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THE DEBRIEF AND AFTERMATH of Danforth’s attempted defection and subsequent demise took hours—the big question being, “Who is Danforth’s superior, the mystery woman?” When Zander and I finally made it back to Gamble’s meeting place, it was long after midnight.
We’d been under intense pressure for nearly a week, and we were both tired, but for some reason—perhaps getting shot?—I felt like a wrung-out dish cloth. I crawled onto the couch and slept hard. I don’t think I even turned over until something pulled me from my deep sleep.
“Hey.” Zander sat on the arm of the couch stroking my arm. “Hey, sweetie. You’ve been asleep a long while.”
I smiled up at my husband, his beautiful gray eyes smiling back at me.
“What time is it?”
“Don’t you mean, ‘Which day is it?’”
“Oh, wow. That long?”
“It’s nearly five o’clock Friday evening. You were out fourteen hours straight.”
“For heaven’s sake!” I started to sit up and groaned as my wound protested.
Zander slid his arm under me and helped me up. “You’re only four days out from being gut shot, remember? You’re still tender inside.”
“Y’know . . . when you say, ‘gut shot,’ it sucks all the romantic mystique right out of it.”
Zander grinned. “Romantic mystique, huh?”
“Uh-huh. The beautiful heroine takes one for the team, but she suffers and endures with impressive courage and dignity. The handsome hero, unable to resist her charms, clasps her in his arms, holds her to his muscular chest. Their gazes meet and lock; he declares his passionate love and undying devotion and leans toward her, his lips parted, ready to plant true love’s first kiss on—”
“Pffffffft. Not until she brushes her teeth he doesn’t.”
We busted up. I could hardly catch my breath, and I had to hold my side.
“Don’t! Please!” I begged. “It hurts to laugh when you’ve been gut shot!”
“Right. Sorry. Let me distract you: Are you hungry? I brought in dinner.”
Food? Everything in me stood up and cheered.
“Yes! Bathroom first. Then dinner. And coffee. And breakfast. And lunch. Cause I missed all of them.”
We plowed into the Indian takeout, me alternating sips of Chai latte and coffee between bites of biryani, butter chicken, baingan bharta, chole, and chicken tikka masala.
“Man, I’m so starved. What happened while I was sleeping, by the way?”
“Gamble called. The doctors released Trujillo this morning, and I caught him up on what transpired in the Situation Room yesterday.”
I’d forgotten about Danforth. “Oh. Yeah. That was . . . harsh.” I shivered, recalling the pilot’s unemotional statement. “Splash one, Command.”
“Also, the nanomites took advantage of the time while you were sleeping to dink around downstairs. Something about increasing their storage capacity and adding functionality to the surveillance arrays. I think they are still at it.”
“Good. Maybe they won’t bug me about their storage anymore.”
Jayda Cruz, our upgrades are needed for the good work we do. As 2 Corinthians 9:8 instructs us, “And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.”
Zander sniggered. “Huh. Guess they told you.”
I sighed. “Yeah, they did. Sorry, Nano. I really appreciate all you do, and I shouldn’t have grumbled about your needs.”
We forgive you, Jayda Cruz. Besides, complaining is more suited to Special Agent Grumble.
I had to, again, wrap my arms around my abdomen and hold on until I could stop laughing. “Please!” I begged.
“A merry heart does good like a medicine,” Jayda Cruz.
Still hugging myself so I didn’t hurt, I admitted, “Yes, Nano. It surely does. Thank you.”
We take our responsibilities to heart, Jayda Cruz.
“Um, sorry? What?”
Jesus has entrusted aspects of your welfare and wellbeing to us, Jayda Cruz. He is the Creator. We take our obedience to him seriously.
“Uh, yeah. Yes. Us, too. And thank you, Nano.”
I looked at Zander; he shook his head and switched up the conversation. “Jay, do you remember Dredd telling us that most of Mal’s crew lived at the clubhouse?”
“Sure.”
“Well, it’s going to take months, maybe longer, for them to repair all the damage to the clubhouse, and no one can sleep there until they get a new certificate of occupancy. So, while the work goes on, Mal’s rented some furnished apartments outside Baltimore for his crew. Gamble and Trujillo are going to hang out there while Trujillo gets her strength back.”
“Mal rented that many apartments?”
“Actually, he’s leased a ten-unit building in an upscale, gated apartment complex. The units are all studios, but that’s all the guys need. They’re adding some extra security measures to the building, too.”
