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probably cost more individually than our operating budget for the year. The only spots of color came from the faces of the senator and his wife, both red-cheeked from crying, and from Governor Tate, who was wearing a tailored dark blue suit that screamed “money” in a politely subdued way. All three turned toward us, and the senator rose, tugging his suit jacket down before offering his hand to Shaun. Shaun shook it. I looked past them to where Governor Tate was endeavoring to cover his own expression of disgust.

“Thank you for coming,” said Senator Ryman, releasing Shaun’s hand and reclaiming his seat. Emily’s eyes were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. She mustered a tiny smile as she folded her hands around her husband’s. He tugged her closer, seemingly unaware of the gesture. He didn’t have much strength to offer, but what he did have was hers without question. That’s the kind of guy we need running this country.

“We had a choice?” asked Shaun, dropping onto one of the couches and sprawling with intentional untidiness. He’d clearly caught Tate’s look, too; that, combined with the confiscation of our equipment, had him primed and ready to offend. Good. It’s always easier to seem reasonable when my brother is providing a handy contrast.

“We were glad to come, Senator, but I’m afraid I don’t understand why our equipment had to be confiscated. Some of those cameras are delicate, and I’m not comfortable leaving them with anyone who’s not a member of our staff. If we’d been informed of the need for privacy before we left the hotel, we could have left them behind.”

Tate snorted. “You mean you could have brought cameras that were easier to hide.”

“Actually, Governor, I meant what I said.” I turned to look him in the eyes, unblinking. One of the few handy side effects of retinal KA is the lack of a need for repeated ocular lubrication—or, in layman’s terms, I don’t blink much. Being stared at by someone with retinal KA can be very unnerving, at least according to Shaun. “I’m aware that you’re a recent addition to this campaign, and may not be used to working with members of the reputable news media. We can make allowances for that. I would, however, appreciate it if you could also keep in mind that we’ve been working with Senator Ryman and his staff for some time now, and not once have we broadcast or distributed material we were asked to withhold. Now, I’ll admit that part of that can be attributed to the fact that we’ve never been asked to withhold information without good reason. I still believe it establishes that we’re capable of behaving ourselves with tact, propriety, and, above all, the patriotism inherent in the duty of serving as media corps of a major political campaign.”

“Well, missy,” said Tate, meeting my eyes without a flinch, “those are a lot of pretty words, but I hope you’ll forgive me if I’ve been burned a few times by the media before landing here, and I prefer to proceed with caution.”

“Well, sir,” I replied, “you’ll forgive me if I believe that our track record should count for something, given that we’ve never been anything other than appropriate in our dealings with sensitive information; further, if I might be so bold, there’s a chance that the media has ‘burned’ you so many times because you persist in treating honest people like they’re waiting for the opportunity to be criminals. For a man who says he’s standing for American values, you’re sure devoted to the suppression of media freedom.”

The governor’s eyes narrowed. “Now see here, young lady—”

“My name is neither ‘young lady’ nor ‘missy,’ and I think I see all too well.” I turned to the others. “Shaun, get up. Rick, Buffy, come on.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” demanded Tate.

“Back to our hotel, where we’ll cheerfully explain to our many readers that we have no news for them today because—after uncovering an act of criminal bioterrorism on United States soil—we were unable to attend a conference with our candidate since, oopsie, the new man on the ticket thinks the media can’t be trusted.” I smiled. “Won’t that be fun?”

“Georgia, sit down,” said Senator Ryman. He sounded exhausted. That was no surprise. “You, too, Shaun. Buffy, Rick, you can sit or not, as you prefer. And you, David, will please try to remember that these folks are the only ones who cared enough to really look at the ranch rather than writing it off as a simple outbreak. You’ll be courteous, and we’ll trust them to keep on being as they have been: perfectly reasonable and willing to work with us.”

“There’s still the matter of our recording devices, Senator,” I said, staying still.

“That was a bad decision, and I’m sorry. That being said, I’m going to stand by it for now, and ask that you allow me to conduct this meeting.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And what do we get?”

Governor Tate sputtered, growing red in the face. Senator Ryman waved him down, looking at me squarely, and said, “An exclusive interview with me, no editing, regarding what you found yesterday.”

“No deal,” said Shaun. The senator and I looked toward him, surprised. My brother was sitting up, suddenly alert. “No offense, sir, but you’re not that impressive anymore. Our readers know you. They respect you, and if you keep on the way you have been, they’ll elect you, but they won’t be razzled and dazzled by the fact that we managed to get you.”

The senator ran a hand through his hair, looking pained. “What do you want, Shaun?”

“Her.” He nodded to Emily. “We want an interview with her.”

“Absolutely n—”

“Yes,” said Emily. Her voice was weary but clear. “I’m happy to. I only wanted to be left out of things for the sake of… for the sake of my family.” Her voice broke. “That’s not a concern anymore.”

“You aren’t worried about the safety of your younger daughters?” I asked.

“They aren’t at the ranch. They have the best security in the world. They’re safe. If I can prevent people from going out and killing other people’s pets because of what happened to Rebecca and my parents, well.” She managed to muster a smile. “It’ll be worth the strain.”

Senator Ryman reached for her arm. “Emily…”

“Accepted.” I sat next to Shaun, ignoring the senator’s stricken look. “We’ll be setting up interview times with both of you later this afternoon. Now, I assume there’s a reason we’re all here?”

“The senator would like to discuss the tragic evidence of tampering that your crew discovered at his family ranch, Miss Mason,” said Governor Tate smoothly, all traces of his earlier aggravation gone. The man was a natural politician; I had to give him that, even if I wasn’t willing to let him have anything else if I could help it. “Now, I realize this may seem as if I’m questioning your journalistic integrity—”

“Hey, Rick, ever notice how dickheads only say that when they’re about to question your journalistic integrity?” asked Shaun.

“Oddly, yes,” Rick said. “It’s like a nervous twitch.”

The governor shot them a glare and continued. “Please understand that I don’t ask this for personal reasons, but simply because we need to determine the truth of the situation.”

I looked at him. “You’re wondering if somehow, to drive up our ratings, we smuggled evidence of terrorist activity through the checkpoints and managed to plant it while our own cameras were broadcasting over a live feed to an audience that can be conservatively estimated, judging by yesterday’s ratings, as being somewhere in the millions.”

“I wasn’t intending to put it in quite those—”

I held up my hand to cut him off, turning to face Senator Ryman. “Senator, you know I’ll ask this again when I’m permitted to film the exchange, but in the interests of killing this line of questioning here and now, I’m going to sacrifice spontaneity in favor of clarity. Have the lab results come back on the syringe?”

“Yes, Georgia, they have,” said the senator, jaw set in a hard line.

“Can you tell us what those results were?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to the original question,” said Tate.

“Senator?” I said.

“The contents of the syringe were determined to be a suspension of ninety-five percent live-state virus, common designation ‘Kellis-Amberlee’ or ‘KA’, isolated in iodized saline solution,” the senator said. “We’re waiting on additional information.”

“Like the viral substrain?” I asked. “Right. Governor Tate, my crew and I were several hundred miles from the ranch at the time of the outbreak at the Ryman family home, and security records will support this. Further, with the exception of Mr. Cousins, we were all traveling with the campaign for months prior to the outbreak. Mr. Cousins was traveling with the convoy of Congresswoman Wagman, who should be able to vouch for his