"I had so much hope for you, Dee. You were the best." His voice dropped to almost a whisper. When I looked down, his stony expression had cracked slightly. When he saw me looking at him, he pointed at me. "You were smart enough to know better than to cross certain lines. You don't fuck with loyalty and expect to stay in the force."
I shook my head. "Loyalty? That's what it was about for you? Listen to yourself, Al. I notice you didn't mention justice."
"This is the real world, kid. You were too damned idealistic to survive on the force. Grow up, why don't you?" The finger that had been pointing at me now jabbed at the box. The time display scrolled across the screen, followed by caller ID, and then, finally, the fax light flashed. His frown deepened. Suddenly, his hand got really large and distorted, then the screen went dark. For a second, I thought he actually managed to find the off switch, until I heard him dejectedly mutter, "Aw, hell."
I realized he'd just flipped the phone over, so that the fiber-optic camera faced his desk. The line was still open, and I used the opportunity to foil his parting shot. "You were like a father to me, Al. A little loyalty from you might've been nice."
New York Times excerpt from 2075.
PARTNER EXCOMMUNICATED: Pope likens McMannus to Jezebel
The Vatican issued a surprise announcement today excommunicating Catholic Deidre McMannus, former partner of Pope-killer Daniel Fitzpatrick. The brief statement from the newly elected Pope Elijah I said, "Statements made by McMannus at Christendom court have shown her to be a nonbeliever and a temptress of men." The statement included virtual replay of McMannus's admittance that she invited Fitzpatrick back to her place despite the fact that she knew him to be a married man, and her sworn testimony that she agreed with Fitzpatrick's controversial assessment of the invalidity of the LINK-angels.
Though absolved of any connection to the murder of the Pope, McMannus has been under heavy scrutiny in Christendom and beyond for her extraneous interviews and commentary. Vatican spokesperson Cardinal Jacob Creed said, "I really doubt there's anything that woman believes in."
The Times caught up with McMannus at her apartment moments after the announcement was made. "Those bastards!" McMannus said. "Don't they know what this will do to me? How am I supposed to maintain religious accreditation?" [LINK here for virtual replay]
Religious scholar Dr. Jesus Martinez of the American Catholic university, Georgetown, was equally surprised at the Vatican's decision. "This is really not precedented," he said in a LINKed interview. "The Vatican rarely issues excommunication orders. As far as I can see, Deidre McMannus has done nothing that would normally call for excommunication."
LINK opinion polls, however, seem to think that the justice meted out by the Vatican is perfectly appropriate. "Let her rot, I say," harryll435@LINK.com posted today on the hot-LINK discussion group devoted to following the Pope murder trial. "She's a complete bitch."
On the same discussion group, Wiccan High Priestess Sapphire Whitewater publicly offered McMannus an invitation to convert. "McMannus is precisely the kind of woman my coven is looking for. Strong, self-reliant, and daring. Some might call those the qualities of a bitch, but I say they are the qualities of a witch."
McMannus has not yet replied to Whitewater's offer.
Chapter 3
The loyalty bit from Al really stung. Daniel shot the Pope in broad daylight in front of a thousand spectators. There was very little anyone could say in his defense. The prosecution was less concerned about the events of the shooting, since they were caught on 3-D cam and hardly arguable, but whether or not Daniel had premeditated the murder.
I was the character witness that backfired. My testimony proved that Daniel had been acting strangely, more secretive, before the murder, and though I'd made a case that I thought it had to do with problems at home, the prosecution could care less. For them, his odd behavior was enough.
Most damning of all was the fact that Daniel had hit on me, sexually speaking, the night before. His advances weren't entirely unwanted, but certainly out of character, not to mention a bit rough, for Daniel.
When the defense tried for insanity, I trumped them there as well. I pointed out that Daniel had been cognizant of right and wrong the night before – he'd stopped when I said "no" loud enough.
I shook my head. It was true that I was a liability to Daniel's case, but I didn't deserve to be branded disloyal to the force. All I had done was tell the truth. Then, when the Pope excommunicated me, he suggested that, by being attractive to Daniel, I was the seductress and somehow an instigator in the whole mess. The media immediately started calling me Jezebel. That was all the excuse the department needed to gather my walking papers. My infamy was a media nightmare for the force. Even now, a year later, my face never left the newscasts for long. In this era of religiously dominated politics, I'd inspired a strange, if loyal, fan base.
The tubes diverged as traffic detoured around the construction of a ten-story Jesus that would house the main offices of the Lamb of God church. Under the scaffolding, I could see the outline of Christ's features. It struck me how sad his eyes looked, staring out at the tangled skyline of New York. In his hands, a neon sign proudly proclaimed forty thousand served.
"McChrist," I muttered, pointing my car toward the down-ramp. I lost Michael for a second as he entered the service tunnel to the skyway. I quickly turned onto an up-ramp, and began to follow the tube circling the building. With my luck, Michael would hop an express to the hundred and fifty-first level; it would take me months to get up that far. Then, out of the driver's side window of my battered Chevy, I spotted him clearly. He stepped into the walkway and was making his way to Margie's, the local lunch counter favored by cops on this level.
I continued the circle around until I came to a car park across from Margie's. I waved my credit counter in front of the automated lot attendant. As much as that would hurt my pocketbook, I was glad to be on solid ground again. The shaky tubing had made my nerves raw.
When I reached a good spot inside the lot, I pulled out my binoculars. A couple of guys greeted Michael when he came in, but he sat alone at a table by the window. The waitress certainly gave Michael the onceover. I couldn't blame the girl. She didn't seem to treat him like a regular, however. Then, again, it could be her shy flirtation was just part of their weekly routine.
My stomach growled. I reached across the dashboard, and unwrapped a fat-free cupcake. As I bit into it, I tried to pretend it was the food being delivered to Michael's table. After two disgusting bites of the cupcake, I had to give up. I tossed the sorry excuse for a pastry into the backseat, wrapping and all. Frustrated and wholly unsatisfied, I glared at Michael.
I rubbed the dust on the window with my sleeve, squinting at Michael through the smeared glass. I sat up sharply. Someone approached his table. Michael gestured at the empty seat. This guy didn't look much like a cop, although he was certainly wide and tall enough. I might've guessed him to be a soldier, but his coppery red hair was shoulder-length and unruly. Despite the warm weather, he wore a long brown trench coat, the kind under which a person could conceal almost any type of weapon. Beneath the coat, a smooth silk shirt peeked out. The whole ensemble would've made the Klein Fashion Empire green with envy. It was quite trendy-looking, although a bit upscale for a cop's friend.
It was times like this when I seriously missed the LINK. I might have been able to snag the stranger's retina, even at this distance. Then, I'd have a solid lead. Looking around the deserted car park, I sighed. This gig sucked. My stomach growled again and reminded me that there was, at least, decent food inside ait Margie's.