The Mutant Season

  “If it’s not a problem, I’ll send a skimmer around for you at seven.” His watch chimed. He looked down at it, frowning. “Hmm, got to run. Meeting a few of my colleagues.” He smiled once more, not as much voltage this time. Was it her imagination or did he wink as well? “See you tonight, Andie.” He was gone before she’d had a chance to nod back.

  Caryl walked in, tucked a stray blond hair behind her ear, and leaned against the door frame. “Not bad, if I may be so bold.”

  Andie sat down. “Quite a contrast to Jacobsen.”

  “Well, women in public office have to be more formal. They can’t relax.”

  “I suppose.”

  “I love his dimples.”

  “Caryl, you’re not supposed to say that about the boss!”

  “Maybe not, but why are you primping in that mirror suddenly?”

  Andie snapped the mirror shut.

  “Don’t I hear your screenboard buzzing?”

  Caryl turned on her heel. “Have fun at dinner.”

  Tiny lights set in clerestory niches cast warm tones of amber and rose across the enameled ceiling. Round candles winked in delicate saucers at each linen-covered table. Andie was grateful for the pink silk shirt and leather pumps she kept in her office closet. This was one of the finest restaurants in Washington. A menu sans soya. Remarkable. Her jaw almost dropped at the list of steaks and exotic seafood, some of which she’d thought were impossible to get.

  “What do you recommend, Senator Jeffers?”

  “Call me Stephen, please. Otherwise, I’ll feel uncomfortable.” He smiled. His golden eyes were candid, friendly.

  Andie smiled back. “All right. Stephen. But you haven’t answered my question.”

  “Well, if you want my opinion, I’d select the peppered oysters, then the abalone-stuffed scallops, but only if you’re a seafood fan. Otherwise, the whitened sirloin is superb.”

  “The scallops, then. And the oysters.”

  Andie admired his ease with the waiters, his graceful movements. He was unexpectedly charming, with a touch of the exotic. Those golden eyes only accentuated his appeal. She was surprised, and a little embarrassed, to find herself so attracted to her new boss.

  “I’m delighted you’ll stay on,” Jeffers said. “I was afraid you’d had enough of Washington after the tragedy and might want to work in a private law firm someplace else.”

  Andie nodded, ignoring the voice in her head that asked her when she had agreed to stay on permanently.

  “Among my priorities are carrying on my predecessor’s work. I’d like what I do to be a kind of memorial to Eleanor, if you know what I mean.” His tone was low, confidential.

  “I think that’s a lovely idea, Sen—Stephen.”

  “I may not always have agreed with her priorities, but I have great respect for her. Always will. I’m going to start by establishing a memorial scholarship in her name. I’ve also been thinking about sponsoring an award, the Jacobsen Award, for work by those committed to improving and enhancing cooperation between mutants and nonmutants. This chasm between us is ridiculous.”

  Andie took a sip of wine, a soft rosé that lingered pleasantly on her tongue. He was making the usual promises. Well, fine, as long as he put them into action.

  “That sounds like a good idea,” she said cautiously. “It would gain the goodwill of the voters and honor your predecessor as well.

  He nodded. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

  “What about the Brazil report?” she asked, watching him closely.

  Jeffers gave her a quizzical look. “The Brazil report? I’m afraid I don’t have much information on that.”

  “The unofficial investigation into genetic experiments in Brazil?”

  “You’ll have to brief me on it, Andie. But you can bet I’ll want to take part in the presentation, representing Eleanor.”

  Good, Andie thought. Aloud, she said, “Do you plan to monitor the investigation into Jacobsen’s murder?”

  He frowned. “Of course. I’m going to get heavily involved, you can be sure. We must discover the motives behind the killing, who hired the assassin, this Tamlin, and why. I’ll make certain everybody realizes that open season on mutants is over.” There was a steely tone to his voice, suddenly, that made Andie want to shiver. Jeffers’s glance seemed far away. Then he turned toward her, his look less abstracted, and smiled.

