: An Encounter in Atlanta by Howdershelt Ed - Science fiction; Superheroes Fiction

@FreeBooksTue 06 Jun, 2023

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Ahmed Musaffi combined three prayers on Friday afternoon; one for his family, one for himself, and one for success in his holy mission. He then got into the yellow Crown Victoria that had been provided for the occasion and drove the few miles from Cascade Heights into downtown Atlanta through a drizzling rain. The Crown Vic had been 'heavily customized' -- a choice of words that had been a source of great amusement among those who had labored for a week to pack the trunk and every concealable cubic inch of the car with plastic explosive. Every little bump in the road bottomed-out the shocks and springs, and despite what he'd been told about his load being detonated only by radio, Ahmed flinched hard at every jolt and swore viciously at the other cars around him. A red, hard plastic suitcase shifted slightly on the seat next to him. Ahmed reached to push it back in place and briefly cursed the fool who'd perched it there, although no wires showed and there was no chance the case would fall. At a red light one block from his goal, Ahmed wiped his face on his sleeves and repeated part of his last prayer -- the part for himself -- one more time as he twisted his grip on the steering wheel. Clusters of people hurried across the street, some in various costumes he recognized. Spiderman led Wonder Woman at a laughing dash to the shelter of an awning, where they were joined by Lara Croft, a tall, furry creature, and a couple of white-armored stormtroopers. Ridiculous fantasies of the unfaithful, thought Ahmed. There was only one true book under heaven and no man had ever been so foolish as to try to make a movie of it. Ahmed's little group had been instructed to strike on the second day of the science fiction convention. No reasons had been given for choosing this particular event as a target and -- as far as Ahmed was concerned -- none were required. Their leader had spoken, and his words were the words of Allah in matters of their holy cause. When the light turned green, Ahmed's jangling nerves caused him to goose the gas pedal. The back tires spun uselessly on the wet pavement until he rather shakily let up on the gas a bit. Continuing up the street, he turned left into the covered driveway of the Rivage Hotel's reception area and joined a line of cars waiting their turns to load or offload passengers and luggage at the big glass doors at the top of the driveway. Ahmed's was the fifth car in line when a family of five came through those doors and walked past him, evidently on their way to some part of the science fiction convention. The three children all wore costumes; the two boys were waving their hollow plastic lightsabers at each other and the blonde girl -- perhaps as old as twelve -- was wearing a Batgirl costume and slinging her cape dramatically as she walked. A pang of pity lanced through Ahmed, but then he remembered his teachings, hardened his heart, and severely chastised himself for his momentary weakness. They were just infidels. Untaught, unholy, and therefore unfit to live. He moved forward another carlength, and again watched the family in his rearview mirror as they stood waiting to cross the street. The blonde girl grinningly faced into the gusting wind to make her cape billow behind her. Too bad, Ahmed thought appraisingly. The girl might possibly have been found worthy of conversion to Islam. Or not, he appended, remembering the dancers at the strip club the night before. After all, even infidel females were good for purposes of pleasure and labor. In the pure world that he and other holy martyrs would bring into being, their children would be raised according to the teachings of the Prophet and the women would be allowed to live only so long as they dutifully served the righteous and faithful. The car by the doors moved away as people got into the car behind it. It then moved away, as well, and Ahmed was only one carlength away from where he could aim his fake taxi up the ramp at the doors. He eyed the walkway ramp -- easily five meters wide, with no posts or other impediments -- and the doors above. In the center was a revolving door, flanked on either side by doors that swung open. They would prove no barrier. All he had to do was ram through and get the car into the lobby, then press the button on the transmitter in his raincoat pocket. Motion in his side-rearview mirror and the sound of something hollow clattering on the ground caused him to look away from the doors. A truly beautiful blonde woman in what appeared to be little more than a bathing suit and boots stood just behind his car. She seemed to be looking for something, probably some sort of accessory to her scandalously inadequate costume. Thinking that she must also be a visitor to the science fiction convention, Ahmed's eyes locked on her marvelous bare legs and ample bosom for some moments as she crouched and knelt to try to reach whatever had fallen beneath the taxi. Her eyes met his in the mirror and she smiled coyly as she walked up the driveway. Allah be praised for letting such a magnificent woman be his last sight on Earth! And her glorious breasts were nearly leaping out of her costume! Concentrating on her approaching breasts, Ahmed never saw -- and was conscious only long enough to barely feel -- her fist slam into the side of his head. The blow sent him sprawling against the luggage on the seat and into oblivion. The woman quickly shifted the car into neutral, went behind it to grab the bumper, and began pulling the Crown Vic backward down the ramp to the street, where she jumped to the front of the car, lifted it by the bumper and reached under it to grip the frame, and launched upward with the Crown Vic dangling from her grasp. From the indoor cafe across the street, Mohammed Jamal took his eyes off the policeman and another man who were having a light lunch at a nearby table and stared with incredulous awe as a half-naked blonde woman lifted the Crown Victoria and seemed to leap into the sky with it. He'd frozen in mid-sip of his coffee with as much complete, mind-boggling shock as anyone else witnessing the event, but he recovered fairly quickly as he realized that there was still a slim chance to set off the bomb in or near the canyon-like confines of the streets. Hurriedly putting down his coffee cup, he reached for the transmitter in his left coat pocket, but the chair arm got in his way. He stood up, wasting precious seconds and knocking his chair over as he continued to stare upward through the window at the Crown Vic. He'd finally managed to get his left hand into his pocket as the two men he'd been watching also stood up and began coming at him. The one in a police uniform pointed at Jamal and said, "Freeze!" as he reached for his sidearm. Jamal -- his radio transmitter momentarily forgotten -- made a grab for his Beretta 9mm pistol in his right coat pocket. Jamal had thought the cop was the greater danger. He was wrong; before Jamal could even finish bringing his own gun into line with the two men, the other man yanked a pistol from a shoulder holster, leveled it at Jamal, and fired twice. Mohammed Jamal felt the hot slugs plunge completely through his chest as their impact slammed him back against the window facing the street. He was barely aware that he fired his Beretta as he toppled; for a moment he actually wondered why the light fixture by the coffee bar exploded. The bullets that had passed through Jamal hit the window behind him a split-second before Jamal did, turning it into a ten-foot-tall spiderweb of shattered safety glass that collapsed around Jamal's body in a glittering cloud as he fell to the sidewalk below. The bushes below the window snagged Jamal's coat and violently twisted him in mid-air, then he fell to the sidewalk on his left side, hearing and feeling the bones of his arm snap as his head slammed against the concrete. Momentarily stunned, Mohammed Jamal fought to remain conscious and stared upward, trying to locate the Crown Victoria. There! Almost directly overhead, an odd-shaped dark dot against the sky! Jamal waveringly aimed his pistol at the men who leaned out of the window frame above him and prayed to Allah that his transmitter hadn't been broken. Forcing the unfeeling thumb and fingers of his shattered left arm to squeeze the small transmitter took a supreme effort. Jamal cast the pistol aside in frustration and dropped his right hand over his left to help it close on the transmitter even as more bullets tore through his chest and skull.

