Politics of Blood (Gray Spear Society Book 8) (29 page)

"That's a very strange request, sir," Smythe said.

"I need a secure way to move a lot of people over a long distance, and I don't want them sneaking away in the middle of the trip. Get moving! Your deadline is sunset, and that includes the time required to drive the bus out there."

Smythe and Norbert left.

Aaron took out his phone and called Ethel.

"I hope this is good news," she answered.

"We have the name of our enemy, ma'am," he said, "at least one of them. Arnold Joseph. He's a three-star general in the Air Force. There will be another attack on the President, and I expect it will happen as soon as it gets dark. The weapon will be a remote controlled stealth airplane."

She was quiet for a moment. "I assume you already have a plan."

"I want to let the enemy kill the President, or at least, they'll think they did."

"One of
those
plans. I'm already giddy in anticipation."

"I'm coming out there as soon as the preparations are complete, ma'am," he said. "I'll give you a full briefing then."

"Good," she said. "If the Air Force is behind this, the Washington team needs to be fully engaged. Call the commander, Neal. Tell him everything."

He was silent.

"Aaron, I'm not accusing you of being incompetent or inadequate. You're crossing territorial boundaries. It makes sense to bring in a commander who already has dozens of high-level contacts inside the Pentagon."

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "I'll do that right now. I think I have his number in my office."

"Bye, and well done, as always."

He ended the call and went back into his office. He kept all his important notes on paper in actual files. They filled old-fashioned, gray cabinets along one wall of his office. It was an antiquated method of record keeping, but he didn't trust electronic media. He knew how easy it was to hack computers. Pieces of paper couldn't be downloaded, tapped, or have a virus.

After a short search, he found his notes on Society phone numbers. He didn't have a number for every cell, but he had the important ones like Washington and New York. The notes were written in his private code just to be safe.

Aaron sat at his desk and punched in Neal's number.

"Hello?" Neal said in a deep, rumbling voice.

"This is Aaron in Chicago. We met at the convention last winter. Do you remember?"

"Of course, I do. The famous slayer of Xavier. Commander of the legendary twins. The legate's most trusted man. I'm honored."

Aaron's face grew warm. "You're embarrassing me."

"I assume you're calling because of the recent activity around the President," Neal said. "Do you know who set off that bomb? We've been speculating."

"I did."

Neal paused. "Interesting."

"The legate ordered me to include you in the mission." Aaron gave a quick summary of the situation.

Neal was silent for a moment before responding. "I know about General Joseph. He's a widely respected officer. Supposedly a man of honor and integrity."

"Except he's trying to kill his Commander in Chief."

"That's deeply troubling. I'll put my people to work immediately."

"Quietly," Aaron said. "We don't know how deep this goes. I don't want to catch a small fish and let the big ones go."

"My thoughts exactly. Speaking of the Air Force, there was an incident about twenty minutes ago. It spooked my computer experts badly. Somebody crushed the entire satellite control network for a short time. Every system was offline including all the secret command bunkers. It was an attack on a scale that we didn't think was possible. If you could ask the twins to look into it, I'd appreciate it."

Aaron smiled. "Actually, I think the twins are the ones responsible. That's how they found out about General Joseph."

"I see. It's a good thing they're on our side."

"Please, keep a close eye on Joseph. Tell me where he goes and who he talks to. I'm expecting the rats to come out of the walls tonight after the attack."

"I won't disappoint you," Neal said. "The President will be safe though? I'm a fan of his work."

"That's my intention. Oh, I need to talk to Wesley. I know he's wandering around your territory these days. Do you know how to reach him?"

"Conveniently, he's in my headquarters right now. He comes and goes as he pleases, and he always seems to be around when I really need him. I'll get him."

Aaron heard voices in the background. He wondered what the Washington headquarters looked like. He had never been in a headquarters outside of Chicago. He had visited Marina's temporary headquarters in San Francisco a couple of times, but that didn't really count.

"Hello, Aaron," Wesley said.

When the Voice of Truth spoke, it always sounded like beautiful music. The tonal quality was almost orchestral. It didn't seem possible for a human throat to produce that sound.

