Chapter 32

 

 

 

Not for the first time, Jared wondered, as he dressed quietly in the pre-dawn darkness of Sunday morning, why fish bit better at so unreasonable an hour. He moved carefully, trying not to wake Cara. He already had his pole and his tackle box in his car, and last night he had packed sandwiches for himself and for Terry and Brett; the bag was on the breakfast bar.

He almost made it out the bedroom door before Cara stirred and yawned, reached for the empty place where he had been, and sat up. "Time to go already?" she asked.

"We’ll be home after sunset at the latest," he said. "Brett and Terry have school tomorrow." He crossed the room and kissed her. "Go back to sleep," he said, and got out the door before she could tempt him back to bed. The house was quiet; Saizy, down the hall, slept deeply, dreaming of classrooms and gleaming insects in jars.

Outside he heard voices, hushed in the morning quiet. He grabbed the bag and stepped out; Issio and Terry were already in front of his carport, carrying their poles and Terry's spare pole and more sandwiches, and a car was just turning past the D'ubian corner. It stopped in front of his house and Lalia emerged, clad in a long robe and bedroom slippers, and opened the back door to get out a fishing pole, very new, for Brett. Brett got out of the passenger side, in slightly worn jeans and a spotless sweatshirt over a shirt with a collar, arranged neatly. He looked at them; he did not feel all that enthused, Jared saw, at spending the larger part of the day with a group of total strangers, and he didn't know if he would like fishing anyway.

Mother wasn't giving him any choice in the matter, however; she steered him and his pole and his tackle box and a large refrigerated lunch box up the walk and presented him – there wasn't any other way to phrase it – to the three of them. "Lots of sandwiches; share with everyone. You have fun, now," she told him. "And be a good boy. Mind Jared and Issio, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said politely, deciding that Issio's shoes were the safest thing upon which to fix his eyes.

"See you tonight," said Lalia. "Catch lots of fish, you guys."

She shuffled back down the walk and into her car; Brett looked over his shoulder as if greatly tempted to run after her as fast as he could, but he held his ground. "We will put the tackle boxes into the trunk," said Issio, "and the poles may be balanced here over the back seat."

"We can sit in back," said Terry, eyeing Brett. "Did Cara pack the cookies? Do you like chocolate?" he asked Brett.

Brett thought about it before he committed himself. "I guess so," he said.

And that could be an ice breaker, Jared thought, and got the cookies out before he packed the multitude of sandwiches into the trunk with the tackle boxes; no one, he thought, would go home hungry. Once the boys were settled in the back seat, on either side of the poles, he handed the cookie bag to them and got into the driver's seat with Issio beside him. Brett looked doubtful. There was no telling what his great aunt had been like, but certainly someone who had dressed him with excruciating neatness had taught him rigidly correct manners, and had probably impressed upon him that chocolate cookies ought not to be eaten in the back seat of a car before six in the morning.

No one had taught Terry anything of the sort. Backing out of the driveway, Jared could hear the bag rustling as Terry grabbed a handful of cookies and handed the bag to Brett; Jared caught a glimpse of Brett's doubtful face. "They're good," said Terry through a gigantic mouthful, and Brett rustled the bag in turn. "The big one," said Terry in a tone of encouragement. "Al makes them. Cara's learning, but Al's the best."

Brett, his voice muffled by chocolate cookie crumbs, murmured something indistinguishable but generally agreeable, and the bag rustled again.

There wasn't much traffic this early. The boys ate cookies and, by the time they reached the north exit, began to exchange a few remarks. Brett was, it turned out, only a year younger than Terry, small for his age, and registered for the same school that Terry had attended the year before. He didn't seem that thrilled about school. Terry charitably hoped that Brett would get Ms. Perkins, who was okay, for a teacher, and let her class do some fun stuff. He had had her the previous year. Brett expressed some curiosity about the Conservatory, interested to learn that Terry could pursue his interests as far and fast as he wanted. He didn't have to wait until he got older. Brett seemed a bit envious; Jared took note of this. They might end up with two students in their home school, he thought, and Issio, with a glance at the back seat, agreed.

But Lalia's child would be bright, he pointed out. We should expect this. Let him go on to public school this fall. If he appears bored, we will talk with his mother.

And we should see if we're any good at teaching Gina this way, agreed Jared, before we take on more students. He and Issio looked at each other with amusement; neither of them had any real concerns about this – not, at least, with Gina for a student.