Looking down from the cafe window at the man he'd just shot, Ed Cade saw the brilliant overhead flash reflected in the windows of the hotel across the street and realized that something -- likely the car -- had exploded above the city. Some guy dressed as a knight was standing smack in the middle of the street, aiming a camera of some sort straight up at the sky. The light turned green at the intersection and the guy almost tripped over his sword trying to scramble out of the street. Cade stepped back from the window and looked to his left and right. There was only the Atlanta cop -- Avery -- standing next to him on the right. On his left, one person still sat by the windows, apparently frozen in stark, staring terror. "Get away from the windows," said Cade. Avery stepped back as Cade grabbed the frozen guy's coat to pull him to his feet and insistently repeated, "Get away from the window, dammit!" The man's eyes fixed on Cade's Glock and he said nothing, but as bits of debris pelted down on the street outside the window, he stood quickly on shaky legs and tried to comply. His knees failed and he wound up kneeling, then sitting on the floor. Avery came over to get a grip on the guy's other shoulder and they dragged him away from the windows. The rain of unidentifiable debris slackened quickly and seemed to end, and Avery started back toward the window to look up between the buildings. "Avery!" said Cade. "Not yet. Count to thirty before you go near that window." Cade put his Glock back in its shoulder holster under his field jacket and looked around again. Nine people. Five men, four women. Two had apparently left the cafe. He heard more debris-rain hit the street and buildings outside and saw Avery cast a wondering glance at him. "Some of it had farther to fall," said Cade. As if to punctuate his words, a car bumper slammed into the street, narrowly missing a black Lexus, and spinningly bounced out of view toward the intersection. Glancing past the group clustered by the cafe entrance, Cade saw the two missing women hurrying past the reception desk and he took off after them at a trot. He caught up with them by the elevators and didn't bother with introductions; they'd likely remember him. Stepping in front of them, he said, "Ladies, get back to the cafe. You're witnesses to a shooting." "I'm not going back in there!" the one on the right said in a near-hysterical tone. "I'm not! You can't make me!" Snatching her purse off her shoulder, Cade said, "I won't have to. The cops'll find you with whatever's in this." Turning to the other woman, he asked, "Are you going to give me a hard time, too?" Shaking her head slightly, she said, "No. I didn't think we should leave, but Judy..." Interrupting her, Cade said, "Cool. Let's go, then." Putting his arm through hers, he led the way back to the restaurant. After a moment, Judy followed. Cade turned the ladies and Judy's purse over to Avery, then stepped away from the group to have a look at the street below the window. The street was empty of people. Between the blonde hauling the car upstairs, the gunshots, and the blast in the sky, most of them had at least had sense enough to get off the sidewalks and under the cover of the Rivage's drive-through. The rent-a-cop who'd been directing foot traffic across the street between the hotels was one of those under cover. Cade whistled to get his attention and pointed to the body on the sidewalk, then yelled that he should keep people away from it. The guy nodded and headed toward the body. Cade went back to Avery, who was talking to someone on his radio. Avery finished his immediate conversation, then turned to Cade and said, "Teams five and nine got lucky, too. Two dead and one in custody. The guys on the roof are coming down, so we'll have some help here in a few minutes." Nodding, Cade said, "I'll go out and keep the tourists away from the one on the sidewalk." Extending a hand, Avery said, "Okay. Hey, if I don't see you again, it's been good working with you. Why won't they tell us where you extra guys came from?" Shaking Avery's hand, Cade said, "Damned if I know. I'm from Florida, if it helps any." "Oh, yeah," laughed Avery. "That helps a bunch." "Great. Later, then." Moving past the coffee bar, Cade stopped and looked around for the attendant, then knocked on the counter. A man in a suit separated himself from the crowd by the door and came to say that the coffee bar was closed. "You're management?" asked Cade. "Yes, sir. Look, we're rather busy at the moment..." "I'm the guy who shot out your window and I have to go guard a body on the sidewalk. How much is a coffee to go?" The man seemed to have to find a way to attach the two concepts in his mind before he said, "Uh, just take one, sir." "Thanks. Why not offer all those spooked people a cup, too? It'll look great on your record if you take charge and keep them quiet and happy until all the note-taking is finished." The guy glanced at the group and seemed to realize that this was his middle-management chance to achieve some favorable and potentially useful self-publicity. He nodded and stepped behind the counter to draw Cade a coffee as he called the attendant over. "Yes, Mr. D'Angelo?" asked the attendant. Handing the coffee to Cade, D'Angelo said, "Go ahead and open back up, Manuel. Free coffee for anybody who's supposed to be in here until the cops are gone." "Yes, sir," said Manuel. "Could I have an extra coffee?" asked Cade. Manuel drew another coffee and handed it to him. Cade thanked him and headed for the stairs to the street. The rent-a-cop was standing by the body, as requested. He said, "You're the guy who told me to watch the body." Cade handed him the extra coffee and said, "Yup, sure am. Here, I brought you a coffee." Someone aimed a camera toward them and Cade turned to face the cop -- Davies, by his nametag -- as the camera flashed. He kicked the gun that had fallen into the bushes over by the body and toed it under a fold in the coat. "Should you be moving the evidence around like that?" asked Davies. "So tell 'em I kicked it. I just came down here to get your name and badge number for the record and secure the scene." Shrugging as he looked around, Cade said, "Now the scene is secure, I have my info, and you have your coffee. Just stay put until the cops get here." Davies almost choked on his first sip of coffee. He glanced down at the body, then stared at Cade as he asked, "But... You mean you aren't a cop?!" "Never said I was," said Cade. "I've just been working with them today. See you later." As Cade turned to go, the guard said, "Hey, wait. Is there any word about the blonde? The woman who, uh... who flew off... with the car?" "I haven't heard anything." Glancing up at the sky, Davies said, "God, I hope she wasn't still hanging onto that car when it blew. I was looking right at it, but it was too far up... Do you think she...?" "No idea," said Cade. "Later." With that, he headed back up the steps and into the hotel, where he gave Davies' info to Avery and refilled his coffee cup, then sat down in a corner of the cafe with an incident report form to wait for Lieutenant Bain.

