The Housewife Assassin's Horrorscope

by Josie Brown

  I groan loudly. “If only! Besides a workload that seems to be growing by the minute, I’m chairing the high school prom.”

  Lee hides his disappointment with a shrug. “If you need an extra chaperone, let me know.”

  “Depending on what Edmonton has in mind for Jack, I may take you up on that,” I warn him.

  I wave as we drive away.

  8

  Oh, Joy!

  Some zodiac signs have “joy places”—that is, a planet where it enjoys complete harmony and provides the most beneficial effect.

  According to the noted astrologer William Lilly, the joy planets coincide with the following signs:

  Saturn (Libra)

  Jupiter (Sagittarius)

  Mars (Scorpio)

  Sun (Leo)

  Venus (Taurus)

  Mercury (Virgo)

  Moon (Cancer)

  Ironically, joy places are rarely referred to in modern astrology. The reason: we now find an incredible amount of joy on Earth—especially during Nordstrom’s Semi-Annual Sale.

  We are down the hill in no time.

  Ryan waits until we’re on my street before pulling over. But before he says anything, I turn to Branham: “What exactly was—is Horoscope?”

  Barnham snorts. “Despite what Lee would have Edmonton believe, it wasn’t some sort of super missile. It’s much worse—especially if its plans fell into enemy hands.”

  I cringe. “How much worse?”

  “Remember Reagan’s Star Wars program?” Ryan asks.

  “You mean, what Putin now calls his ‘Death Star’?” I say sarcastically.

  “That’s it,” he replies. “Along with every other weaponized satellite program fantasy since Sputnik went into space.”

  “But doesn’t the Outer Space Treaty ban its signatories from putting weapons of mass destruction into orbit?” I exclaim.

  “It does—in theory,” Branham explains. “And yet, China, Russia, and the US still see it as a viable goal. Go figure.”

  “So, Horoscope is the latest iteration of a satellite that can blow up a city from space?” I ask.

  Both men nod.

  I still can’t believe my ears. “And, we are—or we were—that close to achieving its launch?”

  “We weren’t. At least, not when Lee killed the project,” Branham replies. He turns to Ryan. “By the way, how did the chatter come your way?”

  “From Horoscope’s creator, albeit posthumously,” Ryan explains. “Donna’s ward, Evan Martin, received a letter meant for his father. It was written a couple of years ago—before Robert’s death. It came from Jonathan Presley, the Chief Engineering Officer of BlackTech, which developed the satellite’s targeting software. Evan inherited BlackTech from Robert. In the letter, Presley admitted he’d made a software change at the behest of the Russians.”

  “Ah yes, Robert’s boy.” Branham shrugs. “If Evan is anything like his father, it must have broken his heart to hear of Presley’s deception.”

  “It did,” I assure him. “According to the letter, Presley claims he was turned while at Stanford, by a female Russian agent in an astrology class. She went on to become a Congressional aide. We’re sifting through Congressional HR files now to see if anyone fitting the meager description we have still roams the halls of Congress.”

  “That would have been nearly two decades ago. In any event, I’ll pass Acme the dead file so that your people can comb through it.” Branham rolls his eyes. “For once Edmonton is right about something: There may be a powerful mole among us.”

  “One bit of good news,” Ryan says. “We retrieved surveillance of the letter’s mailer. We assume it was a friend of Presley’s. From what we can tell it may have been a woman.”

  “Have you been able to ID her?” Branham asks. “She may be more than just a courier.”

  “The trail is cold,” Ryan admits.

  “If we hit the pause button on Horoscope, why would Jonathan think otherwise?” I ask.

  “Great question,” Branham sighs, “unless the Russians have their own version and it’s ready to launch.”

  Shite.

  Double shite if it accidentally disintegrates an ally’s capitol.

  Or even worse, ours.

  Well, it certainly means all hands on deck—which brings me to Jack. “Sir, what did you mean when you said that Jack was right for whatever POTUS has in mind?”

