I still didn't trust this FBI agent enough to tell him anything. There was something deeper going on here, and I wasn't going to give an inch until I found out what. Besides, I had an old score to settle. Looking up at the agent, I slowly shook my head from side to side.
"Look" – the agent sounded exasperated – "you were duped. Not only that, but right now you're facing a pretty serious charge of resisting arrest. You owe these people nothing."
No, I thought silently, but I still owe myself some dignity. Last time, I chose to save myself, and I've regretted it ever since. Michael might still be in a position to bring Letourneau down if he could get out of this somehow. For Danny's sake, I had to give Michael that chance.
The agent tapped his finger impatiently on the wooden desk. "Maybe you don't understand why we want Angelucci so bad. Let me tell you something about him. Angelucci is a vigilante." The agent pressed. "He's trying to take the law into his own hands. You and I both know how dangerous that kind of behavior can be."
I nodded despite myself. As much as I had loved Danny, that was what he had become. When he shot the Pope, whatever his reasons, he acted above the law, and I had had a responsibility to the truth. Daniel had changed, had kept the passion I loved, but lost the sensibility. Worse yet, I saw the passion turning into something angry, something that verged on uncontrollable. I could have kept it to myself, stayed silent, but that was a sin. The sin of omission. And having denied truth, how could I sleep at night?
"If you have any feelings of loyalty to this guy, it's misplaced." The agent frowned. He stared at the oneway glass, considering something. Leaning closer, he continued in a conspiratorial tone, "He has more dotted lines to antigovernment groups than ... I don't know what. Angelucci has his fingers in all the radical groups: Hasidim, Muslims ... possibly other heathens as well. Not to mention the liberal fringe like ACLU, human rights campaigners – which we know is a front for queers – and God knows what else. He and his pals, like Jibril Freshta, have been stirring the pot of dissension for the last year. They're gaining ground, too. If left to their own devices, they could bring back an era of secular presidents. Think about that, McMannus. Do you want the return to the kind of government that fostered the science that brought us the Medusa?"
In my mind's eye, I saw the result of science's most horrible creation – a frozen form that was once human, now a statue of glass, in a silent, but deafening, scream. "No," I whispered, my voice hoarse.
"I didn't think so," the agent said softly. "But that's what Angelucci wants: a world without a moral backbone. A world like our grandparents and parents suffered through, when drugs and violence were commonplace, when children were raised in schools where religion was outlawed, when the world had no common spiritual view..."
I nodded, but knew that the agent talked only about those who were LINKed. Crime still ruled my universe. However, I couldn't deny that the majority of the population lived better than ever since the war, thanks to the programs of the new religious governments. Despite the restrictions, the government worked, which was more than could be said for its last incarnation.
"Angelucci is a menace. I thought you understood that, Ms. McMannus. You have a history of being more reasonable than the rest, more honorable, more concerned with the truth."
That's what I told myself every day since Daniel's conviction: the truth was more important than loyalty. I took my oath to serve and protect seriously during my days on the force. That, to me, was the distinction between an honest cop and a dishonest one. Though the system became tougher and tougher to support in good conscience, I held on to the tenet that truth and justice were at the core of it all. Believing was how I lived with myself.
What if the FBI agent was right about Michael? I didn't know that much about his motivations. If I hadn't guessed that he was a LINK-angel, he would never have told me. My head ached.
"The LINK." I clutched the bead to my heart. "He promised me the LINK."
The agent nodded encouragingly. "Illegal biotech is an international offense. As a decorated tech-cop, I would've thought you'd know better. What on earth would make you cross that line, Deidre?"
I shook my head. The feds had more enhancements than the average cop, how could he know what made me consider it? He'd never lived without the LINK, in the dark, surrounded by the silence of one's own thoughts.
"What did they want from you?" he asked.
"Michael wanted my help..." Looking into the agent's eyes, I stopped. If I told the agent that I suspected that Michael was a LINK-angel, what then? If they were true to their bargain, I might be let off. But, what would happen to him?
