'I've heard a lot about you,' Ashley told Nina the truth. 'You are highly regarded.'
Nina, her eyes wandering around the chamber, said, 'I am very sorry for your loss. I mean, I feel badly for you and your son. It must be very hard for you.'
Ashley wondered how hard Trevor's death hit Nina. Were the memories and feelings truly gone, or merely suppressed? How had she taken the news of the assassination? 'I think it has been hard on all of us, but thank you for your concern.' 'Mrs. Stone-' 'Ashley.'
'Ashley, whatever you need from me, I'll do my best. I like to think that Trev-your husband-could count on me. That is, to get the job done.'
Ashley saw that the poor girl felt uneasy. The hardened warrior fidgeted and stumbled with her words. Was it possible that Captain Forest had grown fond of Trevor from a distance? What would it do to her now to find out about the year she had shared with Trevor?
Ashley told her, 'Yes, Trevor counted on you. He needs to count on you one more time.'
'Mommy!' Jorge raced over to another mirror. 'This one makes me look really funny!'
Ashley pulled a slip of paper from the pocket of her blue khakis. She handed it to Forest, who read the words printed on the ticket. 'A voucher? For the Orange Bowl in Miami?' 'You'll need Gordon Knox's help.' Nina's brow furled. 'The Director of Intelligence? He died in a fire a couple of days ago.'
Ashley smiled, a little. 'I think Gordon decided it was time to make his exit. But if he is still alive and they find out, they will try to kill him again.'
'Who?'
'Gordon gave me this ticket and told me to use it if I ever need anything. You use it. Tell him you're working on my behalf.' Tucker's shout reverberated through the fun house, 'Ma'am, are you okay in there?' 'We're fine! Jorge is playing. We'll be out in a minute.' 'I still don't know what this is all about. What do I need Knox's help with?' 'I want you to find out who was really behind Trevor's assassination.'
She could tell by Nina's expression that a million questions shot through the woman's mind, starting with the idea that the assassination had been something more than the official account. Ashley saw that while Nina Forest may be an expert soldier, she still had much to learn.
Out of those million questions, Nina focused on one: 'Why me?'
Ashley replied, 'Do this and I'll tell you the truth you've always wanted to know. I'll give you all the secrets about the year you can't remember.'
Nina Forest blinked fast but said nothing. JB tugged on the soldier's sleeve and pulled. Nina-shocked into silence-let the boy turn her to face a mirror that stretched her petite body to long and tall. Jorge giggled.
Footsteps ended the meeting. Nina-eyes still wide-disappeared toward a maintenance area and a manhole cover that led below the boardwalk. Tucker and two guards entered the hall.
'Hey, was there someone in here with you? I swear I heard voices.'
'It's a fun house, Mr. Tucker. Your imagination must have got the better of you.'
Mother and son left. Tucker stood amongst the mirrors while the other two guards followed their charges.
More than voices, he was certain he heard a name.
Nina Forest.
15. Peace Dividend
The midday June sun beat down hard on Washington D.C., but a breeze-not cool, but not quite so hot, either-blew across the roof of the White House. Dante closed his eyes and let the gust sweep over his body, enjoying a split-second's relief.
He had followed a security team to the roof as they patrolled the grounds in preparation for Evan Godfrey's big press conference. While the team moved on, Dante remained behind. At first he told himself this was simply an impulse left over from his previous post but the longer he lingered on the roof the more he realized he was really trying to hide.
From his vantage point, Dante saw a podium and chairs on a small patch of south side lawn. A few early-bird members of the press and their cameramen waited there, scribbling notes and checking equipment. Like so many of the sights these days, the one below seemed somewhat surreal; pieces of the old world re-assembling. A press corps, trade unions, vacation resorts, and even rush hour traffic at a few of the major settlements. Not nearly the size or scope as before the invasion, but eerily close.
Jones turned his eyes toward the city surrounding the White House. He spied the ragtag kiosks and carts of the markets on the Ellipse, the scarred Washington monument sticking up into a clear blue sky, and the pillars and posts marking the remains of the Jefferson memorial.
Further off loomed the corpses of buildings that died in the fires of Armageddon but alongside those skeletons worked cranes lifting beams into place and scaffolding wrapped around new construction. That process of rebirth gave Jones hope, as did the subject of the day's press conference. Hope that maybe everything he had done had indeed been for the best; that his betrayal grew from honorable intentions. A voice broadcast over the walkie- talkie attached to his belt next to his side arm. 'Hey, Dante, are you out there?' The voice belonged to Ray Roos, the new Director of Internal Security. 'Yeah, man, I'm here. I'm up on the roof. I came up here with one of the teams.' Roos chuckled, 'Say, you trying to do my job?' Dante-his eyes still staring into the distance-answered, 'Old habits die fast, I guess.' 'Well, now, the boss is expecting you down here for the big show.'
He heard the chatter among the reporters below grow but told Ray, 'I think I'll stay out of the spotlight. The view is a little better up here.'
– The Duncan Phyfe-crafted cabinets and furnishings from the late Federal period that once adorned the White House library had been pillaged or destroyed during the Hivvan occupation. Therefore, it remained one of the more incomplete rooms in the refurbished White House. Nonetheless, a portrait of George Washington remained above the neoclassical mantel and the soft gray and rose tones of the paneling gave the chamber a cozy feel.
Tory-Sharon Godfrey's eleven year old boy-stretched on the floor in one corner of the room with sneakers kicked out behind as he built a plastic model car on top of newspapers laid to protect the wood. The smell of Testor's glue permeated the air.
His mother used glue of her own as she sat at a round wooden table. Spread in front of her were clippings taken from the newspapers that now served as Tory's drop cloth. She carefully positioned one clip after another in a thick scrapbook, taking care to ensure perfect placement.
Mother and son worked in a silence punctuated by the ticking hands and grinding gears of a lighthouse clock bearing the likeness of Marquis de Lafayette on its base.
'Ah, there you are,' Evan entered the room. 'I've been looking all over for you.'
Sharon remained focused on affixing yet another memento to her scrapbook. Evan glanced over her shoulder and saw the headline EMPEROR DEAD on one page and ASSASSINATION on the other.
Sharon pressed until satisfied the glue held. To her annoyance, Evan reached in and flipped backwards through the scrapbook. The headlines flashed one after another as he traveled into the past.
CALIFORNIA INVASION OPPOSED BY RELIGIOUS COUNCIL. TREVOR STONE DEAD? EMPEROR NOT SEEN IN TWO MONTHS. WHERE IS TREVOR STONE? EVAN GODFREY CHOSEN PRESIDENT OF THE IMPERIAL SENATE. STONE GIVES IN: SENATE TO BE ELECTED. SLAUGHTER AT NEW WINNABOW.
Evan stopped paging and sighed. 'What's wrong, my dear? You don't approve of my collection?'
'When you said you and Tory would be in the library, I thought you would be spending time with him before he heads off to summer camp. But you're too busy collecting scalps.'
Tory did not have to be asked to leave, he instinctively knew, abandoning the unfinished model as he searched for a new place to play. It was a big house, after all. Plenty of places for a child to get lost. 'My son is my business.' 'But you are my business, Sharon. Tell me, what will you do now?' 'I don't understand,' she replied while thumbing through the memories as if perusing her high school yearbook.
'Who will you hate now, my love? All these years you've fixated on the fall of our beloved Emperor in revenge for what he did to your home and your father. He's been vanquished, but one look at you and I can see that the hate has not diminished.'
