And there was still no pain. He asked Frecklie why his mother had suddenly acted so kind when she obviously preferred he get hit in the head with a line drive. At first the kid hesitated and Puppy’s mind jumped to a trap where the grandmother, if she really were a grandmother, would stab him in the eyes with her needles next time. My shoulder’s fine, but I can’t see home plate. But Frecklie assured him that his grandmother was very nice, he didn’t understand how his mother turned out this way, and he could only guess that Jesus had something to do with this.
That was a secret, he insisted, red-faced. So your mother prayed for me? Frecklie had mumbled it didn’t work that way even though he wasn’t sure how it worked since you didn’t see Jesus and nothing ever happened that she asked for anyway. Except it had worked for the Allahs, Puppy added, two men of the world discussing God behind home plate in a deserted stadium.
That’d freaked out Frecklie a little, mixing Jesus and God and baseball with Allahs. The kid had hesitated again, wanting to say something important, but Dale danced up the steps and into his lap. Puppy went into the clubhouse to give them time to make out. He would definitely make out in his stadium if he weren’t engaged to a ghost.
What if he slept with just one of his fans? he suddenly thought. That’d only break like three or four adultery laws. It’d been a long time between triples.
Annette angrily slid into the chair. “Talk to me, Puppy.”
The guard stirred uneasily. These crazy people were supposed to be done.
“About what?” Puppy ignored her edge. “My sensational pitching?”
“Your fiancé and Elias.” Annette tossed her hair in rhythm to her drumming, impatient fingers.
“What about them?”
“What about them?” she mocked. “Elias saw her two nights this week.” Annette threw down the hair brush. The guard moved closer.
“I think, lunatic lady, that Elias saw Dara sing.”
“Uh-huh. He got home at two this morning.” Annette’s lower lip quivered.
Puppy finally realized her point. “Honey, they’re not having an affair. Dara’s just a wonderful singer. You should come hear her.”
“I have my instincts.” Annette windmilled her arms like she was a burning tree with very expensive jewelry.
“You’re wrong.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Stop it, Annette. Elias loves you.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
Don’t tempt me. “Dara loves me. You love Elias. I love Dara. It’s like an isosceles triangle.”
“That’s three sides, idiot. This is four. Add Elias loves me. A square. Or rectangle…”
“No one cares because nothing’s going on.”
“Because it would just figure, wouldn’t it?”
“What?” he said between clenched teeth.
“That you’d pick a fiancé who’d want mine.”
Puppy bent her brush handle. “Are you suggesting that in my twisted, devious criminal mind, I found someone solely to screw up your relationship?”
“Sure seems that way.”
“You’re more insane than I thought.”
“I love him, Puppy.” She broke down. “I love him.”
The guard hovered by the table with a box of tissues, unsure if this was a clever prelude to violence.
He sighed. “I know. I’ll talk to Dara.”
“You will?” She brightened.
“Of course. It’s nothing, but appearances can be appearances. Or something.”
“So you don’t think I’m crazy?”
“I do think you’re crazy, but I don’t want you upset.”
“Thank you.” Annette pricked his thumb with a barrette.
28
Every so often, Tomas would omit an unpleasantry from his daily security report: a small protest over the quality of SC foods, an altercation between ‘bots and siblings at a bus stop, or a song whose lyrics were a mite mocking about the HG parks. He couldn’t stand not seeing Grandma smiling, optimistic. This morning reminded him why he did it.
“So no children were injured?” Grandma asked dully, her makeup not quite so careful.
Cheng shrugged. “Unless we consider the five BT plants.”
“They were orphans once, too.”
“Yes, they were. Then five deaths. The sixth…” his voice trailed off.
“Is where?” she demanded.
“We have extensive medical facilities on site.”
“I want him brought to Lebanon Hospital immediately.”
“It’s a her, originally from Norway, and that isn’t wise.”
Grandma ignored Cheng and turned to Tomas. “Do it.”
Cheng shook his head imperceptibly. “Grandma, it’d get out. The weapon was very much a Miners specialty. Someone will talk.”
“We can cover,” Tomas said.
“I don’t want any lies,” Grandma snapped.
“Then you want the truth?” Cheng exchanged an uneasy look with Stilton.
“I want nothing said. This, this,” she sputtered, squinting at the report on her lap, “Ase Pedersen had an accident during firearms training. Do it. Now.”
Grandma waited until Tomas arranged for a medcopter to bring the teenager to Lebanon Hospital; given the girl’s extensive head wounds, he doubted she’d survive. Lenora nodded grimly when Stilton finished.
“What do the prisoners say?” she asked hoarsely.
Cheng sighed. “The BTs didn’t take any survivors.”
“Why not?”
“There was a fight, ma’am. The traitors were firing SAMs.”
Her voice grew small. “The BTs made no attempt to rescue the children?”
Albert squirmed, giving Tomas pleasure. “Apparently that wasn’t an option. Policy was followed.”
Grandma turned to Tomas. “Is that so?”
Cheng reddened at the insult, but kept quiet. Stilton nodded. “Since there was no indication that the orphans were taken against their will, there was the assumption that they cooperated.”
Grandma stared so hard Tomas felt his brain dance. “The children wanted to leave?”
He hated lying to her. “Of course not. Obviously they were coerced. But the BTs, in the heat of a firefight, weren’t sure.”
“And the search for the children?”
Tomas gestured at the folder. “It’s in the…”
“I know it’s in the goddamn report, Major,” Grandma shouted. Both men flinched at the unusual rage.
“I’m sure there’ll be some ransom demands,” Cheng jumped in soothingly; Tomas tossed him a grateful look. “Let’s wait.”
“Let’s wait means you have no idea where they went.”
Cheng stiffened. “No, Lenora. We have no idea other than this was a sleeper Miners cell.”
“Because of the orange wigs they left?”
“And the rifles…”
“Which they’ve just been hiding for thirty years?”
“It’s possible.”
“Waiting for?”
Cheng stared. “Your Story must have triggered this.”
“Miners don’t march
