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virtualdaWith the civil war over, the lives of Max and Logan and their friends can get back to normal. Or can they?
It’s a new day in Seattle. No more martial law, new job opportunities...but new enemies lurk in the shadows, and their targets and motives are unknown.
~~~~~~
Max looked into his eyes.
“I don’t like the things it does to you…to us,” she added softly. “You kinda shut yourself off.”
“Hey, I promise you – no dramas this time," he assured her. "I’ll just do a hack to warn them that Eyes Only will be ‘big brother’ to them, and then I’ll do some simple background checks on all the members. I probably won’t even need to leave my computer. And I promise, no more unfinished cups of coffee.”
~~~~~~
“You got anything that you’d care to share, Lydecker?” Logan said coldly, remembering their last conversation.
“Ah, by the tone of your voice, I take it you’re still put out,“ Lydecker said calmly.
“You’re the one who said there is no ‘I’ in ‘team,’ remember?” Logan replied sarcastically.
~~~~~~
With transgenic speed, Max's right leg shot out and kicked Ginger’s feet. This time Ginger lost her balance, and when Max grabbed her legs to pull them up, she landed hard on her back.
~~~~~~
“Okay, so we arrange a meet, hopefully with Cale, who’ll be expecting a scared informant. It just may work,” nodded the General. “Then I take it we squeeze Cale until we find out who the ‘hero’ behind the banner is.”
~~~~~~
Space Needle – Sunday, August 14, 2022, early morning
Max stood on the edge of the Space Needle, staring out over the city as dawn broke.
Great, another police ‘action.’ You’d think something would be working right by now. I mean, it’s been six months since the civil war ended.
(Flashback)
The President was speaking to the nation.
"This was once a great country, and I think that we can make it so again. To that end, I hold in my hands an executive order that will help create new mechanisms for monitoring and controlling corruption in law enforcement agencies across the country. It's not a huge step toward solving the problems that are shaking the unity of our nation, but it's a first step. As time goes on, I plan to call for the end of military rule and to begin to restore our citizens’ rights as set forth by our forefathers when they wrote the Constitution. This will not happen in a day or a week, but in the months ahead, this administration will work to restore the America that we all remember and love."
Sitting on her favorite perch atop the Space Needle, Max looked down over the city. Her enhanced vision saw the “man in the street,” still standing in line for gas; standing in line to sign up for job programs; standing in line to buy fruit and vegetables; people getting frustrated and impatient. As Max watched, things seemed to be getting out of hand, as usual.
He promised us jobs and utilities that work too, and roads that are repaired, and plenty of available food. All this pie-in-the-sky stuff, but even he can’t work miracles. Logan says that it's all been done before – something called the New Deal, whatever that was. I guess he’s tryin’, but people are running out of patience fast.
As produce stalls sold out of fruits and vegetables, people trudged off hungrily, cursing the President and his empty promises. Max watched as one fruit stand, with plenty of produce still adorning its shelves, was attacked by angry shoppers.
“What’s the use of having fruit available if you can’t afford to buy it?” a frustrated would-be customer shouted at the vendor, who cowered in the corner of the stall. “Where do you get off charging us prices like this?”
“It’s not my fault!” the fruit stand owner replied defensively. “Everything’s expensive these days – fertilizer, fuel for my tractor and my truck to haul produce here, rent for this stall – “
“At least you have a tractor and a truck!” another heckler added.
“Yeah, and a job!” the first one said.
A beat cop walked by the heated conversation. “Okay, what’s going on here?” he asked the vendor.
“These people are threatening me. Seems they don’t like the prices,” the man answered.
“Too bad folks these days just don’t appreciate the amount of effort it takes to grow all this and get it to market,” said the cop, looking hard at the vendor.
The vendor handed him an apple. He pocketed it, then turned to the crowd. “Okay, people, let’s go! If you’re not going to buy anything, then don’t bother this man. He’s doing the best he can!” he shouted. When he heard grumbling from the crowd, he reached up and pushed a button on the walkie-talkie on his shoulder.
“I’m at a fruit stand in South Market, southwest corner. Got an unruly crowd here. I may need some help.”
The people heard him summon reinforcements. Reluctantly, they backed off and turned away from the stall, still grumbling, but no longer a threat.
