Monday December 11 2006

IO Central HQ

Boulder

Nicole returned to Central, sending word from the gate to Ivana's office that she was on her way, and headed for the executive conference room, feeling testy. She had been travelling for days with little rest, and her monthly power surge was beginning, requiring all her willpower and self-control to keep reined in. Any tender reunion with Frank, she decided, was going to have to wait a few more days – which soured her mood further.

Nicole entered Ivana's conference room, and saw that the usual players were in attendance: Gerry Ruche, Doctor Ivery, her brother, and the Director herself. Before she reached the table, the Security Advisor said to her, "You took long enough getting back, Nicole. Was it really that hard to check Gagnon's story?"

She winced inwardly at Ruche's mispronunciation of the broker's name: gag-non, the way one might if they head only read the name and didn't understand its French roots. Did the man have no social skills at all? People's names were important. She felt a brief embarrassment on behalf of the man she had left splattered on the ground in front of his house.

IO's chief interrogator read the room. Gerry's flip remark indicated a degree of confidence that he seldom displayed around her; the little worm must think he had something on her, or something had happened that he imagined he might use to tarnish her standing with his boss. It was easy enough to guess what it was: she had been out of communication long enough for the information broker's death to become known.

She stared down at Ivana's toady and watched his smile fade. She said, "I find your lack of faith disturbing."

"Nikki," Ivana said.

Ruche's butt squirmed in his seat, and she turned away, dismissing him from her attention. Matthew smirked at her. She offered him a tiny smile and addressed the group. "Given the circumstances, I thought my report had better be face-to-face, with no possibility of it being overheard or intercepted."

"Well, welcome back, Nicole," Ivery said. "We really have been anxious for you to return. We've had some disturbing news about Gagnon, actually." The doctor, she noted, pronounced the name correctly.

"I know," she said. "I saw him." She picked up the glass of water sitting next to the doctor at her intended seat and moved down to the end of the table. Once she reached the seat as far removed from the rest of the group as she could be, she set the glass on the table and sat down. "Let's start at the beginning, all right?" She took a sip. "I met Gagnon at his house in Atlanta. He laid out what he had, which looked solid, as far as it went. But he didn't tell me how he had found the runaways; I imagine he thought that, whatever means he had used to find them out, he might be able to use it again, so he kept that information to himself. However, he offered me contact information on one of our rabbits as a good-faith gesture, and I followed it down, to an apartment building in the charming little town of Peachtree City, Georgia." She paused and took another sip. "Nobody home, but it looked like the last tenant had left recently, and in a hurry. I talked to some neighbors, and I'm almost certain that, until the day before, the place had been home to Natalie Fosse, Adam Teale, and Tai Shinoda."

"Tipped off, I presume," her brother said. "Again."

Matt would be the hardest sell, Nicole was certain. He knew her better than anyone else in the room, even Ivana. Doctor Ivery was simply too gentle a soul to doubt her sincerity without good reason. Ivana, despite her inborn paranoia, thought Nicole was a fully conditioned and useful servant, incapable of real insubordination. Ruche might have his doubts about her – probably did, for no better reason than simply disliking her – but he would never act on them without Ivana's approval, nor even voice them to his boss so long as Nicole was in Ivana's favor. Her eyes flicked to Matt. Yes, he was the one most likely to see through her, and possibly guess the truth. But what, if anything, might he do about it?

Ruche leaned forward. "Tipped off by who?"

Nicole regarded him as if she was a schoolteacher addressing a question by the class clown. "Who else, Gerry? Jack Lynch sent them there. We think he picked destinations for all of them, and gave them contact numbers for his agents at those destinations. He knows where they are, and I'm sure he has people watching them. Gagnon's investigator picked up one of the kids' trails and followed it down, but he didn't cover his own tracks well enough."

"So you contacted the investigator?" Ivana asked.

