The Mutant Season, Page 22

  Ever since the Mutant Union meeting, she’d seen, daily, more and more public displays of mutant abilities. In the tube, in the street, at the bank, at work. Andie hardly blinked now when a golden-eyed businessman hurried past her, a stack of discpacks trailing in midair behind him. But other nonmutants reacted with less tolerance, glaring and muttering to their companions.

  She planted her feet firmly on the walkway flowing into the Capitol annex and pondered her feelings for Jeffers. Did she love him? Memories of their lovemaking left her dreamy, indecisive, and longing for more. But what could she look forward to? Her conversation with James Ryton had not given her much hope.

  Andie jumped off the walkway and just made it into the crowded elevator before the doors closed with a whoosh. She saw Karim in the back and waved. He sidled over to her.

  “Hear about Jacqui Renstrow?”

  “No. What’s there to hear?”

  “They found her body in the Potomac.”

  “What???” Andie’s stomach contracted.

  Karim shrugged. “Yeah. I think she was investigating the Pai Gow poker syndicate on ClubMoon. As they say to nosy reporters in the Sea of Tranquillity, sayonara.” He grabbed Andie’s shoulder in alarm. “Hey, are you okay? You look like you’re going to faint.”

  She pulled away.

  “You’re sure she’s dead?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Karim, I just saw her last week. I can’t believe this.”

  The elevator stopped at their floor and Karim propelled Andie through the door.

  “I didn’t think you’d get so upset,” he said. “Were you two good friends?”

  “No. But I’d worked with her before on stories. She was bright. Going places.”

  “Not anymore.” Karim’s mouth was a grim line. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Andie brushed her hair out of her face. “Yes. I’m fine. Just a little shook up.” She squeezed his hand. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Okay. See you.” He watched her walk down the hall.

  She was early, the first in the office. Andie sank into her chair. Her last meeting with Jacqui Renstrow was still vivid in her mind. Lord, but she’d been a pain in the ass. And a good reporter. Despite her irritating persistence, Andie had liked her.

  A thin-faced young woman in a dark-blue suit peered in the door. “Miss Greenberg? Is Senator Jeffers in?”

  “Not yet. Can I help you?”

  The dark-haired woman moved forward timidly, clutching a lapscreen. “I’m Nora Rodgers. General Accounting Office, Section R. We’ve been handling the audit on your office since Senator Jacobsen’s death.”

  “And?”

  “Well, I have some questions for Senator Jeffers. His budget overruns for this quarter are high. Very high.”

  “May I see your spread sheet?”

  “I really shouldn’t.”

  “I’m sure Senator Jeffers wouldn’t mind.” Andie reached for the notescreen, smiling. Her smile vanished as she scrolled through the audit records.

  The figures were astronomical. They almost quadrupled what Jacobsen had spent over the same time period the year before.

  “Impossible,” Andie muttered. “I haven’t seen the spread sheets in a while, but he told me that everything was in balance. We’d been running a bit over, I know, but this is impossible. You must have made an error in computation.”

  “I’ve checked it three times.”

  “Well, check them again, before you waste Senator Jeffers’s time,” she said heatedly and flipped the screen back toward the auditor.

  “I’ll try to contact the senator later,” Nora Rodgers said, and retreated, vanishing through the door.

  With relief, Andie watched her go. Those figures had to be wrong. They just had to be.

  The morning was getting off to a bad start, she thought. First Renstrow. Now this.

  Jeffers bustled in the door.

  “Stephen, we’ve got to talk.”

  He bowed with a mock flourish. “Your place or mine?”

  She marched into his office with Jeffers a step behind her.

  “What’s up?”

  “Jacqui Renstrow’s dead.”

  “That reporter for the Post?” Jeffers dropped his screencase on the desk. “My God, when?”

  “I don’t know. They found her body in the Potomac.”

  Jeffers looked toward the floor. His mouth was a grim line. Finally, he gazed toward Andie.

  “Let’s get a note of condolence over to her family.”

  “Right.”

  “Was that all?”

  Now it was Andie’s turn to look at the floor.

  “No. An auditor from the GAO was here.”