"We're still protecting the President," Aaron said. "He isn't out of the woods, yet, but we're making progress."

"Thank you. I know the job is difficult, but he's worth the trouble."

"Who else do I have to protect? The Vice President?"

"No," Wesley said. "His death would be sad, but it won't matter much. He'll die of a stroke soon anyway. Focus your attention on Roy Haley. His life is important."

"I got it," Aaron said. "Ethel fell in love with him, but I'm sure you knew that would happen."

"It's a very good thing. What's happening with the twins' project?"

"It's moving along. They were... transformed since the last time you saw them."

"I know," Wesley said enthusiastically. "I can't wait to see them again. I'm sure they're beautiful."

"I suppose that's true, if you like exotic robot girls. Are you planning on coming back to Chicago anytime soon?"
Please say no,
Aaron thought.

"Yes! I have to be there when the twins finish the project. The whole thing will be amazing."

"Oh," Aaron said nervously. "In what way?"

"I can't tell you. Destiny gets mad when I talk too much. I wish I didn't have to wait! The final days will be messy, but everything will be so much better afterwards. You won't have to live behind a wall of secrets. You and Marina will be together until the end of time. Oops! Forget I told you that."

Aaron raised his eyebrows. "That's hard to forget."

"I have to go," Wesley said. "Oh, I'm sorry about Kamal. He's a nice guy, but sometimes nice isn't enough. You'll do the right thing. Bye."

The call abruptly ended.

Aaron sighed. Every time he talked to Wesley, he was frightened and confused afterwards. This time was no different.
Final days of what? How the hell did he know about Kamal?

* * *

Tawni was holding her sword over her shoulder like a baseball bat. The steel was clad in pitch black shadows. She had gained control of her new ability and was having fun with it now.

Boreas was standing on the other side of a clearing. She nodded to him. He threw a large stone like a pitcher hurling a baseball. She swung her sword and struck the center of the stone, cleaving it cleanly. She looked down at the two pieces on the ground. The cut was perfectly smooth as if a diamond saw had made it. Even solid rock couldn't stop a weapon coated in God's wrath. Nothing could.

"Enjoying your new toy?" Ethel said.

Tawni spun and looked into the eyes of the legate. Her pupils were holes in space that destroyed all light and warmth. Tawni's heart skipped a beat.

"Yes, ma'am," she squeaked.

"Boreas?" Ethel gave her bodyguard a dirty look.

"I was helping her train, ma'am," Boreas said.

"Looked like screwing around to me."

She picked up a piece of chopped stone. She ran her fingers across the polished surface of the cut.

"What do you think, ma'am?" Tawni said.

"You have a powerful gift. Use it wisely and with restraint. The Lord will not forgive you if you abuse it. Aaron called. An Air Force general is behind the plot to kill the President."

Tawni's eyes widened. "How did he figure that out?"

"He'll explain when he gets here. It sounds like we're going to see some action tonight."

Tawni grinned. Aaron plus action equaled fun times.

* * *

Kamal watched Bethany and Leanna with a mixture of jealousy and awe. They were performing the famous "Maxwell's Demon" experiment on a beaker of water. The idea had been proposed by James Clerk Maxwell in 1871. He had suggested using a tiny "demon" to separate hot molecules from cold, which would violate the Second Law of Thermodynamics. Later physicists had shown that such a thing was impossible. Lowering entropy in one place always raised entropy somewhere else. The total amount always increased. The proof involved complex equations, but no serious scientist doubted the Second Law these days.

Apparently, the twins did. The water in the bottom half of the beaker was frozen solid, and the top half was boiling.

It wasn't fair that they were so smart and knew so much. Kamal has spent his whole life studying physics. He considered himself one of the top experts in the world. Compared to the twins, he was a bumbling ignoramus. God had given them the keys to the universe and permission to open any door. They could ask any question, and the Lord would answer it. Meanwhile, Kamal had to watch from the sidelines like a stupid cheerleader.

"Are you mad at me?" he said.

