AN ENCOUNTER IN ATLANTA
A Mandi Steele Novel
Copyright©2003 by Ed Howdershelt
ISBN 1-932693-04-1
Caution: Some Erotic Content
Chapter Four
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.
Chapter Five
All that could be done was being done. John's people would try to find and secure all copies of the pictures and warn everyone about dire consequences, etc..., but Mandi seemed to lack faith that his efforts would be enough.
She'd known and accepted the risk of complete exposure, of course, but she'd also hoped strongly against it. Another sigh escaped her as Cade put his stuff back in his backpack and zipped it shut.
Without looking up from the desk, she muttered, "Now we wait to see whether I'm going to become a TV star tonight. I've got a feeling that my privacy is about to be shot to hell."
"Not necessarily. Vegas is full of great-looking, leggy blondes. If anyone says you look like you, just thank them for the compliment and move on."
For a moment Mandi staringly said nothing, then she quietly asked, "How the hell did you know I live in Vegas?"
"I saw you there," said Cade. "Back in 1996."
Sitting up and turning around to give him an exasperated look, Mandi replied, "1996? After all these years, you're absolutely sure it was me you saw?"
"Yeah," Cade said with a shrug. "I am. Mind if I make a suggestion?"
Tossing the pen she'd been fiddling with onto the desk, Mandi almost shouted, "Oh, sure! Oh, hell, yes! Why not?"
Thumbing at the door, Cade said, "Could be that John's people will square this away. If not, you might as well enjoy your last few hours of anonymity, right? I'm just saying, 'business as usual and hope for the best'. And we have about fifteen minutes to get to that writer's panel."
Mandi almost laughed at his last words, but she realized he was probably right. What the hell; might as well. She stood up and picked up her purse, putting her sentiment into words.
"What the hell; we might as well." Pointing at his shoulder holster, she asked, "Do you really think you need that?"
"I'm on standby. I think John would take it poorly if I had to say, 'Wait one while I run upstairs and get my gun'."
Nodding with a chuckle, Mandi said, "Yeah, I guess he might, at that."
Cade got the door for her with a gentlemanly flourish and they headed for the elevator.
"Ed," said Mandi, "Most people are full of questions when they first meet me."
Nodding, Cade said, "Yeah, that seems likely," and nothing more as they approached the elevator.
He pressed the 'down' button and stood beside her as he'd stood before; silent to the extreme. Mandi suddenly realized that she hadn't noticed his footsteps in the hallway, either.
"Why are you so quiet?" she asked.
"Just a habit, I guess."
For once, the elevator arrived quickly and they boarded. As Mandi stepped in and turned around to face the door, a brief and almost complete silence occurred around her and she wondered if her pictures had already somehow been leaked.
As the con-related chatter resumed around her, she heard two teen guys whispering in the back.
"Wow! Check her out, man!"
"You think I'm not?! Jesus! I'd lick my way up to her..."
A woman said, "One more word, Tim. Go ahead. One more."
"You aren't my mom, Jackie. I can... Ow!"
"If you don't knock it off, I can tell your mom what a wonderful little gentleman you weren't at DragonCon. Now can the crap or I'll pinch your other tit, you little twerp."
There were snickers and giggles and a snort of laughter. Mandi glanced at Cade with a grin and Cade returned it as the elevator doors opened and they stepped into the lobby.
As the woman herded the two teens past them toward the escalators, Cade said, "There goes your adoring public."
"Oh, wow," Mandi said in a flat tone. "Be still, my heart."
They set forth toward the Orchid Ballroom as Cade said, "Most men never grow out of that stage, you know."
Grinning, she said, "I've noticed that now and then."
Sighing dramatically, Cade said, "I feel so transparent."
Mandi laughed, looked at him, and laughed again.
"Ed, you're probably one of the most un-transparent people I've ever met."
"The word for that is 'opaque', ma'am."
