First, thanks to Puff who's beta'd for me more years that I care to count. And to the divine Ms. M who has my back and, if not for her, this story would be less in both form and content. Their patience and persistence are an asset to me.
Also, to newly added Courtney (Hard taskmistress[I'm smiling, honest!]) and Eliza (Lady, you do ROCK!) for lending a hand and support system. They are muy impresionante. And keepers. (I truly hope so, guys.)
Also, extreme thanks to all those who waited patiently for this story. These last two years have been a long dark tunnel for me. Here's hoping for the light.
72 Hours
November 19, 2000
6:38 a.m.
The sun finally crested the horizon as the early morning traffic made its way steadily down southbound I-5 heralding the start of rush hour. Car after car raced by, their occupants sporting faces that ranged from 'enthusiastic, ready to face the day', to 'hate my job, wish the world would stop and let me off'.
High above them, a police helicopter turned in a wide circle, scanning the long, snaking procession of cars, looking out for a suspect in a reported carjacking. The second officer turned in his seat for a better look as they made another pass.
"See something, Al?" the pilot asked as he slowly banked the craft to put them in a better position to view what had caught his partner's attention.
Al pointed to a battered pickup truck just ahead of them. The large truck lumbered along, seeming at a leisurely pace, its bed entirely filled with large metal drums.
"What? It's just an old truck," the pilot said, dismissively.
Al waved his hand. "Wait a minute. I thought I saw . . . "
The two traffic cops watched as the suspect vehicle slowly made an irregular lane change to bypass the line of cars in front of it. Finally, after a few seconds, the huge truck began drifting off to the right out of its lane. The car already occupying said lane blasted its horn, and the truck frantically swerved back into its lane.
"You think that guy's drunk?"
It travelled along several seconds more, only to drift off into another lane again.
Al nodded. "Better call it in," he said, turning to his partner.
Before the pilot could pick up the mike, the truck's driver, again startled by the angry blare of a horn, swerved back into his lane, but, this time overcompensating. The truck fish-tailed as the driver desperately tried to straighten and save himself, but ended side-swiping the car next to him.
"Shit!" Al swore softly. "No!"
The force of impact with the truck caused the small passenger vehicle to spin like a top, sending it directly into the path of a four-wheel-drive vehicle at least twice its size. The car proved little more than a 'bump' in the road to the SUV.
Off in another direction, the truck tottered on two wheels for several feet before giving up its defiance of gravity. It fell with a deafening crash and earsplitting scrape of metal along asphalt before finally coming to rest on its side in the middle of the far lane.
The small pack of oncoming cars in the lead was on it in an instant and the tiny car didn't stand a chance, it also spun out, coming to rest in the center of the three southbound lanes. A split second later, the first car drove right into it at over seventy miles per hour. The driver never even had a chance to scream before the force of the impact ended her voice forever. Bodies flew in every direction like giant rag dolls as twisted wreckage and spilled gasoline spread across both sides of the thoroughfare.
On the other side of the highway, a van and a station wagon swerved desperately in an attempt to miss the metal wall formed by the overturned truck. Both drivers misjudged the distance. The van slammed into the truck with enough force to disintegrate on contact, again sending bodies, metal and debris flying out in all directions. The station wagon fared only slightly better. It missed impacting the overturned vehicle, but caught its front bumper on the frame. Bad luck had it that the two objects locked, the motion of the station wagon carrying it in a sharp arc along the side of the van for about two seconds before it too slammed into the already battered vehicle and crumbled like so much aluminum foil, the inhabitants perishing on impact.
From the air, the highway now resembled a battlefield as the two men looked on helplessly as car after car slammed on their brakes and swerved desperately to avoid the pileup, only to become another part of it subsequent seconds later.
After what seemed like forever, the horrible sound of the crash stopped. The pilot slowly turned in a wide arc, inspecting the damage. Beneath them the wreckage and carnage of over a hundred cars, vans, trucks and a motorcycle lay twisted and stacked on top of one another.
"At least nothing caught fire."
The last word became drowned out as fire exploded from the center of the tangled mass like the eruption of an enormous volcano. Within seconds the entire wreckage became engulfed in flame.
