Looking at Barb, I said, “See? She understands things just fine."

  Nodding, Barb smiled as she replied, “Apparently so. She certainly seems to understand you, anyway."

  I'd been keeping an eye on Angie's efforts. Her tendril suddenly reached across her desk and three feet or so beyond. It abruptly winked out of existence and Angie reached into a top drawer for a large envelope before she said, “I can play with fields tomorrow. Ellen, you and Aria must be dead tired after your trip from the station. I'll get you settled into your room now if you're ready."

  With a dismissive wave, Ellen grinningly replied, “Oh, I think we can find it. I used to spend quite a lot of time here, you know."

  "Yes, but that was eight years ago. The security people today don't know you."

  Ellen accepted her offer, though Aria looked less than thrilled. Barb asked if there was any luggage to carry. There wasn't; it had been delivered to their room.

  Angie said, “Good. We can discuss a few things on the way. Barb, Lisa, Lori, and Ed, I'd like some time to go over a few details with Ellen and Aria."

  Sighing, “That sounds like a big, fat hint. I think she's throwing us out,” I got to my feet and walked to the door. The others also stood up and I held the door open as we made our goodbyes and left the office.

  A little way down the corridor, Lori asked, “Ed, are you going back to Florida tonight?"

  "Thought about it. Don't know yet."

  "Why don't you know yet?"

  "I thought I'd let a few people know I'm here and see what happens."

  Barb asked, “Who?"

  "Friends, ma'am."

  "What kind of friends? Women?"

  Lori chuckled, which made both Lisa and Barb give her odd looks. Barb turned back to me and seemed to think a moment before she asked, “Well, if you're not sure you're staying, can you spare me a few more minutes of your time tonight?"

  "Guess so. Questions about the suit?"

  "Yes."

  "Okay. Let's go to the mess hall."

  Lisa checked her watch and said, “Well, you two have fun. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow, Ed."

  "That would be nice."

  Lori said, “I'm going to go study a while. Got exams this week. Bye."

  They took the south corridor as Barb and I continued on. As we neared the mess hall, I said, “Wait one. You said you'd buy the first round and the first game."

  "You'd rather go to the Dirtside Pub?"

  "Yeah, I think so. I've had enough coffee for now."

  We changed course and Barb said, “I really appreciate that suit, Ed. I don't know why you made me the exclusive user, but I'll make sure it gets used."

  "Why do you think I made you the exclusive user, Barb?"

  "I just told you; I don't know."

  "Think about it. I wasn't kidding in the least when I called you a goddess."

  She stopped walking and I had to stop and turn to face her. Barb said, “I hope to hell you don't think giving me that suit will get you into my bed."

  I chuckled, “Nah. But I thought the thought behind it might. Eventually. Maybe.” Continuing toward the pub, I said, “Besides, I didn't ‘give’ it to you. I just made you the exclusive user."

  She caught up and asked, “What's the difference?"

  "The suit belongs to 3rd World and I can always make someone else the user. It doesn't really matter."

  "If it doesn't matter, why'd you do it?"

  This time I stopped and gave her a direct look. “Because certain people have bugged the living shit out of me about coming to work for them more times than I can count. A couple of outfits even tried some lightweight coercion. They failed. I might be tempted to come back to 3rd World on a per-mission contractual basis, but I'm not interested in working for any government or government-run agency."

  For a few moments Barb seemed to try to process that, then she said, “I'm afraid I still don't understand, Ed."

  Walking again, I said, “Okay. I came up with a hardsuit, but I decided to give it away. Figure that out yet?"

  "No. It's a ... a phenomenal thing, Ed."

  "Yes, it is, and if I didn't have a board that can fly and a flitter that can stop a tank round, I might actually have a use for it. But I don't. So I gave it to those who can arrange for it to get some good use."

  We entered the pub as she said, “Okay, I can see all that. But what does that have to do with making me the only user?"