After a quick, sharp glance at him, Mandi gave him a wry grin as she said, "Yes, I know. I wasn't sure you would."
"Gee thanks. That, by the way, was an 'antiphrasis'."
Mandi stopped and looked intently up at him for a moment, nodded, then continued walking.
As they reached the escalators that led to the ballrooms below, Cade asked, "You had to look that one up, didn't you?"
When Mandi didn't answer, Cade said in German, "I'm very sure you have been told often that you're a very beautiful woman."
Without a hint of hesitation or unnecessary modesty, Mandi replied in German, "Yes, I have."
Nodding, Cade said, "Kinda thought you could do that."
"Why?"
"You wouldn't have been sent here unprepared."
Giving Cade a sidelong glance, Mandi asked, "What makes you think I was sent here?"
"You aren't a product of normal anthropogenesis and nobody on Earth could create you in a test tube. You were manufactured somewhere else." He glanced at her and added in French, "And whoever did it did a damned fine job."
Mandi grinned and returned in French, "Thank you again," with no regional accent. It was schoolbook French; the precise, formal kind you learn only in classrooms from people who've never walked the streets of France.
"You had a good teacher," said Cade. "Human or machine?"
As they entered the Orchid Ballroom, Mandi said, "My language teacher was a computer about the size of this hotel."
"I'll bet most of it was empty space; mostly just places for people to hook up to it or whatever."
Choosing a pair of chairs in the third row, Mandi said, "You'd win that bet."
A woman tapped on a water glass to start the panel introductions. Reps from two small presses and three self-published authors gave their names and credits, then the moderator -- a woman who'd written two PG-13 novels and self-published them -- opened the floor to questions.
The first question came from a woman in row two, who asked, "Why is it that women in science fiction are always portrayed only as victims, goddesses, or demons?"
One of the small-press reps, a guy named Donovan, said, "They aren't, actually. Most women in sf are used as support characters, just as they are in movies and music videos. It's a trend that should be rectified."
"Rectified how?" asked a woman in the seventh row. "Even most female authors tend to use male lead characters."
Donovan shrugged and said, "If you're really an author, you'll write your characters your way."
"But if I buck the trend, will I ever be published?"
"Ninety-nine percent of all manuscripts aren't published when they don't buck trends, so all you can do is try, like everybody else."
The rest of the session was about the same. Nobody asked any questions that couldn't be answered in about the same manner, and one of the small-press guys gently ranted about how expenses and tight budgets made publishers extremely selective about what sorts of manuscripts were accepted.
One of the self-published authors used the small-press guy's rant as a springboard for extolling the virtues of being your own publisher, citing total control and other aspects.
Someone asked him how many copies of his book were sitting in his garage, waiting to be sold, and how many copies had been sold. The self-pubber's answer was rather vague, but it didn't actually seem evasive; in fact, it seemed to Cade that the guy had simply been unprepared for the question and really didn't have the actual numbers at hand.
A guy in the fourth row asked if epublishing could be considered a valid form of being published.
Donovan took that question, too, and opined that -- as far as he was concerned -- 'real' books were made of paper. It was a wholly predictable response from a guy who made his living as a paperback publisher.
Cade raised a hand, and when called upon said, "Since 1999, I've paid taxes on nearly thirty thousand dollars that came from ebook sales on the Internet. How are books that people pay for and read not 'real' books?"
Glancing to his left and right as if for solidarity with the others of the panel, Donovan said, "Let's make one thing clear, sir; you've been selling computer files, not books."
"That's why they call them 'e'-books. My question stands."
The moderator said, "This is off-topic. This panel is about 'Women of Science Fiction', not methods of publishing."
"You could have said that earlier," said Cade, "When the second or third question wasn't about 'Women of Science Fiction' and before thirty minutes were spent on off-topic topics. Let Mr. Donovan answer my question, if he will."
"He won't," said Donovan. "She's right; this is off-topic and we should get back to the reason for this panel."