  “The GAO?”

  She faced him squarely, hands on hips. “Stephen, the first-quarter figures are horrifying. We can’t possibly be spending all those credits. According to their figures, we’ve already blown two-thirds of our budget for the fiscal year.”

  Jeffers’s expression turned explosive.

  “That’s ridiculous,” he snapped. “They’re wrong.”

  “I thought you told me you’d checked out all our budget figures.”

  “I did. We’re fine.”

  “Maybe you’d better call the auditors,” she said.

  “Just stop worrying about this, Andie.” Jeffers’s voice was harsh. “I told you, this is no longer your department.”

  “But—”

  “No buts.”

  He stood up and gestured toward the door.

  “I suggest you concern yourself with your own area for a change.” His tone was dismissive.

  Angrily, Andie stood up. “Fine. Excuse me for caring.” She turned to go.

  “Andie?”

  His tone was lighter, almost caressing. She looked back at him.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, smiling warmly. “You do a great job. Don’t overburden yourself with this. I’ll deal with the GAO.”

  Andie’s temper cooled. All right, she thought. Let him handle the budget if he feels so strongly about it.

  “Apology accepted.”

  Jeffers leaned forward.

  “I think we both really need that vacation.”

  Andie smiled. “That’s an understatement.”

  “Would you send Ben in on your way out?”

  “Sure. If he’s here.”

  “Andie?”

  She paused in the doorway. “Yes?”

  “Two weeks to Santorini and counting.” He winked at her.

  20

  THE DECEMBER WIND DUSTED the blue beach shack with snow, rattling the windows. Inside, the space heaters glowed, red conductive crystals filling the room with false summer.

  The chant for linkage boomed from the wall speakers. The soothing basso tones reverberated throughout the room. Michael leaned back in his seat at the wide table, enjoying the peaceful afterglow of the sharing. He saw Jena watching him from across the room, face somber. Even she couldn’t dislodge his calm. He smiled at her and looked away.

  Halden was back in the head chair as Book Keeper; he’d been reelected easily. In his deep, sonorous voice, he called for attention.

  “To recap, he said, “you all know the severe loss we’ve suffered this year. Devastating. Our beloved sister, Eleanor, can’t be replaced. But thanks to Stephen Jeffers, we can live with hope.”

  All heads around the table nodded.

  “The repeal of the Fairness Doctrine is a major step toward equality,” Halden said. “Senator Jeffers isn’t wasting any time.”

  “I told you he was the right choice,” Ren Miller said happily.

  “That was the good news,” Halden said. “But there’s bad as well. The FBI investigation of Jacobsen’s murder has gone off track. The official inquest was closed on December first. They think Tamlin worked alone. But everything we’ve turned up in our search leads us to suspect that he had help.”

  “Working alone? That’s a joke,” Zeno
ra said, sourly.

  “What about our own investigation?” James Ryton asked. “Did we turn up anything there?”

  Halden nodded. “There’s no question that Tamlin was disturbed, with a distinct pathological hatred for mutants. But he couldn’t possibly have faked those press credentials. Somebody gave him access to Jacobsen.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “We’ve attempted to replicate his ID ourselves. And failed completely, even with the efforts of our best holo artists. There’s only one holoshop in all of Washington that makes the press passes, and it’s under direct contract to the government. His credentials were made in that shop.”

  “And the FBI can’t figure this out?” Ren Miller asked.

  “Perhaps it doesn’t want to,” Halden replied.

  “Are you saying there’s a conspiracy to cover this up?”

  “Possibly.”

  “I say Horner did it,” Tela said, her voice harsh.

  “Ridiculous,” Ryton retorted. “We have no proof of that.”

  “Well, isn’t he a likely suspect, with all his born-again Fold blather?” Tela said hotly. “And his weak attempts to recruit some of us? He’s the one that publicized the supermutant rumor. Maybe he’s working with a bunch of other senators who feared Jacobsen and decided to bring her down.”

  Paranoid, Michael thought.

  “We’ve already investigated Horner,” Halden said in a weary tone. “He’s clean. Of course, we’ll continue to pursue this.”