The door to room 422 opened as Mandi neared it and a tall guy in jeans, cowboy boots, and a green Army field jacket stepped out. He pulled the door shut with a glance in her direction that turned into a rather long look, then he hefted his black backpack and followed her toward the elevators. He had to be close to fifty; Mandi wondered which team he was with, and in what capacity. All the rooms from 420 to 430 had been reserved as a block to centralize personnel, so he had to be some kind of a cop or fed. Or a liaison? Pressing the 'down' button, she heard -- no, she 'felt' -- the man come to stand quietly a few feet behind her. Very quietly, she added after a few moments. Almost unnaturally quietly. There was no rubbing of fabric or scuffing of his boots on the carpet. No shifting of his backpack or even the soft creak of old boot leather as weight shifted from one leg to the other. The guy was an embodiment of silence. Mandi had to actually focus her hearing a bit to be sure he was breathing, and she found it mildly unnerving that anyone could stand so silently for so long. Another few moments passed before she turned and grinningly said with a raised eyebrow, "Just checking to see if you're really back there. You're very quiet." He nodded slightly and returned her grin. When she'd turned, his eyes hadn't been on her butt or her legs, as she'd expected. They'd been on her hair or shoulders, because they'd met her eyes instantly. Mandi found that odd, too. The guy seemed to study her face as he said, "Yeah, I guess I am kind of quiet sometimes. That's a nice outfit, milady. It doesn't scream 'look at me!', but it can't very easily be ignored, either." 'Milady'? Who calls a woman 'milady' these days? Mandi accepted his compliment as given and saw his eyes drop to her breasts. Correction; to her badge, which hung from one of her tiny demi-lapels. Her eyes fell to his badge in return. "Mandi Steele," he read, extending his hand. "Hi, Mandi. I'm Ed Cade." His eyes returned to hers as she shook his hand and said, "So I see. Nice to meet you. Why's the name block on your badge light blue?" "I'm registered as a guest author. Artists get a different color -- light green, I think. Staff types get red or yellow." She glanced at his badge again, then asked, "Are you staying on this floor? Was that your room you came out of?" "Yup." "I don't think anyone else on this floor is registered as a guest author. Why you?" "Maybe it's because I'm really an author." Uh, huh, thought Mandi. Or maybe he was a reporter who'd gotten wind of something? He'd come out of one of the rooms in the agency block, but... Her expression made him add, "I'm with John's crew. They pulled me out of retirement for this op when they found out I'd be here anyway." If anything, her puzzlement grew. "Retirement? From what? You don't look old enough to be retired." Shrugging slightly, Cade said, "I am, though. Retired, that is. So I must be old enough, I guess. How about you? Which team are you with?" "No team. John put me in as a standalone." "Woo! A superspook, huh? Foreign or domestic? There seem to be some of each here today." Shaking her head, Mandi said, "No, I'm not exactly with the NIA. I've been, uhm... coordinating things, you could say." Something in Cade's expression seemed to change almost imperceptibly as he nodded without comment. Mandi instantly got the impression that he didn't believe her. "What is it?" she asked with a small smile, "The fact that I'm a blonde? Don't you think I could coordinate anything?" Raising a hand slightly in protest, Cade grinningly said, "Oh, no, milady, it's nothing like that. I'm sure you're very good at what you do. I have no doubt you could run an office if you had to. You'd look absolutely great while you did it, too." Thinking that Cade meant that he thought she might be one of those 'secretaries' who can't really type, Mandi asked rather ominously, "What the hell are you getting at?" She wasn't in the least prepared for his answer. "Mandi," said Cade, "I saw you haul a car into the sky today. Admin types don't do stuff like that. They don't like to get their hands dirty." A jolt shot through Mandi and her gaze at Cade narrowed peeringly as she quietly asked, "Are you nuts?! If you are, just tell me now so I can get the hell away from you, okay?" The red 'down' light came on as the elevator chimed its arrival. Cade stepped around Mandi to clear the doorway. Shifting his backpack slightly, he said, "Yeah, I was afraid you might react like that. The dealer's room can wait. Let's go back to my room for some show and tell." The elevator doors opened as Mandi whisperingly blurted, "What?!" Nobody got off the elevator and the people aboard it looked questioningly at Mandi and Cade until the doors closed again. Once they were alone, Mandi stepped very close to Cade and was about to say something scathing when Cade said, "Okay, maybe that was a poor choice of words, but I guarantee you'll be glad I showed you the pictures." Hovering between anger and startlement, Mandi peered at Cade sharply as she asked, "What pictures?!" Shifting his backpack around front, Cade unzipped it and fished out the three printouts, which he handed to her. "The pictures these blowups were made from," he said. "A kid with a digital camera took them. He sold them to WNN about an hour ago." After staring at the pictures for all of two seconds, Mandi grabbed her cell phone out of her purse and dialed. Cade heard the same woman he'd talked to perhaps six times in the last few days say, "Zero-eight-two-six." "Angel here," said Mandi. "Go, Angel." "I need to talk to John. Right now." "He'll call you back. Do you need local assistance?" Loudly enough to be heard by the woman on the phone, Cade said, "Tell her Dragonfly said 'no'." "Angel, do you confirm?" asked the woman. Unrealizingly nodding as she studied Cade, Mandi said, "Yes. We aren't in any danger here. We're trying