"We're not capable of feeling anger," Bethany replied in her synthetic voice. Her attention remained focused on the beaker.

"I meant no harm."

"We told you the plasma bottle technology was privileged information. I don't see how sharing it with outsiders could not cause harm."

Kamal looked down. "I'm sorry."

"Your apology is irrelevant," Bethany said.

"Do you think Aaron will kill me?"

"I think he'll give you a fair hearing. I suggest you decide what you'll say to him instead of asking us useless questions."

"Do you care if I die?" he said. "Do you even like me?"

"I think you're a fine scientist."

"That didn't answer my question."

She finally looked at him. Her crystal eyes gleamed in the bright lights of the science laboratory. "Your death is undesirable."

"Then could you put in a good word for me?" he said. "Aaron listens to you. If you tell him to not kill me, he probably won't."

She faced the beaker again. "No."

He sighed and tried to be brave.

Chapter Fifteen

Roy Haley was sitting in a study which was classic in every detail. Old books with impressively erudite titles filled tall bookcases. There was a big fireplace which burned real wood instead of gas. The large, traditional desk was stained almost black. French doors opened onto a balcony with a pretty view of native woodlands. Cool, fresh air was blowing into the room.

Haley had two people with him. His chief campaign manager, Doug Irvine, sat across a table. His expensive, tailored suit was rumpled. His jowls sagged even more than usual, and he had circles under his eyes. At least his gray hair looked recently combed.

The other guest was Sandra Holt, head of the convention planning committee. Her clothing was sunshine yellow, as always. She had thought her job was done when the convention had started. She had been wrong.

"It's going to take at least two weeks to get the convention up and running again," she complained. "The damage to the United Center will take months to repair, so we have to find another venue. We've just begun those negotiations. You can't book a large arena without plenty of advance notice."

Haley shook his head. "Unacceptable. We can't ask four thousand delegates to hang around Chicago for that long. How are they going to find accommodations? They have families and jobs to get back to. We don't need much. I just want to call an official vote, accept the nomination, and give a rousing speech. We could do it in a high school football stadium. Find something for tomorrow."

Her face paled. "You're joking, right? Tomorrow? That's physically impossible, sir."

"Sandra, this is your opportunity to be a hero to the entire Democratic Party, to the nation. It's a truly historic moment. Make it happen."

She swallowed.

"Doug," Haley said, "how does the election landscape look?"

Doug smiled. "Pure America is the best thing that ever happened to your campaign, sir. The whole world is talking about the evils of racism. Millions of people will vote for you now just because they feel obligated to reelect an African-American. Even your opponents are being forced to take your side. Don't get me wrong. I feel terrible for the victims who were injured and killed, but from an ugly, selfish point of view, this disaster pretty much locked up the election for us. Your news conference this morning was brilliant. Even I cried."

"Which reminds me. Sandra, we need to have a memorial service for the victims tomorrow. Doug, for the record, I don't like that ugly, selfish point of view."

"Yes, sir," Doug said sheepishly.

George Seferis walked into the study without bothering to knock. The Secret Service Director looked like he had seen a ghost. He was shuffling his feet, and his gaze wandered.

"Looks like I have another meeting," Haley said. "I'll call you on the phone later."

Doug and Sandra left the room.

"What's wrong?" Haley said with genuine concern.

Seferis sat down on a couch. "Something happened."

"Tell me."

"You remember my sister?"

"The one with AIDS?" Haley joined Seferis on the couch. "As I recall, Miss Pickenpaugh wanted her to fly to Los Angeles, but you were reluctant."

Seferis nodded. "I sent my sister to Los Angeles after all. I figured it couldn't hurt. She was dying anyway. This morning, a strange woman came to her hotel room. White hair, pink skin, red eyes. Probably an albino. She told my sister she was a very special kind of doctor."

"Then what happened?"

Seferis cleared his throat. "According to my sister, the doctor's skin began to glow with a blinding white light. It looked like her hair was on fire. It sounds crazy, doesn't it? Then the doctor gave my sister a hug." He looked down. "Do you believe in miracles?"