The eastern sky was filling with light and a touch of color. Issio turned off Climate Control and put down his window, letting the clean sweet smell of grass and trees and early morning into the car. The boys, finding common ground, were talking about vids; they agreed that Super Skeletonio, Man of Bone was absolutely the greatest vid they had seen all year, and they fell to comparing favorite scenes, agreeing that the very best moment was when the bad guy fell down from the 48^th floor balcony and there was all that blood and things inside him came crawling out, like his guts, said Terry with relish. Brett, venturing an opinion, said he liked when the brains came oozing out of his throat. And all Skeletonio had to do was rattle his phalanges; that was very good.

Issio and Jared exchanged a small glance. Educational, this vid, Issio remarked, teaching children the details of skeletal structure. Observe that he knows phalanges. Especially when they rattle.

Sounds like a vid Shamri would enjoy, suggested Jared, and Issio, with rueful agreement, twirled his tail.

Brett said that his mother let him watch vids like that all the time at her house, a clear benefit of his impending move. His aunt preferred material of a more uplifting nature. Terry said the Duri group liked to watch too, especially Durata. And Durakal had given Terry a vid containing all four of the Bloody Trail dramas. Brett thought that was pretty cool, and revealed that he had bought all three Slime Monster vids with his Solstice credits, which his aunt thought he should put into his account for college. He might not have clearly explained to her that he hadn't done this. He felt a little guilty about it, but college was far away and the Slime Monster vids were actually on sale at a reduced price, an obvious economy.

Terry pointed out that the credits had been Brett's, to use as he chose; he felt his new friend had made a very wise investment. Brett said he would bring the vids up next Saturday, if Terry thought he might be interested in seeing them, and Terry said maybe Dural would make popcorn and Brett could stay for dinner. Jared hoped that more than popcorn would be on the menu, a thought he flashed to Issio who responded with a picture of the five D'ubians, Terry, and Brett gathered around their dining table, festooned with sequined scarves, eating popcorn with knives and forks and drinking heavily sweet sodas. And watching the Slime Monster vids.

They were almost halfway to the lake, and Jared and Issio were discussing fishing lures and the new policies concerning hunting licenses when he realized the subject of conversation in the back seat was changing. Brett said that the scooter was really powerful; he had seen scooters like that and it could go really fast and if it wanted it could pass this car. Terry agreed the scooter could go really fast, maybe a million kilometers an hour, but he had confidence in Jared, who could drive even faster and would never allow a scooter to pass him. Anyway he personally believed that the scooter wasn't going to try to pass them. She preferred, he explained, to stay way back there out of sight.

Jared glanced in the rear view mirror and saw nothing at all behind them, but the road curved and a vehicle might well be hidden by the trees at the bend in the road.

"She just likes to come along," Terry explained. "She watches."

"You know her?" said Brett, looking out the back window. The road straightened, and Jared still couldn't see anyone. Issio, attention also caught, turned and looked out the back window, frowning.

"Yeah, she's like an aunt or something," said Terry.

"How come she just watches?" asked Brett. "Doesn't she like to fish?"

"I dunno," said Terry, shrugging. "She's kind of weird. But she likes fast cars. You should have seen that brown car she had. Man, could that car move! She came right over the roof that time, and she rammed into Phyllis's front door. Wham!"

"Wow," said Brett. "Did you get to see that?"

"Yeah, we were just back from the studio and she went right through the door into the living room. She knocked the wall into about a billion pieces. That," said Terry, "was really great."

"Did you say," Jared asked Terry, "that Lt. Price is following us?"

"She's back there on the scooter," said Terry, pointing out the back window.

"I cannot see her," said Issio.

"No, but you can feel her," said Terry, and Jared noticed Brett nodding agreement; Brett might be repressed and overprotected, but he knew exactly what Terry was talking about and apparently thought it acceptable to admit it, at least in this company.

"On the scooter?" said Issio.

"The power scooter, the one Tim and Vinnie drive sometimes. You should see that thing," Terry told Brett. "When it takes off." He demonstrated, with sound effects, and Brett listened respectfully and offered the opinion that the thing could go maybe two million kilometers an hour, with dust flying all over the place, if the driver wanted. Terry said maybe even three million.

Jared caught sight of a very small dot on the highway behind them, matching their speed, as well as he could see. If that was Lt. Price, she was keeping her distance. Maud had been around, off and on, observing Logan and Grace and taking an interest in the work in Ann's basement, but Lt. Price hadn't been there. Jared had not seen her since she and Maud and Sandy had presented him with Lincoln and the cache of weapons. She had, he heard from the Bahtan girls, been busy with Numum and his work crew cleaning up her 43^rd Street apartment. Ollie said Numum felt they might have to take out the bathroom wall to get rid of the implanted metal rings.

"Why would she be following us?" Jared said to Issio, and Issio shrugged.

