by C. J. Hill
Downstairs, Shang’s mom called something in Chinese. She must have heard the mirror break.
Jesse hoped she didn’t come up to check on them. The mirror chunks might be hard to explain.
“Everything’s fine,” Shang called back in English. “Just a small accident. I’ll clean it up.” He opened the envelope, took out a printed sheet of paper and read silently.
“What is it?” Lilly asked.
Shang’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “A rejection letter from a publisher. They wish me all the luck with my manuscript, but feel that contemporary fantasy isn’t right for the market at this time.”
Lilly edged closer to Shang. “I didn’t know you were a writer.”
“Obviously I’m not,” Shang said. “At least not a good one.”
The shards of mirror sat on the dresser like the pieces of a jagged puzzle. Jesse picked up a couple of bigger ones and threw them in the trash can. “You don’t remember writing a book?” If Shang didn’t remember doing it, then the story most likely involved dragons.
Shang shrugged. “I don’t remember writing a novel, sending it anywhere, or getting this letter, but it’s addressed to me.”
Dragons it was, then. Shang had written about being a Slayer.
Lilly turned to Jesse. “He wouldn’t have put secrets into a novel and then sent it off to a stranger to get it published.”
Jesse’s mom had worked on a book with one of her history teacher friends, so he knew a little about the process. “You don’t send publishers your entire book right off. You send editors a letter about the story. If they’re interested, they ask for the manuscript.”
Shang tossed the paper on his desk. “Why would I tell myself to look for a rejection letter?”
“Because then you’d look for the manuscript,” Jesse said. “I think you should find it and read it.”
Lilly picked up the letter and scanned it. “Terror from the Sky. Sounds like an interesting book.”
“It’s probably buried in one of your computer folders,” Jesse said.
Shang took the letter from Lilly and reread it. “Do you think the story has to do with the drug case?”
“Maybe not the drug case,” Jesse said. “But something else.”
“We’ll come visit again later,” Lilly added. “And you can tell us about it.” Her voice held more optimism now.
Unjustified optimism. Even if Shang knew the truth about what he used to be, it wouldn’t change much. He had still lost his powers and wouldn’t get them back for years, if at all. Despite this fact, Jesse didn’t feel quite so hopeless anymore either. If Shang knew the truth about himself, the Slayers might not have completely lost him after all.
Chapter 29
When Tori got home from school, she promptly ditched Lars. This involved telling him that she was doing homework, then climbing out of her second-story bedroom window. Perhaps it wasn’t the safest thing she’d ever done, but really, why had her parents ever let her go rappelling if they didn’t expect her to use the skill in real life?
She drove to DC to make a surprise visit to her father, speeding when she could. The flash drive lay on the passenger seat like an offering—no, a move in a chess game. It was still in the bag so it wouldn’t pick up fingerprints or any traces of fibers from her or her car. She parked farther from the senate building than she needed so she could pretend to have met a mysterious stranger on the walk over. She did, in fact, pass several shadowy people, or perhaps they were just tourists—that was part of the mystery.
Honestly, if Dr. B was going to give her assignments, he ought to come up with credible stories to go along with them.
The senate building was a massive structure of gray granite and arched windows. Columns were suspended in a row halfway up the structure, as though the second floor wanted to belong in Rome, but the ground floor was too practical for such things. The impression Tori always got when she went inside was that everyone imagined themselves to be very important and very busy. Even after you showed your ID to the security guards, they glowered as if you were smuggling explosives in your skirt.
Fortunately, her father’s secretary, Mrs. Wright, was friendly. Whenever she saw Tori, she always smiled and asked about school.
Today Tori swept up to Mrs. Wright’s desk, blinked back a hint of fake tears, and said, “I really need to see my dad. It’s an emergency. I have this problem and I need to talk to him. Can you get me in?”
Mrs. Wright tutted over Tori in concern. “Of course, hon. He’s never too busy to be your father.” She rescheduled a meeting with a lobbyist, and ten minutes later, Mrs. Wright escorted Tori into her father’s office. “You two take all the time you need,” she said, then left, shutting the door behind her.
Her father looked up from his desk, far less concerned than Mrs. Wright had been. “Tori. What are you doing here?”
Still trying to come up with a credible story. She sat in one of the chairs and struck what she hoped was a wistful pose. “Um, I needed to get out of the house, so I decided to visit you . . .”
He eyed her, looking nearly as suspicious as the security guards. “Really?”
This was it; she’d just have to go with the mysterious-stranger story. “Yeah. But then on the way, something . . . well, something really weird happened.”
“Let me guess,” her dad broke in. “Did it involve Lars calling you repeatedly as he tried to track you down?”
“No,” she said, taking her phone from her coat pocket to check. “Oh, actually yes, I guess he did.” Wow. He’d discovered she was missing a lot sooner than she’d expected.
“Right,” her dad said. “Because that wouldn’t be weird. That would be Lars doing the job he’s paid to do. You, on the other hand, don’t seem to have any notion of what a bodyguard is for.” Her father pressed the call button to his secretary. “Marylenn, could you call my wife and Lars? Tell them that Tori is here.”
