A Year and Change - Part Seven
A Sailor Moon fan fiction by Thomas Sewell (sewell_thomas@hotmail.com)
Chapter 22: Three Women
ISTVAN WAS IN A HUSSAR'S UNIFORM, and Maria was in an Empire gown. They were dancing on a parquet floor which seemed to stretch limitlessly in all directions. Stars were visible overhead, and brilliant crescent moons, large and in many colors. Thunder sounded in the distance, or perhaps artillery . . .
Maria spoke to him. "Colonel. Colonel."
"What is it?" asked Nagy, not quite released from his dreams. Maria's gown was presently replaced by the shirt-and-slacks she had donned before driving the truck to the White House.
"Time to get up. Commander Sargon wants you again," said Major Horthy, emphasizing and perhaps satirizing Sultan's new identity by drawing out the words.
Yawning, Nagy checked his watch. He'd been asleep for nearly five hours. "You should have wakened me sooner. What's been happening?"
"The Americans have declared martial law," said Horthy, "and Major Baiburs' man has died."
Neither event surprised Nagy. He yawned again, deciding not to tell Maria about his strange dreams.
8:06 pm EDT
Sultan asked Nagy, "Colonel Nur, what do you think this implies for us?"
Nagy had noticed that Sultan was being very formal and very polite--notably to Fahd, but also noticeably to himself. He responded in the same way. "Commander, with martial law and now the curfew, they will be able to clear the streets and move in more forces. They can also get the reporters out. While neither of these steps is really necessary in a military sense, since they already have many armed men surrounding us, it may make them feel more confident to move against us."
"Yes, it could mean that," said Sultan. "Are there other interpretations?"
Nagy aimed his words more at Fahd than anyone else. "These are gestures that make their Vice President look strong. That is certainly one thing he will consider. Perhaps it is the only thing he means by them. There is also the practical consideration of crime. With so many police here, criminals in other parts of the city will think of taking advantage. The implied severity of martial law and the curfew will discourage some of them. Perhaps more important to their Vice President, he will be seen as taking strong measures for the safety of his law-abiding citizens."
"What is the most likely interpretation?" asked Sultan, sounding very much like a professor--that was a persona he used a lot now, Nagy noticed, and he wondered if it said something about his background. "In your opinion, Colonel."
Nagy replied, "I think their Vice President has taken this act primarily to show that he is in command now. I doubt very much if he has decided to attack us, but he will have advisors pointing out to him that he will now have more freedom to move on us."
Baiburs muttered something, and Sultan picked up the remote. He was still glancing at the television, though the sound was muted.
Sultan said, "If you were with the Americans, Colonel, when and where would you attack us?"
Nagy said, "As I have said before, the best time would be during the evacuation. That is why I want it to be in daylight."
"Why not attack us here, Colonel?" asked Sultan. "You would have plans to every square centimeter."
Again, Nagy addressed himself to Fahd's concerns. "This is one of their greatest national symbols. They will not want to damage it. Even if they are willing to damage this place, the more force they use, the more likely they will harm their own people, so they will be unlikely to use more than infantry weapons. Given that limitation, they cannot overcome us before we can kill the prisoners. They know how harshly we have dealt with women and children, thanks to Major Baiburs. They will assume we will be as hard or harder with their men."
Nagy paused long enough to make a coda, and then added, "Ambushing us along the evacuation route is the smarter move, but it has little chance of succeeding. In Munich in 1972, German spetsnaz1, perhaps the finest in the world at the time, tried to free Israeli prisoners from quite poorly trained and equipped Palestinian fighters during a similar evacuation, at night. All the prisoners died. We are a many times more effective force."
Sultan waited for Nagy to finish, and then said, "Thank you, Colonel. Major Fahd, you may go." Then he picked up the remote and brought up a recorded portion, freezing the first frame. "Colonel Nur, this is one of the medical women. What do you know of her?"
Nagy shook his head. "I don't recognize her. Who is she?"
Baiburs said, "This one is named Mizuno. She is a doctor, she speaks Arabic, and three of the children belonged to her. We also have her husband."
Nagy said, "The others all asked for her. The other mothers, that is, including Michiru."
Sultan started the clip. "--tured here with her mother at the African Medical Assistance Society conference in Capetown, South Africa last year. The elder Dr. Mizuno, Vice-Chairman of the AMAS, is reported to be on her way to the United States from Chad. Dr. Mizuno's husband, Kurume Sumi, is the president of Mercurius, a California-based computer techology firm with a current stock value of--"
Sultan switched off the recording and killed the sound again. He lit up a cigarette--not one of his special ones, Nagy noticed. After a couple of puffs he said, "Major Baiburs, bring that one here. Bring all of the women."
Sultan continued to watch the television and smoke for awhile. Nagy asked, "May I return to my post?"
"No. Not yet. I'm not finished with you . . . The American television seems to be acting in our favor."
"In our favor?" Nagy was startled.
"In the military sense, Colonel," said Sultan. "All those cameras out there are showing us what the Americans are doing. We must remind the Americans how much we love their television and how much we want to go on watching. In your next communication with them, tell them we will take any measures to restrict press coverage in the area under martial law to be suspicious actions."
Nagy said, "We can't rely on their television even if they let their reporters roam freely."
"No. I have other resources," said Sultan. "But you will agree that their television is useful to us?"
"Yes," said Nagy. He let the matter drop.
Sultan was smoking his second cigarette before he spoke again. "I appreciate the way you explained things to Major Fahd. What is your unbiased assessment of the situation for tonight? What do you think the chances are that the Americans will assault us?"
Nagy replied, "There is always the possibility that their Vice President will be foolishly aggressive, or that he will be persuaded by someone who is. Someone could act on his own. Even a firearms accident by one of our men could provoke a spontaneous assault. Major Fahd has taken steps to ensure that his less experienced men do not cause this problem, but it happens among the best troops." Nagy shrugged. "But the Americans believe they have two days now. The time for hasty action was last night. They could launch a coordinated action tonight, but they could launch a more coordinated attack tomorrow night. All in all, we should be safer tonight than last night or tomorrow night."
Sultan turned away from the screen to face him. "We should be safer, you say. But do you feel differently?"
"I don't feel complacent." Nagy shrugged again. "I am spetznaz. My work is raiding, gathering tactical intelligence, ambushing. I know how to defend a position, but I don't like doing it. The defender has to be ready at all times. The attacker can pick his time." Nagy paused a moment, and allowed himself to smile. "And maybe my Gypsy blood is telling me something."
Sultan said, "I thought you were raised without such superstitions." Then he turned back to the television. Nagy waited in silence, watching the screen because there was nothing more productive to do.
Baiburs returned with two guards and the three women. They were bound again, with the cable ties Sultan had purchased in abundance on his prior visit. Sultan glanced at them and said, "Unbind them" in Arabic. Then he returned to the television.
After Baiburs complied, he asked, "Do you want me to stay?"
Sultan replied, without looking: "No. Return to your duties. Take your men."
Baiburs and his men left, leaving the three women standing in a row. Sultan paid the women no attention for the moment. Nagy examined them silently. They were all in gowns, which were now richly stained, mostly with blood. Nagy knew blood when he saw it, and smelled it. They did not seem wounded, though, and he gathered it had belonged to their late patient.
8:24 pm EDT
Delivering the demands had put Anne Kerkorian near the top of the American pyramid of power in midafternoon. After the Vice President actually arrived, it was clear her position had eroded. She and the Bureau had acted swiftly, and were to be commended. What can you do for us now?