  “Too grim, huh? Sorry, Andie. Keyed into a bad memory for a minute. Forget it. There’s just so much to do and I’m anxious to get started.” He reached across the table and took her hand. She saw that his fingernails were neatly buffed, impeccable. “I know that together, we’ll be able to accomplish a great deal. We’ll make Eleanor proud of us.”

  Andie nodded. “Of course.” Either he was the best politician she’d ever seen, or he was completely sincere. And when he didn’t release her hand, she began to think that her new boss was doing more than trying to forge a bond with a valuable employee. What concerned her was not his seductive manner, but the fact that she wasn’t sure she minded.

  Melanie stretched luxuriously in bed and rolled over, seeking Ben’s warmth. When she reached the other side of the bed, she realized he was gone. The wall clock said five a.m. The room was still dark. Where was he?

  Yawning, she padded naked into the bathroom and got a drink of water. Flicking on the light, she looked at herself in the mirror. In the warm pink light, she thought she looked transformed; more worldly, more womanly. She’d been living with Ben for over two months now. She felt settled and happy. Each night, he seemed to teach her something new in bed. She loved to please him.

  At first, she’d been worried about getting pregnant, but after she’d visited that special gynecologist, Ben had assured her she didn’t have to worry. The doctor had given her an ovum block good for two years. Melanie had never heard of the procedure, but if Ben said it was safe, then it must be. So that’s what had taken so long, she’d thought. It had felt as though the doctor was planning to poke around in there for a year while she kept her feet frozen in those damned stirrups.

  She walked out into the hallway and saw light spilling from under the door of the den. Were those voices she heard? People talking?

  “Ben?” She knocked at the door. There was no response. “Ben? I know you’re in there. What are you doing?”

  The door slid open and Ben grabbed her by the shoulders, his face a red mask of rage.

  “You’re disrupting a business call,” he snapped. “Go back to bed!” He shoved her toward the bedroom.

  “Ben! What’s wrong?”

  “I’m working, dammit. Now stay out of here.” He slammed the door.

  In tears, she hurried back to the bedroom. What had she done? She lay there sobbing for what seemed like hours until she felt him next to her, touching her gently in the predawn gloom.

  “Mel? I’m sorry. You surprised me in the midst of some delicate negotiations.”

  “At five in the morning?”

  “Overseas. Promise me you’ll stay out of there.”

  She rolled over to face him. “Do I ever intrude on your business?”

  “No.”

  “I just missed you and wondered where you were.”

  “I’m sorry I got so upset.” His arms were around her. She felt his fingers beginning to work their magic upon her.

  Two days later, she came home early from work and heard voices from the back of the apartment.

  “Ben?”

  No answer.

  Cautiously, she walked toward the den. The door was open. Ben was talking on the screen to a somebody whose voice she didn’t recognize.

  “Don’t get too distracted by this one,” the male voice said.

  “Don’t worry. Besides, you’re getting all the benefit.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say all the benefits.”

  Both men laughed.

  “How is she?”

  “Inexperienced,” Ben said. “But hot. And willing. Once she crawled into my bed, how c
ould I say no?”

  Melanie began to shake. Was he talking about her in that snide, offhand tone?

  “How did you find her to begin with?”

  “Stroke of luck,” Ben said. “I just happened to be at that club. Can you believe that Tamlin was trying to strangle her?”

  “That crazy gork. Amazing that he hit the right target at all.”

  “Yeah. And then he blew it anyway.”

  Tamlin…That was the man who killed Eleanor Jacobsen, Melanie thought.

  “Well, don’t worry about him,” the strange voice said. “How much longer before we get the girl?”

  “Well, I kind of hate to give her up now that I’ve got her trained,” Ben said.

  More laughter.

  No, Melanie thought. No. No. No.

  “Don’t be greedy, Ben. You’ll be well rewarded. Maybe we’ll even let you have her back when we’re finished with her. But there’s a doctor in Brazil who’s anxious to meet her.”

  “I thought that supply of ova would keep them busy for a year.”

  “They want more. You’re sure she hasn’t been traced?”

  “Positive. I checked it out as soon as I got her here.”