Nicole took another sip. "I didn't have any information on him at the time. I hustled back to Atlanta, hoping to close the deal and pick up the others before they disappeared into the weeds. But somebody got there ahead of me." Another sip; who knew lying was such thirsty work? "Jack Lynch, a step ahead of us, just like always. The whole security force was dead. As far as I could tell, there wasn't a shot fired. One was all bloody, but no entry wounds, a massive hemorrhage of some sort. Two were asphyxiated, choked to death. The rest looked like they just died in their sleep. Gagnon got tossed off the roof, no doubt after giving up everything he knew. " She studied the glass in her hand. "I think this was more than a cleanup operation. It was an object lesson, like the two Keepers in Oceanside last October. But this time the gloves came off. This gets around, our info broker network may be a little less zealous about uncovering runaways for us."

"You met with him in Atlanta days ago. Where have you been, Nicole?" Ivana asked.

"I didn't come up dry at Gagnon's house. When he let me have my sample pick, the list of names and addresses was on his phone. I found the phone in his desk drawer. It was locked with a swipe code, but I'd seen him unlock it. It didn't take long to figure it out. I found the list and checked out the other addresses."

"Same story, I take it?"

"Looks like they all boogied at about the same time. Very organized, like a contingency plan. I didn't get good descriptions on all of them; they tended to live in the kind of places where neighbors don't socialize. But one was a little redhead who could only be Gemina Antonelli." Little Gemma had been a special challenge: Gen-factor had turned out to have given her a sort of mind control talent, and in her panic at her first sight of Nicole, had tried to use it on her. Fortunately for Nicole, Gemma's power was far from fully developed, and the interrogator had years more experience using her own ability to direct the thoughts and actions of others. "I got a number and address for the investigator as well, but he wasn't picking up his phone, so I took that as a sign that Jack got there already."

"That might have been a mistake," Matt said. "He might have quit using that phone because he knew it was compromised."

"In which case," she returned, "I would expect him to have vacated any known address as well."

"Still, it wouldn't hurt to check," he answered. "Surely we have someone local we can send." He glanced at Ivana and got a nod.

"Where's his phone?" Gerry asked. "Let me have a look at it. Maybe there's something else we can learn from it."

"I don't have it with me," she lied, "but I promise I'll have it in your office today. After I'm sure there's nothing left in it that you can use. That shouldn't require any great effort, she thought: Gerry Ruche was not an unintelligent man, but he had a sort of mental laziness about him that led him to do sloppy work. A few competent and loyal subordinates might have corrected that deficiency, but no one really respected the man. And working for recognition under him was futile, because he didn't like sharing credit for a good job. "I might suggest running it by Frank. Not all his people are gunslingers, he has some talented analysts on his payroll. His adjutant Miss Carson is especially good."

Gerry gave her a sly look. "I thought you two didn't get along."

"We get along fine," she said. "And even if we didn't, I'd still recommend her. Since involvement in this business requires Genesis clearance, I thought you might find yourself short on manpower."

He opened his mouth, but closed it when Ivana said, "That sounds like a good idea. I know you've been consulting with Frank on other matters Genactive, Gerry. Carson would make a good liaison, if nothing else." Her trademark Mona Lisa smile told Nicole that the Director was well aware of the coolness of the two men's relationship. "Do you have any other suggestions, Nicole?"

"Just that we should send at least one real investigator to Atlanta, to work with the locals and look for traces I may have missed." She made the statement knowing that Ivana was certainly planning to do so anyway. "I'd like to be kept in the loop on this one."

After the meeting ended, Ivana bid Ruche to stay behind. She tapped a fingertip on the tabletop. "I've been thinking about Santini. I know I promised him all the extra manpower he needed to replace his lost Specials, but on reflection, I really don't want him assembling a private army either. Those people we contacted a few years ago, after Nine-Eleven."

Ruche felt the skin on his neck and forearms prickle, the way it did when Matt Callahan stared at him. "The ones who killed Bin Laden for us, and wiped all the evidence?"

"The same. I'm thinking of engaging their services on a regular basis."

"They're expensive. Very expensive."

She scoffed. "We've got the money. And they guarantee results. They would be very helpful keeping Santini in check. After all, he doesn't need to expand his forces to deal with problems that we're taking care of by other means." She tapped at the tabletop again. "Offer them the Fort Worth business, for a start. Ben is stretched thin with the Mannheim op, he can't object to a little help."