One by one, ruptured gas tanks exploded like concise neutron bombs, in rapid succession until, finally, an area the size of a modest airfield became a holocaust.
~~~~~~
Friday, January 12, 2001
5:55 p.m.
EnviroChem headquarters, fourteen miles outside Cascade city proper. Lab R714, west wing of building.
"AAAAIIIIIYYYYEEEEE!!!!!"
At the bloodcurdling screech, chief research on the 'hepglow' project, Dr. Jeff Sauder dropped the glassware held in his hands. Ignoring the crash of shattering glass as it struck the tile floor, he raced blindly through the metal doors separating the labs expecting the worse.
"Dana!" he cried, skidding to a halt in front of his lab partner. "Dana, what happened?"
She sat at the black slate counter, perched precariously on the seat cushion of a grey metal stool, staring into the microscope. She quickly looked up at him, eyes sparkling, lips curved into a self-satisfied grin. "Here it is, Jeffrey. I found it!" she whispered, her voice conveying her joy.
He blinked at her in disbelief several times before whispering, "No."
She bounded to her feet, vacating the stool for him. "Yes. Look! Come look. All our work. All our efforts." Another elated sound bubbled from her. "They said we'd fail. We've proven them wrong," she said, her face radiant from her enthusiasm.
Slowly, cautiously, Dr. Sauder came around the edge of the counter and stopped at the microscope.
"What are you waiting for, Jeffrey? Look." She cued him, as she gave him a little push.
Straightening himself from his little stumble at her prod, Jeffrey tentatively leaned over the high-powered scope and peered inside.
Several moments passed as he adjusted the focus, stared into the lens, and adjusted it again.
"Well?" she asked impatiently.
He glanced up at her, disbelief showing clearly on his face. "Is this . . . " He paused, swallowing hard. "Is this what I think it is?"
"You don't trust your own eyes?" Dana told him, a smug look firmly on her face as she watched her partner blink again, then slowly return his eyes to the cradle of the microscope. "I guess not," she laughed.
~~~~~~
Tuesday, February 6, 2001
2:32 p.m.
Cascade Legislative Complex
Main Conference Room
The seven-person panel sat around an oblong conference table. This debate had been raging for weeks with no sign of abatement. On a state level, this problem had been solved quickly and easily, the vote going to the side of big business and profits. But when the news leaked to the media and the environmentalists got wind of it, all hell broke loose. A Presidential panel had been formed to decide the fate of the plan.
Dr. Sauder surged to his feet in rage. "You are a bunch of short-sighted assholes!" he screamed.
"Jeff, this isn't helping," his colleague told him in a desperate whisper, as she placed a restraining hand on his arm. Dana Johnson had been listening to this panel for over an hour, surprised it had taken her partner this long to blow. "Councilor Hayes, you can see where the ends justify the means in this," she said in a soothing voice.
"Dr. Johnson, surely you can understand the ramifications giving your organization a free reign on this project will have on the community at large."
"Councilor, I hardly call it free reign with all the checks and balances this committee has in place," Dr. Johnson said in a reasonable voice.
"They all but have us hog tied!" Dr. Sauder thundered. "How do they expect us to extract specimens under these kinds of restrictions?"
"Jeff‹"
"Dr. Sauder," Councilor Evers interrupted, speaking aloud for the first time.. "You yourself have to agree, the techniques implied in your harvesting procedures are . . . radical, if not destructive, to say the least."
The young doctor slowly turned to the one member of this seven-person constituent who had remain silent throughout these proceedings. "Councilor, right now, this is the only place in Washington, maybe on this continent, which this plant is to be found growing naturally. A plant grown in its natural environment is essential in our research," she paused for effect, "and we are so close!"
"But, do you deny, Dr. Johnson, that the method your organization plans to utilize in harvest this plant will destroy a delicate balance of the ecosystem?"
Before Dana could reply, Jeff spoke up. "But lives will be saved once we can manufacture this cure in mass," he said, as if talking to a child.
"But such a harvesting will destroy the land, Dr. Sauders," Councilor Rine informed him.
"But lives would be saved," the scientist repeated heatedly.
