Markhaus studied her, as the rest of the room shifted angrily. Uncomfortably. "So let me understand," he said. "All these people calling, all this chaos going on. People needing information, needing whatever it is--what did you call it, bandwidth?"
Kerry nodded.
"Who decides what takes priority?" the woman asked. "I know my offices were down. Why weren't they considered?"
"I make those decisions," Kerry stated. "Based on a set of priorities we catalog and adjust to fit the circumstances."
"You?" Markhaus asked.
"Me." Kerry's green eyes took on just a hint of wry amusement. "Now, let's not get too dramatic about it. We're a very large company. We have a very large number of contracts and customers and worldwide resources. We handle minor emergencies all the time. We plan for this." She paused. "We know what the priorities are."
"I am very disturbed." Cynthia Stuart came out from behind the table and joined Kerry. "Kerrison and her colleagues performed amazingly yesterday. I heard quite some parts of what they were doing. They deserve our thanks not this horrific inquisition."
"Cynthia, we just--" Markhaus waved a hand. "Please."
"Please nothing." Kerry's mother frowned at him. "I am sorry I asked Kerrison to appear here. I am even sorrier that I confided how competent her staff was yesterday. You make me very ashamed, as though you asked me to do this so you could take out your frustrations, our frustrations, on my daughter."
"Maybe we did," Markhaus agreed. "Welcome to the Hill." He didn't look apologetic at all. "You're damn right I'm frustrated. Standing up in front of the rest of the world with my pants around my ankles makes me that way."
"Then why not take that out on someone who deserves it?" Cynthia asked. "It seems to me that we have spent the day in ridiculous debate about how terrible this was, and we have not even discussed the fact that someone allowed it to happen."
Go Mom. Kerry eyed her mother with wry surprise.
Markhaus grunted, and shook his head.
"The question is," the woman next to her spoke up, but in a quieter tone. "Why did they know so much, and no one else seemed to?" She eyed Kerry briefly. "I didn't mean to be rude."
Kerry altered her body posture, removing her hands from her hips and sticking them in her pockets instead. "Well," she said. "It's called Information Technology for a reason. Knowing what's going on is what my business is. We have a good communication plan, we all speak the same language, and we're used to passing data to each other without the constraints of different agencies, different politics, or different chains of command."
Markhaus grunted. "Probably got a point there," he admitted. "I just heard the police and firemen in Manhattan couldn't even talk to each other because their radios were incompatible."
Everyone got quiet again.
"Did you hear, on CNN earlier, those sounds?" the woman asked. "All those chirps, from the firefighter's pagers they said."
Kerry let her eyes drop to the ground, as the silence lengthened after that. She jerked a little then when her cell phone buzzed softly, and she looked up in apology before she removed it form her belt. "I'm sorry, excuse me."
Mark's cell phone. "Hey." Kerry kept her voice low. "What's up?" She moved away from the now whispering Senators, and turned her back to them.
"Hey." Mark sounded subdued. "Listen, I was just listening in on the bridge. They found our big guy in NY."
"Bob? Where?" Kerry murmured.
Mark hesitated. "He's um--he didn't make it."
Kerry's heart sank. "Damn." She exhaled. "Does Dar know?"
"She was on the bridge," Mark said. "She went to go tell the big cheese. The NY people are pretty slammed."
"Damn it," Kerry sighed. "He and Alastair were good friends."
"Yeah," Mark murmured. "How's it going there?"
"I'm about to kick box a few senators and get my ass thrown in jail," Kerry admitted. "Tell Dar to bring cash."
That got a tiny laugh out of Mark. "Hey, listen. Good news is they got the Newark E up. Birds are synced, and I'm doing some bandwidth hacking while I wait for power here."
"Good job, Mark." Kerry sighed, and glanced over her shoulder. Some of the people were moving toward the door, and she realized the session seemed to be over. "Let me wrap this up, and I'll get back to you. The boss said she'd be heading out here tonight."
"Woo fucking hoo. I'll be glad to see her," Mark said.
"Me too," Kerry agreed. "Me too," she repeated, closing the cell phone. She turned and walked back to where her mother was standing, talking to Senator Markhaus. "Sorry."
"Is everything all right, Kerry?" her mother asked. "You look upset."
Kerry gazed past them. "One of our people in New York was killed in the attack," she said. "They just confirmed it."
"Oh dear. I'm so sorry." Cynthia put her hand on Kerry's shoulder. "Was it someone you knew well?"
"No." She shook her head. "But we've been trying to support our people there, and it's very hard news for them." Her eyes flicked to the door. "Are we done here?"
"For now," Senator Markhaus said. "Nice bit of fencing, by the way. Quoting your father back at me." He studied her coolly. "Wonder what he'd say if he'd heard you do that."
Kerry stared right back at him. "He'd tell you not to piss me off." She glanced at her mother. "Excuse me. I'll wait outside." She eased past them and made for the door, twitching her jacket across her shoulders as she cleared it and went out.
"Was that called for, Alan?" Cynthia asked. "Please don't expect me to ask Kerry to come in here again."
Markhaus put his hands in his pockets, regarding the now empty doorframe. "Interesting kid," he said. "Turned out more like him than he ever dreamed," he said. "He'd have popped a button listening to her tell us off like that."
"Kerry has quite a temper," her mother agreed. "But in this case, I agree with her. She did our country good service, and was rewarded with accusations and your mean tongue. Why not turn that on your dear friends in the administration instead? Is it just so much easier to yell at a young woman?"
Markhaus gave her a sour look.
"Perhaps Roger was right." Cynthia straightened up. "We are ruled by fools and cowards. Fortunately for me, my daughter is neither." She turned and marched out, slamming the door with a resounding bang behind her.
DAR SAT QUIETLY in the chair in Kerry's office, listening to the quiet conversation on the speaker phone. Across the desk from her, Alastair was crouched, leaning forward toward the phone with his head resting on both fists.
She'd had to deliver bad news more than once in her lifetime, but usually it was bad news of an impersonal sort. Telling Alastair about Bob's death had been anything but impersonal. It made her feel sad, and angry all over again at the senselessness of it all.
Her guts were in knots. She could see how upset Alastair really was, though his expression was merely somber and his voice even as he spoke into the phone to the devastated New York office.
"They're sure, John?" Alastair said.
"Yes, boss," a somber voice came back. "I got a call from St. Vincent's. They thought they were going to get swamped, but they didn't. Only a few--ah. Anyway, one of the doctors there knew him."
"Damn it."
"Most of the people here are in the big room. They're pretty upset. I came in the conference room to talk to you," John Brenner added. "I think we're all still in shock."
Alastair sighed. "Has anyone called his family?"
"No sir."
Dar watched her boss's face tense into a grimace, and she felt a wallop of sympathy for him. She'd known Bob in a casual way, met him once or twice, and argued with him extensively, but Alastair had been a personal friend.
"All right. I will," Alastair said. "Damn, I'm sorry to hear it. John, is there anything I can do for the folks there? I know they must be taking it hard."