to prevent a blown cover. Mine." "Okay, Angel. Hang up and stand by." "Thank you." For a long few moments, Mandi continued to study Cade in silence, then she said, "We seem to know some of the same people, Dragonfly. I'll accept that as a positive reference." Grinning, Cade said, "Well, that's damned decent of you, ma'am. You're 'Angel', huh? I'd say that fits well enough. What now? I'm pretty sure someone thought of this possibility." Nodding, Mandi said, "They did. We did. Where did you get these printouts?" "I printed them for reference. I thought you might still be in town and I wanted to be able to make a positive ID if I saw you again. Guess I don't really need them now, huh?" Folding the pictures and putting them in her purse, Mandi said, "No, you don't. Do you have any other pictures of me?" "Why even ask? You know they'll toss my room and check my laptop on general principles." Grabbing his jacket and yanking him close, Mandi growled, "Don't be difficult. I'm not in the mood." Almost nose-to-nose with her again, Cade quietly said, "You shouldn't get tough with people who are trying to help you. All the pictures are on my laptop." Mandi's cell phone chirped and she quickly answered it with her free hand, not releasing Cade as she did so. Cade had no problem at all with being an inch from her face. It allowed him to listen easily to both sides of the conversation, which was rather short. "I'll meet you in 422," said John. "Five minutes. Here's Alan. Tell him what you know to get the ball rolling." "Hi, Angel," said Alan. "What have you got for me?" "Nothing," said Cade. "I'm the one with the info." He reached for the phone and Mandi let him take it as she finally released his jacket, then he gave Alan particulars about the kid who'd taken the pictures and the names of those who'd bought the pictures at WNN. "Is that everything you've got on them?" asked Alan. "That's it," said Cade. "If I think of anything else, I've got your number." "Okay, thanks. Put Angel back on." Cade handed the phone back to Mandi and heard Alan say in a rather intense tone, "Angel, we don't know this guy from Adam. He's just a part-time reserve asset that John called in to fill the ranks for this op. I think you should stick to him until we know that we know all he knows." With a laugh, Cade said, "The 'part time reserve asset' isn't exactly unhappy with that idea." "Aw, shit!" said Alan. "He can hear me?" Somewhat acidly, Mandi asked, "Alan, do you have any other shining pearls of wisdom and advice?" "Uh... No. Sorry." "Later, then. Bye." Hefting his backpack as Mandi tapped her phone off and put it away, Cade grinningly offered her his arm and asked, "Shall we go, milady?" Mandi shot him a glare and said, "Yes," as she started walking. Cade followed at a slight distance, the better to eyeball her backside and legs as she marched ahead. Mandi abruptly stopped and waited for him to catch up, her slight glare unabated. "Great legs, ma'am," said Cade. "Great everything, really." She made no reply as she walked beside him. At 422, he let them in and left the door slightly ajar for John, then took his coffee mug to the sink and began making a fresh cup. "Want to try some of my instant coffee?" he asked. "No." As an afterthought, she added, "Thanks, anyway, but we came here to see some pictures." Cade glanced in the mirror. Mandi was standing in the middle of the room. Oh, well. She knew she didn't need an invitation to sit down. Come to think of it, she probably didn't feel any need to sit down as often as regular people did. A sharp double tap at the door announced John's arrival and entrance. The two men with him began methodically searching Cade's room as John approached Mandi and Cade and shook hands with both of them. "Sorry," John said as he gestured at the two guys rooting through Cade's suitcases. "Her people insisted." "Figured they might," said Cade. "Alan seemed the cautious type. If I need one, can I get a loaner laptop while you root through mine?" Nodding, John said, "No problem." He turned to one of the guys searching the room and said, "Chuck, he may be dropping by later to borrow one of the pool laptops." "Yes, sir," said Chuck, resuming his efforts. "Ed," said John, "Alan played back your report on my way here. Can you add anything to it?" "Can't think of a thing, John. All I really had were some names and a room number here at the hotel." After another few moments, Chuck came to look through Cade's backpack and check his pockets, then said, "That's it, sir. Nothing left but the computer." Turning to Cade, he asked, "What's your boot-up password?" "Don't need one," said Cade. "Just hit 'enter'." The guy raised an eyebrow at that, as did John. Laughing, Cade said, "Boot to DOS and you can wipe the password file and reboot without one. I won't keep anything on a computer that I couldn't show my mother." Chuck looked at John and shruggingly nodded agreement. John looked at Cade and said, "Well, okay, then. Sorry for the inconvenience." "Oh, I guess I'll survive," said Cade. "What now? Think you can put a lid on this thing?" "Yeah, we think so. It depends on whether WNN has already sent copies to affiliates." At that, Mandi groaned softly. Cade turned to Mandi and asked, "Mandi, why you don't wear a mask or a hood? Or something?" She replied rather testily, "Do you really think you're the first to suggest that?" "Not likely, and you didn't answer the question." Sighing exasperatedly, she said, "I've tried dozens of the damned things. At high speeds they come apart, blow off, or burn off, and everything I've tried that'll survive and stay put looks like shit. Does that answer your question well enough?" Chuckling, Cade said, "Well, yeah. I guess so." With another quick round of handshakes, John led his search team out of the room, leaving Mandi and Cade to themselves. Mandi called Alan with an update, then sighed and sat down at the room's small desk.