  “Fine. Well, get her ready. We’ll want her in a week.”

  “Okay. I’ll tell her we’re going on vacation.”

  Mel staggered backward, stunned. She could hardly believe what she’d heard. Get away. She had to get away. What was he planning to do to her? Brazil? Ovum? She felt like gagging. Somehow she forced herself to palm open the front door, and bolted down the beige-carpeted hallway.

  “Mel? Mel, is that you?” She heard Ben’s faint shout. Then the elevator door slid closed. Gasping, she rode it to the skimmer port.

  She’d drive away. That was it. She’d take his skimmer and drive home. She’d go back to her parents. She had to tell them about what she’d heard.

  No.

  She’d go to the police. That’s what she’d do.

  The elevator door slid open and she ran toward the car. As she reached for the door, a hand grabbed her wrist.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Ben.” She gasped. “I, uh, I wanted to go shopping.”

  “Without telling me? Why are you so pale?” He moved closer, his face hard. “If I hadn’t taken the express elevator in the apartment, I’d have missed you. Why don’t you come upstairs?”

  “I don’t feel like it.” She pulled back, but he was dragging her slowly toward the elevator.

  “I want to tell you about the trip we’ll be taking.”

  The door was open and he was pulling her into the elevator. She saw something silver flash in his hand and realized it was a hypo.

  “Let go of me, you bastard!”

  Desperately, she kicked out, kneeing him in the groin, hard. He collapsed, groaning.

  “I thought you loved me!” She kicked him again. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her to the ground.

  “Crazy mutant bitch!” He slapped her across the face. “You think fucking means love?” He reached for the hypo lying on the elevator floor. She struggled for it, frenzy giving her speed, and her hand closed upon the ampule a second before his did. Shaking, she rammed the hypo against his neck and heard the faint hiss of its trigger releasing. Ben’s features relaxed. His eyes closed and he slumped to the floor, out cold.

  Boldly, she searched his pockets for credit chips and found his wallet. There was enough in there to keep her going for a month. She took the key to the skimmer and got in. She’d have to dump it quickly, but at least it would take her to the nearest tube stop. And from there, she’d get the shuttle.

  She backed into the skimmer elevator, waited until she’d been raised to street level, and gunned the motor toward freedom.

  15

  HUNGRILY, MICHAEL EYED a fat burgundy plum on the tree by the front lawn. Some of the best fruit came in September. He plucked the juicy globe and palmed the door open.

  The house was empty. He took a healthy bite of the plum, paused to hang up his gym sack, then checked the e-mail monitor. There was the usual assortment of queries and contracts. He made a mental note to finalize the Haytel negotiation tomorrow. The message light kept blinking. He pressed the play button, and an image of his mother flickered to life.

  “We’ll be home in two days,” she said. “Your father’s flares appear to be subsiding, but he needs a bit more rest. See you on Tuesday.”

  Michael finished chewing and tossed the plum pit into the waste chute by the door. He’d thought his father was too young to start suffering from flares, but apparently he was wrong. What a mixed blessing mutancy was.

  He walked into the kitchen and ran a quick survey of the pantry menu, selecting burritos with shoki mushrooms and freeze-dried pork. The refrigerator conveyor engaged. When the bell rang, he levitated the defrosted package into the convection oven, set the timer, and let it cook for three minutes. As he set the table, he wondered what it was like to have to rely on your hands to do everything. Slow. He chose a Red Jack from the bar and sipped it, waiting for his meal to cool a bit.

  Michael set the kitchen screen autodial for ten-second delay. Dutifully the screen scrolled through dancers in black and yellow body paint; antique movies at least twenty years old filled with old-fashioned cars, gun battles, and shrieking women; talk shows in which reporters in somber gray news suits covered world events twenty-four hours a day; the shopping channel flashing kaleidoscopic images at him of skimmers, floathomes; Moonstation condos; mech body extenders; solar-powered orgasm clips; and plastic surgery specials. Michael saw that this week’s bargain was chin enhancement.

