The Angel & the Brown-eyed Boy (16 page)

“L
ook at that.” James pointed to the levee. “I didn’t know there were dams around the city.” They had to drive up and out of Manhattan. A concrete dam held back the Atlantic Ocean.

“I told you about it,” Mel said. “The ocean rose long ago when the ice caps melted. They built that”—he pointed at the huge structure—“instead of letting New York City drown.”

“I never realized it was that big.” James had never left the city. The only people he knew who’d been outside were in the car: Jeremy, Henry, Mel, and Arthur. Even Mel hadn’t been where they were going. Passing through the checkpoints was too dangerous for someone with a false identity.

“Look at that.” James pointed out the window after they’d driven a while. “Is that from bombing?” Shopping centers and houses were covered with the almost tropical vegetation that grew during the summer. “It’s like a war zone.”

“It is a war zone, son,” Henry replied.

“Who are we fighting?”

“I don’t know. Ourselves, maybe.” Henry shrugged. “Whoever we’re fighting, they’ll never tell us. Or even that we are fighting.”

At the checkpoint, a tall chain link fence with strands of razor wire along the top ran across the freeway and out of sight on both sides. There were three guard towers, one on each side of the freeway and another on a larger building in the grassy area at the center of the highway. They could see guards patrolling the towers. They carried automatic weapons.

Traffic was piled up at openings like tollgates, but wider. An overhead canopy provided some shelter for the booths. Mostly, the canopy was a billboard. Flashing lights spelled out “Mandatory checkpoint. Stop for inspection!” in yellow lights. Big trucks used a couple of lanes on the outside, and other vehicles fit in wherever they could. Each vehicle was checked, those going back to the city as well as those leaving.

The long black vehicle didn’t sit in line long. It was flagged ahead, leapfrogging in front of the other cars. Arthur put his window down when he got to the guard.

“Mrs. Edgarton’s car?” the officer on duty asked, checking his clipboard and the license plate. He looked like he was maybe twenty years old, and a punk. His hands trembled, just knowing who was inside.

“Yes.” Arthur had all the paperwork, and a smooth cover prepared.

They had rehearsed it, of course. The limo was built with two compartments. In the front compartment, Arthur occupied the driver’s seat. Also in front were Henry and Lena, the groceries, James, his bag of dog-taming implements, and the two Lhasa Apsos. Jeremy, Eliana, and Mel sat in the back in silence.

Their cover story required that Mrs. Edgarton be with them. If she were not, the checkpoints would expect another limo carrying the lady herself.

“Mrs. Edgarton is going to the Hamptons?”

“Yes, she is. To her estate. The permit says that.”

“How long is she staying?”

“As long as she wants. It’s an open-ended permit.” A bit of exasperation tinged Arthur’s voice. “Can we talk to Captain Laughlin? He usually helps us.”

A sadistic smirk ran across the kid’s face. “He’s busy handling some smugglers.” His eyes darted toward the central guard tower.

“Well, if he’s free soon, we’d love to talk to him.” Arthur had his bribe under his seat, a nice bit of technology Jeremy had come up with, priceless on the black market.

James felt his heart beating as he handed over his identification. Had his friend in the t-shirt shop forged the Dog Master’s papers so they would fool a guard? What about his travel permit?

The guy looked at the paperwork. “You’re the Dog Master?”

“Yes, Mrs. Edgarton’s dogs have been with me for quite a while.”

The dogs noticed the guard and began growling at him.

“They’re actually guard dogs, from the Tibetan monasteries. I’ve been tuning them up for her.” He wanted to try a trick like Jeremy did and order them around, but didn’t know if they’d comply. “Down!” he said commandingly. Amazingly, the dogs downed and looked at him happily.

“Would you like an autographed copy of my book? I have an extra.”

“Are you trying to bribe me?”

“No,” Lena said, “he’s trying to get us out of here before my roast spoils. Mrs. Edgarton loves that rare roast beef. An’ we’re trying to get to the Hamptons so she can eat it before midnight.”

