Hidden Agendas

'Bet you wouldn't call it that if it was your leg.'

Howard grinned.

'Outstanding, Colonel! Congratulations. Please pass it on to your team.'

'Thank you, sir, I will. We'll see you at field HQ soon as we get things cleaned up here.'

'I'm on my way there now,' Michaels said.

Howard frowned. 'Sir? You aren't there yet?'

'I, uh, took a little ride in the country,' Michaels said. 'I picked up a… hitchhiker you might find it interesting to talk to when you get back.'

'Sir?'

'Never mind, Colonel, I'll explain it when I see you. You got us out of a nasty spot and I appreciate it. I'll make sure the whole country appreciates it.'

'Sir. Discom.'

After he signed off, Howard considered his relationship with Commander Alexander Michaels. The man wasn't bad, for a civilian. Not bad at all.

'Can we hurry this up and go home, sir?' Fernandez said. 'I have an early tango lesson I don't want to miss.'

Howard laughed.

Chapter Nineteen

Monday, December 27th, 1:30p.m. Washington, D.C.

Tyrone Howard thought he might just go nova, might just shatter into a million billion pieces.

He sat on Bella's bed, his arms around her, and they kissed. Everything he knew about kissing she had taught him in the last couple of months, and he thought he was starting to get the hang of it. Her back felt hot under his hands, even through her shirt, and there wasn't a strap across her smooth skin…

She broke the kiss and let out a big sigh. 'You have to leave now, Tyrone. I'm supposed to go to my aunt's house and we have to lift in like ten minutes. I have to change clothes.'

'Uh-huh,' he said. He leaned in and kissed her again. That went on for another minute or two. She leaned back.

'Really, Tyrone. I have to go.'

'Uh-huh.' He kissed her some more. It wasn't as if she was trying real hard to get away, given as how she had her hands on the back of his head pulling him closer.

Finally, she pulled away again and said, 'I'll see you at the mall tomorrow, you duplicate?'

'Uh-huh. I doop that.' He reached for her, but this time she put one hand on his chest and held him off. 'Come on, Ty.'

'Okay.' He blew out a breath. 'Okay. But it's hard to leave.'

'I bet it is,' she said, smiling. 'Here, let me make it easier for you.' She took his hand in both hers, kissed it on the palm, then pressed it against her left breast.

His mouth fell open, his brain went into vapor lock, he forgot how to breathe. His bug eyes must make him look like a giant frog.

It was the most exciting moment of his life.

She moved his hand away from her warmth and gave it back to him. She grinned real big and stood. 'Shoo. Go.' She waved at him with both hands in a sweeping motion.

He stood, knowing what a zombie must feel like. He would jump off the top of a tall building if she wanted.

Explode. He was going to just… blow up and splatter all over the room. It would make a big, gooey mess. How could he not? He couldn't stand it!

Monday, December 27th, 2:00 p.m. Quantico, Virginia

Julio Fernandez was in what passed for the infirmary at HQ. It wasn't much, just a few beds in a small ward, and he was the only patient. He lay on the bed flipping through the commercial entcom channels on the TV, looking for something that would keep his attention. He didn't need to be here. Doc had swabbed out the little hole in his leg and patched it with synskin, then given him a tetanus shot and told him to avoid heavy squats or marathon running for a few days. But Net Force policy was that certain injuries required compulsory treatment, which in the case of gunshot wounds meant at least a twenty-four-hour medical observation period. It had to do with liability and insurance and crap like that. He wasn't going to sue anybody. He knew that, the colonel knew it, but a lot of people sued a lot of other people these days — there were more lawyers in D.C. than there were roaches — so they'd stuck him in bed, started an IV with antibiotics, and given him the television remote. They'd also given him one of those short, open-up-the-back hospital gowns.

He looked at the time sig on the TV screen. He'd come back from the raid and been examined at noon. So he was stuck here until noon tomorrow. Boredom and cafeteria food loomed and threatened. Jesus.

A nurse came in, and with her was the colonel. He grinned real big.

'Very funny, sir. Wait until the next time you get shot.'

'Not my policy, Sergeant Fernandez. I don't make the rules, I just do what they tell me.'

The colonel sat on the foot of the bed and glanced up at the tube. 'Anything good on?'

'Best things are reruns of I Love Lucy and trash sports. I just saw the middleweight North American sumo winner — he goes maybe one-eighty, two-hundred — beat the heavyweight — a fat guy pushing seven hundred pounds. Big guy came roaring in, the little guy stepped aside and tripped him. Fatso fell out of the ring, shook the camera he hit so hard.'

'David and Goliath,' Howard said. 'There is a precedent.'

'David cheated, he used a sling.'

'Goliath had a sword.'

'Yeah, and only a fool brings a knife to a gunfight.'

'How's the leg?'

'Fine. I could take you on the obstacle course right now.'

'Uh-huh. I'd almost rather be doing that than going home.'

'Your mother-in-law still there?'

'Until next Sunday.'

'Serves you right. Sir.'

'I stopped by the office on the way over here. Seems there was a complaint about you from one of the civilian instructors in the feeb unit. Did you know that you were ‘vicious, brutal, perhaps even psychotic'? A man unfit for Net Force service, and a man who was very likely a threat to public safety?'

'Yes, sir, I believe that pretty much sums me up.'

'What did you do to this Horowitz, Sarge?'

'I leaned on his desk and told him he should think less about posturing and more about doing his job.'

'Lord, Sergeant, how do you expect to get away with such behavior? What kind of savage are you?'

'An unrepentant one, sir.'

'Well, I will send word to Mr. Horowitz that I have taken his counsel and disciplined you appropriately.' Howard reached over and took the TV remote, pointed it over his shoulder at the wall-mounted set, and clicked the power off. 'No television for the next hour, Sergeant.'

'I thought the idea was punishment, sir.'

Both men grinned.

* * *

By the time she got back to HQ, Joanna Winthrop knew the party was over. The terrorists had been taken down, the stolen plutonium recovered, and the only thing she had to do now was figure out who had gotten into her workstation and used it to give the Sons of Whoever the information about the shipments.

But somebody had told her that Julio Fernandez had been shot and was in the infirmary and so, instead, she bought a small vase of flowers and went to see him.