"After taking out the leader of Al-Qaeda for us, they may look on this as a step down," he said.

Ivana smiled. "Well, then, I suppose we're going to find out what they're willing to do for money."

...

Nicole had told Colby that her residence outside the complex was a 'thousand square foot bungalow'." That estimate was correct only if you ignored the indoor swimming pool and the deck that ran along the entire back of the house and jutted out over the dropoff. But if you did, what was left was a cozy little two-bedroom, finely finished but not ostentatious like the McMansions in the senior management community.

As soon as Nicole arrived home from Central, she headed for the pool, shedding her clothing on the way. She entered the bathtub-warm water naked, and spent the next twenty minutes doing leisurely breast stroke and butterfly laps, idly watching through the window wall overlooking her deck as a new snowfall covered her patio furniture.

If this kept up, she thought, she might be snowed in for a few days. The thought didn't disturb her greatly: the little house was well-stocked and self-sufficient, with its own water and power backup systems. And, given her current physical problem, if she was going to be trapped in her house for a week, this was the perfect week for it to happen.

No sooner had she completed the thought than a buzzer sounded, alerting her that someone had pulled into her driveway. Unannounced visitors being a rarity at her home, Nicole quickly got out and wrapped a large towel around herself, and reached the door just as the doorbell rang.

She took a quick peek through the peephole and opened the door. "Hello, Cher."

The tall blonde's eyebrows lifted at the other girl's appearance. "Surprised to see me?"

"Mildly. I may be less or more surprised when I find out why you're here." She opened the door wide and stepped back, inviting Frank's girl Friday to enter.

Cher stepped in with snowflakes on her lashes, brushing at the shoulders of her coat. She noticed the girl's clothing on the floor. "Is this a bad time?"

Nicole shut the door. "I was skinny-dipping in the pool. I do it every time I come home after a trip. Just float away in the warm water and decompress, it's great."

Cheryl smiled at her. "I'll take your word for it."

"So what brings you here?"

She looked momentarily confused, then embarrassed. "Nothing really."

Nicole said patiently, "Cheryl…"

"Wait." Cheryl gave her a wary look. "You're doing it to me again, aren't you?"

"Sorry," she said. "I really don't like bending people unnecessarily, but right now I can't help it." The primary reason for her reluctance was that it tended to use people up, rendering them of no further use to her, but she didn't say so. "Let me go change, I'll only be a minute."

When she returned, dressed in a lounge set of soft brushed cotton, Cheryl was staring out the living room's picture window at the falling snow. "Beautiful view."

"Even better from the pool," she said. "Do you want? I've got a little bistro set in there. We can sip cocoa and watch the snow fall."

The blonde girl smiled. "That sounds great." Her smile faltered.

While the milk heated in the microwave, Nicole said to her guest, "It's actually better if you don't fight it, Cher, really. You'll think clearer. If you know you're under my influence, you can learn to avoid sensitive subjects, if I don't press you, and I won't." She pulled the mugs out and began to spoon cocoa powder into the hot milk. She offered the mug. "I'd really like to be friends."

Carefully, Cheryl took it from her hand. "Do you think we can, really?"

"Ask yourself that when you're on your way home, and you know I'm not still fiendishly bending you to my will."

"I don't know if a little distance is going to prove that," she said, touching the mug's rim to her lips – not tasting, just checking the temperature. "You're good at manipulating people, Nicole."

"I am," she said, leading her out of the kitchen. "It's probably written into my DNA. I still know people I think of as friends, not tools. Some of them even argue with me." She opened the door to the pool room. "It's a little humid in here. You get used to it."

They sipped in silence, watching the snow fall. The loungers on the deck had nearly disappeared; the divan was an amorphous humped shape. Only the top of the table and the backs of the chairs surrounding it remained distinguishable. Nicole said, "I'm glad you came, Cheryl. I think we need to talk too. But if you don't leave soon, I don't think you'll make it home."

Cheryl said to her half-empty mug, "When you were in the other room changing, I was standing at the window, just seething. Seems silly now. But not as silly as… sitting here, on the verge of apologizing to you for… not sleeping with your boyfriend."