“Hand me your papers, lady. And you, too, old man.”

Two more guards drifted over. “Mrs. Edgarton in there?”

“They say she is.” The kid puffed up with the attention.

“If she is, you better be careful, Josh. You’re likely to lose your job if you mess with her.”

“The law applies to everyone. There are some irregularities in her travel plans.” He held the travel permit out. “How did she get from the airport?”

James knew that Jeremy had posted phony tickets for his mother flying from Argentina with an undisclosed friend. If she was flying with the man she was supposed to be hanging out with in Buenos
Aires, they’d have used a military plane and wouldn’t need tickets. If she was with the general, they’d go right through.

“Open the back of this vehicle, now.” The punk moved over to the side of the long passenger compartment, hand on his gun. Other guards followed, looking apprehensive. The kid put a heavy-soled boot on the side of the car, and motioned to two others to use the butts of their weapons to break in the windows.

In the rear compartment, Mel sat frozen. Jeremy leaned toward the door, holding Henry’s pistol at ready. He took off the safety.

Eliana’s hand was on Jeremy’s back. She appeared to be listening to something. She began to speak, “Oh, my dear. I’d love to come out and meet you...” A chuckle emerged from her throat, a charming, provocative sound that promised everything. “But I’m not dressed...”

Jeremy looked at the girl. That was his mother’s voice. The siren. The seductress, giving the guards just the tiniest indication of her powers.

“I’m sure that you don’t want to inconvenience me. And I know that you don’t want to inconvenience my friend,” the voice of the most powerful woman on the planet purred. “My dear friend would be most annoyed to have to get out...” The chuckle became deeper, implying that her friend really didn’t want to be seen.

The two additional guards ran back to the other side of the vehicle and stood well away from it. One pulled out a phone and spoke into it.

“Darling,” that maddening upper-class voice drawled, “sometimes a man goes somewhere and doesn’t want anyone to know he’s there. Captain Laughlin would understand that. That’s why he’s a captain, dear. Would you get him for me? I believe he wants to talk to me.”

The kid pointed his gun at the middle of the bulletproof glass in the rear door, the weakest point of the vehicle. “Open this door. I’m going to count to three. One... two... thr—”

A noise between a growl and a cough came from the vehicle. Everyone knew that sound. They knew it from the State of the Union
address to the Declaration of War Against Those Who Would Disturb the Peace. They knew it from news broadcasts. When he was angry or meant business, he growled at everyone, enemy or friend. The unmistakable voice continued, “Son, lower that gun. Turn around and give it to Captain Laughlin before I come out there buck naked, and use it on you.”

“Yes, sir!” He saluted awkwardly and spun, handing his weapon to the captain.

“You are under arrest, Private. Guards, take him to detention.”

Captain Laughlin frantically tried to redeem himself. “I’m so sorry, sir... ma’am,” he said to the closed door. “I was detained by another matter.”

“I understand how trying business can be, Captain,” Mrs. Edgarton’s voice said. “But I wanted to have a pleasant trip to the estate. I don’t get there very often. Do you think you could call ahead to the other boys and let them know we’re coming? My friend has so little free time.”

“Certainly, ma’am. I’d be glad to.”

“Good. No need to punish that wretched little boy too sternly. Now, if you ask my driver, he has some of those cookies you like so much.”

Another hrummping growl from that very well-known voice, and they were off.

The guards stood watching the limo leave. “Was that the president?”

“Yeah.”

“So she’s two-timing the general with the president?”

“I didn’t say that.”

V
al yanked open the refrigerator door, eyes searching for the metal container. It sat in its accustomed place in the door. The pain was so bad she could barely stand. The lights and aqua blue flashed in her mind, muddled with falling timbers and dust and the roar of today’s explosion.

The steel case clattered on the counter when she lifted the lid. Twelve vials sat in insulated receptacles. Only twelve left. Combat packs. The pain goaded her. You’re not addicted, she thought. It’s just for the pain.