"What of the inhabitants of the reserve, Dr. Sauder? Will not their lives be lost in the interim?"
"It is a small price, Councilor," Jeffrey informed him, haughtily, losing his patience once again.
"Not to the endangered inhabitants of this reserve, Dr. Sauder," Councilor Evers said softly.
~~~~~~
Tuesday, February 6, 2001
"Councilor?"
At the sound of the voice, the grey-haired man turned from his vigil at the terrace doors to find his Chief Aide standing by his side.
In a hushed tone, Choate asked, "Are you all right?"
"No, Paddy," he replied sadly. "I don't think I'll ever be all right again."
"Is there anything I can do, sir?"
"You can make it all go away."
"Go away?"
Loren looked at this man and on his face saw that he would do what he asked, if he could. Tempted for a moment, to take him up on the silent offer, the Councilor finally hung his head in shame. "Not go away, Paddy," he said softly, in disgust at his weakness. "Just, easier, maybe. Make the decision I have to make easier."
At his aide's silence, the Councilor went on.
"I want them to find the cure. There are hundreds of thousands of lives at stake.` But . . . " The older man again faltered to a stop.
"But?" the aide prompted.
Looking out of the glass doors leading to the terrace, Evers asked, "But, don't we owe something to the land?"
"The land, Councilor?" Choate asked quietly.
Loren turned to look at him, his eyes tired and red-rimmed. "Haven't we done enough damage to the land already?"
"If you vote against the bill, Councilor," the aide said as he pointed to the computer printout on the desk behind them, "won't you be signing these people's death warrants?"
Evers nodded sadly. "But, if I vote for the bill, won't I be doing the same thing?"
"I don't follow."
"If I say no, who's to say they won't find a way to grow this plant somewhere else and save this land, the animals it supports, the other plant life." He paused as he drew a deep breath. "But, if I say yes, then they will destroy the land, and countless other species of plants and animal life will be lost. Gone forever. Who knows what kind of impact that will have on civilization."
"They may not destroy the land, Councilor," Choate said quietly, knowing it was a lie even as he said it.
The older man turned to face his son's mate fully. "You know you don't believe that, do you, Paddy?"
The agent shook his head slightly, sadly, he'd seen it all happen too often before.
"So, the choice I have to make is either a moral one or a political one."
The soldier had no comforting words for his employer, so he wisely remained silent, giving the only solace he could ‹ his presence.
~~~~~~
Thursday, September 27, 2001
Councilor Rine shook his head at the scientist's demand for another tally of votes. "I'm sorry, Dr. Sauder. We have been at this since dawn and we've done three recounts already. The results have been the same each time."
Jeffrey Sauder looked at the small panel of men. "You can't do this," he hissed.
With a weary sigh, Councilor Rine concluded, "I'm afraid it's already done." He turned to walk away.
The scientist grabbed the Senior Councilor by his suit lapels and spun him back around to face him. "But you have to reach a decision, he told him emphasizing it with a sharp shake. You can't just leave us up in the air like this‹"
With an annoyed frown, the older man pulled his clothing from the distraught academic's grasp. "Dr. Sauder since the origin of this committee, legislation has been introduced that would ban collection, research, or possession of this plant and forbid human access to the area where it grows."
The doctor's face grew red with anger. "Our legal counsel will appeal that ruling. That legislatial body was acting purely for political reasons. They can't understand the ramifications of such a bill! Surely this council can understand the urgency or necessity of a more favorable decision."
Councilor Rine shook his head. "The vote has remained three to three for the duration of these proceedings‹"
"Who's the dissenter?" the scientist demanded, interrupting the councilor's speech impatiently.
Councilor Rine paused for a moment, as if to regain his bearings, then, went on with, "I'm sorry, but that's irrelevant. Let's just say that without a deciding vote, this panel feels it has no choice but to veto your petition‹"
"WHAT?!" both scientists screeched in unison.
"‹Until such time as the one abstaining member can break the tie."
~~~~~~
Friday, September 28, 2001
Karl Bower watched the TV coverage of the Council's announcement. Nothing since that highway disaster almost a year ago had infuriated him more.