The answer was: not much, compared with what other agencies were offering. The Bureau could not really compete with the force options the military was offering the Vice President. The State Department offered assistance and advice on prying loose the prisoners to be exchanged. What the Bureau had to offer now was mostly the promise of further intelligence about the terrorists. But it couldn't offer any more now . . .
Anne Kerkorian had made her excuses and left the Pentagon, rather than simply stand by the Vice President inneffectually, hour on hour.
It was now that the Acting Director saw and regretted her oversight in not clearly establishing FBI control over the released hostages immediately. The French and Japanese parties had all repaired to their respective embassies (and, no doubt, intelligence officers). The minor members of the White House staff had accepted the Mayor's hospitality. Even Jean Lawrence had been allowed to leave the Hoover building, from where she had gone straight to the Vice President. All the Bureau had in even the most tenuous of grasps were Michiru and her guests, still at University Hospital.
Ann Kerkorian called the the Special Agent in charge at the hospital. "Any new progress to report, Mr. Ruthen?"
Ruthen replied, "Not very much. We did get drawings of some of them, but they won't be much good for us. These guys ain't local talent. Joe Blow from Kokomo ain't gonna call in and say, 'Yeah, I know this guy.'"
"Joe Blow from Baghdad might, once we get them on CNN," the Acting Director retorted, "Mr. Ruthen, how did you keep Michiru and her friends from leaving?"
"We didn't," Ruthen replied. "I think they were waiting to see if Mrs. Chiba could leave."
"Ms. Chiba?" Kerkorian inquired using the honorific prescribed by current policy--something Ruthen hardly ever did.
"Mrs. Chiba is the one in the wheelchair, the one who was upstairs when the terrorists took over," said Special Agent Ruthen. "The docs gave her something that knocked her out pretty soon after she came in. She's awake now, though."
"Is she coherent?" Kerkorian remembered the interrogation report.
"I don't know," replied Ruthen, "They won't let us see her."
Anne Kerkorian asked, "Who are 'they?' Do you mean the medical staff?"
"No, it's more like the other hostages," Ruthen replied, "They protect Mrs. Chiba like she was their queen bee."
"They do, do they?" mused Kerkorian. The Acting Director thought for a moment or two. Ms. Chiba was the hostage in the position to see more than any of the others. Her interrogation had not been complete; she might know more. She was not that far away at University Hospital; it was two miles or so from the Hoover2. Finally Anne Kerkorian said, "Mr. Ruthen, maybe a woman's touch would help. I'm coming over."
The man Nagy knew as Colonel Sultan deigned to look at the women again after a suitable wait. He noted that Nagy had not spoken to them, perhaps a good sign. They did not speak, a much better sign; Baiburs' conditioning was effective.
Sultan recognized the Mizuno woman. She seemed the most composed. She did not stare at him, but she did not look away, either. She had deduced that he was the leader. The other two seemed of less importance. The one who had colored her hair blond might be the same as someone he had seen on television. But that might be the one in the wheelchair in healthier times, or someone else altogether. The third one had eschewed dyes or wigs and colored contact lenses: she had black hair and dark brown eyes. But she also was buxom, with generous hips, and a sharply-chiseled nose. She reminded him of some women he had known in Turkestan. Not her manner, though. She stared right back at him.
Sultan said, "You, in the middle. Who are you?"
"Dr. Han," she answered.
Sultan said, "We allowed you to treat one of our men. He has died. Why?"
Dr. Han replied, "I think primarily through blood loss. We stopped the major internal bleeding, but he had lost much blood already. Plasma was not enough to make up the difference. If you had sent him to a hospital, a blood transfusion might have saved him. Or at least he would have had a better chance."
Sultan turned back to the television. After a few moments, without turning back, he said, "Dr. Mizuno, you seem to be of some reputation. Why was our man sick?"
Dr. Mizuno said, "I have never treated a case like his. I remember nothing in medical literature quite like it."
"You told Major Baiburs that it resembled ebola fever," said Sultan. "Dr. Han said something about 'radiation poisoning.' Those are alarming diagnoses."
Dr. Mizuno said, "They were plausible diagnoses, given the symptoms. Since we don't have facilities for analyzing clinical specimens, or for detecting radioactivity, they remain plausible diagnoses. Whatever it was, it damaged several of his organs. The spleen and bladder were ruptured; there was generalized damage to his intestines. I suspect that the liver and pancreas may have also been affected, but I cannot be sure without an autopsy."
Sultan said, "Major Baiburs thinks you may have chosen your diagnosis in order to alarm us, Dr. Mizuno. Colonel Nur, what do you think of this?"
Nagy said, in Arabic, "My people have all been vaccinated against the African diseases."
Nagy had forgotten that Mizuno could speak Arabic. Dr Mizuno said, "This could be a new strain, or a non-African disease. I have seen a strain of ebola cause damage that was something like this. Infections are not my specialty. I am a surgeon."
Sultan said, "The rest of us must take our chances. We could ask for vaccines and drugs, but of course, we couldn't trust what the Americans give us. And I am afraid, Dr. Mizuno, that I cannot allow you to warn the people outside because many of my people are watching and listening to the media. I will not alarm them, since there is nothing I can do for them without compromising our mission. Colonel Nur?"
"Yes, Commander?"
"Take these women out onto the balcony." Sultan turned to the women. "You will remain on the balcony until someone orders you to leave. Do not speak again without permission. I will not tolerate any further attempt to undermine the morale of our force."
Nagy guided the women to the balcony. The Yellow Room was empty, and so was the balcony it opened to on the southern end. That irritated Nagy; the balcony was a good place to check for infiltrators keeping close to the south wall, where the patrols and the roof pickets might conceivably miss them. He had asked Fahd to take care of it during the day. Probably he had ordered someone here . . . perhaps the man was just at the latrine, a forgiveable offense with the kind of material Fahd had brought.
"Look out, please. We want your faces to be seen." Nagy took a last look around himself, and he remembered the last mother he had released, the one that had reminded him vaguely of his own mother, the one that had persuaded him to release the rest of the children. He said, "I released your children this afternoon."
"We know," said the blond one. "The woman Major told us."
"She told our guard she would kill him if he told Major Baiburs," said Dr. Mizuno.
"I did not give you permission to speak," said Nagy.
Nagy returned to find Sultan still watching television. Sultan said, "I know about the ebola rumors. Do you think I should be charitable and tell the Americans?"
Nagy was uncertain how to play this. "You are making a joke, Commander?"
Sultan said, "Not necessarily. We already have rumors of ebola. Why not give the Americans the same worries?"
Nagy thought a moment, and replied, "If the Americans believe it, it gives them extra incentive to act against us quickly. Even if their government does not believe it, they could use it as an excuse to justify action. And if this gets on their media, Major Fahd's men are going to hear of it. It will confirm their fears."
Ginger Han turned around and whispered, "There's nobody behind us. Why don't you guys take off?"
Minako said, "They have men down on the grounds, and probably men watching from the roof. Plus, the television is probably showing us already."
Ginger said, "Go inside and change. Then they won't know it's you."
Ami said, "Mina-chan, do it, and take Gin-chan. I will stay."
But then a man with a rifle entered the Yellow Room and headed straight for them. It was the man Major Fahd had assigned to the balcony. He yelled at them in Arabic, for he had no other language, and he made such a racket that not only Nagy but Sultan emerged to investigate. Sultan excortiated the man for leaving his post without permission. Then he said, "You will stay out there, with the women, until you are relieved." Then Sultan said a few words to Nagy, who left, and Sultan returned to the Monroe Room.
Ginger Han understood none of this, for she had no Arabic.