Up on the Needle, Max shook her head. Good thing nothing like that happened when I got that grapefruit for Logan. I’da hated to have to take out a cop. At least I could afford – well, sort of – to buy the grapefruit. She smiled, straightening up and turning to leave her perch. And the look on Logan’s face was worth the price.
She grew serious again. I just hope the whole place doesn’t explode before all these programs can start working – if they ever do. Logan’s an optimist. He’s convinced that it will all work out, eventually. Me, I’m just hoping I can buy a chicken at the market tomorrow. Or a gallon of gas for my motorcycle. At least I'm not the savior of the whole world this year.
ACT I
Penthouse – Monday, August 15, early evening
The door to Logan’s apartment opened and Max entered, still dressed in her work clothes, the Jam Pony cap backwards on her head and the ID badge attached to her vest. “Honey, I'm home!” she called out.
“In here!”
Smiling, she headed to the living room, where she found Logan folding socks, a big basket of laundry on his lap.
“Hey,” she greeted him, leaning down to give him a kiss. “You’re not working?”
He looked up at her, mock offense in his features. “Don’t let any overworked and underpaid housewives hear you say that.”
“So you’re saying you're my housewife?” Max joked.
Logan made a face. “Very funny. Somebody’s got to do some work around here, and frankly, I still haven't forgotten what happened last time you did the laundry.”
“Hey, you ought to wash clothes in the sink like everyone else. I didn't know that stupid machine would turn all your shirts pink!” She pouted for a second, then asked, “Don’t tell me you’re still mad over that.”
“Why shouldn't I be?” He looked at her, trying to look serious and reproachful, but the smile in his eyes gave him away.
“So you want some help?”
Logan shook his head as an answer. “No. I’m good as done anyway.”
“Oh, that’s good,” Max smiled, “’cause if you’re done with the chores…are you going to feed me? This girl’s hungry after a day of pedaling through town.”
Logan looked at her and the smile crept from his eyes to his mouth. “Yeah, well, I could feed you. But what’s in it for me? I've been doing more than laundry today myself, you know.”
“Did you finally get something on those shady land deals Eyes Only was looking into?”
“Kind of, but it seems like there's more to the story than we know.”
“Yeah...I got a weird feeling that a lot of things still aren’t happening the way they should.” Max told him.
Logan nodded. “I know what you mean.” He then tried to put on an ominous expression and said with a grave voice, “Darkness rises again.”
Max shrugged off the gloomy turn of the conversation and forced a smile. “How about you whip something up for dinner, and I'll take care of dessert, okay?” Max suggested.
“You really have a sweet tooth, don’t you?” Logan asked smiling. “That bakery around the corner would be profitable even if you were their only customer.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she laughed and headed into the kitchen, Logan following behind her. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and set the table while you're at it?” he suggested.
“I think I can handle that,” she nodded, heading toward the cabinet that held the plates to take two of them and silverware to the dining table.
A minute later she returned and wrapped her arms around Logan’s neck. “I’ll do the dishes tonight, I promise.”
“Is that what I get for cooking you dinner?” he asked, trying to make her smile.
“No,” she objected. “That’s for doing the laundry. As a reward for the cooking, I have other plans,” she added with a lascivious grin.
Jam Pony – Tuesday, August 16, lunchtime
The bike messengers who had managed to escape Normal’s lectures were enjoying their break on the old couches and armchairs in the back of Jam Pony.
“...No, it’s not. See, I was at Crash last night and there was this girl…” Original Cindy heard Sketchy saying as she came closer and dropped into one of the armchairs.
“—and this particularly fine woman was so not into ya, Sketch,” she finished.
“How would you know?” Sketchy pouted. “You and your particularly fine girlfriend weren't noticing anyone but each other all night.”
“Hey,” Original Cindy warned him with an admonishing finger, “what Ginger and I do is absolutely none of your business.”
“Not if you two do it at home, but at Crash it’s—”
“—still none of your business,” Sky interrupted. “Speaking of women…where’s Lori?”
“On a run,” Sketchy explained, trying to sound indifferent, but everyone understood what he had left unsaid.
“So everything blew up in your face, right? The girl from Crash wasn’t interested, but Lori saw you hitting on her and now she doesn't want any part of you either? Sketch, that’s just so…” Sky hesitated for a moment before bursting out laughing. “So damn funny!”