"It is her job to guard," he pointed out, "also to secure evildoers."

"Like Super Skeletonio!" said Brett, excited, and Terry whooped gleefully.

"Do we expect to run into any evildoers out at the lake?" Jared asked, and the boys bounced with excitement; they were delighted at the prospect. "Let's find out about it," said Jared, speeding up a little as they neared their exit toward the lake. Lt. Price might be in pursuit, but today Jared was just going fishing; he wasn't chasing Its over the countryside off-road. He was, more or less, obeying the traffic laws.

He turned off on the exit; the boys, catching on, shouted approval when he made the second turn and lifted over the side road and glided back behind a little grove of trees. The sky was clean and blue and promised a fine day; the sun would rise within half an hour, and they should be at the lake by that time, even with this little pause.

They waited, watching the road. "Are we about to interfere in the performance of her duties?" inquired Issio.

"I hope so," said Jared, grinning. "As far as that goes, if she wants to perform her duties, she ought to stay home and guard our families while we're gone, don't you think?"

"It is a weekend," said Issio. "Even Lt. Price must sometimes take a day off."

"I wonder how she knew we were going fishing," said Jared. "And so early in the morning."

"Lalia knew," said Issio, nodding his head at Brett. "If this Lt. Price is indeed one of them – Lalia knew when and where. She may have told Carter, or Chazaerte. They may have told Lt. Price. Maud also knew, I believe, and she is even more likely to tell Lt. Price. Although I do not know why they have formed this partnership, or how they maintain it."

"Yes, it's a mystery to me, too," said Jared. "I can't think of anything they have in common."

"And you are aware," said Issio, "that we are doing that which Lt. Price dislikes the most. Next to an unsecured phone line. We have broken away from the rest of the group. We have gone off on our own. This is a vast security concern."

"Yes, very reprehensible of us," agreed Jared.

"Maybe Lt. Price wants to go fishing too," Terry said. "She can use my old pole. Brett brought his own."

Somewhere on the highway Jared could hear, through Issio's open window, the sound of a power scooter slowing down for the turn on the exit. She knew, apparently, where they were going. After a moment he caught sight of her, a small figure with a large helmet making her way over the nav strips on the ramp and turning off to the side road.

"There she is," Terry said, and Brett plastered himself against the window for a good view.

She came down the side road at a pretty good speed, lifting smoothly over the bumps; Tim and Vinnie, with a little advice from Willis, had the scooter in prime condition by now. Jared and Issio and the boys watched in great appreciation as she sailed past them, never turning her head, clearly expecting them to be well ahead of her.

"She is not very clever about following," remarked Issio. "I have noticed before that her skills are nowhere near as great as she believes them to be."

"That's what makes her so entertaining," Jared said. She went up over the ridge and down out of sight, and he nudged the power in his car and moved out behind her, not rushing, letting her get well ahead before he reached the crest of the ridge himself. By the time they could see her, she was swooping around a curve where a cluster of trees shut off the view. After a few moments, she came back into sight on top of the next rise of ground and slowed down noticeably; she had been expecting to see them ahead of her. She braked and let the scooter hover while she looked left and right, trying to see where they had gone. Jared pulled the car to a stop. Evidently the sound of his power cell was drowned out by hers; she didn't hear him, and she didn't once turn around and look behind her.

She hit the power and the scooter took off, going much faster as it went down the rise; Jared came up the rise and paused at the top to enjoy the view of Lt. Price sailing off-road into the underbrush. He could hear the whine of the collision shield as she wove her way through the trees, and he lifted the car off the road and worked his way to her left, keeping the trees and bushes as cover as the boys, leaning over the seat back, offered advice and encouragement.

Lt. Price swerved to her right, lifted over a scrub of brush and a scattering of wild flowers and found herself at the edge of the stretch of dirt and grass leading to the lake itself. From her angle, the little picnic area, with the wooden table and the fire pit, was just to the left, but it would be empty, unless someone had parked a weekender or pitched a tent there last night. She hesitated, looking, and, not seeing her quarry, she headed abruptly for the lake itself, as if believing that they had driven right into the water and were even now hiding underneath the small waves created by the early morning breeze.

Jared moved to the left, hidden from her sight. He edged around a deadfall against a small jut of stone, rocks that may have slid down from the ridge during some rainy season many years ago. He maneuvered around a tight clump of tall bushes and lifted over a fallen log, and saw the sweep of lake shore, shining rippling water under early morning light, not a soul visible on the other side of the lake.

On this side of the lake, right below him, in fact, he found himself looking at two men with a launcher aimed at the picnic area just down the shore.