Then it was quiet for awhile. Nobody talked after the man made his initial speech. Ami did not translate it. The man walked back and forth around the balcony, slowly. He was an older man, with a lot of gray showing in his mustache and hair. After awhile, Ginger noticed that he always looked away when she looked at him, and that he gave them a wide berth when passing them. He did not seem very formidable, after seeing him for awhile, and certainly not like Baiburs' men.
However, a man soon appeared in the Yellow Room who looked very formidable. He stood outside the door to the room where they had talked with Colonel Nur and the man who seemed to be the overall leader.
Outside, a beautiful day was ending. The sun cast longer and longer shadows across the South Lawn. The air was very clear. Ginger Han could see across the Potomac quite a few trucks with dishes, which meant that cameras were thick out there, no doubt with telephoto lenses. They could be capturing the last image of herself alive that Lily would ever see.
She mused about her parents. She hadn't specified custody in her will. She hadn't really thought about it until now. Would they contest custody with Mamoru? They adored Lily; she was a bigger part of their lives than Ginger had ever been. What would be best for Lily? She was a senshi; no escaping that. But her parents might give Lily at least a few more years as just a girl . . . No, she's too much like her dad. Like Kimi . . . Ginger Han shuddered.
Get hold of yourself, Ginny. These clowns know if they start killing hostages, so many guys with guns are going to come after them it will look like the Super Bowl. And what they don't know . . .
1. Spetznaz is Russian military jargon for special forces. They were the most elite troops in the former Soviet army. Some of them worked for the GRU, Soviet Military Intelligence. Nagy naturally refers to commandos from other countries as spetznaz. The incident in Munich in 1972 really happened. It was at the Olympics. Back
2. "The Hoover" is the J. Edgar Hoover Building, FBI headquarters since the middle 1970's. I invented this slang phrase for it. Given Hoover's relentless and expensive pursuit of Martin Luther King and other people who didn't suit his politics and prejudices, there is a lot of sentiment for changing the name of the building, but it hasn't happened yet in our world or in Sailor Moon's. Interestingly, the White House is almost exactly halfway between FBI headquarters and the George Washington University Hospital, the real prototype for my fictional "University Hospital," both buildings being about a mile away from the Executive Mansion and close to Pennsylvania Avenue. Back
A Year and Change
A Sailor Moon fan fiction by Thomas Sewell (sewell_thomas@hotmail.com)
Chapter 23: Intelligence
8:53 pm EDT
ANNE KERKORIAN found Agent Ballin waiting for her a block from University Hospital. There were reporters nosing around the main entrance and cameras on the roof that could spot a government limousine. But there was an unobtrusive way to enter, as Ballin explained along the way. "The name reporters are all gone now, but there are plenty of second- and third-stringers. Especially freelancers, more and more now. Major Vierhofen tells me the Army is starting to clear the perimeter of any reporters without Press ID. I guess they are drifting over here because of Michiru. There's also a rumor His Honor might come back."
"What a wonderful prospect," the Acting Director muttered. Then Anne Kerkorian got to the business she came for. She asked, "Ms. Chiba, the one that was under sedation. Is she still here?"
"Yes, Director," answered Ballin.
Kerkorian said, "Tell me again about Ms. Chiba. Isn't she the one who was shot years ago?"
"Yes," said Ballin, "And one of her daughters was assaulted in March."
"Tell me what else you know," ordered the Acting Director. "Anything, even what Mr. Tiggs said about her. Anything at all might help me get a handle on her. I don't recall you saying very much about her. I mean, about herself."
"There wasn't much else to say," said Agent Ballin. "Marty said she seemed to run the house, and that's about all he said about her. From the way her friends have been acting, I guess Marty was telling the truth. Her father is a fairly famous photographer. Her husband is a doctor, but he's just a resident now. She's 29 now. She's been married five years but she has daughters who are 10 and 14. The oldest girl told me her father was an American Marine and that he died before she was born. The others belong to Dr. Chiba, or are supposed to. Do you remember what I told you about Dr. Chiba, Director?"
"Yes, children by four mothers," said the Acting Director.
"Dr. Chiba is at the hospital," said Ballin. "He showed up just after two this afternoon. He's the only one I've got to talk with alone, without the Army and the CIA and the DC cops. But, of course, he wasn't a hostage."
"You talked to him alone?" said the Acting Director, halting. "What about? Did you ask him about Blue Note?"
Ballin admitted that he had, and summarized the interview. "I think--"
The Acting Director cut off Ballin's opinion. "You shouldn't have done what you did. Ms. Chiba might be the best intelligence source we have now, and you have antagonized her husband unnecessarily."
"I'm sorry, Director," said Ballin, not sounding particularly apologetic.
"Blue Note is finished, Mr. Ballin," said Kerkorian. "The Bureau has moved on. See that you move with it. Now," she said, "Show me your way to get in without talking to fifty reporters."
9:03 pm EDT
Getting past the reporters was a little more involved than Anne Kerkorian anticipated. But after that hassle, and Ballin's flub in handling Ms. Chiba's family, some good luck came the Bureau's way. Special Agent Ruthen related the circumstances to her. "The detectives from the District got pulled to work a homicide couple of hours ago. The Major took off for his chow break before Mrs. Chiba came around, and he ain't back yet--you know, somebody should tell him. I don't know what happened to the CIA guys, but they ain't around now."
"I don't think I will wait for them to return. Where is Ms. Chiba now, Mr. Ruthen?"
"She's in the last room on the left, there, just before the nurse's station."
The Acting Director went quickly to the room, entered alone, and said, "Excuse me, could I talk to Ms. Chiba?"
"Who are you?" asked one of the women in the beds. Kerkorian did not recognize her.
"My name is Anne Kerkorian. I am the Acting Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, at present."
Michiru was in the room. She said something in Japanese to the woman in the other bed, and then bowed to Anne Kerkorian. "We have heard of you from the television reports. Katherine Warfield said she gave a package from the kidnappers to you. So you must have been the very first person to see their demands."
"Yes," responded Kerkorian, mildly flattered.
"I am Mrs. Chiba," said the third woman. She had blond-colored hair, and it looked surprisingly natural . . . and so did her blue eyes. Anne Kerkorian remembered, This one must be the one Minako Jones was photographed with . . . Ballin didn't show that one at the briefing. The briefing seemed a thousand years past, now. "Come closer, please," said Ms. Chiba.
"Of course." Anne Kerkorian edged closer, meanwhile getting out her recorder and saying, "Anything you remember could be important. Now, why don't you . . ."
The three women were all talking. Anne Kerkorian could not understand a word they were saying. Then Ms. Chiba said something sharply, and they were quiet. Ms. Chiba said, "Kerkorian-san, would you leave for a few minutes? I promise I will talk with you after."
The Acting Director nodded and left the room, momentarily glad to do so because of her lapse. What was that about? Maybe just fatigue. This thing started before I got to sleep last night; maybe three hours sleep night before . . . Someone was brushing past her. It was Michiru.
Special Agent Ruthen asked, "Did you get anything from her?"
Anne Kerkorian looked at her recorder. None of the indicator lights worked. Blast, what a time for the battery to run down, she thought. "I'm not sure," she said. "She said she would talk to me again. I don't suppose we have anyone here who can speak Japanese."
Ruthen led her away from the room as he talked. "The Major can speak some. If the CIA guys can, they ain't sayin'. None of our guys, if that's what you mean."
Kerkorian and Ruthen moved out of the way of a clot of people. What was going on now?
When the group had passed, Ruthen murmured, "They're stirred up again."
The group all went into Ms. Chiba's room and more passed by for the same destination. Michiru was one of them. When the procession was past and inside the room, the Acting Director asked, "What do you mean, stirred up again?" She was careful to stand close to Ruthen, because other curious people were around now.