Sketchy glared at him and Original Cindy and stood up, walking over to the lockers to escape his colleagues’ pleasantries.
“Mind if I turn on the TV?” Sky asked, shortly after Sketchy had disappeared. When nobody answered back, he turned on the TV and switched to the news channel, where a reporter was interviewing a politician.
“You seem sure of what you’re saying, Mr. Andersen,” she was saying. “Do you think you can give us some examples on why you’re happy with what our government has achieved so far?”
“Yeah, our government,” Sky sighed. “Always the ones to make the news. Wonder if there’s ever going to be a day when the guys in Washington don’t have something to say.”
“At least there’s a chance that this is good news,” Original Cindy shrugged. “Not like in back in the day, but better than before Eyes Only told us this Committee was trying to start a civil war.”
“Of course, Miss Riley,” the politician answered smoothly. “In Seattle alone, we had more than 50,000 people apply for our government’s programs, be it job training, arts, or environmental programs. More than 20% of them have already found a position and therefore a good chance to be part of the newly growing economy.”
“That's only 10,000 people,” Sky calculated. “Wonder what’s happening with the rest of Seattle’s inhabitants?”
“Wonder what’d happen if you stopped bein’ so pessimistic”, Original Cindy retorted.
Sketchy, who’d returned from his locker with a cheese sandwich in his hand, chimed in unexpectedly. “Yeah, she’s right, man. 10,000 people is something, at least. And they’ve just started.”
“I can see how job training programs are going to strengthen our economy, but arts or environmental programs?” the reporter pressed on. “Where’s the sense in that?”
The politician smiled. “On the contrary, these programs serve not only to strengthen our economy but also to make this country the wonderful land it used to be. Do you remember how stolen pieces of art turned up in all places of this world?
Do we really want foreigners to be the heirs of what’s left of our culture?”
“Of course not,” she replied.
"The day some Saudi oil magnate buys the Declaration of Independence to hang on his wall, there’ll be nothing left of our history,” Normal muttered as he came out and approached the messengers.
The politician nodded. “ “That’s why we think an arts program is almost as important as one to…”
Suddenly Normal switched off the TV and threw the remote control onto the table. “Anybody who’s interested in the arts program is free to go and apply. But don’t expect to have a job when you come back!” he shouted at the messengers. “Break’s over. So bip bip bip. Packages don’t deliver themselves!”
When most of the messengers stood up, Normal returned to his desk, muttering, “What’s next? Arts programs? What this country needs is hard-working people, not artists.”
“Hard-working people like us?” Original Cindy asked, grinning slyly.
“Shut up and deliver this!” he shouted, throwing a package.
Original Cindy smiled, took the package and grabbed her bike. “Some things never change, right, Normal?”
Penthouse – Wednesday, August 17, early morning
Rubbing his eyes and yawning, Logan wheeled sleepily into the kitchen, where Max was in the process of pouring them both coffee.
“Made ya breakfast,” she announced, pointing with a grin to the bowl of cereal on the dining table.
“And you’ve gone to so much trouble!” he admired, moving up to the table. He poured some milk on his cereal and was just about to take his first mouthful when his attention was caught by the innocuous music that announced the morning news.
“Logan?” Max tried.
He didn’t reply.
His eyes had assumed an intent expression, the spoonful of cereal in his right hand poised mid-way to his mouth. With a resigned sigh and a bored expression on her face, she sat down opposite him and watched the dark-haired reporter shuffle her notes before continuing.
“Today the President announced the members of his new Law Enforcement Oversight Task Force. I have with me General McKenzie, who has been appointed the new Task Force chairperson, having had a long and illustrious career in the army.”
Logan, eventually returning his spoon to the bowl uneaten, mused, “Law Enforcement Oversight – and who’s gonna oversee them?”
Max rolled her eyes, remarking dryly under her breath, “Well, that’s a bet I could make a killing on.” Chin in hand, she regarded Logan over the remains of her breakfast.
“You’ve got that look again.”
Not immediately responding as he stared intently at the TV screen, eventually he found it hard to ignore the two dark eyes that bore into him.
