"Moreover, land has an advantage for everyone:
he who tills a field is a king." Ecclesiastes 5:8
Deacon looked across the desk top at the evil, prune-faced man, and wondered just how he was going to break the news that Han's favorite project was dead.
"Well?" Hans asked after it had been too long. He put an inhaler up to his mouth and took a deep, wheezing breath.
He looked worse than usual, so maybe he already knew.
"Get on with it, Deacon. I'm a busy . . . " another breath from the inhaler, " . . . a busy man."
Deacon decided to just spit it out. After all, maybe the old fuck would have a cardiac and die—hopefully in pain.
"Brawn is dead."
The old man's head jerked around and he stared at Deacon with his cold blue eyes. He was a tired, fragile, wizened up old man, but when he looked at Deacon like that, Deacon's blood ran cold and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. This fucker was just plain wicked.
"What!" Hans shouted with a quiver in his voice.
"He's dead," Deacon said matter-of-factly.
"Did you capture the others?" he asked, all emotion now vacant from his voice.
"No, Sir, and they got the DA, too." Deacon only kept the smile from his face with an effort. "She'd uncovered a lot. Apparently Denisten was able to access files through the FBI and he downloaded them to Carrie Long. What they don't already know they can get from Doctor Grant. At this point they no doubt know more than I know about the project."
Hans looked thoughtful. "How did he die? Was it the black one?"
"No, Sir," Deacon couldn't quite keep the smug grin off his face. "He was most probably killed by the Oriental."
Deacon watched the old man's face with baited breath. His super-hybrid son had been killed by a normal human. The old man's face contorted in rage. He glared at Deacon, and Deacon looked down at his own feet.
"So, what are you going to do now, Deacon?" he hissed.
"Excuse me, Sir?" Deacon didn't understand the question.
Hans got slowly out of his chair, and stood up behind his desk. His every movement was a lesson in pain. He put his fists on the desk and turned slowly to face Deacon, and now Deacon had to look at him.
"It's your job to take care of security, Deacon!" His voice shook in anger. "You incompetent fools! We did all the work. All you had to do was take care of security, and you screwed it up. We were so close, and now . . . The whole project is in jeopardy because of you American idiots."
For some reason Deacon just didn't feel like taking his shit today. "With all due respect, Sir. They killed Brawn. Brawn who was in every way superior to any of us. If Brawn couldn't stop them, what makes you think we could?"
"Get out of my office! Get out!" Hans hissed.
Deacon left. He didn't slam the door, but he did in his mind. His comlink buzzed and he answered it. "Hello, Deacon here."
"Deacon, this is Franklin. Get over to my office right away."
Deacon took a deep breath. Franklin was further up the food chain than Hans. He didn't know what to expect, but he didn't like it.
Franklin's secretary waved him right into the office.
Franklin looked up at him.
Deacon couldn't read his face.
"Just talk to Han's?"
"Yes Sir."
"Sit down, Deacon," Franklin said.
Deacon nodded and sat down.
"How'd the old fuck take it?" Franklin asked.
Deacon shrugged. "He was angry. I think he's basically incapable of any emotion as complex as grief."
"Deacon ole boy, word just came down from the top. We're going to put an end to the project."
Having been told what she needed, Spider had gone to bed and stayed there, getting up only to use the bathroom and eat a light meal, the rest of the time she slept a deep, dreamless sleep.
They had given up on trying to get the comlink to work as a computer.
To pass the time, Tommy was teaching Robby and Mark Jujitsu. When they weren't doing that, Robby and Tommy were hunting or working in the garden.
Francis was still gathering rocks and laying them out on the ground in the clearing in a strange formation. When Mark couldn't find anything better to do he helped her.
Laura had started talking and as far as Carrie could tell she hadn't stopped except to sleep or eat since she had arrived. Apparently she had really been starved for female companionship, and hadn't found it in either Spider or the weirdo scientist chick.
Carrie was usually a very attentive listener, but today as she helped Laura hang out some laundry they had beat on rocks down at the creek, her mind was on more important matters. However she did realize that Laura had asked her a question.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Where the hell were you?" Laura asked with a laugh. "I asked if you ever thought in a million years that you'd be going back to the stone age."
"No, I didn't," Carrie said. She was still far away from thoughts of laundry.
"OK. What is it?" Laura asked.
"I left instructions with George to post the files on the internet if I came up missing for more than a month. It's been a week and a half, already. Spider's still sleeping most of the time, Robby and Tommy are off playing martial arts, and no one's come up with a plan of action yet," Carrie said.
"We're all waiting for Spider, Carrie. After all, Spider's the only one who's ever really done anything like this before."
"You don't understand, Laura. We're running out of time. If George posts the information on the net before we have a chance to do whatever-the-hell it is that we are going to do, then . . . Well, we're running out of time, that's all."