Ruthen murmured, "They all went inside when Ms. Chiba woke up. The man was her husband."
Anne Kerkorian thought a moment about the behavior of Michiru and her friends. Why was Ms. Chiba so important to them? What was really going on? "Your little remark about the 'queen bee' seems to have been right on the mark." And so was Ballin's info from Tiggs, she thought. Moving further away from prying ears, she continued. "What is your take on these people, Special Agent Ruthen?"
Ruthen shrugged. "They're Japanese. I can't read them too good. Can't be sure I can tell between what's strange because they're Japanese and what's just strange. One thing for sure, though."
"What?" asked Kerkorian.
Ruthen said, "They're all tougher than they look. They've come out of this better than the other hostages, even the other Japanese. To my old nose, they don't smell like civilians. They've all talked to cops before. I'd bet you even money some of these guys have seen some action." He leaned close and lowered his voice. "Ballin told me they all had connections with Blue Note."
"They all knew Jones," said the Acting Director. She paused a moment. Ruthen was going to retire as a mere Special Agent, but Kerkorian had more respect for his experienced opinion than that of most of her District Head, however much she wished he would learn the new Bureau etiquette. "Or they could have. Where is Agent Ballin?"
Ruthen reported Agent Ballin was talking to the Major somewhere out of sight. Kerkorian took the opportunity to have some more private words with Ruthen. First she shooed off an inquisitive Ramirez with instructions to keep an eye on the hostages, especially Ms. Chiba. Then she slipped into an elevator with no more than perfunctory words to the DC cop on watch there. Once the doors were closed and they were alone, she asked, "What do you think of Agent Ballin, Mr. Ruthen?"
"He's good with the new toys," said Ruthen. "And he can think on his feet. I'm not sure I'd want to break through any doors with him, but you can always get grunts like me to do that."
"He asked Dr. Chiba some questions about Blue Note. Did you know that?" asked Kerkorian.
The doors opened, and they stepped out and walked some distance before Ruthen answered. "Yeah, I know about it. Your bright boy made a mistake. But it was a good cop's mistake. Like I told you, some of these guys smell like they've seen action. The Doc is one of them. And that big one. Definitely the big one."
"You don't mean Descartes' wife?" And Michiru's companion, the Acting Director added in her mind.
"No, I don't mean her, I mean the one with brown hair and the big chest," said Ruthen. "You know, I did know who and what Michiru was before before this all started, Director. I just didn't know she was connected to Minako Aino."
The Acting Director noticed an implication, and halted their aimless walk. "Mr. Ruthen, you seem to remember Minako Jones better than any of the ones actually here. You even remember her maiden name. You wouldn't have your own agenda concerning that old operation, would you?"
Ruthen shook his head. "No. This old dinosaur is too close to retirement to do any crusading. The reason I know Minako Aino by name is because I met her. It was, oh . . . four years back, first year of the last Administration. I was working out of the San Francisco office and Charlie Vincenti took over. I was already on his sh--short list, so he stuck me in the scut jobs. One of them was surveillance. I spent, oh, eight, nine weeks staking out Marvell Jones' mother's place. Joint operation with DEA and the locals. It was a joke; she made us right off; she'd wave to us going by; she even made us pies. Marvell would drop by once or twice a week, but we never got anything from him."
"Anyway, this drop-dead-gorgeous woman was showing up every day. We thought she was a hooker, but it turned out she was the nurse-therapist for Kevin. Marvell's brother was living with his mama. He was in bed or in a wheelchair most of the time, but Minako Aino got him up and walking. Not good, but she got him to do it. The mother introduced us one day. And she spoke with us a bunch of other times before we packed it in." Ruthen shook his head. "Anyway, soon after that, Vincenti got me on the bicycle and I went to Texas. I didn't know she married the brother, or about her and Michiru and the rest of this bunch until today, Director. Except for the big one."
The Acting Director said, "You knew her too?"
"Met her once. Aino brought her over. She gave us this huge basket of cookies." Ruthen nodded. "When I told her that, she told me that Aino was trying to fix her up. That did break some ice. She even told me I sort of reminded her of an old boyfriend. Forgot her name . . . Now she's one of the Mrs. U-somethings, but I can't keep them straight." Ruthen shook her head. "But I'm sure of this: Back then, and now, she'd rather not be around cops. And she's been around enough cops to know how we work and how we think."
Ruthen continued to ruminate. "Aino knew cops too. She knew cop talk and she'd use it. She'd notice little things, too, like a new antenna, or one of us changing from a 9mm to a 10mm. Too bad the Major can't ask her about what the terrorists are packing."
"Too bad indeed," murmured Kerkorian, her mind now on two things at once--three, if one counted the orderly approaching. "What's your take on Major Vierhofen?"
"Kinda like Ballin in an army suit," said Ruthen. "Seems like a solid guy. And I guess we like army guys better than CIA guys or District cops."
"Some army guys," said Kerkorian. She switched to the other question that had been on her mind. "If you met Ms. Aino and her friend on official duty four years ago, why is this the first I've heard of it? We started the background checks in March."
"Nobody asked me about it," said Ruthen.
"That's not what I mean," said Kerkorian. "Ballin gave me a lot more material on Minako Jones than I used at the briefing. She almost went to the Olympics. She managed a pop group in Japan. She has a ticket for driving a tank without a license--in Switzerland. And much more. But he did not inform of me of this interesting little incident. You did report it, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I reported it," said Ruthen "Everything. I even attached a cookie to one of the reports in case our crime lab wanted to analyze it." He shrugged. "Maybe someone threw my reports out, or decided they weren't worth putting into the computer."
"Maybe," said Kerkorian, "But that wasn't and isn't Bureau policy. Everything stays on file. Anything we can't or won't put on electronic media will be referenced on electronic media. If we start purging our files, someone is bound to say we're covering up something. We restrict access, but we don't throw anything out unless we get a legally binding order to do so. That's policy, and I believe it's the right policy."
Ruthen waited for another hospital worker to pass by. "You won't hear me argue with you about that, Director."
9:13 pm EDT
Rei said, "We could still do it by ourselves. We have defeated worlds before!"
Michiru said, "We could have defeated them at the beginning. The question was, at what cost? With what we know now, that question is of many times more importance."
Makoto said, "I'm with Rei. We have to take care of these guys. The longer we wait, the more chance they will kill one of the hostages to show how tough they are."
Haruka said, "There are soldiers and police all around the White House now. The enemy knows that. They know if they execute hostages, they will probably be attacked right away."
Setsuna shook her head and said, "They could kill hostages in some quieter way than shooting them. Also, they have made this new threat. If the American government believes them, they will not allow an attack, not unless the Vice President himself orders it."
"If that is true, we are the only ones who can save the hostages," Rei said. "We must act before the enemy kills someone."
Mamoru said, "We didn't have a plan we're sure would save all the hostages, even before--"
Rei cut him off. "They are bluffing!"
Michiru said, "You are so certain of that? Your opinion is so informed? Aino-san was the General, not you."
Rei said, "I don't have to be a general to figure this out! If they actually have the weapons, why would they bother to take a few hostages? If they truly have the weapons, they have this country as their hostage! The world!"
Setsuna said thoughtfully, "Hino-san's reasoning is sound. Our enemy has taken the greatest of risks to capture the White House and their hostages. It does not seem to me like something a good soldier would do if he did not have to. Princess, is their highest leader a soldier?"
Usagi said, "I did not read him very deeply. I saw some images of men dressed like soldiers, but none of them were fighting." She shook her head. "The only military man I ever really knew was Jimmy-chan. Fazi could be a general, for all I know. He sees himself in some fancy uniforms."