“What?” he asked, not quite able to keep a slight note of defensiveness out of his voice.
“The one that goes with the cold coffee and the unfinished meals,” Max replied smartly, her eyes resting on the untouched cereal and the nearly full cup of coffee.
A quick flick of his eyes verified her words, but he wasn’t going to be outmaneuvered that easily.
‘I just haven’t gotten to it yet,” he replied quickly, not taking his eyes off her face as he swallowed the cold coffee in a few gulps.
Gathering up her own bowl, Max motioned to the now-soggy cereal. “You plannin' to eat that?”
Logan contemplated it for all of a second. “Actually…”
“No,” she finished for him, stacking it on top of her empty bowl and heading for the sink.
“I wonder who this McKenzie is?” mused Logan, putting the box of cereal on his lap with the intention of putting it away, but that was as far as he got as he sat staring at a spot somewhere halfway up the wall.
“You thinking about havin’ some of that later?” asked Max, coming back to gather the last of their dirty dishes.
Logan looked at her questioningly.
“Or maybe you’re planning on wearing it?” she added sweetly, motioning with her hand.
With a frown, Logan looked down to see the cereal spilling onto his lap where it had escaped the partially closed box.
He wheeled into the kitchen, put the box away in the cupboard, then scooped up the few flakes that had escaped and dumped them in the trash can, saying, “I’ve seen these things go sideways before, Max. I remember the task force that was meant to investigate police corruption - only thing was, it was made up of corrupt police. And the task force that was supposedly monitoring government grants to small businesses made sure they got a cut for each grant they okayed.”
Max looked over at him as he stopped for breath, putting in quickly, “I thought you were already busy with that real estate dealio you and Matt Sung were working on.”
“We’re almost done,” he answered.
“What about the records you had me steal from the company that was using kids in their sweatshops?”
Logan sighed. “I’ve gotta find another contact who’s willing to talk. Apparently the first guy was havin’ an affair with the boss’s wife and got himself executed,” he added thoughtfully.
“How inconvenient of him to get dead when you needed him,” commiserated Max.
Logan threw her a look at that comment, but let it pass and grabbed the dishtowel to dry the steaming hot dishes that Max had draining.
“Logan,” she tried again, “Don’t you think you’ve got enough on your plate right now?”
“Max, this could be really serious. The government is trying to make some long-overdue reforms here, but a dishonest task force could cut them off at the knees.”
“What they need to do is form another task force to investigate this one,” Max suggested ingenuously, “and then the great Eyes Only might have some room in his life for a few more pleasurable things.”
Logan continued as if he hadn’t heard her.
“If these reforms can be implemented without the usual corruption crap, this country may have a very real chance of getting back on its feet.”
With the frustration beginning to show, Max put the dishcloth down and turned to him. “Logan, nobody made you responsible for every piece of garbage that’s trashed on the pavement.”
Logan refused to look up at her, but his annoyed sigh told its own story.
After drying her hands on the dishtowel, she took one of his hands in her own, her voice softer now. “Can’t you be content with cleaning up half the garbage?” she tried, adopting a cajoling tone to counter his ‘I’ve got to save the world’ mood.
That made him look up, instinctively returning the slight pressure of her hand in his. “There’s a lotta garbage out there, even if I only look into half of it,” he said, one of his own quirky smiles on his lips.
Max looked into his eyes.
“I don’t like the things it does to you…to us,” she added softly. “You kinda shut yourself off.”
“Hey, I promise you – no dramas this time," he assured her. "I’ll just do a hack to warn them that Eyes Only will be ‘big brother’ to them, and then I’ll do some simple background checks on all the members. I probably won’t even need to leave my computer. And I promise, no more unfinished cups of coffee.”
Max leaned in and kissed him gently. “That's good, ‘cause I hate that disgusting film that floats on top.”
“No more disgusting film,” he promised again.
“In that case…” she smiled, as his arms drew her close once more.
Original Cindy’s apartment - that morning
Original Cindy applied the last of her makeup, admired herself in the mirror, and grabbed her backpack. She walked up to Ginger, who was clad in fuzzy slippers and a bathrobe, blearily staring at the previous day’s newspaper.
“Bye, boo, gotta blaze.” She leaned over and kissed Ginger on the top of her head. Ginger turned to look up at her and smiled.
