Tekgrrl (9 page)

“I formed this team.”

“
You
didn’t form this team,
you
have only been around a year or so,
Wesley
,” Paul reminded him. “It’s been many lives since you led anyone anywhere, considering Robert wanted nothing more than to stay locked away in his mansion and only come out when necessary, though he was happy to pass judgment on us all for not being up to his standards. I’ve been field leader for years now, and I’ve been leading this team during combat situations while you’ve been living the life of a hermit.”

Forrest looked around awkwardly. “It’s not important to know who’s leader now, I suppose. I just need to know whenever you decide.”

“They both are,” Kate spoke up, and we all swung around to look at her. “Right, Toby? Luke?” She was asking the more senior members if they could go along with that suggestion.

“Wait a minute,” Paul said. “I—”

“That’s right,” Luke overrode him. “Shared responsibility, just like back with Rath.”

Toby nodded. “Sounds good to me.” When Kate gave him a sharp look he said, “I mean, yes.”

“Why is it any of the government’s business who our leader is?” Wesley asked, characteristically suspicious. “We’re glad to help out whenever needed, just like always, but we’ve never had problems with communication.”

“And why is there a Presidential Secretary of Heroes?” Paul shook his head. “Why is that position even needed?”

“Are you setting up a system to monitor us?” Wesley demanded.

“Are you suggesting that we need policing? After all we’ve done? After so many of us have died trying to keep the world safe, you’re going to put some government crony on our tails?” Paul asked.

The coleaders had found their unifier: distrust of Simon Leasure and the government.

“N-no, nothing of the sort.” Forrest looked a bit surprised. “Our purpose is to simply improve communications between other teams and yourselves, and between the government and yourselves, especially in case of a threat to national security.”

“So, what’s Simon’s role in all of this?” Paul asked.

“He’s overseeing the committee, and reporting directly to the president.”

Meaningful glances were exchanged all around.

“So, it’s like I told you, it’s similar to Homeland Security,” Toby remarked, trying to ease the tension.

Paul eased up. Turning to Forrest he said, “Well, with the exception of Simon running this program—probably to a spectacular failure—we will continue to help our government and our country whenever needed. We look forward to working with you.”

“Yes, I’ll be in contact,” Forrest said, nodding.

“See that Selena has all of the pertinent contact information,” Wesley directed in obvious dismissal.

The liaison took the hint. “Then I’ll just be returning to my office. If you should have any further questions, please don’t hesitate to call.”

“I’ll see him out,” Toby remarked, motioning for Forrest to follow.

We were all silent as the two left.

“I still don’t like this,” Wesley said.

I chewed my lower lip. I hated to say so, but something about the whole situation bothered me, too. Maybe it was because it had come out of nowhere.

“Well, I don’t like Simon being in charge, but otherwise it seems like just another way for the government to waste money,” Paul put in. “Another impotent flexing of muscles by the president.”

“Just another way for the man on top to make himself feel big and important, eh?” Kate remarked, shooting a dark glance at her lover that he ignored. I was beginning to wonder if Kate and Paul had broken up.

Selena spoke up, efficient as expected. “I’ll coordinate with Mr. Ward to set up any future meetings. Once we’re out of this meeting I’ll test all my contact numbers.”

“So, nothing’s going to change,” Luke said. “We’ll just do what we normally do, help out when needed.”

To me it seemed like everything was changing, but I didn’t voice that fear. Instead, I joined everyone as they stood up. Luke walked over to Paul and said something in a low voice. Paul nodded, keeping his eyes on the table. I wondered what they were discussing.

“I hate politics,” Lainey whispered to me, which I wholeheartedly affirmed with a vigorous nod of my head. Whether or not we here at the EHJ thought things were changing, the future was dependent upon whether Simon had changed.

“So, I asked Luke out last night.”

“Ow, that’s hot!” I yelped, concealing my surprised choke by pretending to burn my lip on my coffee. I gingerly pried my lid off the cup and blew over the rim, eyeing Selena as I did. We had run a couple of blocks with the object of our mutual affection as our morning “workout,” then again hightailed it back home for coffee and biscotti.