  He took a bite of burrito, savoring the taste of the peppers igniting against his tongue. What he really wanted to do was see Kelly. But she was away on business with her father and wouldn’t be home until the end of the week. So he was stuck with the vid. At least Jimmy was visiting cousins overnight.

  Propping his feet up on the floatchair opposite him, he settled into the blue, fluid-filled cushions and watched the screen flicker and change, flicker and change. One image caught his interest, and he told the dial to pause at a news show. A handsome young man with a thick shock of brown hair, a sturdy smile, and bright golden eyes appeared onscreen in three-dimensional holoview.

  Stephen Jeffers, Michael thought. The new mutant hope. Looks even better in video. Nice chin. Wonder if it’s enhanced. Michael asked for another channel and paused, struck by the video jock’s familiar appearance.

  “I should hope I look familiar,” the jock said, frowning at him. “Wake up, kiddo.”

  Michael blinked. Then he smiled. “Skerry, I should have known. Where are you?”

  “Closer than you can imagine. Listen, I need to talk to you, Mike.”

  “Are you still pissed off because of that meeting?”

  “Let’s say I’m displeased. That’s why I need to see you.”

  “When?”

  “How about now?”

  “Okay. Where?”

  “Do you know the Hardwired?”

  “In Mountain Side? Sure.”

  “Meet me there in fifteen minutes.” The image wavered, and suddenly, the reporter had blond hair and blue eyes. Skerry was gone. Michael finished the last bits of burrito, levitated the dish into the washer, and went to meet his cousin.

  The bar was empty, lit by a few red and blue beer signs and a row of blinking white lights. The mechband played a raga by the I-Fours. Michael’s eyes began to adjust to the cavelike gloom. It had been years since he’d been in the Hardwired. It wasn’t a mutant hangout, particularly, and since the knife incident with Melanie, Kelly had wanted to avoid the place.

  He saw an attractive woman at the bar with straight dark hair and a friendly smile. She was wearing a green tunic cut low in front to display her considerable cleavage. Probably a pro, Michael thought. But he felt an unmistakable lustful tingle all the same. Kelly, come home soon, he thought.

  A bright yellow arrow distracted him
. It pointed toward a booth near the back wall. He walked in that direction as the arrow danced ahead. Skerry was hunkered down in a booth at the back of the room. The arrow disappeared with a chime. Not for the first time, Michael envied his cousin’s mastery of telepathy, a sleight of mind that he would never be able to achieve. He sat down on the tan cushion facing Skerry.

  “Hi. Have a kimmer.” Skerry pressed a button at the table and the server filled a glass for Michael.

  “What’s up?”

  Skerry looked disgusted. “Well, they’ve really gone and done it this time.”

  Michael sipped the sour mixture slowly, savoring the tang of the alcohol.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, dear cousin, that Stephen Jeffers is not what he seems to be.”

  “No? Then what is he?”

  “Ambitious. Dangerous.” Skerry sank deeper into his seat.

  “Ambitious? That doesn’t sound so bad. He seems okay to me. And he sure got appointed easily enough. Besides, I’m tired of mutants going around on tippy-toes, trying not to offend the normals. How do you know this guy’s dangerous?”

  Skerry drained his glass and ordered another. “Because I reached in and took a look, okay?”

  Michael’s jaw dropped. “You what?”

  “Spare me the reaction, kid. You probably don’t believe me anyway. But this guy’s got bad vibes.”

  “Like what kind?”

  “He’s one of those mutant supremacists. Hates normals.”

  “So? Half of the members of the clan feel the same way. And most normals reciprocate, don’t they?”

  “Maybe. But it’s better to have somebody in public office who’s less prejudiced. Who can deal with nonmutants comfortably. Fanatics make me nervous.”

  Michael took another sip. “If you’re so concerned, why didn’t you say something about it at the meeting?”

  “I tried. But I can’t push our cozy little group too far. Otherwise, they’ll fry me. Or die trying. And they didn’t want to believe me. Jeffers is too pretty. Besides, everybody’s anxious to put the assassination behind them. So now Jeffers is senator.” Skerry poured a glassful of the red brew and stared at it morosely.