up stations exactly 120 degrees apart. You didn't need any measuring instruments to know how precise these guys were.
A half-minute passed; then the door opened again and Laura came through, followed immediately by two more guards. One stayed at the door and the other walked straight past me to the helicopter.
Laura came to where I stood, still rooted—but for another reason now. She smiled and held out her hand.
"Hello, Meric. It was good of you to come."
This was the first time I'd seen her close enough to talk to, to touch, since the Inauguration. And the first time I'd seen her without Halliday between us in nearly three years. She was stunning. You've seen her face on all the magazine covers and on television. You've heard beauty experts take her apart, claiming her eyes are a bit too large for the shape of her face, her cheekbones a shade too prominent, her lips thinner than they ought to be. Fuck 'em all. She was beautiful.
She gave the impression of being tall, although actually she was a head shorter than I am. (She looked taller with Halliday, for some reason.) Dark, dark hair, pulled straight back. And a slightly olive cast to her complexion that hinted of Mediterranean origins. The slim, almost boyish body of a ballet dancer. The first time we had made love, my first sight of her naked body had almost dismayed me, she looked so bony and stringy. But I quickly learned that she was soft enough. And wondrously supple.
It was awful. I felt like a kid who'd been caught jerking off in the bathroom. My throat was dry, my palms sweaty.
"Hello, Laura," I managed to say. My voice sounded cracked and hoarse.
"You've put on a little weight," she teased. "Washington life agrees with you."
"Rubber chicken . . . the banquet circuit."
She nodded and toyed with the shoulder strap of her handbag. She was wearing a sleeveless white dress, very summery. No sunglasses. Her eyes were just as gray-green as ever.
"You wanted to talk to me," I said.
She took a deliberate slow breath, like an athlete preparing herself for a supreme effort.
"Yes," Laura said. "I know about what happened last night. And in Denver."
"And?"
"And I know Jim has asked you to keep the entire matter hushed up."
"We talked about it this morning, he and Wyatt and I."
"Yes." She looked up at me, searching my face. It was all I could do to keep my hands at my sides. "Meric . . . I've got to know where you stand on this. You might . . . well, it occurred to me that you might not want to keep the story quiet."
I guess I blinked at her. "Why?"
She suddenly looked annoyed. "It's a story that could ruin Jim. And you . . . the two of us . . . before I met him . . ."
"Hold it," I said. "You're afraid that I'll blow the story open to hurt him? Or you?"
"I know it's wrong for me even to suggest it . . ."
"It sure as hell is!" I snapped. "Okay, so I'm still zonked-out over you. But what kind of a son of a bitch do you think I am? I work for The Man. I work for him."
"I know, I know . . . it was stupid of me to ask. But I couldn't help wondering . . . I had to hear it from you . . ."
"You never did understand me," I grumbled. "You want me to swear a loyalty oath? You want to go down to a bookstore and find a stack of Bibles?"
"Don't, Meric. That's not fair."
"The hell it isn't! You had to hear it from me in person. Crap! Sounds like something His Holiness would do—him and his suspicious goddamned mind."
Her expression changed. "I did speak with Robert about you. . ." She let her voice trail off.
"He put you up to this?"
She looked away from me. "I wouldn't say it that way. But. . . well, I did begin to wonder . . . about you . . . about how you'd react. . . after he spoke to me."
"That gritty old bastard," I fumed.
She put her hand on my arm and started making soothing sounds and offered me a ride back downtown in her chopper. I went along with her, probably wagging my tail like a puppy dog that'd just gotten a pat on its head from its
A half-minute passed; then the door opened again and Laura came through, followed immediately by two more guards. One stayed at the door and the other walked straight past me to the helicopter.
Laura came to where I stood, still rooted—but for another reason now. She smiled and held out her hand.
"Hello, Meric. It was good of you to come."
This was the first time I'd seen her close enough to talk to, to touch, since the Inauguration. And the first time I'd seen her without Halliday between us in nearly three years. She was stunning. You've seen her face on all the magazine covers and on television. You've heard beauty experts take her apart, claiming her eyes are a bit too large for the shape of her face, her cheekbones a shade too prominent, her lips thinner than they ought to be. Fuck 'em all. She was beautiful.
She gave the impression of being tall, although actually she was a head shorter than I am. (She looked taller with Halliday, for some reason.) Dark, dark hair, pulled straight back. And a slightly olive cast to her complexion that hinted of Mediterranean origins. The slim, almost boyish body of a ballet dancer. The first time we had made love, my first sight of her naked body had almost dismayed me, she looked so bony and stringy. But I quickly learned that she was soft enough. And wondrously supple.
It was awful. I felt like a kid who'd been caught jerking off in the bathroom. My throat was dry, my palms sweaty.
"Hello, Laura," I managed to say. My voice sounded cracked and hoarse.
"You've put on a little weight," she teased. "Washington life agrees with you."
"Rubber chicken . . . the banquet circuit."
She nodded and toyed with the shoulder strap of her handbag. She was wearing a sleeveless white dress, very summery. No sunglasses. Her eyes were just as gray-green as ever.
"You wanted to talk to me," I said.
She took a deliberate slow breath, like an athlete preparing herself for a supreme effort.
"Yes," Laura said. "I know about what happened last night. And in Denver."
"And?"
"And I know Jim has asked you to keep the entire matter hushed up."
"We talked about it this morning, he and Wyatt and I."
"Yes." She looked up at me, searching my face. It was all I could do to keep my hands at my sides. "Meric . . . I've got to know where you stand on this. You might . . . well, it occurred to me that you might not want to keep the story quiet."
I guess I blinked at her. "Why?"
She suddenly looked annoyed. "It's a story that could ruin Jim. And you . . . the two of us . . . before I met him . . ."
"Hold it," I said. "You're afraid that I'll blow the story open to hurt him? Or you?"
"I know it's wrong for me even to suggest it . . ."
"It sure as hell is!" I snapped. "Okay, so I'm still zonked-out over you. But what kind of a son of a bitch do you think I am? I work for The Man. I work for him."
"I know, I know . . . it was stupid of me to ask. But I couldn't help wondering . . . I had to hear it from you . . ."
"You never did understand me," I grumbled. "You want me to swear a loyalty oath? You want to go down to a bookstore and find a stack of Bibles?"
"Don't, Meric. That's not fair."
"The hell it isn't! You had to hear it from me in person. Crap! Sounds like something His Holiness would do—him and his suspicious goddamned mind."
Her expression changed. "I did speak with Robert about you. . ." She let her voice trail off.
"He put you up to this?"
She looked away from me. "I wouldn't say it that way. But. . . well, I did begin to wonder . . . about you . . . about how you'd react. . . after he spoke to me."
"That gritty old bastard," I fumed.
She put her hand on my arm and started making soothing sounds and offered me a ride back downtown in her chopper. I went along with her, probably wagging my tail like a puppy dog that'd just gotten a pat on its head from its
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