"If the information got out to everyone, then they'd have to stop the SWTF," Laura said. She really didn't understand the problem.
"And what about the hybrids? There are hundreds of them, Laura. What about the general public? Hell, how do we know they won't go nuts and decide to make war with the aliens? As of this date, the aliens haven't shown any signs of being hostile. They're experimenting on us, but then so is our own fucking government. Who knows what kinds of weapons they might have, or if they themselves are weapons?"
"People have wondered for years whether there was extraterrestrial life. Now we know there is. I think people will be happy to know that," Laura assured her.
"Just like the Spaniards were happy to find out there were people living here in the 'New World?' Humans don't have a very good track record, Laura. We have a history of discovering strange and beautiful cultures and destroying them. The masses will hate the aliens, and they'll hate the hybrids all the more because part of them is us. And no one wants to know that there is someone out there who can download every sin they've ever committed." Carrie looked at Laura. "We've got to do something before George puts the information on the web. At the time, I thought it was the perfect stopgap measure. After all, it was what Spider had instructed Tommy to have his friend do with it in the first place. If Tommy hadn't had him give it to me instead . . . The more I think about it the more I believe that what the SWTF has done will seem like a cakewalk next to what the general public will do. We're talking mass hysteria. At which point we can all kiss any chance we have of going back to anything approaching a normal life goodbye."
Tommy and Robby walked over then. Robby looked right at Carrie. "What's wrong?"
Carrie explained what she had been telling Laura. "I need to make contact with George."
"OK. But let's not bother Spider. We'll drive to Weston. That's about a hundred and fifty miles from here. That should keep them off us. You can call George from there," Tommy said.
"What if they have his phone tapped?" Robby asked.
"They no doubt do." Carrie was thoughtful. "I'll just have to be careful how I word things."
"Who will go?" Laura asked.
"Me and Robby and Carrie," Tommy said.
"What if they find us here?" Laura said. "Spider wouldn't be much help right now."
"Mark . . . " Robby started.
"He's a boy. You can't expect him to stop an army." It was Carrie who said it.
"They're not going to find this camp," Tommy assured them.
"I don't think we better count on that," Carrie said.
"I could go with Carrie and you could stay here, Tommy," Robby suggested.
Tommy nodded. He didn't like being left behind, but Robby could handle anything they threw at him. Realistically, Tommy knew that he couldn't—especially not their pet hybrids.
"OK. You leave tomorrow morning. After Spider eats her breakfast, she'll go back to bed, and while she's sleeping you guys take off. You should be back long before she wakes up for dinner."
Carrie hadn't remembered the hike being so long, but then all she had been worried about was getting to Spider. They took the trail at a fast jog. Carrie was not in as good shape as Robby was. She was about to pass out, and he wasn't even winded.
"Hold up there, Rob." She stopped and leaned against a tree.
Robby came back up the trail to meet her.
"You OK?" he asked.
"You're trying to kill me!" Carrie panted out. "I've got to take a break." She scooted down the tree and sat on the ground at its base. Then she took her canteen from her shoulder and took a long drink.
"But if we're not back before Spider gets up, she's going to . . . "
"The rest of you are a lot more worried about her being pissed off than I am. I've incurred her wrath before, and lived. Believe me, it's just not all that bad."
"You love her a lot, don't you?" Robby said, leaning on the same tree she was sitting against.
"Yes, I do," Carrie said.
"Even though she's an alien?" Robby said.
Carrie thought about it a moment. "I love Spider. She's a hybrid, so maybe I love her because she's an alien." Carrie shrugged. "Why do you ask?"
"I'm in love with a woman. I hope it won't matter to her, either, but I can't be sure. Of course, who knows whether I'll ever see her again?"
"You will." Carrie got up and patted him on the back. "Come on, let's get going. I'm not really afraid of pissing her off, but I'd rather not worry her if I can keep from it."
George looked across his . . . Carrie's desk at Deacon. It was the third time he'd been there that week.
"Well?" Deacon asked expectantly.
"How many times do I have to tell you, Mr. Deacon? Carrie didn't tell me where she was going. Why, she didn't even tell her parents."
"She met Spider Webb somewhere?"
"I wouldn't know if that was true. As far as I know Carrie had no idea where Spider was. In fact, I got the impression that the only ones with information about her whereabouts were you guys. To tell the truth, most of us think you guys nabbed her, and that you're just asking us where she is to throw the scent off you."
Deacon looked at a spot somewhere behind George. When he looked back at George his expression was hard to read. He may have been angry or worried or just plain tired. "Mr. Parker, if Carrie Long gets in touch with you, will you give her my message?"
"I've got it written down right here," George said. "Although I'm sure she'll find it as cryptic as I do."