Deep inside, hidden below thought and memory, Val’s addict brightened. She could get all she wanted at the front. She’d be going in three days and never coming back. Who cared what she did now?

Val pulled a metal vial from the carrier and made her way back to the sofa. She took off her jacket and pulled up her sleeve, exposing the pale flesh of her inner arm. The vein inside her elbow bulged nicely. She wasn’t using too much; she wouldn’t have veins like that if she were.

Sitting back, Val flicked the vein and placed the perforated mesh on the vial’s business end next to her skin. She depressed the button on the top and clenched her teeth, waiting for the blast.

“Oh, yes,” she gasped. “Oh, yes, baby.” She rocked back and forth for a few seconds. The high from a combat pack was unbelievable, but it didn’t put you out. She would be ready to kill in seconds.

Val sat straight, all uncertainty gone. All pain, too. Her ruined back felt better than whole and healthy. The explosion wasn’t even a memory. Knowing they were sending her out to die didn’t bother her, and neither did anything else.

She was on top, knew everything, and had nothing to fear. The feeling of omnipotence peaked with the high. She could break the school case. Pleasure coursed through her. Come on, Val, she thought. Get it together. She had to get back to work; she couldn’t disappear into the high when so much work needed doing.

She knew exactly what was going on with the school explosion. It was the girl. She’d left the ballet studio and gone down the hallway to Richard’s room. He was killed. Why? Why was he maimed so horribly? Could a tiny little girl do that? No, but an alien could. Why would she kill him?

Val’s hand went to her mouth as she realized the truth. Of course! The girl was looking for someone, but Richard wasn’t the one she sought. So she’d killed him and gone down the hallway, to meet... who? Who was smart enough to call aliens down from the sky? Who was she meeting? Not Jeremy Edgarton.

The whole thing came clear—that was the beauty of combat packs. They sped up mental processes. You always knew who to kill. Mrs. Edgarton was to blame. Was the alien going to meet her, or destroy her? Did they blow up the building together, or did the alien do it to kill Mrs. E? Were they dead or on the run?

Mrs. E had to be the ringleader. Everyone knew how smart she was. Who else was involved? Her son couldn’t plan anything; she’d heard that from everyone she interviewed. The old man, Henry, might be sly, but he couldn’t run an operation. The teacher, Mel, was intelligent and capable of destructive action, with proper leadership. If Edgarton wasn’t down there, Mel was the one who’d done it.

Val wasn’t sure why they would blow up the school Mrs. Edgarton supported. A sudden insight provided the answer—she had built a secret lab in the basement and wanted to get rid of it. All those packages she sent weren’t bird feeders for her son; they were computers for Mel!

That was it. She laughed at the ease with which she’d made the connection. She felt wonderful. Delicious, sensuous. It was too bad Will had died in the blast; she was ready to party. Val forced herself to think about her work.

Someone was plotting insurrection. And then an alien had shown up. Val should have gotten that from the beginning, but she’d been distracted by the ballet teacher. She’d let herself get off course. Maybe she should be eliminated, which is what being sent to the front meant. A shudder ran through her.

“Shut up!” she said to herself. “You’re not dead yet. Figure a way out.”

She put her hands on her temples, dizzy. She was thinking too hard, making too much of what that office manager had said. Keep it simple. The teacher, Wally, had corroborated the conspiracy perfectly: he’d said Mrs. E had a secret computer lab under the school. She was plotting to take over the United States. The general was involved. Val trembled, even thinking about him.

If Mrs. E wasn’t in the city, where would she be? If she didn’t blow up the school herself, where would her people hide the rest of the evidence? If they wanted to take over the country, there’d be lots more evidence: computer labs, weapons.

Was the stash in the Edgarton town house a mile or so away? No. That was too obvious. Besides, if she blew up the school to hide evidence, she’d blow up her house, too. No other explosions had occurred.

The image popped into Val’s mind unbidden: the ancient stone façade of the Piermont estate in the Hamptons. Veronica Piermont Edgarton must have a larger computer lab there; Henry, Jeremy, and the driver—what was his name?—went there all the time.