"I'm sure you tried," she said, taking a sip of her cocoa. "It's all right." She paused with the mug at her lips. "He's a passionate man, but he's also very reserved. You're pretty enough for any man, Cher, but you're not really his type. He likes dangerous women, and he just doesn't feel threatened by you. Maybe if you took your second job for Ivana more seriously, that would change." At Cher's wide-eyed look she said, "That was a joke. A bad one, I admit."

"He knows? You told him?"

"Of course he knows. I didn't have to tell him. He's probably known all along. He's very perceptive, and he knows how the Director thinks."

"And here I was, caught between hoping he'd never find out, and wanting to tell him."

"I think, at this point, telling him would just make him uncomfortable. Just let it be a little understanding between you."

Cheryl stared out the window at the falling snow, which was thickening further. "I came here to argue you out of seeing him again. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Now it seems selfish and unreasonable. You again?"

"I really don't know. Call me after you're back at Frank's, and tell me how you feel about it." Nicole smiled at her. "I don't remember how we got on the subject, but not too long ago, I told Frank that if he wanted to do a threesome with another girl, I'd be willing to give it a try, so long as she was someone I knew. I was sure he was thinking of you when I said it." She added, "It might… dilute my effect on him, make him safer." And it might lower the barrier between you two, and make you more comfortable with the idea of sharing a bed alone with him. "Just something to think about – after you're out of my house." She stood. "The plows won't be here till the snow stops. If you don't have a four wheel drive, it's probably already too late to leave."

"I drove a Wrangler." Cher stood. "And I've got some experience, just not recent. I might have transferred here from Miami, but I was born and raised in North Dakota."

"Brrr." She linked elbows and led the other girl to the door. Cher took her coat from a hook in the foyer while Nicole stood with a hand on the knob. When her guest was ready, she opened the door, and a handful of heavy snow swirled in. "Be careful. Call when you get in."

Cheryl nodded. "I will. And maybe we can talk about some other things."

"I'd like that."

Nicole stood by the closed door, listening for the sound of Cheryl's engine. When she heard the little vehicle crunching its way out of the driveway, she undressed a second time and returned to the pool room. She cleared the cups from the table and rinsed them in the sink – she had a dishwasher, but almost never used it – then resumed her swim.

An hour passed. Two. By that time, she was dressed and fixing dinner. She eyed the mugs in the strainer. It's only six miles, she thought. Even going no faster than a walk, she should be there by now. Did she decide not to call?

Her phone rang. She picked it up: not Cheryl's number, her brother's. "Hello, Matt."

"How are things going?"

"As regards the snow, or my monthly?"

"Either. Both." He added, "Or anything else you want to talk about. I'm at Denver International, which is presently snowed in, all flights postponed. Looks like I'll be here twiddling my thumbs for the next six hours at least."

"Oh, my God, purposeless for six hours. No wonder you're so desperate for something to do you're calling me."

"Nicole, do you want to talk or not?"

"Of course I do. But I'm waiting on another call. If it comes in, I may need to put you on hold for a minute."

"That's fine." His voice changed. "That was quite a little performance in the conference room today."

Her hand tightened on the phone. "You think so?"

"Absolutely. You really put that weasel in his place. I don't know what she sees in him, seriously. If she really needs a Security Advisor, there are a hundred people she could promote into the position who'd do a better job."

"She inherited the organization, Matt," she said. "The transition hasn't been too smooth. I imagine she feels reassured having one trained seal on her staff."

"Then put him in charge of stationery supplies, not a job where he's tasked with keeping all our secrets. Okay, rant over. Who are you expecting a call from?"

"Cheryl Carson."

"Colby's wheelchair pusher? She's reporting to you now? Is that why you put her in front of Ruche at the meeting?"

"How unkind. She came to visit, but the snow was getting so bad I sent her home. She promised to call when she got back to Frank's."

"How long ago did she leave?"

"Over two hours ago." She added, "I suppose she might have just forgot, but I'm getting a little worried."

"How unlike you. Maybe you really are friends. Nikki, I'm calling from the passenger lounge, but I was already on the plane for an hour before they gave up trying to clear the runways for takeoff. I'm sure it's worse up there. I think you should give her a call. And if she doesn't answer, you'd better call your boyfriend."