  He shrugs. “Edmonton is worried that Lilith may still be in play.”

  “What does that have to do with Jack?”

  “If I’m right, he’ll ask Jack to find her,” Branham explains.

  “I don’t get it. How is he supposed to do that?”

  “Edmonton may already have an inkling of who she is,” Ryan replies.

  “So, why aren’t you two being briefed on this too?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Branham asks. “He doesn’t trust us.”

  Now I’m baffled. “But…he trusts Jack?”

  Ryan frowns. “He will if Jack doesn’t break his trust by revealing the mission to either of us—or you, for that matter.” Ryan leans in. “Will he?”

  “Of course not,” I retort.

  But that doesn’t mean I won’t try to get it out of him.

  Suddenly, Ryan is laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” I ask crossly.

  “You should see your face,” he crows. “Hey, do me a favor—”

  “Let me guess: if he tells me anything, I’m to pass it along to you,” I say stiffly.

  “Yes,” Branham replies. Only he’s not laughing.

  A long-embedded Russian operative will have a keen survival instinct. If she even suspects Jack is on to her, she’ll strike first.

  I know because if it were me, I’d do the same.

  Noting my concern, Ryan adds, “Don’t worry, Donna. Jack’s a big boy. He can handle himself.”

  That doesn’t comfort me.

  “In the meantime, you’ll be the mission leader on operations Flame and Horoscope,” he adds. “We’ll work out logistics tomorrow with the rest of the team.”

  I nod and get out of the car.

  In the half block to the house, my game face is in place.

  That’s a good thing: Mary is still waiting on the porch.

  It was only an hour since we left for Lion’s Lair. And yet, it seems like a year.

  In other words, it’s time my daughter and I had a much-needed talk.

  About life in general; and love in particular.

  Before Mary gets up, before she can say a word, I sit down beside her on the porch swing. “We had an agreement, you and me: to always be honest with each other.”

  She nods warily.

  “So tell me the truth now: Did you ask Evan to make love to you?”

  Like tiny quakes, emotions shift on the supple planes on Mary’s face. When she finds her voice, they stop: “Yes.”

  I let that sink in. Then: “Why now?”

  Mary purses her lips. “I…I just thought it was time.”

  I nod as I take this in. “Is it because you’re concerned that he’ll be attracted to other women while he’s at college?”

  “That…yes, that has something to do with it.” Her relief at saying it out loud shows itself with a shrug. “No need to worry, Mother. Evan was too much of a gentleman to say yes to my desperate attempt to hold onto him.”

  “Do you still believe Evan loves you?”

  “I…I don’t know what to believe!” A tear rolls down Mary’s face. “When he lived here in Hilldale, we discussed everything. We spent all our time together. We were…” Her voice fades away.

  “Inseparable. Of one mind. In love.”

  Her eyes open wide, as if seeing me for the very first time. “Yes,” she finally whispers.

  I hold her close. “When we are separated from the ones we love, we’re more susceptible to the fear of loss. It doesn’t mean they love us any less. When they are away from us, we must remember why we love them. We trust them because the
y’ve earned our trust. We love them because they have proven their love and adoration for us. If they no longer feel trusted no matter what they do or say, what is left for them to do other than walk away?”

  Mary nods. “You’re lucky you have Dad,” she whispers.

  “Luck had something to do with it, yes. It put us in each other’s paths. But he had to earn my love. He had to win my trust. Especially after…”

  “After Carl,” she says.

  She’s never called him that before. She has matured enough to look at him objectively.

  Thank you, God.

  “And I had to earn his too,” I add.

  She nods. Hesitantly, she adds: “Mom, now be honest with me.”

  I brace myself. Will she ask me if I’ve ever doubted Jack’s love? Or, if I still get jealous when he’s given an assignment where sex is involved?

  Or, if I worry if he’ll ever leave me?