  I said, “In a minute. Beers first,” and we stopped at the bar to place orders, then we headed for the pool tables rather than stand and wait for our drinks. Barb checked her pocket and found two quarters. I gave her a third, then racked the balls as the waitress arrived with our drinks and two bucks in quarters and Barb paid her.

  As I started to flip a coin, Barb said, “No, you break. Back to my question."

  "Okay.” I chalked my stick, set the cue ball about three fingers in from the left second diamond, laid the stick on the table edge, and slammed the cue ball into the second ball from the apex of the rack. One of the tail-corner balls bounced off two rails, whizzed back into what was left of the rack, and the eight ball that hadn't previously moved began crawling toward a side pocket. It stopped half an inch short and I swore softly. I really like making the eight on the break.

  Barb had frozen in the midst of taking a sip. Her eyes were big as she stared at the eight, then at me, but she shook herself out of her shock and took the sip after all as I lined up on the four ball.

  Clearing her throat, she asked, “You made a solid, huh?"

  I chuckled, “Yes'm. That's why I'm shooting this one. Almost made two solids."

  "Yeah, I saw that. It sounded to me as if you intended to make that eight."

  Popping the four in, I aimed at the one ball and said, “Well, it does tend to shorten a game by a few minutes."

  "And you broke one handed. And now you're shooting the same way."

  "You're very observant tonight, milady."

  "I told you not to call me that."

  "Yes, milady, you did, but I like it, so I'll probably keep doing it."

  The one fell. I set up for the seven. Barb said, “You still haven't told me why you made me the exclusive user."

  The seven fell and I lined up for the five.

  "Can it wait until I stop shooting?"

  Damn. The ten was in the way on one side, the fifteen blocked a side bank shot, and taking it off the back rail would almost certainly make the cue ball hit the eight. I studied the table again and decided the side bank might work after all. Barely. But it didn't. The five touched the ten and missed the pocket.

  "Oh, Glory Be!” Laughed Barb, “I get to shoot after all!"

  "Savor it, milady. And just in case you're suggestible, don't miss, of course."

  She laughed and gave me a raspberry noise, then aimed at her eleven ball. It went in and the thirteen was her next choice. She got that one, too, but ended up behind my five ball. Barb gave the ball the finger and stepped aside.

  Sipping beer, I chuckled, “I knew there had to be a good reason for leaving that five on the table. I made you the exclusive user to irritate some people, milady."

  "Who?"

  "You work for one. 3rd's honchos. And you'll probably be called to use the suit by a few others who pushed a little too hard a few times."

  Giving me a fisheye, she asked, “I work for one? You mean Stan Maxwell?"

  "Yup. I'll tell you about it sometime."

  She grinned. “Oh, no, no, no, tell me now. This ought to be good."

  Sipping again, I replied, “Can't. Classified. I'll just say he tried to rope me into something and it didn't work. When it came time to pop the perps, I managed to have a gorgeous FBI lady aboard the flitter. She got the collar credit."

  Barb seemed thoughtful, then asked, “Was her name Amy Harding?"

  "Good memory, milady."

  "The report said she had absolutely no involvement in the case until you flew all the way to Atlanta and very nearly kidnapped her from her office."

  "Yup. I owed Agent Amy a good time. The first time she saw me, she got shot."

  "Not by you, I hope."

  Saying, “I'm never that rough on my dates,” I popped the last of my balls in with easy shots, then hammered the eight into the side pocket. The cue ball backed up only a couple of inches and sat there spinning like a top.

  Barb sipped and asked, “Have you seen her since then?"

  "Nope. Guess I didn't call back soon enough after our first encounter. She met some guy and got engaged. They're getting married in July."

  She laughed, “So you hijacked a betrothed FBI agent that day?"

  "Yup. Called her to get her to meet me at the coffee shop next door, told her very little, but just enough, and she called in a sitrep on the way to the bust. The FBI called ahead and had two other agents on hand when we got there, but Homeland had them on ice in a trailer, playing bureaucratic games to let the NSA run what Stan thought was a sure thing for his team. I put Agent Amy in position and drove the game to her. She had to shoot one before he'd disarm and surrender. Got it all on film, so to speak; there was no way in hell to fiddle with the bust record."