Deacon got up. "Just do it, Georgie boy."
George watched him go. He was always glad to see the back of Deacon.
Every day he did this job he respected Carrie a little more. Being DA was a tough job under the best of circumstances. A job, quite frankly, that he had never wanted. He was more than happy to be assistant DA. DA carried with it too much stress and responsibility. Add to that Deacon sticking his head in the door every other day, and it was too damn much. He wondered how the hell Carrie had done it.
The phone rang and he jumped. He answered it quickly. "Acting DA Parker."
"George," Carrie laughed. "You sound like someone just walked over your grave."
"Carrie!" he whispered. "Are you all right?"
"We're all good. Listen carefully. What I told you to do? Don't do it. Understand?"
"Yes, but why?"
"Just don't. I've got to go now . . . "
"No! Not yet. Deacon has been here; he left a message."
"Quick," Carrie said. They could trace a call immediately now, and she wanted to get as far away from the phone as fast as she could on the off chance that the SWTF had men in Weston.
"He said to tell Spider Webb that they want to make a deal. That she holds all the cards and they're ready to play the game her way."
"I'll give her the message. Be careful, George."
Spider stared down at her squirrel stew. She was still wondering how mad she should be. She was feeling better. In fact, her mind was clear for the first time since the tranq-dart had hit her. She could feel the emotions of those around her again and felt less like a raw nerve.
"What's he mean?" Tommy asked. "What kind of deal does he want to make?"
"That's a good question," Spider said thoughtfully. She drew in a deep breath and it didn't hurt. She wasn't sure, but she thought she was completely healed. It was funny because she hadn't really felt any better when she lay down that morning.
"It's obviously a trap," Carrie said. "A pretty lame one if you ask me."
"Not necessarily," Francis said from her place in the corner. They looked at her expectantly, and she shrugged. "The science corps and the security corps are often at odds were policy is concerned."
"Like we're ever listening to her," Tommy said.
"She's not trying anything," Spider said matter-of-factly. She whispered in Tommy's general direction. "I really wasn't sure what I was doing when I was sick. Apparently I pushed her too much, and something in her brain snapped. She's not capable of lying anymore." She lowered her voice a little more. "She's not all there."
"I heard that," Francis said.
"See? I told you that playing with people's brains would make them snap," Carrie told Spider scoldingly.
Spider looked at her and smiled. Suddenly Carrie looked good. Real good. Spider realized her libido was back—a sure sign that she was healed.
Carrie recognized the look in Spider's eyes and smiled seductively back at her, forgetting all about what they were talking about.
"Let's . . . ah," Spider got to her feet. "Let's go for a walk."
Carrie nodded excitedly, got up and beat her to the door. Mark got up and ran over.
"Me too," he said.
Spider messed his hair up, and then putting her hand on the top of his head pushed him back. "Not this time, sport. You, ah . . . have to finish your dinner."
He grumbled as he went back to his seat.
Spider took Carrie's hand and they practically ran out the door.
"It's a miracle! It's a miracle! She's healed!" Tommy said waving his arms in the air like a fire and brimstone Baptist preacher on a Sunday morning.
"I don't see why I couldn't go," Mark grumbled.
"Because they're going diving," Robby laughed.
Laura glared at Robby, and then turned to Mark.
"Just eat your dinner," Laura said.
Mark nodded. "It's hard. I feel sorry for the squirrel," he mumbled as he picked at it.
"Don't think about it," Robby said. Then seeing the expression on Mark's face change, he shoved Mark on the shoulder so hard he almost fell off his chair.
"Don't do that!" Robby ordered him.
"Robby! What the hell was that all about?" Laura protested.
"He's a fucking little perv, that's what." Robby smacked Mark again for good measure.
"Ouch," Mark protested rubbing at his shoulder.
"Quit hitting him," Laura ordered.
"Well, make him stop," Robby ordered her.
"He's not doing anything," Laura said shrugging.
She looked at Tommy, who was laughing like a big idiot. "Tommy?"
"They're not going on a walk," Mark said making a face. "They're having sex."
"See? He's a fucking little pervert," Robby said.
"I didn't know what she was doing!" Mark protested.
"What the hell is going on?" Laura demanded. Then, as Mark opened his mouth to speak she held up her hand. "On second thought, I don't want to know. Robby's right. You should stay out of her head. It's a private thing between adults."
Mark nodded silently.
"What about this shit with Deacon?" Robby asked, successfully changing the subject.
Tommy shrugged. "I don't know. We can't trust these guys. At the same time if we don't do something we're going to be stuck running for the rest of our lives. If we wait too long, they're going to have time to repair all the damage you did. As Spider pointed out at dinner yesterday, we don't want to wait around till they can re-arm and prepare themselves. But what kind of an attack do we make, where do we strike, and at who?"