  I’d answer honestly: Yes, we had to work through our doubts. Yes, it pierces my heart to imagine him kissing—let alone making love to, another woman.

  And yes, I worry about him leaving me—

  Because doing so would mean he’d died. We love each other too much now to part any other way.

  Mary takes a deep breath: “Do you think I’ve ruined things with Evan?”

  Thankfully, she takes my relieved sigh as a sign of serious contemplation. “After what we’ve discussed, do you still feel he’s fallen out of love with you?”

  She shakes her head. “I was afraid he had. It made me angry—at him. Now, I’m just angry at myself for doubting him.”

  “Well, then, that’s what you should write to him.”

  “I’ll do it right now.” An errant thought darkens her hope. “Mom, do you think there will come a time when he no longer loves me?”

  Ah, love! Like a spider’s web, it is complex, unique, fragile—and no two are alike.

  I’ve never known of a web that lasted forever. Perhaps that’s where it differs from love.

  In this case, hope conflicts with honesty. My vow to my daughter leaves me no choice but to choose the latter. “I don’t know, Mary. But if there comes a time when one of you no longer feels the same way about the other, you’ll both survive.”

  She nods sadly. Kissing my cheek, she heads inside.

  Nothing is sweeter than your child’s gratitude.

  I head for the kitchen. Aunt Phyllis has already started dinner. I hope I have time to salvage whatever is burning in the oven.

  Jack enters the house just as we’re about to sit down to eat.

  He smiles genially and kisses my forehead.

  I grin back and motion toward the well-charred roast. “Care to carve?”

  “Sure,” he declares.

  As he does the honors, I spoon mashed sweet potatoes and roasted Brussels sprouts onto each plate before passing it forward. I feel him watching me out of the corner of his eye. When I look over at him, his eyes move to Mary.

  She’s all smiles again and teasing her brother about his reticence toward asking out his crush du jour: Felicity, a cute redhead in his Algebra II class. Trisha is debating with Aunt Phyllis why the latest television incarnation of MacGyver is so much better than the ’80s version.

  You’d think Jack would be relieved that all is serene in the Craig household. So, why is he frowning? Is he disappointed that I didn’t corner him the minute he stepped into the house and drill him about his conversation with Edmonton?

  Well, surprise! I’m saving that yummy morsel as my dessert.

  In bed.

  “Go ahead and ask.” Jack grants permission after helping me with the dishes.

  And helping Trisha with her science project.

  And after a rousing romp of lovemaking, as I lay cradled in his arms.

  “Ask what?” I say casually.

  He rolls me over so that we’re face to face. When he doesn’t find what he expects—craven curiosity—he scowls.

  This is so much fun.

  Still, he can’t help taunting: “I know you want to know why Edmonton asked me to stay behind.”

  “Some secret mission, I suppose? Let’s see…Oh! I know: he wants you to find Lilith!”

  “Go to the head of the class.” Disappointed, he rolls over so that his back is to me.

  I hang over him so that he has to face me. “Does he suspect who she is—or at least where you might find her?”

  “That’s confidential,” he replies smugly.

  I punch his arm.

  “Ow!” He yelps.

  As I fall back behind him, I mutter, “You asked for it.”

  “I have to follow orders. I’m not supposed to tell anyone anything about the mission.”

  “Not even Ryan?”

  “I called him, yes—to relay POTUS’s request.”

  “I suppose he agreed.”

  “He has no choice.” There’s an edge to Jack’s voice.

  “Does Branham know?”

  “I was instructed by POTUS to tell Ryan, but that it was to go no further.”

  Interesting. Thus far, Branham has been on the mark about Edmonton.

  But if Edmonton has some inkling as to the identity or whereabouts of Lilith, why wouldn’t he want to share it with his Director of Intelligence?

  “I take it you’ll be undercover.”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Will Acme have eyes and ears on you?”

