anyway. I wouldn't want to take you out of your way. I've asked enough of you for one night."
That brought a smile out of him. "It's on my way. My pad's in Winthrop. Come on . . . you look beat."
Reluctantly, I let him lead me out to the parking lot and I got into his car. Ryan didn't say a word while we drove to the airport. I must have dozed for a few minutes. The next thing I remember is pulling up in front of the terminal building where the staff jet was still parked.
"Thanks for the lift," I said as I started to haul myself out of the Toyota Electric.
"Any time."
Being careful not to bump my head, I finally squeezed out onto the sidewalk, like the last drop of toothpaste coming out of a rolled-up tube. Ducking back inside, I shook Ryan's extended hand.
"I'll call you in a couple of days," he said. "I think I'd like to come to Washington to interview you. Now."
I banged my head on the door top as I pulled away from him.
There were several strange men trying to look inconspicuous as they guarded the terminal entrances, the corridor, and the ramp gate near the staff plane. FBI, I assumed. They didn't have the air of McMurtrie's people.
The plane was warm and comfortable and filled with sleeping people. Most of the staff had been inside all night, since The Man's speech ended. The lights were so dim I could barely make out their sleeping forms, curled up or stretched out in the plush swivel seats.
McMurtrie wasn't asleep, though. He was sitting up forward, with a tiny worklight making his seat and folding table an island of wakefulness in the darkened plane. I went up to him and saw that he was doing nothing, just sitting there and staring off into infinity.
The engines began to whine into life. The seat-belt sign flashed on. I took the chair next to McMurtrie, leaned across the space separating us, and asked, "Anything new?"
He shook his head silently.
"Do they"—I hooked a thumb back toward the rest of the staff—"know about it?"
It was obvious that I was breaking into his private chain of thought. He turned slowly toward me and rumbled, "So far we've been able to keep it from them. There's no sense spreading this any further than it has to go."
I agreed. "Where's the, uh, capsule? The cryonic container?"
"On a separate plane, heading for Minnesota."
I blinked at him. "Where?"
"A special laboratory in Minnesota. The President's orders. We're flying Dr. Klienerman out there tomorrow. Be easier to maintain security that way."
By security he meant secrecy.
"The President told you to do that?"
McMurtrie nodded.
"Himself?"
He nodded again, but with growing impatience.
"It wasn't Wyatt or one of the other staffers? It was The Man himself, personally?"
McMurtrie never loses his self-control. He thinks. But he's not accustomed to being interrogated. "Yes, it was the President himself," he said, keeping his voice so low that I could barely hear it over the rising roar of the plane's engines. "Exactly the same procedure as before."
Even through my sleepy, foggy brain that last word hit me. "Before? What before?"
For just a flash of a second he realized he'd said something he shouldn't have. He reached out and clamped a heavy hand around my arm. "Keep your voice down, damn you!"
"This has happened before?" I insisted. "This isn't the first time?"
His face contorted with barely suppressed rage, McMurtrie answered, "Ask the President about it. Not me."
"I will," I snapped at him. "I sure as hell will!"
CHAPTER THREE
It should have seemed like a bad dream the next morning. I awoke with the sunlight streaming through my bedroom window. Rock Creek Park was green and leafy out there. In Washington, April is almost summertime. The cherry trees were in bloom along the Tidal Basin and up Fourteenth Street. The sky was clear and bright blue.
But I still felt lousy. Not just from having only a few hours' sleep. I was scared.
None of the staff had offices in the White House anymore. Even though Halliday kept a
That brought a smile out of him. "It's on my way. My pad's in Winthrop. Come on . . . you look beat."
Reluctantly, I let him lead me out to the parking lot and I got into his car. Ryan didn't say a word while we drove to the airport. I must have dozed for a few minutes. The next thing I remember is pulling up in front of the terminal building where the staff jet was still parked.
"Thanks for the lift," I said as I started to haul myself out of the Toyota Electric.
"Any time."
Being careful not to bump my head, I finally squeezed out onto the sidewalk, like the last drop of toothpaste coming out of a rolled-up tube. Ducking back inside, I shook Ryan's extended hand.
"I'll call you in a couple of days," he said. "I think I'd like to come to Washington to interview you. Now."
I banged my head on the door top as I pulled away from him.
There were several strange men trying to look inconspicuous as they guarded the terminal entrances, the corridor, and the ramp gate near the staff plane. FBI, I assumed. They didn't have the air of McMurtrie's people.
The plane was warm and comfortable and filled with sleeping people. Most of the staff had been inside all night, since The Man's speech ended. The lights were so dim I could barely make out their sleeping forms, curled up or stretched out in the plush swivel seats.
McMurtrie wasn't asleep, though. He was sitting up forward, with a tiny worklight making his seat and folding table an island of wakefulness in the darkened plane. I went up to him and saw that he was doing nothing, just sitting there and staring off into infinity.
The engines began to whine into life. The seat-belt sign flashed on. I took the chair next to McMurtrie, leaned across the space separating us, and asked, "Anything new?"
He shook his head silently.
"Do they"—I hooked a thumb back toward the rest of the staff—"know about it?"
It was obvious that I was breaking into his private chain of thought. He turned slowly toward me and rumbled, "So far we've been able to keep it from them. There's no sense spreading this any further than it has to go."
I agreed. "Where's the, uh, capsule? The cryonic container?"
"On a separate plane, heading for Minnesota."
I blinked at him. "Where?"
"A special laboratory in Minnesota. The President's orders. We're flying Dr. Klienerman out there tomorrow. Be easier to maintain security that way."
By security he meant secrecy.
"The President told you to do that?"
McMurtrie nodded.
"Himself?"
He nodded again, but with growing impatience.
"It wasn't Wyatt or one of the other staffers? It was The Man himself, personally?"
McMurtrie never loses his self-control. He thinks. But he's not accustomed to being interrogated. "Yes, it was the President himself," he said, keeping his voice so low that I could barely hear it over the rising roar of the plane's engines. "Exactly the same procedure as before."
Even through my sleepy, foggy brain that last word hit me. "Before? What before?"
For just a flash of a second he realized he'd said something he shouldn't have. He reached out and clamped a heavy hand around my arm. "Keep your voice down, damn you!"
"This has happened before?" I insisted. "This isn't the first time?"
His face contorted with barely suppressed rage, McMurtrie answered, "Ask the President about it. Not me."
"I will," I snapped at him. "I sure as hell will!"
CHAPTER THREE
It should have seemed like a bad dream the next morning. I awoke with the sunlight streaming through my bedroom window. Rock Creek Park was green and leafy out there. In Washington, April is almost summertime. The cherry trees were in bloom along the Tidal Basin and up Fourteenth Street. The sky was clear and bright blue.
But I still felt lousy. Not just from having only a few hours' sleep. I was scared.
None of the staff had offices in the White House anymore. Even though Halliday kept a
Similar Books
Whisper
Kathleen Lash
Star Hunter
Andre Norton
Snow Blind
Archer Mayor
Love on Call
Shirley Hailstock
Peter Pan Must Die
John Verdon
The Voice of the Night
Dean Koontz
Death of a Neighborhood Witch (Jaine Austen Mystery)
Laura Levine
The Bride's Curse
Glenys O'Connell
A Mother at Heart
Carolyne Aarsen
Somebody's Lover: The Jackson Brothers, Book 1
Jasmine Haynes