We couldn’t go back to our apartment either. “We should think about setting up in a new place. You must be really tired of sleeping in a chair.”
“What I’m tired of is not snuggling with you.”
I flushed with happiness. “Me, too.”
“Well, that’s the thing. Mal’s offered us a unit in the building he leased. We can move in today.”
“Really? I mean . . . that’s so kind of him. And also? It’s a little reassuring.”
“Yeah, since we haven’t sussed out the mystery woman, she remains a danger to all of us—Gamble, Trujillo, Malware, Inc., and us. We’re thinking safety in numbers, a perimeter surveillance system, rotating guards. The whole nine yards.”
“What about Abe and Emilio? Izzie and your folks?”
“They’re safe for now.”
“But how long can they stay hidden, away from their normal lives?”
“I dunno, but like you said, we need to play offense, not defense. Identifying and taking down this mystery woman comes next.”
“Zander, do you think we blew it by forcing Danforth’s hand? He was our only connection to her, to the woman.”
Zander tore off a piece of garlic naan bread and considered before he replied. “Danforth seemed to be her Number 2, meaning she relied a lot on him and, I imagine, on the NSA resources he provided. Now she’s lost that entire connection. Gamble says the President has ordered that everything and everyone in the agency be scrutinized by outside eyes.”
“How effective do you think that will be?”
He looked thoughtful. “The Deep State hides in plain sight behind rules, regulations, and red tape. They are patient and can afford to wait because, as federal employees, they are just about impossible to fire. They will outlast elected officials whose agenda or worldview they disagree with. I believe the woman’s allies inside the NSA will just pull their heads in and lay low to avoid detection.
“But, to answer your question, no. I don’t think we blew it. In the immediate future anyway, I think taking out Danforth makes our mystery woman more vulnerable.”
I wasn’t sure I agreed, but I allowed Zander’s response to reassure me.
***
WE TIDIED UP GAMBLE’S meeting place, gathered the few things Zander had brought over from our apartment, and had a cab pick us up a few blocks from the house. It was around 8 p.m. when we stood in front of a newly installed barred security door and rang the bell. We looked up at the cameras and waved.
Dredd’s voice came over the intercom. “Ripley! John-Boy! Good to see you two. Come on up to Apartment E.”
The lock on the door released. We walked into a breezeway that bisected the two-story building and passed a laundry room on one side and a workout room on the other before we reached a stairwell.
Zander walked a little further down the breezeway. “Looks like apartments A and B straight ahead on the left and C and D on the right. Guess E through J are upstairs,”
We climbed up to the second floor and found Apartment E. Mal opened the door to us.
“Hey. Glad you came. Ripley, how are you feeling?”
“I’m doing okay. It’s really good to see you again, Mal.”
“What about me?” Dredd hollered from inside.
“Especially you, Dredd,” I called back. “You own the magic machine that brews the Elixir of Life!”
“Good to know I’m loved for myself.”
We all chuckled, then Mal gestured for us to come in.
A studio apartment isn’t big; Dredd’s equipment took up all the available space in the main room, leaving just a tiny kitchen and a bathroom.
“Well, as you can see, we’ve set up our command center here, and the armory is next door in Apartment F,” Mal murmured. He pointed to a monitor. “We have a guard hidden on the roof and another walking the perimeter at all times—discreetly, of course. Our cameras cover every approach, and we mounted a few farther out into the apartment complex.”
He dangled a set of keys. “We’ve assigned you Apartment I. Gamble is in J with Logan; Trujillo is on the other side of you in H.”
I didn’t know how to thank him. “You didn’t have to take us in like this, Mal.”
“Yes, I did. You and John-Boy are part of our crew now, Ripley. You’ve earned your spot with us.”
“But . . . we kind of brought all this trouble on you. I mean, you wouldn’t even be in this mess if you hadn’t taken us to the clubhouse.”
“I told you. You’re Americans. We share a common enemy.” He leaned closer and whispered, “And I haven’t forgotten what you did to save all of us even though you’ve wiped everyone else’s memories. In my book that makes us family. End of discussion.”
He waved us out the door. “Go on. Get set up in your new digs.”
Mal’s inclusion and generosity touched me deeply. I nodded and got out of there before I cried or something.
’Cause that would really mess with Ripley’s rep.
~~**~~