...

The search party found her four hours later, after the storm eased enough for travel, at least in snowplow vehicles as heavy as tanks. Her tire tracks were long erased, but a scar across the smooth white blanket covering the road showed them where she had gone over, at one of the few spots where the downslope was less than forty-five degrees and thus there was judged to be no need for a steel rail guarding the shoulder. She had gotten just two miles from Nicole's house and was just south of the highway, when a yard-thick sheet of heavy snow had slid into her little vehicle from above and carried it off the road. The four-wheeler had come to rest upside-down on a ledge two hundred feet below the road, with just one wheel sticking out of the drift.

The IO road crew bravely descended the slope to the stricken vehicle, secured by winch cables from the heavy ten-wheeled trucks on the road above. The Jeep had tumbled all the way down, its windows shattering when its fiberglass roof caved in, and the passenger compartment had filled with snow, packing ever tighter as it rolled downslope. Her cell phone was never recovered, and was assumed to have gone out a window on her long fall. They pried the driver's door open, removing it entirely, and attacked the hardpacked snow with ice axes and folding shovels to find and free her, unconscious and barely breathing.

The men pulled her out, heedless of any possible injuries, and pulled her up to the road with a winch, where she was wrapped in blankets and rushed back to Central. Their call had been the right one: having been effectively packed in ice for nearly six hours, her core temperature had fallen to seventy-nine degrees. But the same snow that had nearly sucked the life out of her had also cushioned her body, protecting it from injury as the wrecked car bounced and tumbled to its resting place. If her temp could be brought up quickly enough, she would live, though the full consequences of her hypothermia would become known only when – or if – she regained consciousness.

"I'm sorry, Frank," Nicole said over the phone. "I should have sent her home sooner, but we were having such a good talk, and she was so sure she could get home without any trouble."

"What was she even doing at your house? I know you're not friends, Nicole."

"We've been trying to become closer," she said. "It's true, we have issues between us, but we're discovering some common ground. Is she going to be all right?"

"Too soon to tell. All we can do is keep her alive and wait."

"I hope this doesn't sound insensitive," she said, "but it sounds like you might be needing another assistant. Do you have anybody?"

Silence on the line. Finally: "I'm going to hang up now, before I say something." The line went dead.

Wednesday December 13 2006

Central HQ

Boulder

Nicole was sitting at Cheryl's bedside when she woke.

As soon as the plows arrived to clear her road, Nicole was on the phone to Central and its clinic, making inquiries and arrangements. An hour after the road was free of snow, and she had gotten a report from the medical staff, she was on her way to Central. Her passage to the medical wing was slowed somewhat by the staff having to clear her path of every male within thirty yards, but eventually she was in Cheryl Carson's room, in a chair beside the sleeping girl's wire-and-tube-festooned form.

Nicole made no attempt to communicate with the comatose patient. She sat in a comfortable chair, reading or studying her laptop or busy on her phone, but she stayed in Cheryl's room, chatting with the occasional female visitor or staffer, but otherwise alone with the silent patient, for six hours before leaving. The next day, she was there again, and stayed for eight. On the third hour of day three, Cheryl stirred and opened her eyes.

The girl stared blankly for a moment, then blinked at the monitors and IV pole. Her eyes were startlingly blue against the red, blistered skin of her cheeks and brow. She turned her head a few degrees and saw Nicole watching her. "What… Did you… No. What happened?"

"You rolled your Jeep down a cliff on your way home from my place. We didn't find you for six hours. You almost died, seriously. How do you feel?"

"Tired. Why was I at your place?"

"Because we…" She stopped. "You know me, right?"

"Sure. Nicole… sorry, don't remember the last name. I've seen you around, I think."

She said slowly, "Do you know who Frank Colby is?"

"Sure. My boss. Blond, cute. What…" She blinked again. "Something's wrong."

"You nearly froze to death," Nicole said. "They tell me hypothermia can cause memory loss." She took Cheryl's hand, careful of the freezer-burned skin. "You really don't remember that we're friends?"

"Sorry," the girl said.

"It's okay. Sometimes it comes back. If not, we'll just be friends again."