"It takes more than a uniform to make a soldier," said Haruka.
"So, Tenou-san agrees with me," said Rei. "They are bluffing."
Usagi shook her head, "Fazi is very sure of himself. He is a suspicious and careful man. Nagy-san has some fear of him. But Fazi was quite contented when I was close enough to hear his thoughts . . . " Usagi concentrated for a moment, and then said, "Nagy-san was quite worried, but Fazi was not. And Nagy-san had no memory of the sample. I read him much more deeply than any of the others. I could not have missed something that important, because it was only a few minutes since Katherine Warfield was sent out with their demands. Nagy-san knew that; I saw the package in his mind. But he did not know the sample was in the package . . . That makes no sense to me."
"A man who does not know a secret cannot betray it," said Haruka. "Nagy and his men made the attack on the White House. If they failed, he might have been captured. Remember, Fazi did not come in until later, when it was safe."
Michiru said, "Sweetest, that is true. But one wonders: Why did Fazi come at all? If he is the true leader, his cause could be lost with him. If he is not, why trust him with this greatest of secrets?"
Rei said, "That all leads back to my belief. If they really have the weapons, what they have done makes no sense."
9:25 pm EDT
Istvan Nagy looked out from the third floor of the White House, scanning from east, through south, to west. If the Americans made an assault, most likely they would make it from the west, because the bulk of the executive offices at the end of the West Wing offered the best cover. Of course, there was always a patrol there, but it was only three men, and only one of his men. There were no sensors to back them up. No, no sensors had been included in the van full of "special equipment."
Colonel Nagy switched off his nightvision goggles. The batteries would not last forever, and with one of the rechargers gone bad, batteries were getting to be a problem. The grounds' lighting was sufficient for the most part. The time the nightvision equipment would be vital would be when--and if--the Americans cut the power.
Nagy took another look with his bare eyeballs, taking in the beauty of the moment as well as the tactical situation. There was afterglow to the west; overhead, stars with a few tiny patches of cloud. The air was quiet; traffic sounds occasional and faint. That was a part of the curfew that helped his own force; the quiet streets would make it harder for the Americans to move in any large force unheard. Of course they did not need a really large force, but Nagy thought the Americans could not resist using one, if they decided to use force at all.
9:30 pm EDT
The Acting Director found that at some time in their absence, Ms. Chiba had transferred to her wheelchair and moved to the lounge. "About five minutes ago," said Agent Ramirez, when asked.
The lounge was crowded, but quiet. Most of the occupants were children, many of them asleep in the chairs, on the couches, and on the carpet--the path that Ms. Chiba had taken was apparent, because it took up the greater portion of unoccupied area. Most of the ones awake were watching television. Not Ms. Chiba, though; she seemed to be looking out the windows on the eastern end of the lounge. The other adults were two elderly ladies, who clucked to each other in a language entirely strange to Anne Kerkorian as she passed them, and Ms. Chiba's husband, who rose from among a cluster of children to bar her way. "I want to speak with Ms. Chiba again."
Ms. Chiba responded without turning her head, softly, in Japanese, and exchanged some phrases in that language with her husband. He stepped aside. Kerkorian drew as close to Ms. Chiba as seemed correct and said, "Perhaps we should go someplace more private?"
"Please do not talk loudly," said Ms. Chiba. "I don't want to wake up Kimi-chan." There was a child sprawled on the couch in front of Ms. Chiba, buried under a hospital blanket except for her hair, which was done up on the same unusual way as Ms. Chiba's.
"Of course," said Kerkorian said, lowering her voice still more. Anne Kerkorian made some small talk to ease the obvious tension. "You can't quite see the White House from this floor. From the roof, I know you can; that's why there are so many cameras up there now. The hospital got an easement from the height limitations for the District. The only taller building in town is the Washington Monument."
"That is interesting, Kerkorian-san," answered Ms. Chiba. "Do you think the Vice President believes in the senshi?"
"Believes in what?" Kerkorian asked, bewildered.
"Do you think he believes in the angel ladies? In the magic girls so many say they have seen? I think the last President believed in them, maybe."
"I don't know," said Kerkorian, honestly. "Why would you think of that?"
"The senshi--that is what some call them in Japan. The senshi are supposed to work miracles, are they not?" said Ms. Chiba. "Is this not a time when miracles are needed?"
"I suppose it is comforting to believe in angel women," said Kerkorian, "for some people."
"When I was a young girl in Japan," said Ms. Chiba, "I believed in them. I believed with my whole heart." She shook her head slightly. "But it is harder to believe in miracles now."
"Harder for all of us," said Anne Kerkorian.
Before the Acting Director could move on to a more pertinent question, Ms. Chiba said, "You know it is said that Aino-san's husband was saved by angel girls and a lady."
"Aino-san?" responded the Acting Director.
"You would call her Mrs. Minako Jones," said Ms. Chiba. "She is still in the White House. You know, it is also said that angel ladies burned Minako's husband so badly. He was burned on the same night I was shot, you know."
"Yes," responded Kerkorian, beginning to feel uneasy, "I'm afraid I do know that."
"Maybe the angel ladies make mistakes sometimes," said Ms. Chiba. "Terrible mistakes."
A Year and Change
A Sailor Moon fan fiction by Thomas Sewell (sewell_thomas@hotmail.com)
Chapter 24: Renown
9:42 pm EDT
"BESIDES THE PRESIDENT, the intruders are still holding these three women," said the interviewer. "What can you tell us about them, Katherine?"
Katherine Warfield could see in the monitor the image electronically replacing the blank green wall behind them. "I can't say I know why they were separated from us, Barbara." Katherine Warfield played along with the phony intimacy the interviewer was displaying. "It is true that one of the men guarding us seemed very ill some time before they were taken away, but no one told us anything about that. I had never met Dr. Han or Dr. Mizuno before last night and I did not talk with either of them for very long, so I'm afraid I can't tell you much about them."
"What about the other woman, Katherine?" The interviewer was good; she had picked up the implication Warfield had given her, and taken advantage of the pause Warfield had made.
"I have met Minako Jones before, Barbara. That's her on the left. Most recently, I spoke with her when I last interviewed Michiru and Mr. Descartes. She is a friend of Michiru's, like many of the other guests. But I must say I was very surprised to see her turn up at the White House."
"Why?"
Kate Warfield said, "Minako Jones was married to the brother of Marvell Jones. Marvell Jones was suspected of being the leader of the biggest illegal drug operation in Northern California."
"Was suspected?"
Warfield said, "Neither of the Jones brothers is with us now. They were murdered last year, probably by rivals."
"Well, that is certainly surprising . . ."
9:53 pm EDT
"Yes, I spoke with Michiru. His Honor isn't the only one who appreciates music," quipped Anne Kerkorian to one of the reporters as she approached her limousine. There was no avoiding them now; with the curfew in place, she had to exit at the main entrance. Ballin had been right; no first-team people here, in fact, not a face she recognized. But she was almost past them.
Then a fresh face, a woman's, appeared. "Excuse me, one more question, Madame Director."
Anne Kerkorian halted and turned to face the questioner. "Yes?"
"It's just come out that one of the guests, Minako Jones, was married to a notorious criminal. How did she get through your Bureau's background check?"
The Acting Director silently thanked Ballin while she replied, "The Bureau was quite aware of Ms. Jones' background and we informed the President about it. Ms. Jones may have married a man with a criminal record, but she has none of her own." Kerkorian made her exit before anyone else could ask a question.
Once they were away from the hospital, the driver asked, "Did you get anything, Director?"
"Maybe a few names," the Acting Director said wearily.