Cade left his coat and gun with John, and for appearances' sake, both Mandi and Cade were taken to the doorway of 831 to let the terrorists see them putting on Kevlar vests as they received platitudinous encouragements. When they were finally sent into the room, Hamad Marjeel stopped them at the doorway and one of his men quickly frisked them for weapons and checked their gear before allowing them to pass. The man then shoved ahead of them into the room to take up a position at one side of the bed. Marjeel and the other two men appeared to be in their twenties and thirties and wore western clothing. All were clean-shaven and only their weapons and attitudes made them look more like terrorists than a trio of off-duty yuppies. As Mandi and Cade emerged from the room's short hallway past the bathroom, they saw two women in their sixties lying stiffly on the bed. A man on each side of the bed held a pistol aimed at each woman's head and Marjeel held a black Beretta 9mm pistol aimed generally between Mandi and Cade. In a tone dripping with disdain, Marjeel said, "Welcome, friends of the media. Before we begin, do you understand that your function here is merely to record my words, and not to speak unless invited to do so?" "Yes," said Mandi. Cade had been examining the side of his camera. He bumped it once with the heel of his hand, listened to it for a moment, then looked up and nodded as he said, "Sure." "Are you having difficulties with your camera?" "Well, it seems okay now. Your guy, there, may have yanked something too hard while he was messing with it." "Are you sure it will work properly? Do you need another?" Holding the camera up and aiming at the ceiling, Cade pulled the trigger. A red 'record' light came on at the front. "Looks like it's working now," said Cade. "I couldn't get the one I wanted to use for this. Somebody probably has it out on the loop, shooting traffic footage or..." "Quiet!" snapped Marjeel. Turning to Mandi, he asked, "Are you ready to begin?" "Yes," said Mandi, thumbing the mike's 'on' switch. "Yeah. Locked and loaded," said Cade, patting the camera. His comment drew narrow glances from Marjeel and one of the other terrorists, which likely meant that the one who'd ignored his words hadn't understood the term. Maybe he didn't speak English? Or maybe he just didn't speak it well. Mandi stood in front of the camera long enough to introduce herself as Mary Winston of WNN and introduce Hamad Marjeel according to what he'd written on a sheet of hotel stationery, then she stepped aside and let him have center stage. Marjeel began reading from a prepared speech that dragged on for a good twenty minutes. It was full of catchwords and phrases dear to the hearts of America-bashers everywhere, but it also contained quite a bit of Islamic religious rhetoric. He started the speech conversationally enough in firm tones, but soon he began to sound a bit strident, and by the time he hit the third or fourth page, he sounded a helluva lot like Adolf Hitler, almost ranting at the camera. The speech ended rather abruptly and Marjeel seemed to compose himself in silence for some moments before saying, "Now it is time to prove yet again to the Great Satan America that we are not only willing to kill, we are willing to die." He'd barely begun to turn toward the bed when Cade let up on the camera's trigger, again whacked the side of the camera, and said, "Hey, wait one. Damn. Can we get another take on that last bit?" Everybody was looking at him as if he was crazy, including Mandi. Cade thumped the camera again and triggered it briefly, making the light flicker, then thumped it again. "Well, that's it," said Cade. "Did we get enough?" Raising his pistol, Marjeel thundered, "Do you wish to die?!" One of the guys by the bed -- the possible non-English speaker -- also aimed his gun at Cade and the other guy's gun wavered from the woman who'd been his target. Holding the camera in both hands as if offering it to Marjeel, Cade said, "Well, here, dude. You try to make it work." When Marjeel grabbed for the camera's handle, Cade shoved the camera at Marjeel's face like a basketball. Launching himself right behind the camera, Cade drove Marjeel across the room and to the floor, his left hand locked on the wrist of Marjeel's gun hand and his right grasping the front of the terrorist's shirt. They landed hard, both of Cade's knees tightly together in the center of Marjeel's stomach as his back hit the floor. A loud, shouting groan escaped Marjeel on impact and his body tried to curl up, but Cade was in the way. When Marjeel wouldn't let go of the gun and tried to shove Cade off, Cade rammed an elbow straight down into his throat, then forced Marjeel's gun arm over the camera and leaned on it. There was a sickening snap of bone, Marjeel shrieked, and Cade was at last able to pry the gun out of his fingers. Marjeel tried a rather inept left-handed punch at Cade, so Cade swatted him in the temple with the Beretta to calm him down. Raising his head, Cade looked around. Mandi was standing beside them. Both of the other gunmen were down and their guns were in Mandi's hands. The two hostages were sitting up, barely beginning to realize that their danger was over as what seemed like a dozen more people in SWAT gear flooded the room. Cade rolled off Marjeel and got to his feet, handing the gun to one of the SWAT guys. Marjeel feebly tried to spit at Cade, but missed. He still seemed a bit disoriented. John walked up and extended a hand to Mandi, then to Cade, and said, "Good job, people. Great job." "Thanks," said Mandi. "Yeah," said Cade. "I'll be down the hall." "Okay," said John, "See you in a few." Mandi looked after him quizzically as he left the room and asked John, "Is he okay?" "Sure," said John. "He's like that, that's all. A few minutes from now he'll be his usual cheery self." 'His usual cheery self, huh?' thought Cade with a small grin as he entered the hall and headed for 835. 'Up yours, John.' The guy at the camera console in 835 looked up as Cade came in and started to say something, but Cade raised a hand and said, "Play it back for me. Show me what she did." Nodding, the guy hit rewind as he said, "Good job in there." Another 'good job'. Damn all overused phrases. "Thanks." When the scene on screen had reversed to Cade holding the camera, the guy hit 'play'. Cade kept his eyes on Mandi as the action proceeded. She seemed to leave the floor and lean slightly forward before she almost disappeared completely. The black and blue colors of Mandi's Kevlar jacket and dress seemed to stretch across the room to the first gunman and continued streaking across the bed to the second gunman. Both men fell to the floor at about the same time and the blur came to a stop by the men struggling on the floor. Mandi stood holding both mens' pistols as she watched Marjeel and Cade scuffle. "Jeeezus!" breathed the console guy. "Try it at half-speed," said Cade. The guy stopped the tape and rewound, then set the speed bar and played it again. Mandi was still blurred, but vaguely identifiable as a blonde in a blue dress instead of simply a streak across the screen. They were still unable to see what, exactly, she'd done to the gunmen. "Jeeezus!" the console guy muttered again. Checking his watch against the tape counter, he said, "When you made your move, she took the other two out in less than three-tenths of a second!" "Yeah, she's pretty quick," agreed Cade. "Thanks." He turned from the screen and went to the bathroom, took a leak and washed Marjeel's taint from his hands, then combed his hair and headed back out to the bedroom. Half a dozen people were clustered around the console, playing and replaying Mandi's part of the action and making various amazed comments about her as she appeared in the doorway. For a few moments she watched and listened to them, then she looked at Cade. "Are you all right?" she asked. As Cade said, "Yup," some of the awe-struck people turned to stare at her. Two men hurried over to her, raving about how she'd handled the two gunmen so quickly and helping her out of her Kevlar vest. Another guy pulled open the closures on Cade's jacket and took it, then Cade left Mandi to her adulation and went to climb