Letourneau would never let this go to court. He would use the same influence that got Danny into Christendom court to stop this one. If Letourneau was the perpetrator behind the angel hoax, then he surely wouldn't want to have Michael busted for LINK-crimes, because that would implicate him.
"Your help with what?" the FBI agent probed. He inched closer to me.
I looked down at the silvery bead in my hand. Something was screwy with this scenario. The uselessness of the bead seemed a clear indication that Michael and Jibril had set me up. If Michael was in cahoots with the FBI, then why did the agent keep stressing that they wanted Michael, not me?
"Deidre, you were saying something." The agent stood next to me. His shadow eclipsed the artificial light. In the sudden darkness, I shivered.
There was no way to tell what was the right thing to do. I had to act on my gut feeling. The question was: Did I betray Michael like I had Danny? Could I live with myself if I made the same mistake again?
"No," I said out loud. "Find another informant."
* * *
Excerpt from the broadband Associated Press LINKS, March 3, 2076.
SATANISM CHARGED IN SENATE RACE
The California Senate race eclipsed the presidential campaign briefly today when the incumbent Reverend-Senator Cliff Jacobs (New Right Collation) denounced his opponent, Raven Starwater (Earth Powers Collective) as a Satanist.
"The 'Earth Powers Coop' are a bunch of hippie-freak Satanists who smear the sanctity of this High Office," said Jacobs before a supportive crowd. "If Ms. Starwater looked into her crystal ball, she'd see who's going to win this election: good always triumphs over evil."
In a press conference at Earth Powers headquarters in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco, Reverend Starwater denied allegations that her organization has ever tolerated an unrecognized religious group, such as Satanists. For her own religious beliefs, she said, "My citizenship card is valid. The United States Government has validated the nature of my 'goodness.' The Reverend-Senator is not qualified to judge the validity of my religion." (hot-link here to entire speech by Rev. Starwater.)
Earth Powers is a cooperative of New Age spiritualists. The organization achieved governmental accreditation only last year, thanks in part to the controversial Taft-Pallis Act. Taft-Pallis guarantees accreditation to any religious group, regardless of numbers of members, which can prove a long history of practice in America or a belief in one God. The Act was ratified due to pressure from the American Indian Movement (AIM), the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), and the American Catholics.
Despite the Act's stated favoritism toward Original American rights, it was the Wiccans of Massachusetts who were the first to register under this Act, claiming their history of practice in America can be substantiated by the Salem witch trials. As more and more formally outlawed groups discover ways to prove a history of practice, the Act has fallen under harsh criticism. Presidential candidate Etienne Letourneau (New Right) has vowed to find a way to "strike a blow against this regressive Act and make America safe from the lunatic fringe."
Chapter 9
The agent shook his fist in my face and yelled something threatening. At least, I assumed it was belligerent by the way his reddened face contorted. I should've heard shouting, but instead a melodic, disembodied voice seemed to echo: By an act of faith, it is don
e.
Stars of light appeared in my peripheral vision. Sound filled my ears, like a thousand voices talking at once. I thought I was about to pass out, so I waited for everything to fade. Instead of fading, suddenly things became super-focused. The room seemed brighter. The sensation was much as if I'd just removed sunglasses.
A digital time readout blinked into existence in the upper right-hand edge of my vision. To the left a visual, radio, data, and subvocal frequencies monitor winked. I could feel the pulse of the city again. Weather information appeared at a thought. The satellite traffic grids from six different cities spiraled into view. I flipped manically through all 327 video and entertainment bands. Light-headed with the bombardment of sensations, I gripped the edge of the chair.
Superimposed over the vision of the interrogation room, the words Urgent Message flashed. Atrophied , mental muscles took over, and with a thought I tripped the go-ahead response.
