by Haber, Karen
His green eyes sparkled with pleasure. Reaching for her, he pulled her close and held her in a brief hug. Then he turned back to the stove. As he swished the noodles around in the wok, he said, “I thought you might want a treat after the way those media vultures descended on you.”
“You saw that?”
“It’s already been broadcast. I made a tape for you.”
“Thanks, sweetie.” Andie dropped her fur coat on the back of the sofa, settled into the deep, soft blue cushions, and palmed on the screen. For a moment, all she saw was a flickering hail of orange and red specks. Then the image coalesced into blond, efficient Lucia Silva.
“Senator Andrea Greenberg denies any connection to the Moonstation tragedy,” the blond reporter said. “Although she acknowledged her link to Ryton, Greene and Davis, the firm identified with manufacture of the allegedly faulty dome parts—”
“My God,” Andie said.
“—she denied that she had in any way conspired with Michael Ryton to bring about the fatal deregulation of the space industry, which many experts, including Congresswoman Kate Fisher, say led to this disaster.”
The newscast cut to a commercial in which a large, bald man strapped to a white tuba and oxygen tank was floating through a long aquarium filled with office buildings and orange fish wearing gas masks.
Andie reset the autotape and shut off the screen.
“Here. Drink this.” Joel handed her a dark vermouth on the rocks with a lime twist.
“Thanks.” She finished it in three gulps and refilled the glass. “How could I have been so stupid?” She stood up and walked toward the table where Joel was setting down a steaming plate.
“I will not allow anybody to call my wife stupid. Even my wife,” Joel said mock severely as he ladled out the noodles onto their green acrylic plates. “Come sit down and eat before it gets cold. There’s nothing worse than cold, gluey noodles.”
“Yessir.”
The tangy food warmed her. As she ate, Andie relaxed and began to plot strategy.
“I’ll call a press conference.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Joel filled her plate again.
She made a show of swallowing. “There. Happy now? I’ll call a press conference with statistics from the results of the so-called fatal deregulation. Show how safe everything has been for fifteen years. Then I’ll find out what’s going on at that damned investigation. Kate Fisher’s media circus. That woman’s priorities need rewiring.” Andie stabbed with her chopsticks at a stray noodle as though she were working on Kate Fisher’s priorities.
The screenphone rang and Andie turned to answer it.
Joel rolled his eyes. “Not during dinner,” he said. “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t take calls during dinner. The machine can handle it.”
“But it might be important.” Andie gave him an apologetic smile. “I know how you feel about this, honey, but please understand—”
“I know, I know. A senator’s never off-duty.” He switched on the screen near the table.
The round face of Chemen Astori, Book Keeper for the Eastern Mutant Council, appeared. Andie had met him several years ago. A strong, trustworthy leader, as she remembered. And an amusing man, to boot. But he looked sober now. Grim, even.
“Che? I’m here,” she said. “Just finishing dinner.”
“Sorry to interrupt, Senator.”
“What’s the problem?”
“We understand there’s a warrant out for Michael Ryton’s arrest.”
“What?” Andie almost dropped her chopsticks. “How? Why?”
“The Western Book Keeper, Rebekah Terling, just called me. Ryton didn’t show up for the last day of his testimony at Armstrong. Family emergency. His father is dying.”
Andie closed her eyes for a moment. She hadn’t spoken to James Ryton in years. But even now, she could see his features: the golden eyes, the thinning blond hair, the determined jut of the jaw. Dying? It couldn’t be. She opened her eyes as the Eastern Book Keeper continued.
“Kate Fisher demanded that a warrant be procured,” he said. “And she knows how to keep the media salivating.”
“Sounds just like her,” Andie said. “But why can’t Michael just request to be excused from the hearings?”
“He should have. I’m sure it would have been arranged. But he must have been so upset by the circumstances that he wasn’t thinking clearly—his father was seriously injured in what appears to have been a suicide attempt.”
“Gods!”