“Meet you for lunch?”
“Sure, sugah, just page me when you want to meet.” Original Cindy picked up Ginger’s cup of coffee and took a sip. She made a face. “Man, that stuff is nasty!”
“Yeah, but it does wake a girl up in the morning,” Ginger replied. “Can't argue with that.”
Cindy opened the door to leave. A flier, taped to the door, fluttered at her. She ripped it off and glanced at it. Her eyebrows shot up as she backed up into the apartment and leaned against the wall.
“Dayum!”
“What’s up?” Ginger inquired.
“This is from a construction company. They’ve bought the building – with a grant from the government – and they’re gonna finish it. Can you believe that? Electricity, hot water and everything. Real walls.”
“So?”
“So, we got two choices. We can split in the next 30 days or we can sign up to buy one of the units that they finish.” She put down the flier in disgust. “Like we got the scrilla to do that.”
“I guess we gotta find another place to live, then?” Ginger said, contemplating her coffee cup.
“Either that or I gotta find a better job so we can buy this place. Ain’t nevah gonna be able to afford it workin’ for Normal.”
Ginger turned over some pages of the paper and glanced down the columns. “Here. I saw this last night.” She handed the paper to Cindy.
“‘Job Training Available. Are you stuck in a dead-end job? Do you need more money? Want to upgrade your skills?’ Yes, yes, and yes,” Cindy said. She continued reading. ‘We can help. Sign up for our training courses. Sessions being held this week in Sectors 4 and 9.’ Hmm, sounds like somethin’ I should check into.”
“And I found this one, too,” Ginger said, taking the paper back from Cindy. “There’s an outfit that’s testing and retraining transgenics for non-military jobs. I think I’ll check that out myself. It would be nice to be able to do something useful that doesn’t involve killing people and blowing things up.”
“Looks like we be movin’ on up, boo!” Cindy smiled broadly. “I’m gone. For real this time. Late.”
She winked at Ginger. Then she was gone.
Penthouse – later that morning
“This is a Streaming Freedom Video bulletin. The President of our country has established a new task force to investigate corruption in law enforcement. For too long, these supposed investigations have proven to be little more than a whitewash, with a few small-time crooks placed on the sacrificial altar to appease the masses. It’s time for this sort of investigation to be exposed. General McKenzie, be warned - Eyes Only will be watching you and your Law Enforcement Oversight Task Force to ensure that the strictest standards are maintained, the people of this nation will finally see some genuine reforms, and the stranglehold that corruption has on our Law Enforcement agencies will be removed once and for all. This has been a Streaming Freedom Video bulletin via the Eyes Only informant network. Peace. Out.”
Logan pressed the stop button on the remote in his right hand to finish the hack, and then sat back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face.
Lydecker’s headquarters in a remote section of Washington State – that evening
Lydecker sat at his desk, a stack of papers in front of him. He picked up a paper, scanned it, and rejected it. It joined an overflowing wastebasket of crumpled papers next to the desk. There was a sharp knock at the office door.
“Come in.” He glanced up to see that Zack had already entered the room. “Any luck?”
“No, unfortunately.”
On Lydecker’s gesture, Zack sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. He continued his report. “We’ve been infiltrating various militias, anti-government outfits, and paramilitary organizations for the past three months. They’re all sleazy, but none of them have the clout to start a civil war. They’re all for agitating to overthrow the system, but they’re small potatoes.”
“What about the others?” Lydecker asked, taking notes.
“I haven’t heard from Krit yet. Syl and Jondy reported back to me last night. They’re still embedded in a couple of anti-government groups, but so far, they have nothing to report. Should I tell them to stay put or should I pull them out?”
“Pull them out and bring them back here, where maybe they can do something useful. This is getting us nowhere. You’re dismissed.” Zack casually unfolded himself from the chair and left the office.
Lydecker sighed, set aside the stack of papers, and picked up the phone. “Logan.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Lydecker. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Logan’s tone of voice was sarcastic
“I need a favor.”
“Uh-oh, why do I not like the sound of this?” Logan turned down the sound on the computer. “Every time you call me for a ‘favor,’ something bad happens. What now?"
“Been trying to track down Committee members all summer – sent out the troops to infiltrate subversive groups, hit up everyone who ever owed me a favor. But I’ve got nothing.”
