He stood, and she smiled and took his hand as he helped her to her feet. He’s mine, she thought…mine.
She felt a little dizzy as she got to her feet — one glass of whiskey, after a half day of skipping meals preparing for this trip, was doing her in. After she dealt with Hunter Noble, she vowed to treat herself and Colleen to a late-night supper in the suite and toast her success. First Gardner, then McLanahan, and now this studly hard-body military astronaut.
“May I help you in any way, Miss Gilliam?” her waitress Jesse asked, appearing as if out of nowhere. She reached out as if to help steady her.
“No thank you, Jesse, I’m fine,” Barbeau said. She watched as Martin came over and looked as if he was going to physically restrain Noble, who was discreetly following her, but she raised a hand. “Mr. Noble and I are going to take a walk together,” she said. “Thank you, Martin.”
“If you need anything, Miss Gilliam, just pick up a phone or give a signal — we’ll be right there,” Martin said.
“Thank you so much. I’m having a wonderful time,” Barbeau said gaily. She tipped him fifty dollars, then headed for the door. Hunter opened the door for her; Martin took the door from him, and she noticed him giving Noble a stern warning glare…and he didn’t tip him either. Well, she thought, maybe “Playgirl’s” reputation was wearing a bit thin in here. That would be another weakness of his to explore if he didn’t cooperate.
They walked together without talking until reaching the elevator, and then she took him by his slender waist, pulled him closer, and kissed him deeply. “I’ve wanted to do this ever since I first saw you,” she said, pressing herself tightly against him. He whispered something in return, but the music in the elevator seemed a little loud, and she couldn’t hear him.
At their floor they were met by a floor attendant. “Welcome, Mr. Noble, Miss Gilliam,” she said brightly, obviously notified by the ever-present hotel security system of their arrival. “Is there anything I can do for you tonight? Anything at all?”
“No, I’ve got this one all taken care of myself,” Barbeau heard herself say, reaching down between his legs and stroking him. “But if you’d care to join us a little later, sugar, that’d be fine, just fine.” And then she heard herself giggle. Did she just giggle? That Southern Comfort was hitting her harder than she thought. Never party on an empty stomach, she reminded herself.
As she passed Colleen’s room she pretended like she stumbled a bit and banged into her door just to give her a warning that she was back, and then they were at the door to the suite. “You just relax and let me do the drivin’ for now, big boy,” she said, starting to untuck his shirt from his pants even before he had the door open. “I’ll show you how we like to party down on the bayou.”
“Why haven’t you answered my calls, Gardner?” President Leonid Zevitin thundered. “I’ve been trying for hours.”
“I’ve got my own problems, Leonid,” President Joseph Gardner said. “As if you hadn’t noticed, I’ve got to deal with a little mutiny over here.”
“Gardner, McLanahan has bombed Mashhad, Iran!” Zevitin cried. “He’s destroyed several Russian transports and killed hundreds of men and women! You said he would be forced under control! Why haven’t you dealt with him yet?”
“I’ve been briefed about the attack,” Gardner said. “I’ve also been briefed about the target — an anti-spacecraft laser that was supposedly used to shoot down one of our spaceplanes. Wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Leonid? What were all those Russian personnel and transports doing in Mashhad?”
“Don’t change the subject!” Zevitin shouted. “The Duma is going to meet soon, and they’re going to recommend a permanent change in military posture, including a call-up of ready reserves, mobilization of the army and strategic air forces, and dispersal of mobile ballistic missiles and submarine forces. Was this your plan all along, Gardner — have McLanahan act crazy, attacking targets all over the planet, and forcing us to respond as if we are going to fight a world war? Because this is exactly what it looks like!”
“You think I’m conspiring with McLanahan? The guy is nuts! He’s completely out of control! He’s attacked American military forces, taken over a top secret military base, and stolen several highly classified aircraft and weapons. No one has any contact with him for almost half a day — we think he might have committed suicide on the space station.”
Well, Zevitin thought, that was the best news he’s heard in a long time. “No one will believe any of this,” he told Gardner. “You have got to give me something to tell my Cabinet and the leaders in the Duma, Joe, or this thing could spin out of control. How did he do that attack on Mashhad, Joe?”
“It’s a thing they call ‘netrusion,’ Leonid,” Gardner said. Zevitin’s eyes widened in surprise — the American President was actually going to tell him! “Some of McLanahan’s aircraft and spacecraft have a system where they can not only jam radar and communications, but actually insert bogus code and signals into an enemy system. They can reprogram, crash, or control computers, invade networks, inject viruses, all that egghead shit.”
“This is astounding!” Zevitin exclaimed. Yes — astounding that you’re telling me all this! “That’s how the bombers made it over Mashhad?”
“They made the air defenses around the city react to false targets,” Gardner said. “The air defense guys apparently shut down their missile systems so they wouldn’t shoot at stuff that wasn’t there, and that let the bombers slip in. McLanahan also hacked into their encrypted radio transmissions and gave them false orders, which allowed the bombers to locate and attack the laser site.”
“If all this is true, Joe, then we must put a deal in place to share this technology,” Zevitin said, “or at least pledge not to use it except in time of declared war. Can you imagine if this technology got into the wrong hands? It could devastate our economies! We could be thrown back into the Stone Age in a flash!”
“It’s all McLanahan’s geeks at Dreamland coming up with this stuff,” Gardner said. “I’m going to shut Dreamland down and have that bastard McLanahan shot. I think he’s left the space station and is back at Dreamland. He’s ignored my orders and done what he pleases for too long. I’ve got a friend, a powerful senator, who’s going to try to bring McLanahan out in the open, and when she does I’ll nail his ass to my wall.”
“Who is the senator, Joe?”
“I’m not ready to divulge the name.”
“It will lend credibility to my arguments before the Duma, Joe.”
There was a bit of a pause; then: “Senator Stacy Anne Barbeau, the majority leader. She went to Dreamland to try to meet with McLanahan or Luger to try to defuse this situation.”
He’s got the Senate majority leader spying for him? This couldn’t be better. Zevitin’s mind was racing ahead. Dare he suggest it…? “You don’t want to do that, Joe,” he said carefully. “You don’t want to expose yourself or Barbeau any further. McLanahan is a very popular man in your country, is he not?”
“Yes, unfortunately he is.”
“Then let me propose this idea, Joe: as over the Black Sea and over Iran, let us do the deed for you.”