Dee, it's me, Mouse's page overwhelmed my senses. I had to shut my eyes to get rid of the nauseating effect. The page streaked down a busy Cairo street on in-line skates, weaving around mixed traffic of cars, motorcycles, and camels. Dust flew everywhere. He looked skyward, as though my eyes were a floating camera. You just surfaced like a fucking submarine. No, man, more like a goddamned armored U-boat ... and the LINK is the Lusitania. You rock, girl. Turning serious, he added, "What's going on? Are you okay? A LINK break like yours is going to make some waves, if you know what I mean.
With one part of my consciousness, I frantically began to sever newly formed connections to the LINK. The readouts vanished at my command. Sparing one thin tendril, I sent a real-time reply command to Mouse's house.
I opened my eyes and focused on the agent. He leaned over me, his fists pressed hard against the tabletop. "Do you understand what I'm saying to you?" he asked. "This kind of grandstanding will get you nowhere. Don't you understand? Angelucci and his ilk are dangerous."
I breathed a sigh of relief. The agent appeared unaware that I was now fully LINKed. I opened my palm, and stared at the bead. A biochemical transfusion? Was it possible Jibril discovered a way to reopen LINK connections through skin contact?
"Maybe you don't grasp the seriousness of this situation, Ms. McMannus?" the agent was saying. "If you don't cooperate, we're going to have to book you as an accomplice to terrorism."
Dee? A small, floating window opened up. Mouse's face was tight with concern. Sorry it took so long to get back to you, but you're hard to trace. My page tells me that a second ago you were everywhere. But, now ... poof! He shrugged, Anyway, thanks for leaving the line open, otherwise, I never would've found you.
You're welcome. I switched to subvocal. Michael Angelucci and I were picked up by the FBI. Have you heard?
Mouse nodded. Terrorism again? His mouth smiled broadly, but his eyes looked worried. Won't you ever learn?
The agent rapped hard on the table. "Are you listening to me?"
"You were threatening me with prison, I believe." I smiled sarcastically at the agent. "Do go on."
In the corner, Mouse's face scrunched up. Ouch. I heard that. Do you think that was wise? The Feebs have got a serious case against you.
How do you know what kind of case they have against me, Mouse?
"You're damn right you're going to do time. I thought you were reasonable, McMannus." The agent threw up his hands.
Mouse shrugged. It's obvious you're in trouble, that's all. Hey, I did that search on this Michael guy, and let me tell you, he's no angel.
Michael's not an angel anymore, you mean, I reminded Mouse. Anyway, maybe the terrorists are the good guys this time.
What are you talking about? Mouse frowned, drawing his eyebrows together.
I don't have time to explain right now. Mouse, when was the last time you browned out New York?
The Mouse's eyes went wide; he shook his head. You're crazy. I can't do that again so soon. Besides, I'm sure they've got a tighter lock-down on the codes.
I just want one city block. Any kind of distraction will do, really. Maybe you could tweak Traffic Control this time. I tried to put a smile into my electronic voice. Ithought you could do anything. Rule the world, you said. Are you going to disappoint me?
My page said that, not me. Anyway, forget it. Mouse's head bobbed back and forth more frantically now. Even if I was able to do it, you'd still be surrounded by armed cops, half of them ex-military. Besides, you can't afford that kind of thing. Remember, I saw your credit counter. I like you a lot, Dee, but not this much. No way. No. Way.
The door flew open and crashed against the wall. In surprise, I pushed the chair away from the table. Dorshak rushed in and headed toward me.
"She's got a signal coming in, you stupid fuck," he yelled over his shoulder to the FBI agent. "Shut her down! Shut her down!"
Mouse!
Dorshak's targeting computer presumed I'd stand up, which was a fairly reasonable assumption. But instead, I dived under the table, and his arms grasped the empty space. I heard the chair catch his knees. Unable to stop, both of them slid into the wall with a crash.
From under the table, I saw the perfectly cuffed pantlegs of the FBI agent as he danced back and forth, unable to decide which way to go. I crawled toward the open door. The sound of the chair being tossed aside with a curse alerted me that Dorshak was hot on my heels.