“And this involves me how?” Logan asked, already pulling up what scant information he had on the Committee.
“I need your help tracking down these people. They’ve lost the battle for now, but my instincts tell me they’re not going to give up. They’ll regroup and try again.”
Logan rolled his eyes. “You need to find a new guy, Lydecker. The Committee is your problem, not mine. I’ve got enough on my plate overseeing the Law Enforcement Oversight Task Force the President’s set up. That’s Eyes Only’s new project, and I don't have time for anything else.”
Lydecker sighed loudly enough for Logan to hear him over the phone. “I thought that you, of all people, would like to see the Committee taken down. After all they’ve done to Max – “
“Sorry, I can’t help you,” Logan said sharply. “Good luck, though.” Logan quickly hung up the phone.
As he put the phone down, Max walked in, casually stripping off her biking gloves and tossing them on the counter as she joined him in the office.
“What’s up? Looks like you got bad news from Matt.”
“Nah, that was Lydecker. He wants me to get involved in one of his harebrained schemes to track down the Committee.”
Max stared at him quizzically.
“What?” Logan stared back.
“Don’t you want to track down the Committee? After all they tried to do to you? To me?” Max demanded.
“Max, I’ve got a full plate. You said so yourself. This task force is going to keep me hopping. That and what I’m working on with Matt.”
“Logan!”
“Max, I can’t drop everything I’m working on just because Lydecker’s on a mission.”
“Right. I guess nobody else’s mission but yours counts.” Max scowled.
Logan glared at her. “Max, the civil war is over. Things are beginning to calm down. We’re together. I just don’t want to get involved with Lydecker again. You know what happens when we do. No matter how heinous the Committee members may be, they still deserve due process. And they won't get that with Lydecker.”
“Still, I’d like to know, for my own peace of mind, that the Committee is gone and won’t bother us any more.” Her voice was sad, but resigned. She went over to the couch and sat down, leaving Logan to mull over Lydecker’s words.
Jam Pony – Thursday, August 18, late morning
Normal stood behind his desk, flipping through the newspaper. An article caught his interest and he read silently until he started murmuring. “Yeah, just throw all the money out of the window. First arts, now this.”
“Got a problem, Normal?” asked Original Cindy, who’d just returned from a run and was now pushing her bike down the ramp, Max right behind her.
“We’ll all have lots of problems if they continue throwing away our tax money like that.”
Max threw Original Cindy a look and they leaned their bikes against the wall before they emerged in front of Normal. “What? They’re gonna build a monument for Clinton instead of Bush?” Original Cindy guessed.
“Very funny, missy,” he replied. “Seems as all these cockamamie social programs aren't good enough. Now they’re starting a program that’s supposed to…‘encourage entrepreneurship,’” he quoted from the newspaper.
“What’s so bad about that?” Sketchy asked, joining Max and Original Cindy at Normal’s desk.
“What’s so bad about that? Giving money away to people too lazy to make it themselves is always a bad idea!”
“It's supposed to help our economy get going. I think it’s a pretty good idea,” Max argued. “And it's not our money anyway – it was donated by the European Union.”
Sketchy whistled. “Look at Miss Weekend Update!” When Max ignored him, he continued, “Are there any restrictions on what business to start? Or can anyone do it?”
“Anyone who applies for it,” Normal grumbled.
“Really, Normal, I don’t understand why you've got your knickers in a twist,” Max said.
“Because I built Jam Pony up with nothing after I bought it. And now they tell me if I had waited until now, they’d give me money for doing it!” Normal blustered.
Sketchy's face suddenly lit up. “I could start a massage parlor! I’d just need a small room and a couple of hot chicks. And they could give me private massages every night and—”
“Stop dreaming, dumbass,” Original Cindy chided.
“But wouldn’t that be a great idea?” he insisted. “All those babes – and of course they’d have to wear bikinis to work…”
“Yeah, really great,” Max nodded, eyes rolling, when suddenly her pager went off. She looked at the number and a smile played around her lips. “Normal, can I use your phone?”
“This is a business line, but I’m sure you don’t care anyway, so go ahead.”
“Hittin' ya back,” Max said when Logan answered.