  Sipping her beer, Barb picked up some quarters and went to rack the table as she said, “So I'm just a way of giving the finger to a bunch of high-ranking people?"

  "Sorry, milady."

  "Oh, I can tell. And speaking of telling, you didn't tell me any of this. I won't know any of it when I show up with that suit."

  "Ah. Good. Mum's the word. Yes, milady. As you say, milady."

  She laughed, “Somehow that doesn't bother me as much now."

  Something rather obviously occurred to her and she stopped in the middle of racking to ask, “With all the transport passengers this evening, the BOQ will be just about full. Where would you stay tonight?"

  "Like I said, I might head back to Florida."

  "But if you don't?"

  "I don't need a room. I have a flitter."

  Her expression showed what she thought of sleeping on a flitter. Finishing the rack, she asked, “Isn't that like camping out in a gym? On a hard floor, I mean?"

  Rather than correct her impression, I asked, “Got a better idea?"

  She came to get her beer and said, “I don't know yet. It's your break."

  Four games and a lot of chat later the score was three games to two and she wanted one more to at least cause a tie. I told her she was thinking wishfully and she reminded me that I'd managed to sink my own boat twice by scratching on the eight. I didn't tell her how easy it was to make that happen and instead accused her of distracting me at crucial moments.

  She yelped, “I what? How the hell did I distract you?"

  "Remember when we met and my poor little brain fell out of gear for a moment at the sight of you? Just like that. I should never play pool against women like you."

  Grinning, she asked, “Women like me?"

  "Gorgeous blondes. Or gorgeous brunettes, I guess. Or redheads, too, probably. I'm just too easily victimized by feminine beauty, y'know?"

  Rolling her eyes, she snorted, “Right. See if you can overcome your victimhood long enough to make it through one more game."

  "Oh, yes, milady. As you command, milady."

  Ah, but I didn't win that game. I missed just a little too often and she caught me eyeballing various parts of her a few times. I blamed the misses on her, the beer, how the wind affected the roll of the balls, and so on, but mostly on her. She half-accused me of throwing the last game. There were five balls nobody was using on the next table, so I made a show of insisting that she stand behind me at all times and proceeded to snap all five into various pockets.

  When I'd finished, I turned around and tried to look sincere as I said, “See? It's all your fault, milady! When I can't see you, I shoot just fine!"

  She gave me a wry grin, snorted, “What bullshit,” then asked if we needed a third round of beer.

  "If that's a hint, I'll wave at the waitress. If it isn't, I'll leave it up to you. I don't have to be anywhere in the morning."

  "Neither do I. Let's do it."

  "You got it."

  We didn't play any more pool, but we sat and talked on the field-shielded porch for quite a while, then she held up her empty bottle and again asked if we needed another round of beer.

  "It's still up to you, milady. I seem to be having a pretty good time with you, so I really don't care whether it's beer, booze, or coffee."

  "Beer, booze, or coffee? What about tea?"

  "They prob'ly have canned stuff in the bar cooler. Back in a minute."

  I started to get up, but she put a hand on my arm and shook her head. “I was just asking to see how you'd answer. Make it another beer."

  Straightening, I said, “As you command, milady,” and gave her a little salute. When I returned, she wasn't there. I set the beers down and went to the bathroom, and when I got back, she was in her seat, sipping beer.

  Pretending great relief, I said, “Thought I'd lost you. Been searching high and low."

  She laughed, “Right. While you took a leak, you mean?"

  Sipping beer thoughtfully, I said, “Hm. You may be too smart for me, you know. I can't tell you how many other women have fallen for that line."

  She laughed again, “That was a line?"

  "Well, gee, lady, I'll try a little harder next time, okay?"

  Laughing again, she put her bottle down rather than try to sip beer, then said, “You're fun and funny. I don't get much of that."

  "Don't know why not. Making a woman happy is fun.” Glancing around as if about to impart a great secret, I leaned across the table and said in a near whisper, “And if you keep them laughing, they never give you any grief about anything."