“And now that he’s gone AWOL, Kate Fisher has whipped up the authorities to get them on his trail. She’s determined to use this investigation to shut down the space industry. She seems to have some special bias against Michael’s company.”
“I always thought Kate was a bigot,” Andie said. “She’s terrified of mutants. And this is one way to hurt them—the space industry is filled with mutant engineers and designers. Poor Michael.”
“Senator, is there anything you can do?”
Andie leaned back in her chair and studied the screen carefully as she weighed her answer. What to do? Michael was certainly in a mess this time. But what was she supposed to do? Become Saint Andie the Good, saddle up, and ride to the rescue of mutants everywhere?
“I understand your problem,” she said. “I’m not sure there’s much I can do to help. Not that I don’t want to.” She shook her head and a few strands of dark red hair danced around her face. “I hate like hell to worry about political necessities. But I’ve learned to live with them and work with them. This issue may simply be too hot for me. I’ve got an election to worry about next year, and the media have already sniffed out my mutant connection.”
Joel gave her a look sharp with disapproval.
Onscreen, Chemen Astori’s eyes were wide, astonished. Obviously, he hadn’t expected her reaction. “But Senator,” he said. “We’re not talking about political expediency here. We’re talking about justice. About saving part of an industry vital to this nation’s economic welfare. And what’s more, we’re talking about an innocent man being hounded by congressional wolves—”
“Che, I’m sorry,” Andie said. “I’ve known Michael Ryton and his family for a long time. We used to be fairly close. But it’s simply out of the question. If I want to accomplish half of what I’ve planned—and this affects mutants as well as nonmutants—then I must play by the rules. And that means getting reelected.” She gave him a quick, pained look. “I’d like to help. But if Michael was absent without excuse, then I’m afraid he is liable. There’s nothing I can do.”
Chemen Astori’s golden eyes glittered with disdain. “I’d expected more of you,” he said coldly. “You’ve always been a friend to the mutants. But I can see that’s changed. I’m sorry to have disturbed you, Senator.” He cut the connection and his image scattered into buzzing black and red lines.
“Shit.” Andie chewed on the end of her chopstick. “You were right. I shouldn’t have taken that call.”
“Can’t you do anything?” Joel asked. His eyes bored into her. “I’ve never seen you turn your back on a friend before, Andie. That’s not like you.”
She waved her hands impatiently. “I know, I know. But Michael’s irresponsibility has not only put him at risk—it could yank me and possibly the entire space industry along with him. Consider that.” She stood up. “Then you might agree I’m wise to stay out of it.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“I have to. As ugly as that may seem to you. And as much as I’d like to help him.” She stood up. “I’ve got some work to do. Don’t wait up.”
Sue Li nervously paced the length of the hospital lobby, oblivious to the bright blue and yellow tile on the walls, the soothing wordless chants issuing from the wall speakers, the passage of other mutants on their way to and from visits with patients.
Her footsteps rang to a grim, internal refrain: My husband is dying. My husband is dying.
Never had she felt so
helpless. So fearful. So tired. And now there was this peculiar situation with Michael’s old girlfriend. What was she doing here? Sue Li didn’t really have the time to spare for a chat, but she’d caught the exchange between Jena and Kelly in the cafeteria. Seen the tension between them at James’s bedside. She had a responsibility as the head of the family to deal with this, if she could.
The elevator door slid open and Kelly McLeod walked out, radiating nonmutancy. In her bright purple uniform, she looked like a visitor from another world. Well, and wasn’t she?
“Come sit down,” Sue Li said. “Something to drink?”
“Thank you, no.”
Kelly shifted uncomfortably on the yellow wallseat cushions. Sue Li didn’t blame her. This was a strange place. A place of endings. Who could feel comfortable here? Even mutants found it difficult.
“Mrs. Ryton, I’m sorry …”
“I know,” Sue Li said gently. “But you didn’t come all the way here just to tell me that.”
“No. No. In fact, I’m not sure anymore why I came at all.”
“You still love him.” There. She’d said it.
Kelly’s blue eyes widened.