back into his shoulder rig and field jacket, tossing his phony 'press' badge on the bed. John came in and momentarily joined the group by the console, then went to stand by Cade and asked, "She's really something, isn't she?" "Oh, hell, yes, John. Every bit of something. How's your picture-collecting coming along?" "I can only tell you what I told her. Our people are working on it. So far we've recovered five sets at WNN alone." "It doesn't look good for total containment, huh?" Shaking his head, John said, "Honestly? No, it doesn't. And if they get to the internet, we can forget about it." "No shit. John, do you remember the Marilyn Monroe and Elvis look-alike contests back in the sixties?" He shrugged. "Yeah. Vaguely, I guess." "They happened all over the country. If Mandi's pictures get out, maybe the thing to do is hold contests in L.A., Vegas, and all the major cities as quickly as possible. Send up some chaff. Make Mandi Steele-wannabes all over the place and give her a nationwide crowd to get lost in; otherwise she'll have to hide between missions in order to have any privacy at all. Now tell me something, John." "What's that?" "Tell me why didn't you just let her buzz into the room and grab all the guns. I've seen the tape. With a running start from the hallway she could have zapped them all in half a second or less and been out of there." With a straight face, John said, "It was felt that we needed a distraction to minimize risk." "And I need taller boots. Just tell me you aren't going to tell me, John. Don't bullshit me." Nodding, John said, "Okay. I can't tell you." "That means someone else is in command of this op. Someone I don't know. I really don't like that, John." Sighing slightly, John said, "Well, I don't either, but you know it isn't the first time and it won't be the last." "Can you tell me who's running the show?" "Not at this time." "That sucks, John." Nodding again, John said, "That's how I see it, too, but that's how it is." Someone called to John from the doorway and John excused himself, patting Mandi's shoulder on the way past her and saying, "Thanks again for your help." Mandi shortly disengaged from her SWAT fan club and joined Cade by the bed. "Is everything all right?" she asked. "No," said Cade. "John can't tell me who's running this op." "Neither can I," said Mandi. "Alan's getting his orders from John and won't admit to knowing anything else. Does it really matter who's at the top?" "It does to me, but as long as John's in my command chain, I'll go along with things. Do you have dinner plans?" "Yes. Some of the people from my group are going to DelMonico's around seven if nothing else happens. Want to come with us?" "No, thanks," he pulled the DragonCon schedule halfway out of his pocket, "I'm gonna disappear before they let the news people out and go find some food. There are a couple of things I want to check out between seven and nine." Reaching to touch his arm, Mandi said quietly, "You gave me the opening I needed in there. Thanks." Regarding her silently for a moment, Cade said, "You didn't need me at all, Mandi. After I saw the playback, I asked John why you didn't handle the whole mess yourself." Letting her hand fall to her side, Mandi said, "That wasn't the plan, Ed. That's all I can say." A woman called Mandi from the doorway. Mandi nodded to let the woman know she'd heard and turned back to Cade to ask, "What's your issue-cell number?" "Forty-two-eighteen. Yours?" "Zero-two-two-one." Although he knew that the cells were recharged and reissued in no particular order, Cade grinningly said, "Wow, that's a low number. You must be somebody special, ma'am." Laughing, Mandi said, "No, not me. They just handed me one from a box." An awkward moment of parting was developing. Cade curtailed it by extending a hand and saying, "I'm off in search of dinner. See you later, milady." Catching her lower lip between her teeth for a moment as she shook hands, Mandi said, "Yeah. See you later, Ed." As Cade left her to head for the door, a guy asked, "Have you been debriefed?" Thumbing at the console that was being packed into metal suitcases, Cade said, "It's all on tape. John has my number." 'Debriefed', thought Cade as he entered the hallway. What kind of a putz came up with that word? Probably a politician.

The dealer's room was jammed with people, as expected. As Mandi and Cade circulated, he looked for WiccaWorks clients and took a few moments with each to let them know he'd drop by the next day so they could restock from the products he'd brought. Mandi found a silver pendant on a chain that appealed to her at one of the booths and bought it while Cade was talking to the booth owner. Their conversation wrapped up about the same time as Mandi's purchase. Cade stepped over to Mandi, lifted the pendant and chain from her hands, and offered to put it on her. Lifting her hair, Mandi let him drape the chain and fasten the clasp as she looked in the booth's mirror. Her eyes met his as he brought the two ends of the chain together and thumbed the clasp. When her eyes fell to the pendant, his didn't, nor did his hands fall away from her shoulders immediately. "It's kind of amazing," said Cade softly. "You can haul cars into orbit, but you look and feel just like a showgirl." One of Mandi's eyebrows went up. "A showgirl?" Grinning, Cade said, "That's what they call women of exemplary beauty who strut around on stages in fancy costumes. I'd have expected you'd know something like that, being from Vegas and all." Turning to look at him, Mandi said, "Uh, huh. Smartass. You aren't from Vegas, so how the hell do you happen know so much about showgirls?" With a shrug, Cade said, "Been there. Got involved with a dancer for a while. A nice lady, but kind of obsessive." Tilting her head, Mandi asked, "Obsessed about what?" "Dancing. It's all she thought about, day and night. Well, almost all. She thought about me, too, now and then." "Did she?" "Oh, yeah," said Cade with a firm nod. "Every night for two weeks. Then I had to go back to Dallas." Sighing dramatically, he added, "Leaving her was kind of traumatic, y'know?" Grinning, Mandi said, "I'm sure it was and you have my most profound sympathy, of course. Are you going to tell me that I remind you of her? Maybe that I look a bit like her?" Trying to appear somewhat shocked, Cade said, "Of course not! She was a head taller than you and had brown hair. Not nearly as pretty, either. Great legs, though." "Uh, huh." Mandi lifted her pendant and eyed it as she said, "You know, I've been expecting something like this to happen sooner or later." With a snort of soft laughter, Cade said, "Sorry, but nothing's happened, ma'am. That wasn't a pass." Looking at him somewhat sharply, Mandi asked, "If it wasn't a pass, what was it?" "At most, a compliment. Ready to move on?" Glancing around, Mandi said, "I guess so." They were less than halfway down the aisle before she asked, "Are you sure it wasn't a pass?" "Yeah, I'm sure," said Cade, reaching for a book past a tall woman in Klingon garb who was studying a figurine display. Possibly because he'd spoken, she chose just that moment to turn and her rather massive, plastic-armored left breast collided with the side of Cade's face with an audible 'thunk'. Apparently assuming no responsibility whatsoever for the collision, she stiffened and straightened, glaring at Cade. Mandi snickered, but otherwise kept silent. "You wanna watch where you stick your goddamned nose?" bellowed the Klingon woman, sounding as if she might actually be from Brooklyn. "You wanna watch where you point those things?" returned Cade. "They're dangerous." A large hand clapped solidly onto Cade's shoulder and clamped down. Cade turned to see a guy a head taller than himself, also wearing Klingon gear, who said, "That's my girlfriend, dude." "Hands off," said Cade. "She bumped into me, that's all. No damage, no problem." "I'll decide if there's a problem," said the guy, his grip on Cade's shoulder intensifying a bit. Reaching up quickly, Cade drove his thumb into the inside of the faux-Klingon's bicep just above the elbow and snapped the area solidly back and forth. The guy hissed and yanked his arm away as if he'd been shocked. Stepping toward