In his early fifties, Bower tried to keep his body fit and trim. Although the picture of a man who enjoyed sports and the out-of-doors, the body and healthy color were more the result of his personal trainer and a tanning booth. But Bower didn't care how he got his image, just as long as he kept it and it worked to help him achieve his goals. First, governor, then on to a senate seat, and finally, on to the White House.
Right now, he had to content himself in being the owner and CEO of an up-and-coming business that was fast approaching a place in the prestigious Fortune 500.
Bower's company platform was finding "clean and economical" alternative to present energy consumption. For all his admirable goals, his company's efforts had been continuously brought under fire by many environmental groups, most recently by an extremely radical group known as the Warriors Against the Rape of Earth.
Unlike most of the other environmental groups attacking him, the 'WARE warriors' attacks were steeped in controversy. Their hit and run tactics on his facilities had the newspapers likening their group to "an army of foot soldiers who was all too ready to take on all comers in the name of the holy crusade of saving the planet." Some people saw them as saviors of the Earth, others saw them for what they were, thugs and terrorists. Bower knew them also to traffic in drug trade to help fund their organization.
Bower turned to his private assistant, who was watching the news with him in his suite of offices. "You told me this was a done deal."
"My contact assures me it was," the assistant replied, his face pale.
Bower gestured to the wide screen. "Does this sound like the deal I wanted done?" he hissed, slamming his fist against the teak and mahogany wood desktop, his face now nearly purple with rage. "They have ruined everything. EVERYTHING!" he bellowed.
"The Senior Councilor assured me that the vote would go in our favor," the assistant stammered as he shifted nervously on his seat on the silk, with hand-stitched satin overlay, upholstered couch.
Bower opened the lacquer wood box resting by his hand releasing the scent of linaloe and tobacco into the air.
He had carefully selected everything in the room . . . from the box beneath his fingertips to every piece of furniture adoring it. Karl smiled. Everything had come at the price of another endangered species of the world. And the knowledge that he could destroy or own these objects at his whim gave him power.
"It's time to raise the ante," Bower replied, tossing the case back onto the desktop, scattering the contents across it.
"The ante?" the assistant henchman asked nervously as he scrambled to retrieve the strewn items and return them to the case. "You want the guys to try again?"
Bower looked at his employee with cold eyes. No."
The man deflated. "Then, what are you going to do?" he asked hesitantly as he returned the case to its spot on the table.
Bower gestured to the TV again. "Someone else from YOUR damned dickless committee," Bower sneered the word, "the one appointed to decide on the harvesting, will have to go."
The man took a few frightened steps backwards. "But, don't you think that's a little unwise," he swallowed very hard, "this soon? Maybe we should wait? They haven't said yes."
"They didn't say NO you idiot. They're in deadlock and they vetoed because of that."
He shook his head in confusion. "But the petition is dead."
"The petition isn't dead, moron. They are in deadlock," he yelled. "The abstainer's vote could swing it either way."
The man blinked. "Well . . . yes," the poor man ventured, tentatively.
"Well . . . no," Bower mimicked the hapless man, "I don't want it to go the wrong way."
His employee looked at him puzzled, then repeated the question, "So, what're you gonna do?"
Bower snorted in disgust and picked up the phone. Angrily hitting a speed dial number, he waited a few moments, then barked, "Let me speak to Huhrmann."
Monday, October 1, 2001
Senior Councilor Amos Thatcher Rine stood in the shadow of the heavy draperies that surrounded the speaker's platform. He had chosen the 'Quad' to give his talk because it was large and open. Well, if you didn't count the buildings on all sides creating a 'bowl' effect. In the center of the raised plane sat a gleamingly polished wooden podium. Beyond the stage stretched a sea of faces. Angry faces that seemed to go on and on for miles.
"Amos. This is madness."
The leader of Cascade's Legislative Congress turned to face his second advocate councilor. "You think I don't know that, old friend?" he said sadly.