“Are you okay?” Selena asked, sounding genuinely concerned. I wasn’t sure if it was because of my faux burn or the fact that she’d had to deliver this news.

“Fine, fine.” I waved her concern away like a cloud of gnats. “Go on. So, you asked Luke out last night?” Again, I was a bit surprised they hadn’t moved faster.

“He was a bit surprised. He said he was usually the one doing the asking.” Selena dunked her biscotti in her latte and gave me a smile. “I told him I’m progressive.”

Huh. Luke was a bit old-fashioned. He believed in chivalry and opening doors for ladies, them being the weaker sex and all. Which was sweet, if a bit sexist, but I was willing to forgive that. Of course, now that I considered, I could only imagine what his reaction would have been last night. “So, what did he say to that?”

“He said he was okay with being asked out, as long as I let him pay.” Selena grinned. “The last couple of guys who asked
me
out wanted to go Dutch, so I wasn’t turning that down, you know?”

“Uh-huh,” I said, forcing a weak smile in return. “So, where are you guys going?”

“To L’Orange for lunch today,” she answered. “Have you been?”

I nodded. “It’s nice.” Toby had taken me there one year for my birthday. It had a nice, cozy atmosphere. But…Luke and Selena were having a
lunch
date? You generally didn’t take to lunch a woman you were trying to get into bed; you took your mom or your sister or your business acquaintance. Dinner, with the option of breakfast to follow, was more standard operational procedure.

“Cooled off?” Selena asked.

“Uh-huh.” I sat back in my chair, perplexed. “So have you got your date outfit all picked out?”

“I try not to stress too much about that kind of thing,” Selena said, looking down at her running clothes. “The moment I start agonizing if this looks too slutty or that looks too matronly is the moment I’m trying too hard—and I’ll look like it. I’ll probably just dress like it’s a usual day at the office, since we
are
going on our lunch hour. I’ve put in for the time.”

“Makes sense. I guess you don’t want to walk around all day in a little black dress,” I conceded. And she would probably look fabulous anyway. Life was so unfair. “Wait. Paul still makes you schedule a lunch hour?”

“Yeah, usually between noon and one, so I won’t miss any calls. Generally the whole world takes off noon to one, or so he’d have me believe.”

I shook my head. “Wow. He hasn’t changed at all since I started here.”

“Eh, you know how these superscientific types work. They fear change and stick to routines and scheduling, don’t have an impulsive bone in their bodies.” She winced. “Sorry, Mindy. I forget you’re one of them because you seem so opposite of that.”

“Thank God!” I said. “Though I think my attitude comes from defiance of my parents. They make Paul look laid-back and mellow.”

“Well, may you not end up like them when you hit fifty,” she remarked.

I laughed. “Poor Paul’s only forty.”

Selena giggled. “Don’t tell the boss man I aged him.”

“It’s an understandable mistake,” I decided. “When I was a kid and my parents brought me here for a visit, he scared the hell out of me, always going around barking orders. And that was when he was in his midtwenties! I think some people are just born uptight. Really, if you think Paul’s tough, Wesley’s old self was just as bad. He’s a lot more laid-back now.”

“Explains Lainey’s attraction to him,” Selena mused. “She’s always liked the serious, reserved guys.”

Luke was serious and reserved, just in a different way. Maybe Selena’s and his relationship would crash and burn before lunch ended. Not that I was hoping. I truly wanted both of them to be happy.

Luke suddenly entered the coffee shop, his body glistening with sweat. Selena and I were silent as he approached.

“So, ladies, this is the second time you’ve beat me back,” he remarked.

“Got to be fast, so I can get to work early,” Selena replied. “Just in case I want to take a two-hour lunch break.”

“Paul’s not going to say anything if you’re with me,” Luke assured her. Their eyes met and held.

All of this flirting was making me queasy. “Well, I’ve got to go shower and get ready to do some work myself,” I said, standing up and tossing what was left of my coffee in the nearby trash. “Have fun at L’Orange.”

“Thanks, Mindy,” Selena said, giving me a small wave.

“Are you going back to your lab?” Luke asked. Was it my imagination, or was there a flicker of concern in his eyes?