  “What about the supermutant investigation?” Michael asked.

  “Doctor Ribeiros has disappeared, along with his clinic’s records.” The Book Keeper paused. “No sign of him in Brazil. We’ve got other groups alerted, especially in Southeast Asia. We assume he’ll surface sooner or later. We’ll be watching.”

  All around the room, the clan stirred restlessly.

  Halden held up his hands. “If there’s no other business—”

  “Uncle Halden, I request the right to speak,” Jena said, her voice husky.

  Michael glanced at her, wondering what was on her mind.

  “Right is granted,” said Halden after a moment.

  Jena stood. She wore a clinging green velvet synthsuit. Her face was set in a curiously grim way. Everyone was looking at her now.

  “I claim the right of betrothal,” she said firmly.

  Halden’s eyebrows shot upward.

  “Betrothal? To whom?”

  “To Michael Ryton,” Jena said, pointing across the space between them.

  Astonished gasps, both audible and mental, filled the room. Michael’s heart began to pound. What the hell was this? He looked toward his parents, but they were staring at him, mouths open in astonishment. Michael shoved his chair back from the table and stood up.

  “I refuse,” he said angrily, barely recognizing his own voice.

  Jena stared at him. Her eyes were fierce.

  “Nevertheless, I claim the right.”

  “This is a difficult claim to make when the designate is unwilling,” Halden said.

  “Unwilling?” Jena flung her shoulders back and stood with hands on hips. “He wasn’t so unwilling when he came to my bed! When he placed his seed within me! From which I have conceived his child.”

  The words slammed into Michael like physical blows. Jena pregnant by him? It couldn’t be. No. No. No.

  “Prove it.” Sue Li said in a voice that sounded raw and ready to crack.

  “I invite you or your designate to share with me,” the girl replied. “You’ll see I speak the truth.”

  “The truth, yes,” Sue Li cried. She rose quickly and set out toward Jena. Michael thought his mother meant to strike the girl. But Zenora intercepted her.

  “Keep back, Sue Li,” she said, her voice calm. “Let me share with her. You’re too angry.” Firmly, she pushed Sue Li back into her seat. Michael gripped the table. This was a bad dream. It had to be.

  Zenora took Jena’s hands. Michael knew that her mind was traveling the paths, the nerveways of the other’s body. Would she sense a quickening at the center? New life forming in the uterine nest?

  Zenora dropped her hands and moved away from the smaller woman, rubbing her forehead.

  “It’s true. There is life within.” She paused. “But is that life, in part, Michael’s? That still must be proven.”

  Michael sank back into his chair.

  “I have proof,” said Jena, reaching into a screencase by her chair. She held up a green memorypak. “These are the results of the blood and chromosome tests done a week ago. They show who the father is, all right.”

  “Let me see that,” James Ryton said. He took the memorypak and inserted it into Zenora’s lapscreen. Halden joined him, watching intently as the screen flickered blue light, scrolling through the file.

  “Hmmm. The fetus appears to be female,” Halden said. “And there’s the aberrant chromosome.” He tapped the screen. “The centromere position is acrocentric. Undeniably pinched.”

  “All this proves is that the father is mutant,” James Ryton said irritably.

  “It proves more, James. You know the location of the centromere can indicate paternity as clearly as a blood test.” Halden turned to Zenora. “Can we access Michael’s chromosomal records through the Net?”

  “Yes.”

  “Use the spare roomscreen.”

  Michael sat frozen like a condemned prisoner, watching as the scaffold from which he would hang was constructed.

  Time ticked endlessly by. Then Zenora nodded grimly and looked up from the screen. “It’s a match, Halden. We have parity of the dominant alleles, centromere location and configuration, and blood type.” She turned toward Michael. Zenora’s generous features flickered as she gave him a sad half-smile. “I’m sorry.”

  All noise in the room ceased as the clan waited for Halden’s pronouncement. The Book Keeper looked at Michael strangely. It was as though he’d never seen him before. Nearby, James Ryton stared into space, his face drained of all emotion. A muscle jumped in Sue Li’s cheek. Silence enveloped the room. Finally, Halden stood.