"Do you want me to take you home now? Been a long day, Director."
The driver had a point. Anne Kerkorian hadn't actually slept since five the day before. The Vice President wasn't likely to authorize action tonight, no matter what General Thysson said. "Good idea, Barnes. Head for Georgetown."
10:15 pm EDT
The worst part of a round for Istvan Nagy was the second basement. It was Baiburs' lair, which was distasteful enough, but it also stank. Rather than let the prisoners use the toilets, Baiburs simply provided buckets in the holding rooms. By the second night, the stink was noticeable even in the first basement, where he had set up his command center. In the second, it was dreadful.
Much as Nagy would have liked to avoid it, the second basement had a weak point that had to be watched. There was a tunnel here leading to the West Wing and beyond. Since it was a possible route for desertion, Fahd had insisted on a three-man arrangement here, probably to save face; Sultan had agreed. So one of his precious men was always on watch in the fetid tunnel entrance. Nagy, and Horthy for that matter, never neglected this unfortunate man.
At this time, the unfortunate man was Fedorov, his youngest men. Fedorov wasn't quite as young as he looked, but still, he was seven years younger than the next youngest, Ramirez, and he'd never seen in action with Nagy. He had under Sergeiev, though, who was his uncle, and before that in the underpublicisized low level conflicts going on inside the Russian Federation.
One of the joys of the post was that it was close to the conference room that held most of the prisoners, and even closer to the toilet where their buckets were emptied. "Here comes the bucket boy again," baby-faced Fedorov remarked, holding his nose.
Federov looked to be right, because the bucket boy looked like a boy, so smooth-faced he made Fedorov look like an ancient. He was one of the prisoners, of course, evidently picked because he looked least likely to cause trouble. One of Baiburs' men was herding him, taking pains to push this gun barrel into the boy, admonishing the boy to hurry--in Arabic, which the boy was unlikely to understand, until they disappeared inside the toilet.
Nagy talked with Fedorov for a little while longer, letting Fedorov go on with a story about Sergeiev Nagy had never heard. When the boy emerged into the hall again, though, curiosity overwhelmed Nagy and he excused himself. He stopped the bucket boy and asked, "How old are you?"
"Nineteen, sir," the bucket boy replied.
"Are you sure?" He looked no more than fifteen to Nagy, who had seen his share of boy soldiers.
The youth stood a little straighter, as he said, "I have a daughter, sir. Seventeen months old now."
"And another on the way," said Nagy without thinking.
"How do you know that?" asked the youth, straightening up all the way.
Actually, Nagy did not know how he knew, or why he had said what he had. Before Nagy could say anything else, the bucket boy's minder suddenly learned English, saying, "We ask the questions, prisoner!" while administering his rifle barrel again.
"I did not give you permission to speak, soldier," said Nagy.
"I apologize, sir," sneered the guard.
Fedorov, who had drifted up to finish his story, dropped the guard with a palm-thrust to his chin. "More respect for your officers, please," he said. Like his uncle, Fedorov was a born NCO, and lightning-fast when he chose to be.
Baiburs appeared, as he always seemed to appear, and the unruly guard was chastized--not for abusing a prisoner, of course, but for disrespect to an officer. The bucket boy disappeared into the holding room while this was going on. Fedorov returned to his post, his story unfinished, and Baiburs turned to leave. It was also time for Nagy to get to his own duties, but before he did, he stopped Baiburs and asked, "The bucket boy, who is he?"
Baiburs actually looked puzzled for an instant, something Nagy had not seen before. "His name is Shingo Tsukino. He is one of the Japanese." Baiburs may have thought a moment, or maybe not; Nagy suspected the man had a photographic memory. Baiburs added, "He has identification as a student of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. But he does not seem important. You released his woman and child. Did his woman tell you something?"
"She asked about him, they all asked about their men, except . . . wait, not just her, the one in the wheelchair asked about him," said Nagy. "He's the brother of the one in the wheelchair. The one Commander Sargon had me release after the journalist."
Baiburs brightened. "Ah, that one. The Commander was pleased with her statement to the press. So this one may have some extra propaganda value. I will point it out to the Commander. Thank you, Colonel."
While Baiburs made his pleasant remarks, the most cordial words Nagy had heard from the man, on, one or perhaps more than one of his guards was administering enough "discipline" to draw out some racking sobs from the main holding room. Nagy couldn't tell if it was Tsukino. He did not stay to investigate.
10:43 pm EDT
Fazi ibn Sultan al Kaukji, the man known as Colonel Sultan to Nagy and his mercenaries, and as Commander Sargon to the world, looked over the woman for a moment, but not a long moment. He told Baiburs' man to leave. He thought he caught a change of expression on the man's face as he left, but let it pass. "You may sit," he said, indicating the chair by the bed. Fazi turned the sound back on the television and selected CNN, then went back to sixteen-subscreen mode. The woman went silently to the chair, never directly looking at him. She was wearing a domestic's uniform, obviously made for a woman of more girth, presumably the best that could be found to replace the filthy gown Fazi had seen her in earlier.
After scanning the news for awhile, letting the woman settle in, Fazi said, "You have been on the news. The first woman I released today remembered you, and I have seen more reports since."
The woman remained silent.
Fazi said, "You may speak. Is it true? Your husband was a black drug gangster?"
"My husband was African-American," said the woman. "He did nothing wrong when I was with him. His brother was the leader of the gang."
Fazi asked, "What were they like? I have spent much time in America, but I have never known any black criminals. Yet one hears so much about them."
The woman answered, "Kevin, my husband, was a fighting man. I think he would have been a soldier or even a policeman if he had not been Marvell's brother. I did not know Marvell, the leader, very well. He did not allow anyone to know him well, not Kevin, not his wife, not even his mother. He did not seem much like the gangsters on the police shows. There are boys who act like that, but they do not last long."
Fazi's attention was divided between the television and the woman, but he did notice that the last phrase resonated with conviction. Presumably she was relaying the opinion of her dead husband or brother-in-law, and that lent it some weight, as much weight as Fazi would give to anything said by a woman. "How did you meet the gangsters?"
"My husband's mother hired me as his nurse-therapist. He had been badly burned, and it was difficult and painful for him to move. I tried to teach him to do as much as as he could do." The woman added after a few silent moments. "Perhaps Kevin-chan's mother thought of me as a wife for him all along. She was very happy to have grandchildren."
Fazi recalled something. "You had several children by the gangster . . . So the dark children who were with the mayor were yours?"
"I don't know anything about the mayor. Kevin-chan is the father of three of my children, and they have darker skins."
"Father of three," mused Fazi. "You have more?" The woman looked quite young.
"I also have a daughter of eleven years1."
Fazi wished he had asked Baiburs more about the woman. Of course, Baiburs would have omitted nothing really important, but Fazi knew that women were concerned with trivial matters, and knowing more trivia about the woman might make things go more pleasantly. Still, it was of small importance.
"Perhaps you would be more comfortable in the bed?" Fazi suggested.
10:51 pm EDT
Naru said, "I've put a geas on the doorway. Everyone should avoid this room. I think the spell will wear off soon with all those curious policemen here, though."
Luna said, "I don't think we will be able to keep up the mindlink very long. Mamoru, you do understand, once you we are linked, we will share Sailor Moon's pain as well as her thoughts. Be ready. Usagi, do you think you are ready?"
"Yes, Luna." Usagi transformed. She winced, but did not cry out; she had learned to accept the pain, for awhile, at least. She floated above her chair high enough to take the pressure off her back, and then said, "I'm ready to make the link."
