“Thanks, Rory.” They nodded at each other for a moment, not able to say anything, and she left with the newsie.
“Will you come stay with me tonight?” Lisa Marie said hoarsely. “I just can’t …”
“Sure.” He was holding her hand, and briefly clasped it with his other. “Nobody should be alone now.”
“I never even liked her,” she said. “Did anybody you know?” Pepe shook his head. “But this is too horrible.”
“It’s not like America,” Pepe said. “I guess it is now, but it’s the sort of thing that happens in little dictatorships. Despot of the month.”
“I wonder whether that old man will be able to hold things together.” Davis was standing in a press room now, his hand to his ear, relaying his staff’s answers to questions.
“He won’t have to do much. I don’t suppose he’s made an unassisted decision in the past decade. If we make it through the next few hours, things will get sorted out.”
“You think the Islamic Jihad might …”
“If I were him, I’d be more worried about the Democrats than the Muslims. They probably have a competency challenge all worked out. If I were them, I’d wait a decent interval, and give him a chance to do some really unforgivable things. Then start the impeachment process, more in sorrow than in anger.”
She tilted her head at him. “You really know a lot about American politics.”
“More than I do about Cuban. I had to study it for the blue card, and got kind of fascinated.” He made a mental note to watch his step, not reveal too much sophistication. Lisa Marie was no danger, but there would be a lot of press and government around soon.
“Your aliens.” She pointed at the cube.
Davis peered intently. “Would you repeat the question?” A reporter asked whether he intended to follow LaSalle’s aggressive strategy toward the Coming.
He looked at her with robotic blankness for a long moment, an expression that was already familiar. “I don’t want to say anything specific about that. Anything at all.”