Loren Evers frowned as he reached out to grip his colleague by the shoulder. "Then don't do it. Issue a press package to them instead. Paddy can have a car waiting out back in a matter of minutes. We can‹"
Councilor Rine reached up and patted his friend's hand where it tightly gripped his shoulder. "Loren," he said impatiently. "This crowd is agitated enough as it is. I promised them I'd personally assuage any concerns they had about the Council's decision on the habitat. What do you think will happen if I go back on my word and run?"
Evers released his hold on the older man. "I'm not asking you to run, Amos."
"What do you call it, then?" Rine demanded, bristling slightly at the man's stubborn insistence.
Evers took a deep breath as he suddenly felt the reassuring presence of his Chief Aide at his back. "At least postpone this thing until my aide can‹"
"Loren. I know you put great stock in your people, but my people are here, too. They guarantee they have the situation under control. And I believe them."
Choate stepped around his employer. "Councilor Rine, I'm not trying to downplay your peoples' ability to protect you."
The senior councilor turned slightly to face the Chief Aide. "Then what are you doing?" the older man demanded angrily.
The big man took a long, deep breath as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Sir, I have a bad feeling about this whole thing," he said with solemn reluctance, trying to placate his employer's longtime friend. "At least let me make a phone call . . . get some people here to help."
"We don't need your help, Choate."
The agent looked up as the Senior Councilor's chief aide stepped into their circle.
"Ross‹"
The stocky veteran brusquely cut him off. "Choate, I have fifty men in a tight perimeter around the dais, all well-trained, all armed. We are ready for anything. And we don't need any help from you." Ross glanced at his watch. "Time to start, sir."
The Senior Council nodded and followed his aide through the curtains.
Loren Evers came to stand beside his aide. "You could be wrong, Paddy."
"Yessir, there is always that possibility," the agent said distractedly as he pulled out his cell phone and dialled.
As Rine's eyes swept the assembly, he noticed several people weaving throughout the mass. Each wore a camouflage headband with a stylized representation of the planet, emblazoned with the letters 'W. A. R. E.' across the center. Rine had had problems with this group in the past. Militant, hostile, they had no compunction at with using any means in getting their point across. Though never linked with violent crimes, they had been suspected of having underworld connections. A chill crept up his spine as each spoke softly to others in their group, and the crowd slowly quieted.
In a nervous afterthought, Councilor Rine began to regret not listening to Patrick Choate's advice.
After about ten more minutes of soft murmurs, the crowd calmed down enough for his voice to be heard through the speakers of the quad's PA system. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "we meet today all as environmentally conscious individuals‹"
"Some of us are!" screamed someone from the crowd.
"My contact assures you, sir," the Senior Councilor told the heckler, "we all are."
"I hear the Council is bowing down to pressure from a pharmaceutical company."
"I hear they plan to strip mine the habitat."
"What happens to all the endangered species that have sought sanctuary?"
"What's the purpose of having a safe haven for plants and animals if it's not a safe haven?"
On a rooftop directly across the street, Huhrmann placed a long, rectangular case on the gravel at his feet. Slowly, he raised the lid to reveal a custom-made 8 mm bolt-action rifle. Lifting the gun from its resting place with an almost reverent touch, he fitted the high-powered scope into place. The sniper took a moment to clean the sight with a soft cloth from his pocket before pulling back on the lever to bolt the cartridge into the chamber and bringing the gun stock to rest against his shoulder.
Sighting down through the scope, Hurhmann dialled up the range on the focus until he could count the individual hairs in the senior councilor's neatly-trimmed moustache. Taking a deep, centering breath, the sniper slowly released it until his lungs were almost empty before lightly touching the trigger. The crack of the gun firing mingled with the fervor of the angry crowd in the quad below.
The hollow-point, custom projectile caught Rine in the center the left pocket of his expensive, hand-tailored suit. The force lifted the man off his feet and propelled him backwards onto the stage.
For several moments, the horde of screaming people was frozen into silence as they watched the Councilor topple to the ground, blood jetting from his chest like an obscene fountain.
Suddenly, someone in the forepart of the throng screamed, shattering the unnatural stillness, and the mass broke apart with mindless panic, surging forward with deadly hysteria in an effort to escape the unseen threat behind them.