Luna made the link, and immediately gasped with pain. Mamoru began to curl up, but straightened out. Sailor Moon reached out with her mind, taking Mamoru and Luna with her, darting through the thoughts of hundreds, perhaps thousands, seeking the signature of the man who thought of himself as Fazi. Mamoru was able to forget the pain for some moments because of the incredible novelty of the experience.
Presently there were Arabic thoughts, mostly, and Mamoru made them intelligible, mostly--colloquial Arabic had changed a lot since Saladin's time. Sailor Moon took longer to taste each mind now. Then, there were no more of them. Sailor Moon said, or perhaps thought, "I think it is too far, too many . . . I will try harder." The pain increased, but Arabic thoughts were heard once more--and then they weren't. Sailor Moon tried again, and again, and again. Finally she made a great effort. The pain was unbearable, and then--
Luna was slapping Mamoru, very hard. He grabbed her arm. "What are you doing?"
"I had to break the link! Look!"
Sailor Moon was floating above, almost touching the ceiling. The ginzuishou had manifested, and it was glowing brightly. Sailor Moon's eyes were open, but they stared blankly at nothing.
"Usako! Usako!" cried Mamoru, but there was no response.
10:57 pm EDT
"Reports are coming in that many people in the District experienced sudden pain. Our lines are being overwhelmed by incoming calls, and--Dennis? Are you there?"
"Yes, Jan," said a disembodied voice. "As you can see--"
"I'm afraid we can't see, Dennis. We don't have video feed from you."
"You don't? . . . I guess you don't. Ray dropped his camera when it happened. I'm telling you, I don't blame Ray. The pain was simply indescribable, Jan. It didn't last long, but it was simply indescribable."
"I see, Dennis. That was Dennis Kendall reporting from University Hospital. Whatever it was didn't affect us here in our studios in Laurel, Maryland, but Carl Bremmer in--"
1. Ishi is really only two months older than Kimi, but she just had a birthday. Ishtar's birthday is in June; Kimberly's is in August. Back
Chapter 25: Repulse
White House
10:53 pm EDT
MAJOR HORTHY was taking a turn making a round of the duty posts. She was on the Third Floor, or rather outside it, in the walking area that surrounded the penthouse structure, partly concealed by extensions of the outer walls, almost unnoticeable in conventional views of the White House. It was the most pleasant part of a round, and the best sentry duty to catch, though of course the roof sentries would probably die first in any attack--there had to be 13mm rifles trained on them from every angle by now, which could cut through their Kevlar vests and helmets like butter. The weather reports said that Tropical Storm Barrett might come ashore here tomorrow night, but tonight, there were only a few patches of cloud, and the temperature was just cool enough to be pleasant. The curfew had cut the skyglow from businesses, so there were more stars visible than the last night. She lingered a bit longer than she needed to, asking for more impressions from Ramirez and Vietengoff.
So she was there when the pain hit.
Istvan Nagy was standing on a parquet floor, in a hussar's uniform. It was the same uniform, he now realized, he had seen in a picture-book the day he had started wanting to be a soldier. Music came from everywhere, and from nowhere. The floor stretched out into darkness. The sky was filled with crescent moons, of many colors, many sizes.
Maria was nowhere in sight. There was no one in sight, except a girl in a sailor-cut school uniform. She had blond hair done up in two long ponytails with little buns where they joined her crown, and deep blue, almond eyes, not pinched but large and limpid.
She was in a wheelchair.
The girl said, "Why do you do this thing, Nagy-san?" Her voice was small and sweet, yet it echoed.
Before he could answer, or think to answer, came the rumbling he had heard before.
When the pain was past, Major Horthy stood up straight. She saw that Vietengoff, taking his turn by the field phone while Ramirez walked the perimeter, had also doubled over. There was no blood she could feel.
"What Devil's work was that?" Vietengoff said in German.
Horthy heard firing, from somewhere below. It was very muffled. Then came some kind of detonation, perhaps closer, and more firing, definitely closer. She grabbed the field phone to call the command center. There was no answer. "Vietengoff! Keep trying to get through to Command!" She grabbed her radio. Forgetting to use a false name for once, she shouted, "Alert! Alert! This is Horthy! Alert! West Patrol, report!"
The West Patrol reported that they heard firing behind them. But of course, Horthy heard it even better, because the firing was much closer to her.
Ginger Han was still recovering from the pain when she saw their guard pull back the operating lever of his rifle. Ami had fallen over; she was helpless at this moment. Ginger lunged, butting the guard in the crotch with her head. She dematerialized her bonds, and was doing the same for Ami when the guard shot her in the back.
Usagi was in her uniform, her middle school uniform, the one she had worn the day she found out she was Sailor Moon. Her hands were smaller; the bosom beneath her brooch, almost non-existent. She was fourteen again.
And yet she was in her wheelchair, feeling nothing below her waist.
Nagy, the man who had led the takeover, was standing before her, dressed in an old-time uniform, with high boots, a huge curved sword hanging low in its scabbard, an elaborate jacket draped over one shoulder, dark hair hanging in braids. He was young, too. But he was still a soldier.
"Why have you done this thing?" Usagi asked. "Why did you do this thing for Fazi?"
Fazi came up, dressed in a magnificent modern uniform--except that his boots faded into nothingness before they reached the ground. He was a ghost. "Why do you care? It is done! You cannot stop me! My name will live forever!" The rest of Fazi faded away, even as she raised her wand to punish him . . . she was Sailor Moon, now, in her first winged form. But she was still in her wheelchair.
Ginger appeared. Her feet were on the floor, so she was not a ghost. She was dressed in jeans and boots and a bomber jacket, the clothes she had worn for the chilly night of Usagi's wedding, the night she had given Mamoru to her. "It looks kinda bad now, Bunny."
"Popov! What's happening?" shouted Horthy into the field phone.
"I don't know. The Colonel passed out. There was firing, and now there's some kind of fog here. Can't see. I just found the damned phone." There was a heavy rumble Horthy could hear both over the phone and through her own ears. "What was that?" Popov exclaimed.
There was more firing, and a scream loud enough to be heard through the concrete floors. More detonations, from further away but sounding stronger. Major Horthy made icy calculations. If the Americans were attacking, they would have picked off the roof sentries, or at least fired on them. But Ramirez had just reported by radio . . . It was some kind of internal conflict, perhaps between her people and Baiburs', or perhaps Baiburs' and Fahd's. There was only one hope of settling that, unfortunately: Sultan, and she did not have a secure connection through the field phones in the command center. Using the radio would inform the Americans, and they would jump in. "Popov, I heard more firing and some explosions."
"Yes, Major. It's from below, I think. Stopped now. I hear yelling. I think it's Baiburs."
"When the Colonel comes to, tell him I've gone to see Sultan. Do you--" Horthy was about to say "understand," but there was more firing. This was from outside, as was the banshee shriek which followed. Artillery rocket? A blood-curdling scream penetrated the silence which followed.
"Madre de Dios!"
It was Ramirez. He was on the south side.
Istvan Nagy turned back from the rumbling to see Sultan fade away, and then the woman arrived--one of the medical women, he remembered. Before he could speak, Federov, the baby face, and Beriev were before him. Beriev was holding his head in his hands.
"What happened?" asked Nagy.
Beriev's head spoke. "I fought an arcangel. She had a sword."
Federov said, "Fahd's man panicked, and started to run down the tunnel. I stopped Baiburs' man from shooting the wretch. One of the others shot me. I think it was the one with the bucket boy."
Beriev put his head back on and said, "We have made our final report, sir. We must go on now." Beriev and Federov faded away.
By the time Horthy reached the south side, there was no firing. Something was burning on the South Lawn. The South Patrol did not answer the radio, and it did not seem to be jammed.