Cheryl smiled at her visitor, squeezing her hand weakly. "Glad to meet you."

Nicole smiled and leaned forward. She kissed Cheryl's forehead. "I'd better call the doctors in. You rest."

At Nicole's call from the doorway, several medical personnel bustled into the room. One of the two physicians was a man; Nicole's amplified mating call had ebbed during the night, making it safe for males to share a room with her, though he did give her a rather too-friendly smile as he passed by to the bed.

"That's Nicole," Cheryl said. "She's my friend."

The attendants smiled. "We figured that," one of the nurses said as she began to wrap a blood pressure cuff around the patient's arm. "She's been at your bedside for hours every day since you came in."

"Every day? How long…"

"Three days," said the female doctor. "You're doing very well. We weren't expecting you to regain consciousness so soon."

Or ever, Nicole thought. "Has someone called Director Colby yet?" She asked. When the staffers all looked at one another, she said, "I'll do it." She left the room, and punched in Frank's number for the first time in three days.

"Yes?"

"She's awake," she said. "Awake and talking."

"I'm in the building already," he said. "I'll be there in a few minutes. Are you still radioactive?"

"A little," she said. "I've got it under control. Do you want me to leave?"

"No. I won't be with her long, I'm sure she needs her rest. I want to talk to you after."

"Okay." She went on, "She's a little fuzzy on recent events. The doctors say she may get some of that back, but they won't guess how much."

"How 'recent' are we talking about?"

"She might be surprised to see you in a wheelchair."

A moment of silence. "Well, we'll cross that bridge when we reach it."

He rolled into the hallway a few minutes later and approached the door of Cheryl's room, where Nicole stood waiting. She smiled at him, but he returned the greeting with only a nod as he went by.

Nicole didn't follow him in, but stood near the door and listened.

"Hi," Frank said, his voice warmer and gentler than it had ever been with Nicole.

Sounding breathless, Cher said, "What happened to you?"

"Do you remember the case we were working? The Specials?"

"The mall thing," she said. "The Cheerleaders."

Nicole smiled, thinking of how Sarah would likely react to being included in a group named 'The Cheerleaders.'

"Right," he said. "Well, we tried to lay a trap for them, but it seems we were the ones who got trapped. Believe me, I'm not the worst off of us." He added, "You look good."

"I can see my hands. And my face itches. I must look like a Halloween decoration."

"It'll all heal. And you're still beautiful, even now." He coughed. "Listen, I'm going to let you rest. But I'll be back tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay." Then: "Am I coming back to work soon?"

"As soon as you're ready. I promise."

Nicole retreated a few steps down the hallway. He came out of the room, a smile drifting off his face. Nicole said, "You talked to her like she was a little girl, Frank."

He ignored the comment. "Every time I called down here, they said she couldn't have male visitors because you were in her room. When did you two get so chummy?"

"I told you, we're trying to be friends. Isn't sitting by her bedside what a friend would do?"

"Give me a straight answer, Nicole. What were you doing here?"

She said carefully, "She fell off a cliff, and she blacked out maybe hours later, freezing cold and trapped and unable to move. She must have been terrified, sure she was dying. If I was in a coma, and my last few moments before losing consciousness were like that, I think I might be afraid to wake up.

"But I know my mating call has a soothing feel-good effect on women, and it's been running at high idle since before she was brought here. I thought, maybe, if I stayed close, it would reach her, and maybe help bring her back."

"My God," he said. "You really do care."

"I don't know if I did it for her, or for you. Or maybe for me. I want to be her friend. I want her recovered and whole. And I want her back at your side, where she belongs, as soon as possible."

"So," he said. "Love, or expedience?"

"I don't know if what I feel for you is love," she said. "I don't know what I'd be willing to do for you if I wasn't doing something for me too. What I'd be willing to give up for you. That's the test, I guess."

"So what is it that being with me does for you?"

"As if you didn't know." She started to reach for his shoulder, but drew back without touching him Not yet. "I can't be the first girl to tell you how good you are in bed."

"I suppose they've all told me," he said. "One way or another."

"Oooh, cocky," she said. "I like that."