Mrs. Wright’s voice came back over the speaker. “Already done.”
Tori shifted in the chair. “Sorry to worry everyone.” The wistful pose had done no good, so she straightened. “But shouldn’t I be allowed to visit my father without a tall humorless man tagging along? It’s not like the senate building is a dangerous place to go.”
Her father tapped his pen against his desk in irritation. “We’ve talked about this. You didn’t tell anyone where you were going, and you didn’t answer your phone.”
She hadn’t taken Lars along because he would have known she’d made up the story about the flash drive.
She gazed at the ceiling, letting out a martyr-like sigh. “I wanted to visit my father—you know, so I could privately talk to you about stuff, like, um, the difficulties of being a teenager. I thought you’d be happy to see me. Now I feel unwanted.”
Her father raised an unconvinced eyebrow. “Your desire to spend time with me would be more touching if I didn’t know you’d climbed out of your window to get past Lars to do it.”
Tori let out an indignant cough. How had Lars known that part? “Was he watching my bedroom door? That’s just creepy, Dad.”
Her father went back to tapping his pen. “So what was the weird thing that happened on the way here?”
Right. That. Tori’s thoughts snapped back to the mission. “While I was walking here, this man came over—he must have recognized me, because he asked me to give you this.” She pulled the flash drive from her purse, got up from her chair, and dropped it on his desk. “He said it had incriminating evidence on Senator Ethington. Something about him being involved in an arms smuggling deal that’s going to happen tomorrow morning. If the man was right, then you’ve got to stop Senator Ethington.”
With a huff of exasperation, her father picked up the flash drive. “Strange men are approaching you on the street, and you wonder why you have to have a bodyguard.”
“The man wasn’t strange. He wore a business suit, and he was clean-shaven, and um, really credible looking.”
Her fathe
r pointed his finger at her. “From now on, you will assume that anywhere you’re going, Lars will be with you.”
Tori slumped back into her seat. “Dad, I think the thing you should be concentrating on is that Senator Ethington could be involved in criminal activity.”
“That’s a serious accusation.” Her father turned his attention to the flash drive. “If the mystery man had evidence, why didn’t he turn it over to the FBI?”
“He said he did, but they’re too slow, and this thing is happening tomorrow morning. You can stop it.”
Her father put the drive into one of the laptops on his desk, scanned for viruses, and then frowned at whatever had come up on his screen. The frown darkened as he read. Finally, he clicked the audio link. Senator Ethington’s voice came over the speakers, muffled but distinct.
I’ll make sure the container makes it through customs. Be sure your men are there to pick it up. And don’t do something stupid like speeding so the cops have a reason to pull you over.
There was a pause while he listened to the other speaker.
You’ll get the money when the inventory is checked. Last time you shorted us thirty AK-103s. We won’t pay for guns you don’t deliver.
Another pause.
It had better be. Call me when you leave Newark.
The recording ended. Tori’s father stared at the computer, his expression still dark.
Tori waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, she said, “You’re going to make sure the FBI is at the Newark port in the morning, right?”
Before answering, her father scrolled through the documents again. “It sounds like his voice. Might not be, though.” He shook his head. “I disagree with Ethington about a lot of things, but I can’t believe he’d be involved with smuggling arms.” He gestured to the flash drive. “This is probably a joke or a setup to make me look ridiculous.”
“It’s not,” Tori said, perhaps too emphatically. “What if he is smuggling in weapons? You can’t risk people’s safety by ignoring it.”
“I’ll look into it.”
“There’s no time for that. The shipment arrives in the morning.”
He leaned back in his seat and let his hands fall into his lap. “Tori, I’ll take care of it.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m not allowed to discuss matters of national security with my teenage daughter. I never should have played that recording in your presence.”
“But . . .” The word died on her lips. No matter what she said, he wouldn’t tell her anything else. She sighed in resignation. “Okay.”
He folded his arms. “Did you actually have something you wanted to talk about, or did you come down here just to pull Lars’s chain?”
As if that were an either/or question. She scooted forward in her chair, getting ready to stand. “I guess I should go home and work on my article for journalism.”
Her father nodded, his attention back on his computer screen.
“You’ll let me know how things at the port turn out?”
“Probably not. Again, it’s national security.”
She let out another sigh, this one laced with annoyance. “I want to help the country too. I’m capable of a lot more than you realize.”
His gaze left the monitor for long enough to give her a tolerant smile. “Of course you are. You’re my daughter. But before you delve into politics, espionage, or international affairs, you’d better go finish your homework.”
She stood and walked to the door, annoyed. Honestly, her father would never take her seriously. Before leaving, she turned back. “Dad? One more thing. While you’re thinking about whether those weapons are a real threat, I want you to imagine one being used against me. Because it could be.”
The chance, in fact, was much more likely than he realized.
Chapter 30
A ringing phone woke Overdrake early Friday morning. One look at the screen told him it was Cordero, his man in charge of New Jersey operations. A call at this hour couldn’t be good news. Overdrake sat up, still groggy, and answered the phone.
“What’s wrong?”