Ramirez called out, "Is that you, Major?"
"Yes, Ramirez. Can't you see me?" The moonlight was bright.
"I can't see anything, Major. I think one of the things blinded me."
"Your Majesty, we all fought them, all of us," said Yuuichirou. "Every one." Yuuichirou was dressed as Musashi; Umino was in his homemade Tuxedo Kamen costume that had started to win Naru's heart; Ryo as the fearsome shadow warrior, but with human aspect; poor Kurume was in Lionheart mail but wielding a huge piece of chalk instead of a sword. None of them had feet.
Usagi was in the winged gown, the royal costume of the never-to-be realm. She said, "It isn't supposed to be this way!"
"It is the way it is," said Ryo, already fading away.
Usagi was blinded by her tears. Then a smaller voice came.
"I fought too, okasan."
She opened her eyes. It was Kimi Moon. Her feet were fading.
"No! No!!" cried Sailor Moon. She folded her black wings around Kimi Moon, to keep her from evaporating. "I will use the ginzuishou! You must not go now!"
"You must not go now," said Tuxedo Kamen.
Tuxedo Kamen held out two roses. The blue one he handed to Kimi Moon, saying, "You must return now." Kimi Moon became blue and gold lights, which danced away.
Tuxedo Kamen held out the white rose to Gin-chan, but she did not take it, saying, "No, it is meant for another." Then Gin-chan turned to Sailor Moon and said, "You must look after Lily. I don't think Mom and Pop can handle a senshi." She faded away.
Sailor Moon turned to Tuxedo Kamen. There were no feet visible under his cape. He was a ghost. He handed the white rose to her, saying, "You must keep this for the one who is to come."
"Don't go! I will use the ginzuishou! It is better for me to go! Who will protect the Earth?"
"You will, Usako. You and the one who is to come."
"Stay. Please, don't go. You are my life."
"You were my life, Usako," said Tuxedo Kamen, starting to fade away. "It was a very good life you gave me." He was gone before the words were finished.
Major Horthy was not a woman without compassion, but she was a professional. She had left Ramerez to go downstairs and re-establish some sort of command. The first thing was to see Sultan, before Baiburs took over. But on the Second Floor, she found no one--no one alive.
Minako Jones was a woman of infinite compassion. Sailor Venus had that, but she also had within the ghost of the last General of the Moon Kingdom. Even as she held sobbing, orphaned Lily to her breast, even as her own tears fell as rain, she said to the President, "Fazi had a radio detonator he tried to use. It can't have had a very long range. The bomb must be near the White House. Or in the White House. We are only a kilometer and a half away. We must get further away. I'm afraid we can't take everyone, Madame President, but we can take you. Even if the enemy in the White House does not detonate the bomb, there could easily be someone on the outside with a more powerful transmitter. Luna, is there any danger to Usagi from a teleport?"
"I don't know," said Luna.
"The enemy could detonate the bomb at any time now. We must risk it. Madame President, if you want to go with us, stand next to Usagi."
"Who is Usagi?"
"Stand next to the floating lady," said Adrienne, ushering Anne Marie and her grandmother into the circle.
Sailor Venus said, "Lily-chan, you are a senshi now. Make mother and father in heaven proud." Then she commanded: "Chibis, henshin yo! Teleport, now!"
Then they were gone. A pile of clothes was left behind, which Major Vierhofen investigated before the two conscious FBI men. "Looks like the wad I lost to the redhead," he said, holding up some bills.
"This is the President's," said Ballin, holding up a gown.
"They must have a load limit or something," speculated Vierhofen.
Ruthen started picking up things. "Let's get this cleared up before the DC cops come to. I'm pretty sure this is going to be classified information, Major."
"Yes," said Vierhofen, "I think that is a safe bet."
In the second basement, there were still bodies sprawled in the hallway. Baiburs shouted at his surviving men at bullhorn level, but when he turned to Major Horthy, he spoke calmly. "What happened outside? Upstairs?"
"I'm not sure," admitted Horthy, "One of the roof sentries was wounded. My man on the South Balcony was killed. So were Commander Sargon and his guards. Two men dead on the Ground Floor. I lost one man on the next floor the same way, and I'm afraid the guard you left with the medical women is also dead. The women are missing, all of them. The South Patrol is missing, but there is no activity to the south. North, East, and West Patrols are intact and reporting. There was no firing from the Americans on any side, I saw none in the building, and there is still no movement toward us we can see. Did they come through the tunnel?"
"They came through the tunnel, but they were not the Americans," said Baiburs. "They were djinn, like in the war. When I made it clear to them we would kill the rest of the prisoners before we surrendered, they went away."
"Djinn?" said Fahd, who had trailed along with Horthy. "We are fighting the djinn?"
"They are formidable," said Baiburs, "But not invincible. Several were wounded. As long as we have prisoners, we are safe," said Baiburs. He repeated that, very loudly, so that all his men could hear. Then he said, "I am afraid some of my men assumed the attack was more serious than it was. Some of the prisoners have been expended. The djinn were able to take the President and several others, I am afraid, but we still have the two Ambassadors, the two Ministers, and the American Secretary of State. We have--" Baiburs looked at his watch "--only twenty-eight hours and forty-four minutes at most until we leave. You will inform the negotiators that the further use of djinn will be considered an attack requiring immediate and full retaliation. Use that phrase. Insist that they publicise it immediately. There is always the chance the djinn are independent of the Americans, but they obviously value the hostages. Do it now, Major. If you keep your head, you will come out of this alive and wealthy."
Horthy was ready to shoot Baiburs when he started his speech, but the bastard made sense, or as much sense as could be made of this thing. She saluted and went to the command center. Sergeiev had appeared, and briefed her on the details of the fight as they moved upstairs. "We came down after the fog cleared; heard the firing. It was like Baiburs said, they were women, even girls, except for one man in a cape. Baiburs was the only man standing, but he was holding them off, holding this boy with a gun to his head. He stopped them, and then he rallied his men. They backed off, and then suddenly, they were gone. Just vanished . . . Baiburs is a son-of-a-bitch, but he is no coward. One of them had a poleaxe at his throat. He brassed his way out of it."
"He doesn't seem to be shedding tears for his great comrade the little colonel," said Horthy.
"He is still a son-of-a-bitch, Major . . . we lost Grigor."
"Your nephew?" asked Horthy.
"Yes," said the laconic Siberian. "He was on tunnel watch . . . must have been hit first." Sergeiev expended no more words about his dead nephew.
The President found herself in a bedroom, nude. The floating lady was nude too. Two girls were there, also nude, one winged, the other still unconscious in her arms. The floating lady floated over the bed.
The winged girl was still crying as she began to pass the President. "Where are we?"
"We are home," said the small winged one. "My home. This is where . . . where Mamo-chan and okasan slept. This is the room I was born in." She sobbed, and then seemed to pull herself up. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." Then she floated out the door with the smaller girl in her arms.
Sailor Venus was naked. At the first instant she thought she had de-transformed, but she still had her wings and so did Lily-chan. She took a moment to realize where she was, but not another moment why: Chibi Moon had seized control of the jump, probably unconsciously. Lost our clothes, can't even manifest a costume, and scattered, Sailor Venus thought as a General. The teleport had barely succeeded, so they were utterly drained.
With poor Lily in her arms, and Isis and Achilles fastened to each leg like limpets, it was going to take awhile to rally the senshi. Where were Ishi-chan and Afa-chan, for a start? The Minako part of Sailor Venus wanted to retch at the memory of her visit with Fazi, but that would have to wait.
To be continued . . .
Send comments to: sewell_thomas@hotmail.com