Two of Rine's front guards found themselves trampled in the rush to flee an unseen, yet deadly, attacker - the frenzy to escape splitting the crowd like the parting of the Red Sea.
Behind the curtain, Patrick Choate had sprung into action as soon as the Senior Councilor fell backwards on the stage.
"Councilor Evers," he said, taking his employer by the elbow, "come with me."
Loren Evers was hard pressed to match strides with the agent as he was spirited away from the danger. "Paddy? I heard gunfire! Was Amos hit? Is he all right? What's happening?"
"I'll explain in the car," the large man told him as he slid them through a side door and out a predestined escape route.
"Councilor Rine?" the older man asked as he skip-walked to keep up with the pace.
"Is not my concern now. In the car, Councilor," Choate told him firmly, as he slowly opened the outside door, sliding Justin's father behind him. "Stay behind me, sir," he told him quietly as he slid his Dessert Eagle from its holster.
"Paddy!" the Councilor protested, but his bodyguard quickly silenced him by an impatient wave of a hand in face.
The Chief Aide stole a quick look outside before opening his cell phone with a rapid snap of his wrist. He pressed two buttons, waited a second, then spoke in a harsh whisper, "Keener?"
There was another slight pause as he listened to, "All clear, sir."
Choate nodded although his agent couldn't see. "Send Ralph 'round the side. Tell him NOW."
"Yessir."
Within seconds the Councilor's limo screeched to a stop just outside the exit. The rear door opened and Choate hustled the elder Evers into the back and slammed the door before the man had a chance to blink an eye.
"Drive," he barked at the chauffeur, and Ralph pressed down on the accelerator with enough force to leave treadmarks on the pavement.
~~~~~~
Thursday, October 4, 2001
Cascade's new mayor called a press conference to address the media about the 'incident'. At her assent to the podium, the clamor from reporters rose to a near earsplitting din. Every media representative in Cascade clamored to have their questions answered first.
She raised her hand for silence and was promptly ignored.
"Madam Mayor!" one reporter in the very front yelled, waving his note pad to get her attention. "Do you have any idea why Senior Councilor Rine was shot?"
Another just to her right yelled out loudly, "Do you have any suspects, Madam Mayor?"
"No, to both questions," she answered with a frown, feedback from the microphone echoing throughout the room.
"Could it have had something to do with the Council's recent denial of EnviroChem's petition?"
"Who will be named to replace the Senior Councilor?"
"Will the Council put the EnviroChem petition to a second vote when the new member is onboard?"
"Do you think the new member will change the ballot, Madam Mayor?"
"Do you think EnviroChem had something to do with Senior Councilor Rine's assassination?"
"Will somebody be named to replace him?"
The mayor nodded. "Councilor Benjamin Davis has stepped into the vacancy."
"With this change in personnel, will there be a revote on the proposition, Madam Mayor?"
The mayor sighed. "Yes. The Council will reconvene to discuss the proposition."
"When will this happen, Madam Mayor?"
She frowned again. "About two weeks after Senior Councilor Rine's funeral."
"Do you think this will change the outcome of the vote, Madam Mayor?"
"We will just have to wait and see."
~~~
In his townhouse across Puget Sound, Karl Bower's 52 inch state-of-the
art TV exploded in a dazzling display of lights and the sound of shattering glass. The 2-pound solid crystal statue rested in the gaping hole in the center of the screen where it had been thrown.
His assistant raced into the room. "Mr. Bower?"
"It didn't change a THING!" he screamed.
The assistant backed up a step.
His employer had a distinctly crazed look on his face. "It's time to make them earn their pay."
"Who?"
But Bower had picked up his phone and begun to dial.
~~~~~~
Tuesday, December 18, 2001
Justin bounded down the stairs, startling in an immaculately-tailored red Shantung silk suit, the pristine white of the dress shirt making his skin seem to glow more golden. He wore his hair pulled back in a loosely woven braid bound with a red and gold clamp, and a blood-red ruby droplet dangling from his ear. "I won't be late, Paddy," he called from the foyer. "Will you wait up for me?"
The chief aide looked up from his place by the study door. "Won't be late from where?"