“Why don’t you meet me at the market? In about half an hour?”
“Sure thing,” she smiled. “I’ll be there. I’d like to get some apples.”
When she hung up she saw Sketchy, Normal and Original Cindy looking at her.
“What?” she interrupted the silence. “Aren’t there any packages to be delivered? If not, I'm cutting out early—”
Normal grimaced and turned around to throw packages at the three of them before he returned to his newspaper.
Max slowly walked up the ramp, Original Cindy next to her. “I'm gonna take myself down to that job training place after work today," Original Cindy said. "Anything they have gotta be better than what Normal's selling us."
“What kind of job do you think you can get?”
“Dunno,” Original Cindy shrugged. “Hairdresser, beautician…something like that.”
A smile appeared on Max's face. “Beautician would suit you,” she said. “But you’ve gotta promise I still get my manicures for free.”
Original Cindy smiled back and laughed, “Original Cindy will always give her boo free manicures. Ain't gotta worry about that.”
The friends shared another moment of laughter until they headed off in different directions.
Unidentified location –11:00 AM
The security doors opened into an elegant boardroom, and General McKenzie entered. He curtly greeted the rest of the Committee members, nodding to each in turn. He took his seat at the table.
“Sorry I’m late. Duty beckoned.” He laughed.
“So we hear,” Kathryn Birman replied with a smile. “Pretty impressive, getting a spot on the President’s task force.”
“Yes, congratulations,” Rex Selkirk said. “It could be a perfect opportunity for us.” He sipped his coffee as if it were the last he would ever drink.
“It certainly could,” Harriet Short agreed. “High-profile. Perfect. We could certainly use a break these days.“
“Agreed,” Matthew Lang said, his voice wistful. “It hasn’t been a good year, has it?”
“No, it hasn’t,” McKenzie said with a curl of his lip. “It was my intention that by now we would at least have control of this region and the President would be taking orders from us.”
Selkirk laughed ruefully. “Now that would have been nice – meeting at the Pentagon instead of in hiding.” He scowled into his coffee.
“Well, now I’ll have the President’s ear.” McKenzie smiled with satisfaction. “Since we failed to resolve the civil war to our satisfaction, this could indeed be the answer. I have the opportunity to rid us of Eyes Only once and for all.”
“Any ideas on how to do that?” asked Lang.
“The easiest way will be to discredit him. With access to every law enforcement agency in the country, I can plant all the ‘evidence’ I want.” McKenzie was smug.
“Terrific,” Short declared, smiling.
“Not only that, but since part of the goal of the task force is to wean the localities from military rule, I’ll have an alternate way to control the various law enforcement agencies.”
“Better and better,” Selkirk said.
“Yes, all of this will help us track down and get rid of Eyes Only and friends,” Birman said. “I blame them personally for the failure of our mission. If we gain access to any law enforcement agency we want, we can make life hell for all of them. If we want to discredit Eyes Only, it will be so much easier this way. Are all of you in?”
“Count me in,” Short said with determination.
“And me,” Selkirk agreed, his mood lightening.
“But wait, you haven’t heard the best part of this.” McKenzie was positively cackling. “Eyes Only did a computer hack and said he was going to be watching the task force –“
“What’s so good about that interfering pain-in-the-ass being on our butts?” Lang asked.
“Because Logan Cale called me and wants to interview me for the newspaper he’s working for. He’s supposed to be my ‘contact’ between the task force and Eyes Only.”
“Ah, I see. You can feed misinformation to Cale and get it to Eyes Only. Good idea,” Selkirk commented.
Kathryn got up from the board table and went over to a credenza stocked with pastries and a coffee urn. She poured herself a cup of coffee, black and strong, and drank it down. After pouring herself another, she sat back down at the table.
“This time we’re gonna get him," she said fiercely. "And Logan Cale and his girlfriend, and anybody else who works with Eyes Only.” She was positively salivating. “We should start planning immediately.”
“Yes, why wait?” McKenzie agreed. “The sooner we get started, the sooner we can get this over with and go back to our original plans to take down the government. We won’t let Eyes Only get in the way again. With his lap dog, Logan Cale, under our control, he won’t.”
“Great. Let’s get started!” Harriet commanded, getting up from the table. They all stood up, smiling.
Act II