“The Coast Guard was tipped off about our shipment,” Cordero said. “They did a surprise check on all cargo heading into Newark.”
Overdrake swore and rubbed his eyes. “What’s the damage?”
“They confiscated everything, including the ship.”
Overdrake swore again, this time so loudly that his wife woke up and gave him a questioning look. He lowered his voice. “Any of our men arrested?”
“Only those on the ship. The port workers are clear. The feds won’t find any evidence that leads them to us.”
The news could have been worse. This was only one shipment, and his men at the port hadn’t been compromised. Still, anger pulsed through Overdrake, first hot and then cold. “If the feds were tipped off, we have a leak. Find it and plug it.”
Cordero grunted. “It wasn’t anyone in my chain. Capitol Hill got involved and ordered the search.”
Capitol Hill? “Who?” Overdrake demanded.
There was a pause as though Cordero had to search somewhere for the name. “Senator Hampton. He pulled strings in the Coast Guard.”
Overdrake grit his teeth. If Senator Hampton was involved, then Tori probably was too. Somehow the Slayers had found out about the deal, and Tori had convinced her father to call in the feds.
Now her father would no doubt believe her about other things. Had she already told him about the dragons? Would she admit to being a Slayer? Dr. B had always been adamant that the Slayers not tell their parents about their abilities, but maybe the man was willing to sacrifice having Tori on the team if it meant gaining Senator Hampton’s ear.
Overdrake gripped his phone harder. “How many people knew the details of the shipment?”
Cordero’s voice slowed. “The seller, the pickup crew, and our inspectors. I reported to Mr. Smith on Wednesday. I used a new cell phone, but he might have been compromised somehow.”
Mr. Smith was their name for Senator Ethington.
“I’ll talk to him,” Overdrake said. “Call if you have more news.”
He ended the call and lay back in bed, staring tight-lipped at the ceiling. Cassie put a comforting arm over his chest. “What’s wrong?”
He rubbed her arm, his mind still on the phone call. “Nothing you need to worry about.” He didn’t tell Cassie more than he had to about his doings. That way he never had to worry about whether he could trust her.
He’d learned the hard way that he couldn’t automatically trust family.
At least this time, Dirk wasn’t in any way to blame. His son couldn’t have had anything to do with the leak. Even if he’d figured out a way to break into Overdrake’s files, Dirk wouldn’t have discovered anything. Overdrake hadn’t written down the plans anywhere. He’d let Cordero handle this operation.
Delegation had a way of leading to problems, but he couldn’t do everything by himself. He had to entrust some of the aspects of the revolution to others. Unfortunately, people kept letting him down, kept proving their incompetence.
And now the Slayers had an inside link to his organization. Could they have figured out that Ethington worked for him?
Unlikely, yet the possibility worried him anyway.
Ethington was too confident. The man’s ego had grown along with his poll numbers, and now he saw himself as some sort of human version of Manifest Destiny. He’d even hinted that Overdrake needed to listen to him, rather than the other way around.
“When I’m in office,” Ethington had said just last week, “we won’t need a revolution. We’ll simply rule the country the way it’s supposed to be ruled.”
We. Ethington should have understood Overdrake well enough by now to know there would be no we. There would also be no bargaining with Congress. No hoping the Supreme Court ruled the way he wanted them to. Overdrake hadn’t come all this way to share power.
“When you’re in office,” Overdrake ha
d retorted, “you will appoint who I want, where I want them, and you will disable the military as I’ve instructed. When I attack, you will surrender quickly. That will be your only important job in office.”
This had always been their plan. Overdrake had funded Ethington’s political career, made him what he was, and even agreed to let him be the regime’s figurehead. But now that Senator Ethington had the taste of power on his tongue, he was getting harder to control.
Had the senator, in his careless confidence, failed to safeguard the details about the weapons shipment? As a presidential frontrunner, the man had enemies on both sides of the aisle. Maybe Overdrake was jumping to conclusions in assuming Tori was involved.
Then again, he ought to make sure she wouldn’t be a problem in the future, just in case.
Chapter 31
After Tori ate breakfast, her dad called her into the den and reported that the raid had indeed found weapons. He walked across the room, quizzing her about the informant’s appearance, trying to find any identifying features.
“We need to know who that man was. He may have other important information.”
Dr. B did have lots of information, but none Tori could share with him. She kept her answers vague. “I don’t remember much of what he looked like. I mean, the whole conversation lasted half a minute. Can’t you just turn the flash drive over to the FBI and let them deal with Senator Ethington? The weapons are proof he was involved.”
Her father shook his head. “I already turned the flash drive over to the FBI. But it’s not enough. The file could have been faked, and I’m not sure myself whether the voice actually was Senator Ethington, or just someone trying to implicate him. Some people will do anything to push a candidate off the ticket. Wouldn’t be hard to piece together audio of what sounds like a candidate saying whatever you want. We’ve all got years of recorded speeches to draw on.”
“He’s guilty,” Tori said. “I know he is.”
“You may be right,” her dad said, pacing in front of the desk, “but there’s not enough evidence to prove it. If I could contact the informant and get more evidence, new leads, things might be different.”
