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"Yes," Emmaline says. She folds her hands and puts them primly in her lap. We
watch each other for a moment until the lightbulb goes on for me.
"Okay, I get it. Your Page is in less than working order, and you want me to
fix it."
"It's what you do."
"Did." I scrape the last of the spinach and basil out of the bowl and savor
it. If I didn't have to have on my company manners, I might even have licked
it clean. Outside, tourists point at the statue of Marco Polo in the garden.
The sun sets and reflects pink against the blue-gray of the angled rooftops.
The wee-oou-wee-oou of the gendarmes' sirens echoes down the boulevard. I'm
antsy to leave. "Thanks for dinner, anyway."
She seems kind of surprised at that. Her thin eyebrows arch. "Not even for the
LINK?"
"What LINK? You seem to be shy a couple of synapses yourself. I'm busted.
Trashed. Nuked. Mangled. Munged. Dead dead dead."
"Ask him if he remembers how Deidre got her LINK back."
I didn't see him approach, but sometime during the middle of my rant, a man
slid in to stand just behind the left side of Emmaline's chair. He's tall,
probably six-foot, and muscular. Only he wears silk like a poofter. His hair
is kind of gay, too long, red, and pulled back into a neat ponytail. His face
Page 26
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
looks familiar, though. I know I've met him before.
I search for a name and come up with: "Morningstar?"
"In the flesh," he says in a way that makes mine crawl.
METEORITE OR BOMB?
Muslims Demand Access to the Noble Sanctuary
Agnostic Press (April 2083)
Jerusalem, Israel Muslim leaders are demanding access to the Noble Sanctuary
(Dome of the Rock and al-Aqsa mosque) to look for fragments of the meteorite
that struck the area last night. Because of previous plots to blow up the Dome
of the Rock in order to begin the process of rebuilding the Jewish Temple,
Muslim leaders have cast doubt on what many have referred to as "an act of
God."
"We think the Israeli soldiers are hiding evidence of a bomb," said
Palestinian president Idris Quasim. "Why else would they occupy the area so
quickly? Especially when rabbinical law prohibits them from setting foot on
Temple Mount before being blessed by the ashes of a perfect red heifer."
Israeli Prime Minister Avashalom Chotzner claims, however, that no Jew has set
foot inside the area that historically belongs to the second Jewish temple.
"We're guarding the crater, that's all." It is true that Israeli forces have
only been spotted forming a cordon around the Noble Sanctuary. Chotzner would
not reply to accusations of an Israeli bomb, however.
"His silence is proof," said Quasim. "They made it look like a meteorite so
that they could claim their God did this. It's an act of war and the rest of
the world should view it as such."
However, several amateur astronomers have LINK recordings of the meteorite's
descent. They believe that based on the angle of the approach, it could not
have come from anywhere on the Earth, not, at least, without someone reporting
seeing the launch. "To say that this is a bomb is ridiculous," said one who
asked not to be identified. "It's from space. Whether or not God had anything
to do with it is not my call, but it's definitely a meteor, not a bomb."
When asked if Israel would consider allowing a UN investigator to inspect for
meteorite fragments, Chotzner resolutely refused. "Temple Mount will remain
under our control. Absolutely no one will enter it without our express
permission."
Chapter 7 Rebeckah
We'd been staring at each other for a long time, the Inquisitors and I. In the
meantime, the drizzle stained the Inquisitors' uniforms a deeper black. In
addition to the standard leather-looking jacket and pants, both wore priestly
collars. They'd also brought along Peacemakers. I noticed the heavy pistols
hanging from their sides. The blond's hand strayed near his holster as I
continued to stand there, blocking the door.
Inquisitors. I should have been scared out of my mind. Instead the old battle
calm filled me, draining away all feelings, making the world a distant place.
Of course, usually when I felt this quiet and still, I had a gun in my hand.
Now the enemy was in front of me and I had no weapon and no place to run.
I wiped my sweaty palm on my jeans.
The blond cleared his throat. "I hate to impose, ma'am, but it's cold out
here." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]