the Klingon to let some people get past, Cade said, "Okay, then. You decide. Is there a problem?" The Klingon wannabe rubbed his arm and glared at Cade as if thinking about the question. A fortyish blonde booth attendant rapped the pommel of one of the daggers from her display on her table and said, "Don't make me call security, boys." Pushing ungently past Cade, the female Klingon went to stand by her boyfriend and tugged his undamaged arm. After another moment of glaring, he turned to accompany her. As Cade turned to go with Mandi, the booth attendant held up the dagger in her hand and said, "Hey. I'll give you this dagger if you can teach me that trick." Cade eyed the dagger. It had a wire-wrapped black handle, a fancy brass crossguard, and a stainless, stiletto-style, double-edged blade about seven inches long. "Way too fancy," said Cade. "People would think I was from the French Quarter or something. How about those, instead?" He pointed to a set of three small stamped-out stainless throwing knives. Each knife was about five inches long and they came with a sheath that held all three at once. She shrugged at his much less expensive choice and said, "Uh... Sure. Okay." A few minutes later Cade left the booth with his knives as the woman practiced the move on her boyfriend's left arm. He yelped satisfactorily and she grinningly waved at Cade. "I think I've got it!" she said. Cade waved back as Mandi sidled up to him and took his left arm in hers, a gesture that made him look at her with a raised eyebrow as he tucked the knives into his back pocket. "The dealer's room closes in ten minutes," she said. "That leaves two hours until showtime. Is there anything on the schedule that you particularly care about?" "Nope. Actually, it'd be nice to get away from the crowds for a while and I left most of my dinner sitting on the bar. You got any thoughts on the matter?" With a shake of her head, Mandi said, "Not really. This is my first time in Atlanta. I saw a couple of places in the city guidebook, but they're nowhere near downtown." With a grinning glance, Cade said, "You can fly at warp speeds, milady. Even with heavy ol' me aboard you could zip pretty much anywhere in town in seconds." Matching his wry grin, Mandi gave Cade's arm a squeeze and said, "Okay. True enough, but I don't feel comfortable about leaving the area. Four of the men on John's list didn't turn up today, which doesn't necessarily mean they aren't somewhere near." Shrugging, Cade said, "Let's take a walk, then. Maybe we'll find something interesting within a couple of blocks." They were nearing the dealer's room doors when Mandi gave his arm another squeeze and said, "You're a refreshing change, Ed." "Refreshing, huh? Gee, lady, how'd I manage that?" "You just are. The others on the teams act as if they either worship me or they're scared shitless of me. I've only met two people during this operation who seem able to treat me like... well, who don't go overboard one way or the other. You're one of them. Mind if I ask you why?" "Why I don't worship you or why I'm not scared of you?" "Yes. Both." Stepping back and eyeing Mandi from toes to hairline, Cade said, "Well, you asked..." He opened the door to the sidewalk for her and followed her through before he spoke again. "Mandi, you're kind of like a fighter jet in that you're extremely powerful and you're on our side in this thing against terrorism. People should respect things like fighter jets and behave in a responsible manner around them, but they shouldn't fear them. You're also a very beautiful woman and I expect you have all the usual feelings that come with being a female human being. Your feelings deserve a level of respect and responsibility." Some moments of walking toward the corner passed before Mandi asked, "And..?" "And what?" "That's it?" With a shrug, Cade said, "Yes'm, that's about it. I've been treating you like a beautiful woman because that's mostly what you are to me. If you need more than that -- or less than that -- you'll probably have to look elsewhere." "Mostly?" "Yeah, mostly. I'm not forgetting that you can speak other languages and fly, but at the moment you're just walking beside me and being good company. Seems to me that I should respond in kind; that is, to make every effort to be good company in return. If you wanted more, you'd probably be somewhere else with someone who'd feed your ego." With a grin, Cade added, "With the guys on the fourth floor, for instance, who'd either be waiting on you hand and foot and fawning all over you or avoiding you." Sighing, Mandi said, "That gets old fast, you know. People either weigh and measure every word they say or they babble. There's almost no middle ground." "The price of fame," said Cade, "However clandestine." "Screw fame," said Mandi. "I haven't had an intelligent conversation with anyone but John since Wednesday. Well, not until you showed up, anyway. All anyone wanted to talk about was me. Same old questions, over and over." Making a suitable sigh of pity, Cade said, "Well, I'll try not to disappoint you, milady. I won't ask where you're from, how you got here, how fast you can fly, or anything like that." Peering sharply at him, Mandi said, "Yeah, you've managed to avoid those questions so far. Why?" "Because I don't really need to know the answers. It's enough that you're on my arm and sharing time with me." Continuing to regard him askance, Mandi asked, "Or is it that you already know the answers? Did John or someone else brief you about me?" "Nope. You appeared out of nowhere today when you hopped over a car and jumped into the sky with it. A little while later I ran into you at the elevators." "So when you jumped on that guy, you just assumed -- without knowing anything else about me -- that I'd do something about the other two?" "Yup. I figured all you needed was a distraction to provide a reasonable opening. You'd just survived a major explosion, so it didn't seem likely that bullets would slow you down much, and all the guns were pointed at me at the time anyway. I'd have been real surprised if you hadn't done what you did." "Surprised?" asked Mandi. "You'd have been dead." Snapping his fingers as if just realizing that fact, Cade grinningly said, "Well, then, it's a damned good thing I guessed right, isn't it?" Mandi's face was stern as she stopped to face him and said, "You certainly put a hell of a lot of faith in that guess." "Correction; I put a hell of a lot of faith in you." "You know what I mean, Ed. What if I hadn't lived up to your expectations?" "Well, I'd have been somewhat disappointed, of course..." "I'm not joking, dammit!" Shrugging, Cade began walking again as he said, "Okay, you weren't joking. Next subject." Taking two strides to catch up, Mandy snapped, "What?" "Next subject. Next topic of discussion. The last one wasn't entertaining us, so let's talk about something else." "No! I want to know how you could just presume that I'd..." Interrupting her, Cade said, "I just did, and it's history, so let's drop it. As far as I'm concerned, you can probably do anything I can imagine; anything I ever saw in a comic book. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me at all to find out that the comics about superhumans began after someone found out about you or someone like you back in the thirties." Mandi's gaze narrowed tightly as she asked, "You really think I'm that old?" Looking her over, Cade said, "Could be. I think you'll probably look just as delicious another sixty years down the road. Or maybe a couple of hundred years. How long do superpeople live, anyway?" Pretending vast shock, Mandi rolled her eyes and softly exclaimed, "Oh, wonder of wonders!" Giving her a narrow look of his own, Cade asked, "What wonder of wonders are you referring to, ma'am?" Not bothering to contain her grin, Mandi said, "You finally asked me a real question. Did it hurt?" "Well, it didn't at the time, but I think it's beginning to. Wanna know where?" Laughing, Mandi said, "Ah... no, I can guess. I can't tell you how long I'm likely to live, Ed. I really don't know." Nodding, Cade said, "Doesn't matter. I was just curious." Lifting her hand upward to kiss it, he added, "And I hope it's a really big number."