Justin halted long enough to cast him a look of long suffering. "I'm meeting Bryce. He's in a. . ." Justin made quote marks in the air with the first two fingers of each hand. "'love' crisis. And his hand needs holding. I told you. We have 8:00 dinner reservations at the MonteMarque."
Choate turned his full attention to the small figure by the door. "Dulce," he began, patiently, "didn't we talk about this?"
Young Evers frowned. "No. You talked about it. I had to listen to you say no." He quickly changed gears at the look that crossed his lover's face. "He sounded frantic, Paddy!" The full lip crept out in a pout as he gaged the lack of effect his statement had. "I'm like a prisoner here," he whined. "Giddy's off in the desert with his Fox and I haven't seen Bryce since the last big showing at his gallery."
"Justin," the large man said, voice warning at level one. "What did I say?"
"You said there was a threat to our safety. But, I've waited nearly two months! Nothing's happened. You're worrying too much."
Now it was Choate's turn to frown. "I'd rather worry too much than not enough."
Justin kicked at the Persian carpet. "I'll only be gone a couple. . .three hours."
"It's getting dark." Choate fought the urge to smile. "A lot can happen in a couple, three hours, galén."
"Paddy, we're having dinner in an exclusive restaurant!"
The agent raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"Paddy!" he huffed, impatiently.
His lover only watched him with those dark, opaque eyes.
Justin's frown deepened and he braced himself for a fight.
Suddenly, Choate's cell phone chimed.
Flipping it open, the chief aide growled curtly, "Choate," then paused. "No." Another pause. "I said, no," he said with quiet forcefulness, then waited. "I'm on my way, give me a minute." He slammed the cell shut. "Justin. . ."
"All right, Paddy," the young man snapped. "All right!" He turned and stormed up the stairs.
"I'll make it up to you," Choate told the retreating form as he grabbed for his coat, pointedly ignoring the small tantrum.
"I don't think so," Justin hissed under his breath.
The chief aide observed the retreating figure a moment before slipping out the door.
Justin watched from the edge of the upstairs window until the limo carrying his lover disappeared from the cul de sac before he raced back down the stairs and through the kitchens to the garage.
Hopping into the front seat of the Jag, Justin revved the engine as he hit the garage door switch. Edging cautiously down the cul de sac with his headlights off, young Evers checked the cross street both ways, making sure the coast was clear. Steeling himself against the duo rush of guilt and fear. "For once, I'd like Paddy not to catch me," Justin said before turning in the opposite direction and speeding off into the night.
~~~
December 19, 2001
5:22 pm.
Front steps of a exclusive Cascade restaurant
Justin loved the MonteMarque. He came here every chance he got. Quiet, posh, the restaurant was definitely a place for the very rich. If you wanted exquisitely prepared cuisine, served in a relaxed, elegant atmosphere, this was the place to come.
"Mr. Evers," the maitre d' said, smiling, as Justin came down the stairs to the dining room. "How are you this evening?"
"Fine, Arthur. Thank you. I'm meeting someone."
"Yes. Mr. Bryce has already arrived. He didn't want a private room, so I put him in a window booth overlooking the gardens."
Justin knew the spot. He and Paddy liked to sit there when they came to eat here. "Thank you, Arthur."
Justin found Bryce sitting at the table, staring out the window, a large, half-empty glass of wine in front of him.
"Bry?"
The young man turned around, his eyes sad and red-rimmed. "Hi, JC."
Evers slid into the empty seat across from his friend. "What's with this?" he asked, indicating the glass of alcohol. "You don't drink."
He picked up the glass and tossed back the remainder. "I do now."
"Bryce!" Justin cried as he lunged for the glass just one second too late. "What are you doing?"
"I'm getting drunk." He raised his arm to signal a waiter for another glass.
Justin turned in his seat and discretely shook his head. The waiter, equally as discrete, veered away.
"Bryce, whatever it is, it can't be that bad. You're gonna make yourself sick."
He twirled the empty glass by its stem for several seconds before looking up at his friend. A single tear trailed down one smooth cheek. "He dumped me, JC."
Even knowing the answer, the dark-haired man asked, "Who?"
Bryce whispered the word reverently. "Dasante."