For a moment, Sue Li expected her to bolt. But the moment passed. Kelly relaxed, smiled a tiny smile.
“Am I that transparent?” she asked.
“Perhaps not that transparent,” Sue Li said. “But it’s fairly obvious to anybody with eyes to see.”
“No wonder Jena is so furious I’m here.”
“Yes. But I’m not sorry you’ve come,” Sue Li said. She took Kelly’s hand. “There’s something—something important—I’ve wanted to say to you for years, and this finally gives me the opportunity.”
The younger woman looked apprehensive.
Sue Li took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Sorry? About what?”
“Sorry that I didn’t take your relationship with my son more seriously, years ago. Sorry that I didn’t encourage him to pursue his own path.”
“But—”
“No.” Sue Li held up her hand. “Hear me out. Please. I pushed him toward the conventional way because I was afraid of repercussions within the clan. And because I feared that he was heading for a lifetime of grief. I see now that I helped steer him directly into great unhappiness. Perhaps, with you, things might have been different. And now, after so many years, you have come a long way to try and help him. I doubt that his own wife would have done the same.”
Kelly’s cheeks grew red. “I guess I’ve wondered what it would have been like if we’d married,” she said. “I hated the Mutant Council for coming between us. But it forced me to grow up and become responsible for myself.” She looked up, met Sue Li’s gaze. “Not that I’m satisfied with my life now. I wish it had more of an emotional center. I haven’t had that for fifteen years.” Her glance slid away into the past. “I loved Michael then. And yes, I love him now—and not all the years and miles I’ve put between us can change that fact.”
“What do you intend to do now?”
“Keep running, I guess,” Kelly said bitterly. “I don’t see any other solution. But at least I’ve acknowledged what’s chasing me now.”
She’s very pretty, Sue Li thought. I hate to admit it, but I like this young woman—and admire her—much more than my own daughter-in-law. What a fool I’ve been, she thought. Aloud, she said, “I’m sorry. I seem to keep saying that. But I hope you will consider me a friend, Kelly.”
“That would be nice,” Kelly said. “I’d always hoped, at the very least, to be your friend.”
The two women smiled shyly at one another, all barriers down.
Sue Li Ryton. Urgent. Please return to Room Five-C.
The mental summons brought Sue Li to her feet with a gasp.
“James,” she cried. “No. No.”
“What’s happened?” Kelly said. “What is it?”
Sue Li turned to her in anguish. “My husband. I have to go to him—” She staggered, uncertain of her footing.
Kelly grabbed her arm, steadying her. “Come on,” she said staunchly. “We’ll both go.”
Upstairs, the grim faces gathered around the bed answered all questions. The monitoring dials were dark. With an anguished cry, Sue Li sank down across the coverlet, reaching for her husband’s hand. Where, before, she had felt linkage there was now only dreadful, echoing emptiness and shadows that threatened to engulf and devour her. The dreadful echoes, mocking her. No. No. No. Please, James, come back. Don’t leave me here, alone. Take me with you. Please. Please. A lifetime of regrets and pleasures welled up and overflowed, running down her cheeks in salty tears.
“Mom, Mom. Can you hear me?”
Hands were shaking her. A familiar face begged her to answer, to say something, Mom, please. Who was this young man? He reminded her of James when he had first courted her. Yes, of course. Now she remembered—it was their son, Jimmy. And he was crying. She must comfort him. She must comfort all her children. Take control.
“I’m all right.” Sue Li put a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder for support and rose to her feet. “Michael, lend me a handkerchief, will you?”
“Here.”
She took it and wiped her eyes. He was a good boy, Michael. Always such a good boy. Too good, really.
“We must arrange for the funeral,” she said crisply. She forced herself to concentrate on details. “Michael, you’ll contact the Western Mutant Council. I’d like Rebekah Terling to officiate, if possible. And Jimmy, try to reach your sister at Cable News. Jena, please notify Chemen Astori.” She paused for a moment and her gaze settled upon the dark-haired nonmutant stranger in their midst. “And Kelly, of course, will stay.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
.
