s longevity. Everest nodded at London and took a sip of his Long Island Iced Tea, “It’s a step in the right direction.”
“Come back to DC.”
“What?”
“You’re so busy with whatever this is,” London flipped his hand, summing the entirety of Everest’s life, “you can’t see it, but you can just come back. You’re forgiven any transgressions: they’ve all been neatly hung around the necks of the people on your list. We want you. Five years in command and you’re almost a legend. Never lost an agent, a leader people want to follow. Card and Angelou were both promoted. Carpeaux thinks you walk on water. You know Alma and I would prefer not to be transferred. There’s a lot of love at home, you know.”
A deeply emotional sentiment expressed by someone who couldn’t feel. Opening his second eye, Everest could see a possible future with Sana Baba. How lovely. He wouldn’t have believed it.
“I’m not done here, but thank you.”
London nodded. “Dahl?”
Everest shrugged one shoulder. No sense in denying it, but he couldn’t meet London’s eyes.
“What are the odds?” London’s voice held a guess, his fingers steepled, his posture arched and hungry. How closely did their estimates match?
“The odds on what, exactly?”
“Him forgiving you. You forgiving him. The two of you kissing and living happily ever after.”
Everest sorted through his French fries for a crispy one. He chewed slowly. London exposing his stupidity smarted. London deducing his hopes was worse. The food lost its taste. Admitting the chances to himself was easier than saying them out loud. In his heart, hope was a fragile, beautiful creature—like a baby bird, impossibly delicate and wonderful. Out in the open it became a naked, awkward, ugly little thing easily trod underfoot.
He tried to beg off, “The time frame compromises accuracy.”
“Surely you have something.”
“Heroin obscures my vision. I haven’t done enough testing to have a grasp of the additional margin of error.”
“Indulge me with your best guess.”
Everest studied the table, “Five percent.”
London reclined with a self-satisfied grin. “I’d say closer to three. He did make you shoot Olive, who you were both sleeping with. You’ll never reconcile with Ian, and Dahl also withheld the information about the healer from you. Adam knew the book was compromised and let a fourteen-year-old Dahl walk right into a nightmare he could have prevented. I don’t know what transpired between you and Mordred, but neither does Dahl, and that will eat him from the inside out no matter what you say.”
Everest raised his eyes, meeting London’s smug stare, “However small the chance might be of striking lucky, the chance is there.”
London’s brow furrowed, trying to place the quote. “Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas?”
Everest ate another fry, “No, it’s from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Roald Dahl.”
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About the Author
VK Fox lives in the beautiful Piedmont region with her husband and a small herd of children. When she’s not deep in her mind she enjoys wranglin
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