"That sculptor?" Justin said the appellation disdainfully.
"Don't start, JC." He wiped the tear away.
The dark-haired young man leaned forward to say angrily, "He used you, Bry!"
And another took its place. "He loved me!" the gallery owner hissed defensively.
"Face the truth, Daniel. He lived off you until he found something better," Justin hissed back. "Then he dropped you like a hot rock."
"It wasn't like that," Bryce said sullenly.
Young Evers settled back in his seat before asking smugly, "Oh? How was it, then?"
Bryce scowled. "I invited you here to cheer me up. Not chew me out," he groused as he slumped down in his seat.
Justin sighed heavily. "Bry, I told you not to hook up with him in the first place."
"Well, everybody can't be as happy as you are, JC," he said, a sullen look settling on his face.
Evers became defensive now. "Hey, man, chill. Just because you don't have anybody right now, don't expect me to hide my happiness." He took a deep breath to settle down before continuing. "I kissed my share of frogs before I found my prince."
Now it was Bryce's turn to sighed heavily. "I wish. . ." he hesitated, looking down at his empty glass. "I wish I could find someone like you did."
Justin blinked in disbelief. "Like Paddy?"
"Yeah."
He shook his head, still not believing what he'd heard. "Bryce! When was the last time you said something nice about my spouse?"
Daniel's face tinged red as he reluctantly confessed with a shrug, "It was only jealousy, JC. I thought you knew."
The younger man smiled, still shaking his head. "First, Gideon, now, you?"
Daniel Bryce shrugged dismissively. "What can I tell you? He makes me melt."
That caused his dinner companion to laugh. "Oh, yeah. He knows how to heat you up, that's for sure, Bry."
~~~~~~
8:15 pm
The front plaza of the MonteMarque
Justin stopped at the entrance to the restaurant and smiled. The evening hadn't been a total disaster. He had gotten Bryce to stop feeling so sorry for himself. Even if he had to promise to introduce him to one of Paddy's friends. The small man sighed as he wondered which one of the team would fit the bill.
Well, it would all be a moot point if he didn't get home, hopefully before Mr. Choate called. If he got caught, he'd be dead meat. And all of his promises would be for nothing.
He tightened the collar of his coat and started off to the parking lot to get his car.
Just as he put his key in the lock, a stunning redhead in a sleek, black 2001 Jaguar XKR convertible slid into the parking slot next to him.
The Gargoyles Moto sunglasses covered half of the female driver's face.
Busily admiring the elegant lines of the car, Justin failed to see the two men who slipped up behind him.
End, part 1
****
11:23 pm
Evers' Residence
10:15 am
Cascade Judicial Center
Senior Councilor's Chambers
10:35 a.m.
Singleton Building Downtown
Cascade Business District
Twentieth Floor East
~~~~~~
2:27 p.m.
Cascade Civic Center Quadrangle
The Councilor wiped away the sheen of sweat from his brow with a shaky hand.
The podium was set high enough where Rine could look down and out into the crowd. He stood there a moment, surveying his audience, trying to gauge their mood. There was a mixture of ages and ethic backgrounds. Young, old, black, white, yellow, brown - everyone seemed to be out to show their concern for the environment.
"Is it true EnviroChem killed several members of endangered species and destroyed over an acre of land just obtaining their core sample?"
Councilor Rine shook his head to clear it of the rapid-fire questions as he tried to reclaim control of the assembly. With the attention of his security focused on the crowd and close-proximity threats, no one had given any thought to the rooftops of buildings surrounding the quad. No one but one councilor's chief aide.
9:48 am
Cascade City Hall
"The Council did NOT deny the petition," the mayor shouted over the microphone's noise, cutting a quelling glance off to her left, catching her assistant's gaze.
Again the mayor held up her hand for silence. This time they complied. "In an emergency meeting of the Mayor's committee," she told the crowd, grateful that the microphone now cooperated with her, "Loren Evers has been named temporary Senior Councilor pending a vote from the elective body."
Thursday, October 4, 2001
6:15 pm
Bainbridge Island, Washington
4:45 p.m.
Evers' Residence on to part 2. . .