Skerry studied the orange figures on the screen for one second longer. Then he turned away.
“Screen off. Thanks, Anne.”
“You’re welcome.” The simulacrum vanished.
“What did you learn?” Yosh asked eagerly.
“Ashman called a taxi about two in the morning.”
“But I thought the building hydraulics didn’t work! How did he get out?”
The bearded mutant gave him a sharp look. “How did I get in? I’m just a clever telepath with a knack for breaking and entering. For a powerful telekinetic mutant, a jammed door is child’s play. You should know that. And for a supermutant …” He let the implication hang in the air.
“I see your point.” Yosh slumped down in his seat. “So you think Ashman took Narlydda and Melanie someplace else?”
“Looks that way.”
“Stupid. Ashman is being stupid. He’s much better off here, where he knows how to control everyone and everything. Out there, he’s completely exposed. And vulnerable.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know that,” Skerry said. “Or believe it. At least, let’s hope so.” He grinned but the smile faded as he turned quickly, whipping about from right to left. “Strange,” he muttered. “Very strange. I’m getting weird clairaudial resonances. There’s something really odd about this place. I want to look down this far corridor.”
“That’s Tavia’s wing,” Yosh said.
“Mrs. Emory?” Skerry nodded with satisfaction. “Good. I think I’d like to snoop around her office. See what there is to see. You know the way?”
“Follow me.”
Yosh led him along a gold-paneled corridor to Tavia’s private entrance. But the door was sealed shut. Even his skeleton key couldn’t budge it.
“There are times I wish I were better at telekinesis,” Skerry said ruefully. “I’ve only got a vestigial touch of it. Can’t even reach into a baby’s cradle and steal his bottle.” He looked chagrined.
Yosh gestured with the rifle. “What about this?”
“What’s that door made of?”
“Molded ceramic polymer, I think.”
“Perfect. Give it a shot.”
“Okay.” Nervously Yosh aimed the rifle and fired. Th
e door seal melted under the blast.
“Nice going,” Skerry said drily. He pointed toward the door, his finger inscribing an arc. “Now why don’t you try to cut around the perimeter—unless you want to lock this place up tighter than a type-E dome.”
“Sorry.” Yosh took aim again and managed to direct a clear orange ray along the edge of the doorway. The door smoked, shuddered, and fell in.
Before the dust had settled, Skerry stepped into the room. Yosh hung back a moment until the tone of Skerry’s voice brought him running.
“Jesus!”
“What is it?”
Skerry stood next to a couch, blocking Yosh’s view. “Is this Tavia Emory?” he demanded.
In horror, Yosh looked down at the emaciated figure of a woman lying on the lush velvet cushions. She was clothed in fine bronze silk, but the finest cloth couldn’t disguise the mantle of death upon her features. The lips were drawn back tightly in a grinning rictus. The eyes were tightly shut. Her hands were clutched, clawlike, upon her bosom. A sickly-sweet odor hung in the air. Yosh looked away.
Tavia. No. No. No.
Yosh staggered, caught himself, and stumbled blindly out of the room. When his hands touched the cool acrylic surface of the wall in the corridor, he stopped moving. Leaning his head against the reassuring solidity, he fought back the urge to gag, to sob in revulsion and fear. What was happening here? It was a nightmare. Had to be.
He felt a firm hand grip his shoulder.
“Easy,” Skerry said. “Take it easy, if you can. Deep breaths. Slow.” The mutant placed his palm against Yosh’s forehead with surprising gentleness.
Gradually the horror and shock ebbed as though leached away by mutant touch. Yosh straightened his shoulders and lifted his head, meeting Skerry’s golden glance.
“Thanks. What happened to her?”
“Some kind of intravenous poison, I think. She can’t have been dead more than a couple of days. But no fresh corpse looks like that. Whoever did it used something ugly.”
“I don’t understand,” Yosh said. “I can’t believe she’d commit suicide. Maybe Ashman—”
“You think he did it?” Skerry said.