  Jack thinks for a moment. “You know, that wasn’t something I discussed with Edmonton. But I don’t see why not.”

  Perhaps Edmonton isn’t aware of Acme’s technical failsafe. Not that I’ll point this out to Jack.

  “Will you be away from home?”

  A long beat: “Some nights.”

  I say nothing.

  Eventually, I whisper, “Be careful. I don’t want to test the theory that I could live without you.”

  I say this because I don’t trust Edmonton. He is the antithesis of Lee, who was good at laying his cards on the table.

  Most days, anyway.

  Jack doesn’t move as I head for the shower. I guess I’ve given him something to think about: the rest of our lives.

  All the more reason to survive this mission.

  9

  Pisces

  Those born between February 19th and March 20th are under the sun sign known as Pisces, or “the fish.”

  You’ll note such emotional traits as intuitive and compassionate—both of which make them great listeners and give the rest of us shoulders to lean on.

  They also need to feel a connection to their partners. (More on this below.)

  As with every sign, Pisces has its share of negative traits as well. For example:

  Negative Trait #1: No need to see red when he calls you a “nag.” He just hates to be criticized!

  Negative Trait #2: If he tries to sell you on the notion that his foray to a strip bar was only to “return a wallet to the girl who lost it,” (despite the fact it was his wallet), you can write it off to Pisces’ “wild imagination.”

  The same can be said for his excuse that he offered this grateful lady his shoulder to cry on, but she elected to massage his crotch instead.

  Another thing he’ll imagine: stars, as you hit him over the head with a frying pan.

  “So, here’s how it goes, folks!” This morning, Ryan’s bellowing has a particularly anxious edge to it. “Emma, you and Abu comb through Presley’s data files. See what you pull up regarding Horoscope. Also, cross-reference any congressman still in office from the past twenty years. If one has an aide named Lilith, we may be able to catch an embedded Russian operative red-handed.”

  “On it, chief,” they say in unison. Realizing this, they hit a high-five.

  “Hey, don’t forget: Evan gave me Robert’s computer. No need to hack it, since he gave me the password.” I blush. “It’s sH1Ves2135551515.”

  When Evan read it to me, I almost fainted. Robert created an alpha-numeric code using my maiden name and the
telephone number belonging to my parents.

  I no longer think Catherine was the love of his life, but I’ll never share this with Evan—or Jack, for that matter.

  “Abu and Emma: once you finish with Presley’s data, you can swing over to Robert Martin’s. In the meantime, Donna and Arnie are to head over to California Gas & Electric’s facility in Temecula. You’ll be posing as two California Public Utility Commission auditors.”

  I nod. When Arnie tries to high-five me, I tickle his underarm instead. He snorts raucously.

  Ryan looks up and curses Zeus. When he calms down, I ask, “What are we looking for?”

  “In a nutshell: anything out of the ordinary. Donna, just keep asking questions until they’re stumped on the answers. In the meantime, Arnie will hack into their system and do some skullduggery of his own.”

  “Look, I hate pleading ignorance, but the truth is, what I know about electrical grids wouldn’t light up a single LED. Can you be more specific?”

  Ryan sighs. “Although many states are ‘vertically structured’—meaning that all aspects of the grid are managed by the same company—our country has three main transmission networks. ERCOT, or the Electric Reliability Council of Texas; Eastern Interconnection; and Western Interconnection. These networks are regulated by FERC, the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission.”

  “Only three? Wow! Each must cover a lot of ground,” I murmur.

  Ryan nods. “There’s an economic reason for this. A larger grid is the most efficient way to deal with blackouts. When an unexpected one occurs, operators can pull energy from other generators within the same grid that are working below capacity. Doing so also allows electricity to be sold at the lowest price, which protects consumers from price fluctuations.”

  “But there is a downside,” Arnie points out. “For example, a blackout can affect several states simultaneously.”

  “Just like this weekend’s gas surges devastated neighborhoods all over the region,” I murmur.