  Grinning, Barb responded, “Is that so?"

  "Oh, hell, yeah. I can safely say I've never been shot at by a happy woman. Not even once. As long as they're laughing, things are fine. It's when they stop laughing that you have to start worrying.” Shrugging matter-of-factly, I said, “Now you know the secret of my survival. Keep ‘em happy at all costs."

  Still grinning, Barb looked thoughtful, then said, “I've never met Linda. What was she like?"

  "Like? She was like nobody I'd ever known until Angie came along, and I think Angie became what she is partly due to working with Linda.” Sipping, I added, “But she'd have needed that core essence to build on, so I'd say she was a lot like Linda before she ever met Linda."

  Barb took a sip and said, “It sounds like you loved Linda."

  "Oh, yeah. Definitely. Not the same way Wallace loves her, but just as much, I think. It'll probably be much that way with Angie, too, if we work together. I'm only careful about her now ‘cuz she wears two hats."

  "Two hats? You mean the Air Force?"

  "Yup. Don't know why she stays in. 3rd would pay her better and their benefits package is astronomically better."

  "Maybe she feels she has the best of both worlds now."

  I shrugged. “I've asked her about that. She couldn't or wouldn't explain it well enough for me, so I don't even bother wondering about it anymore. Maybe she'll retire as a full bird and stick with 3rd World for another twenty after that. Doesn't matter. My attachment is to the lady inside the uniform, even though I think that uniform makes her vulnerable. That's why I'm careful with her for now."

  "What does ‘being careful with her’ mean, exactly?"

  Taking a sip, then a deep breath I let out as a sigh, I said, “I'll try to explain it this way ... Let's suppose I came to think of you the same way. No matter how much I loved you and trusted you in particular, I would never lose sight of the fact you work for the NSA. Not for a moment. No matter whether I believed you'd never purposely harm me or put me in jeopardy, because I'd know better than to believe the same of your employers. Military or civilian, government outfits are run by power mongers at the top. They'll use and abuse anyone in any manner they can possibly get away with in order to further their agendas."

  For a long moment, she eyed me, then asked, “You really believe that?"

  "I've seen it. I've lived it. I've watched others suffer and die because of it on four continents. You've read my non-TAC file, so you know where and what I'm talking about. That, milady, is why I'll never again be on another government payroll. Or on 3rd's, if it changes much more. It's starting to look and feel too much like a government agency.” Sipping again, I said, “I hope I haven't taken the charm out of our evening, but I figured you wanted the absolute truth."

  "As you see it."

  "Yup. And if you can honestly disagree, prove me wrong."

  We each had about half a beer left and I was frankly wondering if there'd be another or just a friendly parting of ways when Barb stood up and said, “Come on."

  I got up and followed her through the pub. She sipped her beer one last time and set the nearly-empty bottle on the bar. I put mine beside it and she led the way out to the corridor, then turned left toward the BOQ.

  Several strides along, she asked, “Do you want to know where we're going?"

  "Sure."

  Giving me a sidelong glance, she said, “You don't really care. I could hear that much. Why don't you care?"

  "Cuz you'll be there."

  "What if I only want to talk?"

  I shrugged. “I like your voice and you're real nice to look at. Could be worse."

  She shot me a grin and laughed, “Could be worse?!"

  Grinning back, I replied, “Anytime you can say that, it's absolutely true, milady."

  A few strides later, she said, “Yes, I suppose it would be. I'll remember that."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Ten

  In BOQ room 236, Barb threw a few things into a small suitcase that already contained a few other things, wrote a note and stuck it on the phone, and said, “Ready. Let's go,” as she headed for the door.

  I didn't ask, “Go where?” or “Why the note?” I just followed her out and waited as she locked the door.

  Barb led the way to the end of the corridor and through the checkpoint, then outside into the sheltered receiving enclosure and said, “We'll need a flitter."

  Calling up my two-seat version of Galatea, I said, “At your service, milady."

 

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