Static assaulted my senses. The connection to Mouse was severed by some jamming device. Old reflexes kicked in, and I switched to the emergency police frequency.
Situation in progress in detention level three. Request backup immediately. It was Dorshak.
Belay that order. FBI in control of the situation. We have jurisdiction on all terrorist cases. We assume full responsibility for the situation, I sent via a satellite feed in Washington, DC. It was an illegal and obvious hack, but I didn't have time to wrestle up an official tag before Dorshak grabbed my ankle.
'Try to belay this," Dorshak hissed between clenched teeth. As he yanked me back, I wrapped my arms around a table leg and hugged it close.
Just then, the lights went out.
* * *
NY Times Opinion Page/Letters to the Editor; April 7, 2076
OPPOSITION TO LETOURNEAU
What bothers me the most about the New Right's presidential candidate Etienne Letourneau is that I've never met the man. Certainly, I've been present at his on-line rallies and seen his avatar debate Rabbi-Senator Grey on the entertainment band. I've even been on his virtual tour of the "Letourneau Future."
Yet, I've never seen the candidate in real time. Rabbi-Senator Grey hails from New York, and I've seen him talk, real-time, at the Temple Headquarters. I shook his hand. It brought me back to a time, before the war, when candidates were expected to go out and meet the people.
Letourneau sits on high, in his secluded Colorado mountain retreat, surrounded by clean air, and hand-picked disciples. Some of us might find that lifestyle enviable, but it's a sham. He lives only through the LINK, not on the real streets of America. Letourneau's "Future Tour," as slick and appealing as it may be, seems to completely ignore real-time problems – like wire-addiction, crime, and those hundreds of people who still live without the LINK due to poverty or religious persecution.
Rabbi-Senator Grey has a working plan to bring the LINK'S wealth to real-time people. Because of this he seems cynical, dark, and negative, but, in my opinion, he's just the opposite. What Rabbi-Senator Grey represents is a positive change for real America, not more promises of entertainment bands for the apathetic and private financial bands for the rich.
Mrs. Isaac Stone, New York
GRAY IS GREY
The Rabbi-Senator Grey is like a dark cloud rolling over America. His doom-saying politics are a drag on the spirits of the American people. What the world needs is a positive brilliance like Letourneau. The New Right is both New and Right. Letourneau has his finger on the pulse of this country. He's incredibly insightful into problems that the average American faces: the downw
ard spiral of "Free Credits" in the World Market, which is vital to American economic survival; the need for faster processors and more frequencies for the continuing health of the entertainment band – still America's number one export industry; and a stronger taxation on outside "hits" so we can get appropriate payment for LINK-users outside of this country.
The Rabbi-Senator's insistence that we put a precedence on real-time problems shows how completely out of touch this candidate is with the needs of the average American. There are only 14 percent of Americans who are without LINK privilege, and most of those are simply too lazy or stubborn to convert to a real religion. Since Taft-Pallis, these degenerates only have to convert to some New Age religion to have full access to the LINK: why don't they just get off their butts and do it? The rest of us, who are productive and spiritual citizens, shouldn't have to shoulder the burden of this "intellectual elite" who already have the support of the ACLU and other fringe organizations.
Letourneau represents a step forward for decent, productive Americans. Bleeding heart liberals like Rabbi-Senator Grey will only bleed America dry. Let Letourneau bring money into American markets!
Mr. David Boxeth, Brooklyn
Chapter 10
"What on Earth?" Dorshak cursed in the darkness. I wiggled experimentally in his iron grip. Despite the distraction, his hold remained firm.
The emergency police frequency erupted with noise. There's been a massive power failure in Traffic Control grid numbers forty-five, sixty-seven...Unconfirmed LINK-hack into police band ... Power outage in holding cell locks ... Get someone on that backup generator, for Chrissake! ... We've got a riot down here, people. I can't stop them ... The dispatcher became overloaded. I switched off.
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