Near the end of the next block was a pub and microbrewery that had a couple of pool tables. Mandi and Cade discovered the place to be almost empty, despite large numbers of convention attendees wandering the streets. Two guys at a table near the window nodded to Mandi and Cade as they entered and approached the bar. Cade ordered a couple of beers and some quarters. Gesturing around the pub, Mandi said, "Well, Ed, you did say you wanted to get away from the crowds." As the bartender pulled a couple of glasses of beer for them, he said, "It's like this every year. The only convention that brings in less business is the Salvation Army thing." Nodding toward the window, he added, "Which just happens to be going on this week, too, of course. It's the worst week of the year for everybody but the hotels and restaurants." The reddish-colored beer cost five bucks a glass and it tasted rather bitter. Cade decided that he preferred his usual Ice House beer as he set his local brew on a table and put quarters in one of the pool tables. "Don't like it, huh?" asked Mandi, nodding at Cade's beer. "Not particularly. Too bitter. I'll break." "Oh, really? We aren't going to flip a coin?" "No, ma'am, we aren't. I've got a strong feeling that if you break, you'll run the table." Rolling a stick on the table to check it's straightness, Mandi said, "Oh, but maybe I'm not much of a pool player, sir." Watching her chalk the tip of her stick by spinning the stick and lightly buffing the contact point, Cade said, "Uh, huh. That's what all the sexy blonde hustlers say." Cade made the four on the break and made another five balls before a bad leave put the cue ball behind three of her stripes. His attempted jump shot made the seven ball, but the cue ball followed it into the pocket. Mandi grinned as she stepped up to the table. One after another she rather elegantly pocketed all of her striped balls, including one that involved a long, almost right-angle cut to reach a distant corner pocket. When only the eight ball remained, she eyed the six-inch shot and smilingly asked, "Want to concede the game?" Shaking his head, Cade said, "Nope. Work for it, lady." With a chuckle, Mandi popped the eight into the pocket. The two guys who'd been watching from a nearby table had come to stand by Cade. "Man, she flat kicked your ass," said one of them. "I think she got lucky on the fourteen," said the other guy. "Yeah?" asked Cade. "Put your quarters up. You just volunteered to be her next victim." The guy nodded and reached in his pocket, then fed the table as the other guy introduced himself as Mike and the other guy as Stan, then put his name on the chalkboard for the next game. "Hey, there's three of us here, dude," confided Mike. "One of us has to beat her." Glancing at Mandi, Cade chuckled and said, "Yeah, right." Cade put his name on the board, as well, and sat down with his beer. He enjoyed watching women shoot pool, especially women in short skirts, and Mandi had magnificent legs. Midway through her game against Stan, Mandi leaned over the table for a shot, lifting one leg slightly off the floor as she stretched. She seemed to take longer than usual about it. The shot hadn't seemed that difficult, even with the need to stretch for it. Cade glanced from her legs to the table to try to see why she was taking so long just as Mandi turned to look grinningly back at him. His gaze shifted from the table to her face. Her expression seemed to change to one of surprise for a moment, then she turned back around and popped the ball into the pocket. 'Ha,' thought Cade. 'She thought she'd catch me eyeballing her legs.' With a grinning mental shrug as he sipped his beer he added, 'She damned near did, too.' Mandi gave him an odd, studying glance as she rounded the table to take her next shot. Cade deliberately pretended to find something interesting about his beer and held it up to look at the way the light filtered through it. Mike muttered something as Mandi sank the eight, then he sighed and said, "Oh, well. It was worth the money to watch her do that, I guess." Stan laughed and got up to take his turn. During the game Mandi chanced to be standing directly in front of Cade as she leaned across the table to aim, shifting her hips as she moved slightly to her right. Oh, hell, yeah, Cade looked. As Mandi leaned forward, her skirt rode up a bit and tightened delightfully around her butt and thighs. In the corner of his eye, Cade caught a motion in the big front window of the pub and glanced that direction. Mandi's reflection was grinning slightly as she looked back at him. Cade matched her small grin, shrugged as he flicked his eyebrows at her, and went back to studying Mandi's assets as she made the shot and straightened up with a muted 'gotcha' look on her face. As Mandi methodically worked her way through her balls, Mike leaned over to quietly ask Cade, "Where the hell did she learn to shoot like that?" "She's from Vegas," replied Cade, as if that explained everything. When four games had passed without Mandi missing a shot, Mike simply reached up and erased his name from the chalkboard. "That's enough for me," he said, "I'm a believer." Stan looked at his watch and said, "We've got time for one more game." Mike shrugged and held up his glass. "Go for it. I've still got some beer left." As he racked the balls, Stan said, "I can't believe she's kicking our asses with a bar cue. Why doesn't she have a stick of her own?" "You'll h

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