I nodded; oblivion was a pleasant option. I shut my eyes, and waited.
Excerpt from Letourneau's main page. August 25, 2076
CLASSIC!
I'm not surprised to find Rabbi-Senator Grey resorting to character assassination during these last few months of the presidential campaign. When this campaign was focused on the issues, Grey's popularity was in the toilet. Seeing this, he began to systematically attempt to tear down my good name.
Let me take this opportunity to remind the people what the Letourneau platform stands for: we support the expansion of the LINK. Those of you who have toured the Letourneau future have seen what our nation can become if we release restrictions on LINK-businesses. We have supported American businesses by opposing a direct union with Christendom. However, we would like to forge an economic tie to the Vatican that would strengthen the Free Credit and encourage the flow of Christendom and Islam credits into the American free marketplace.
The Grey platform is a bleeding-heart platform. My opponent wants to funnel US money to those godless ones who are outside of the LINK. He is obsessed with real time to the detriment of the foundation that our economic power is based on – the LINK. I want to concentrate on the issues that will strengthen us in the global economy, Grey wants to turn inward and gaze at our collective belly button.
I refuse to be goaded by Grey's immoral behavior.
Secular presidential candidates often employed these kinds of mud-slinging tactics before this great nation saw the light and became a theocratic republic.
I do not need to prove myself to anyone. It is clear that I exist. I am a duly elected senator from Colorado, and for the last two years I have been the Senate Majority Leader. Moreover, God has chosen me.
Grey has pointed to my lack of need for human trappings such as a dentist or a doctor, and I say, this is further proof that I am what the LINK-angels have said I was ... My body is a temple, a spotless, flawless temple.
Open your hearts. Pray for guidance. God will answer: Vote Letourneau.
Chapter 21
"Martyrdom, Deidre?" A familiar voice drawled, "Doesn't really seem your style, somehow."
I opened my eyes to see Morningstar's hand over the hammer of the pistol. Mouse's brown face looked gray, but he still held on to the gun with whitened knuckles.
"Allah protect me," Mouse said.
Morningstar said something in another language – judging from Mouse's expression, it was probably Arabic. Though I didn't understand Morningstar's words, the tone was clearly a warning.
Mouse's eyes narrowed. Straightening his back, he asked, "Oh yeah? And who the fuck are you?"
"My deus ex machina, apparently." I sighed, my shoulders relaxing. "Interesting timing, Morningstar."
"Morningstar? The Mafia guy?" Mouse asked. The two of them were a study in contrast: Morningstar in his Armani suit and Mouse in his ragged street clothes.
"I'm surprised the two of you don't know each other," I said.
"Do we look like we hang out in the same circles?" Morningstar said, wrestling the gun from Mouse with a sudden jerking motion. He pointed the barrel at Mouse, "Run back to your hole, little rodent. The lady and I have things to discuss."
Having regained his composure, Mouse's eyes narrowed as though he were considering the merits of Morningstar's demand.
"What are you waiting for?" Morningstar flicked the gun in a shooing motion. "Get your tail in gear."
"Okay." Mouse shrugged. He rested one hand on the doorknob to my office. "Just let me get my things."
"There's someone in there," I said, certain.
A cold smile spread across Mouse's lips. "An ambush? You must really think the worst of me. I just want my duffel bag."
Morningstar snapped his arm taut, and the gun hovered inches from Mouse's face. "I don't remember offering you a choice," Morningstar said. "But, I will now: go or die."
Mouse raised his hand off the doorknob and lifted both arms in surrender. "No problem," he said, backing up. "I'm gone."
"Good," Morningstar said with a sneer. "I never liked rats."
Mouse nodded. His lips pressed tight, as though he wanted to trade insults, but thought better off it. To me he said, "We'll finish what we started, Dee."
"I don't think so, Mouse," I said flatly. "Apparently God has other plans for me, and He wants me alive."
"Insh'allah," Mouse said, reaching the door. Our eyes stayed locked until he slipped behind the oak panel and out into the street.
I glanced at Morningstar. "Michael was supposed to be close at hand. How'd you end up here?"
"Michael is afraid of power. Power corrupts, don't you know? If he was willing to use a miracle or two now and again, he could have known you were in trouble." Morningstar cocked his head at me, curiously. "So, you see me doing God's work, do you?"
I shrugged, picking up the helmet from where it had rolled during the scuffle. "Aren't you?"
He nodded, but kept his mysterious smile. "Sometimes pain is a good teacher." Jerking his chin in the direction Mouse had fled, he asked, "Should I have killed him, you think?"
"I don't know," I said, honestly. Shaking the plaster dust out of my hair, I added, "He doesn't seem like much of a threat, does he? But he might just be counting on that, you know? That no one takes him seriously."
"Well, I take ambush seriously." Morningstar waved the gun in the direction of the office. "You said there were others?" I nodded. His chestnut brown eyes flashed with mischievousness. "Then, we should take care of them, shouldn't we?"
Edging along the wall toward the door, Morningstar held the gun pointed toward the ceiling with his finger, I was glad to notice, off the trigger. When he stood in front of the door, he raised his foot.
"Wait. It's open!" I shouted, as the force of Morningstar's blow sent the door swinging back against the wall with a bang. I shook my head. Between the bullet hole in the hall and the smashed door, there was no way I'd be getting my security deposit back for this place.
Morningstar leapt dramatically into the room, swinging the gun this way and that. I peeked around the edge of the doorway in time to see the last of Mouse's heavies, who looked preteen, scurry out the open window onto the fire escape.
"Damn." Morningstar sighed, dropping his arms. "I was so looking forward to a fight."
"You could always run after him," I said dismissively, half-hoping he would. I walked over to my desk, laid my helmet down, and shrugged out of the backpack. Everything seemed to be where I left it. I straightened the picture of Eion and smoothed out a few of the hard-copy sheets that poked out from under the blotter. I looked up from the inspection of my desk to see Morningstar eyeing me curiously.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" I asked.
"God's work, as you said." Morningstar tucked the gun in his waistband. "We can't have angel-baby splattered all over the wall, now can we?"
I froze. My heart ticked against my eardrums. I looked up from my desk to see Morningstar grinning broadly at me. "You know about the baby?"
Morningstar leaned against the window frame. "God and I are still very tight. Unlike some."
"Liar", I said through clenched teeth.
Despite my accusation, he seemed unflustered. "So many people call me that. I suppose it's because it's easier to think of the painful truth as a lie." Morningstar arched a thin, red eyebrow. "But, I'm curious. Which part do you imagine incorrect: the fact that I'm still allowed in heaven, or that Michael is not as close to God as he once was?"