“Probably. But don’t worry. I’ll be on the lookout for ghosts,” I joked, trying to ignore the way my stomach felt about yesterday’s weirdness.

He frowned. “Is your head still hurting?”

“I’m fine. Really, Luke, don’t be worried about me.”

“Well, if you need anything, you can always come to me,” he said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “I’m never too busy for a friend.”

I managed another weak smile. “I appreciate it. Have fun on your date.” Then I turned and walked to the elevator before I lost my composure.

After a quick shower, so I wouldn’t smell stinky—unlike Selena, I actually sweat during a jog—I felt a bit better. Determined not to let their developing relationship get to me, I wrapped my towel around my body and set about getting dressed and on with my day.

My PDA was blinking like crazy, letting me know I had messages. I had taken bits of alien technology and cobbled together an even more advanced version of the iPhone years before its invention, thank you very much. And mine still had a spark of life.

“Messages,” I said as I walked to my closet, seeking another of my brand-new-Mindy outfits.

“Report,” it replied, crackling in its odd voice. “You have two new messages.”

The first was from a defense contact, wanting to know how it was going with my prisoner-teleporter gun. The military was always so impatient.

“Tell him I’m almost ready to do field testing and I’ll call him with results ASAP,” I told the phone, slipping on a pink and black cap-sleeved shirt that had a high neckline but a V-back, and some nice black trousers. Lainey had assured me the pieces were corporate but stylish, and just right for a nearing-thirty-something.

I fielded another question, this one from a reporter wanting a quick quote about new DVD technology—“I believe direct downloads are the way of the future”—while hunting for my black pumps. I located them near my bed, and thus dressed and, with no other pressing matters, I did my daily ritual of chugging down water and migraine pills before heading for the elevator.

I didn’t feel anything as I stepped into the elevator; only as it dinged to signal my laboratory floor and I got out did I feel a sense of dread. Was I too scared to go back in there?

This is stupid,
I reminded myself. There were no such things as ghosts. I was a cold-blooded scientist and knew that most unnatural phenomenon could be explained by science. The rest could be explained by magic and, after living with magic users over the years and now with two under my roof, that was another ho-hum fact of life.

Maybe Lainey or Wesley were practicing telepathic spells, or maybe there had been a different telepath in the building, an outsider taking a tour, which would explain the strange voice. If I mentioned it to Wesley, he’d probably want to beef up security so much that it hurt, and I didn’t want that headache added on to my daily migraine. Especially not when it was possible I had imagined the whole thing. I hadn’t been sleeping well of late, and I had to take that into account.

Somewhat settled, I shook my head and put my hand out to open the door. And…froze. I really didn’t want to go in there.

It took a bit more time than I liked convincing myself that I was being silly.
It was brought on by migraines and exhaustion,
I reminded myself, but I spent a full fifteen minutes outside the door before finally psyching myself up enough to turn the handle and go inside.

No evil spirits attacked, and I immediately had to admit that I was terrifying myself for no good reason. I walked over to where my project lay, still with tools scattered around it, and sighed, trying not remember how they had crashed down around me. I slipped my lab coat on and tossed my hair up into a ponytail so it wouldn’t get in my way, then got to work so I could make good my promise to our defense contact.

I’m not sure how much time passed as I ran tests and adjusted settings, but suddenly in the back of my mind I registered the sound of the elevator stopping on my floor, then the handle turning on the door to my lab.

“May I come in?” I heard.

I looked up. “Sure. Did you miss a floor, your lab’s upstairs,” I joked as Paul walked in wearing a lab coat over his usual suit pants and shirt.

“No, I came to see you, actually.” He looked around, grimaced. “Do you always keep your lab such a mess?”

I tensed and gave a quick glance around. Aside from the tools and pieces I had scattered about the table, nothing was out of place.

“I was working,” I reminded him. “I’ll clean up before I leave tonight.”

“See that you do. You should always treat your tools with respect.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll get right on that,” I said with dripping sarcasm. Really, could he be more obnoxious? “Was there something you wanted, other than to nag me?”

“Yes, actually, I wanted to see you because Luke is concerned.”