Cade's chuckle earned him a curious glance from Mandi and a few others nearby as the moderator, herself, rather ineptly tried to manufacture a topic-related question to force the panel back on track and get it rolling again.
As Mandi and Cade headed back to the escalators, she said, "Only one percent of manuscripts being published doesn't offer authors much hope of making a living from their work."
"Those people want to see their name on a paperback. For them, it won't be about money unless they get published. Most of them don't even have a realistic concept of how much -- or how little, actually -- published authors truly earn from their books. Today they'll bitch about stacks of rejection slips, wasted time and postage, and stupid editors who can't see the value in their work. If they happen to get published, they'll wind up bitching about being screwed by their publishers over rights and book returns from chain stores."
After a short laugh, Mandi asked, "Then why do you go to these panels?"
Grinning, Cade said, "Sometimes they stay on topic."
She shrugged and said, "I feel as if I've just wasted an hour with that one. Don't you?"
"Nope. I can usually find some way to use even an experience like that in one of my ebooks."
Mandi was about to say something when her cell phone chirped. She and Cade stepped out of the flow of foot traffic as she answered the call.
"Angel here."
"Alan. We found Hamad Marjeel and two of his people right across the street. The Rivage seems to be getting all their business today. Instead of running, they grabbed a couple of hostages in 831 and they're demanding media coverage."
"Meaning you want me to go in as a reporter?"
"It's all we can come up with. We're staging up in 835."
Mandi said, "I'm on my way."
"You'll be holding a mike and handling the interview," said Cade. "You'll need a cameraman."
"You're volunteering?"
Shrugging, Cade said, "Well, if you'd prefer to have one of the younger guys in there with you... You know, one of the guys with a wife and kids..?"
Mandi gave him a wry look and nodded, then said, "Alan, I already have a cameraman."
"Cade?"
"Yes. We'll be there shortly."
She put her phone away and gestured for Cade to hurry along as she took the escalator steps three at a time, weaving her way upward past some very startled people.
Cade followed at a somewhat more sedate pace, taking only two steps at a time and easing past the other riders. The terrorists wanted media coverage and they had hostages as leverage, so they weren't going anywhere right away.
At the front doors, Mandi was waiting for him.
"You sure you're up to this?" she asked.
"What's the hurry?" asked Cade. "They'll be there. Where do we get news credentials and hardware on short notice?"
As they started across the sidewalk to the street, Mandi said, "That's Alan's job."
"Might want to give him a ring and see what he's doing about that."
"I already know what he's doing about it. He's doing whatever he has to."
As it happened, that's exactly what Alan was doing when they walked into room 835. The two newsies from Channel Nine and the three from WNN were already there, arguing about who'd be going in to talk to the terrorists.
Alan handed the video camera he was examining to Cade like an unwieldy football and asked, "Do you know how to operate one of these?"
"I aim it at the bad guys while I press the trigger button."
"You've got it."
John came into the room and asked, "What's the plan so far, people?"
"They'll act like reporters," said Alan, nodding at Mandi and Cade. "If they can disarm the situation, they will. If not, they'll continue to act like reporters and we'll try something else."
A man came trotting into the room to hand Alan a couple of laminated press badges. He stood by as Alan examined them, then he led the real newspeople out of the room.
Handing one of the badges to Mandi, Alan said, "You're Mary Winston, intrepid reporter for WNN." Handing the other badge to Cade, he said, "And you're Grant Parker from Channel Nine. This will be called a cooperative news effort."
Turning to John, he said, "If anyone was watching, they saw the real Grant and Winston rush over here."
Nodding, John said, "Okay, then. Check the gear and confirm the feeds to WNN and Nine. There'll be some deliberate static in the first few seconds and an excuse will be made about adjusting the signal, then we'll switch the feed to an in-house loop. While our terrorists are watching themselves being interviewed on TV, anyone outside will be taken back to whatever was on before."
Chapter Six
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.
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