  “Betrothal is granted,” he said, lips puckered oddly. The words themselves might almost have been bitter in taste. “New life must be protected by the clan.”

  Michael came to his feet.

  Marry Jena? No. This wasn’t in his plan at all. He had his entire life waiting for him back home. With Kelly. He couldn’t marry Jena. But to defy the clan meant expulsion. Shame for his parents. What would happen to them? To him?

  And if he didn’t defy the clan, what would happen to Kelly and him?

  “I won’t marry her,” Michael yelled, half surprised to hear himself say it. In sudden rage, he kicked over his chair and bolted out the door into the snow, shoving aside the telepathic cries of the clan.

  He would go to Canada. Find Skerry. They’d never catch him. Never. Running for his life, Michael pounded down the street, away from the meeting, into the gathering dark.

  Stunned, Sue Li watched her son disappear out the door. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t feel. She looked across the table at Jena. The girl also watched the doorway as though expecting Michael to return at any moment. Then, a bit sadly, she looked down toward the floor.

  “Well, I suppose it’s all for the best,” Zenora said.

  “Best? How do you know what’s best? I certainly don’t,” Sue Li snapped.

  “He’ll come back. Don’t worry,” Tela said.

  “Perhaps it would be better for him if he didn’t,” Sue Li said, her voice rising.

  Face pale, Jena stared at her.

  Sue Li rounded on the girl.

  “You tricked my son,” she said. “You have won right of betrothal and you may be able to enforce it if he returns. But I will never forget what you did nor forgive you.”

  Tears filled Jena’s eyes.

  In fury, Sue Li looked around the room for her husband.

  James Ryton was staring at the roomscreen, scrolling through the mem
orypak’s contents again. He looked pleased, Sue Li thought. Wasn’t he concerned about Michael?

  “I declare a recess until we know Michael’s real intentions,” Halden said.

  “But that could take days,” Tela said. “We have to get back to our homes. Our jobs.”

  Halden wiped his forehead. “Michael must have time to adjust. I will give him three days to make his decision. After that, if he does not return, we will declare him outlaw and resume the council.”

  Released from the formality of the meeting, most of the clan lingered in the main room.

  “Sue Li, don’t worry. He’ll be back,” Tela said. “Come over to my place and we’ll chant.”

  “Maybe later, Tela.”

  A small group gathered around Jena.

  “How wonderful,” one cousin said.

  “When is it due?” asked another.

  When they saw Sue Li watching them, the group moved toward her.

  “Congratulations, Sue Li,” said Cousin Perel.

  “Spare me your congratulations,” Sue Li said angrily.

  She looked around the room. Ren Miller stood nearby.

  “Ren, would you go after Michael?” she asked.

  The dark-haired young man almost choked on the soya roll he was eating.

  “Uh, Sue Li, no offense intended. But I don’t want to get involved in family problems.” Miller turned away.

  Frustrated, Sue Li moved toward Halden. The Book Keeper was sitting, eyes closed, in a faded blue floatchair.

  “Halden?”

  His eyes flew open.

  “How can you just sit there?” Sue Li demanded. “Aren’t you going to try and find Michael?”

  Halden raised his hands helplessly. “What good would that do? Would you like me to bring him in, trussed up like a turkey? No, Sue Li. What you’re asking is completely inappropriate. As Book Keeper, I have to remain neutral. Michael must return because he wants to. I’m sorry.” He returned to his meditations.

  Sue Li looked around the room. No one would meet her eye.

  “Well,” she said. “If nobody else will do it, then I’ll go.”

  Grabbing a thick red and gold thermal wrap from the rack by the door, she hurried out into the snow.

  It was two weeks since Jacqui Renstrow’s body had been fished out of the Potomac. The controversy over the Fairness Doctrine was heating up. Bill Edwards, Katharine Crewall, and all the other major video jocks were practically camped out on Jeffers’s office doorstep. Andie counted down the days to vacation, eager to get away from the endless phone calls and repetitive questions. Five days alone in Greece with Jeffers—she almost hugged herself with delight.