Taker (3 page)

Cold Sores as Weapons

N
icole and Jason
continued to talk as though they’d been dating forever, but Ben was too deep in his own thoughts to process what they were saying. He knew he was the guy who never had anything witty to say until hours later. And he’d never been able to get the type of joy from Nicole that he saw in her eyes when she looked at Jason. What was even more frustrating for Ben was that the more Jason said stupid things, the cuter Nicole seemed to find him. That made no sense at all.

Deep down, Ben had known what getting up to go to the bathroom would mean. But he had to get away. Ben excused himself and walked toward the bathrooms, but nobody noticed.

There was a line from the plane’s bathroom to the aisle, and all the while standing in it, Ben had felt torn — half glad not to be playing fifth wheel to Nicole and the guy who’d introduced himself as Jason, the other half of him annoyed by Jason muscling in.

As he made his way back along the aisles, Ben felt a new twinge of annoyance: Jason wasn’t standing in the aisle; he was making himself comfortable in Ben’s seat. That was bad enough, but would he move if asked? Ben had studiously avoided this kind of scenario at school, chiefly by scarfing his lunch quickly, or by taking a corner table in the cafeteria with less-threatening people wherever possible.

Drawing himself up as he’d seen cowboys and certain animals do, Ben approached Nicole and Jason with what he hoped was a little alpha swagger to his stride. As he reached them, Nicole was laughing raucously at a joke her new companion had made. Her eyes were sparkling in a way Ben hadn’t seen before. Why didn’t she ever look at him that way?

“Excuse me.”

Ben stared down at Jason, who turned his blue eyes innocently upward. Ben felt irritated just looking at his face. He gestured at the seat, his point made.

Jason’s face suddenly broke into an honest expression of shock.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. My bad,” Jason said, lifting his can of soda off Ben’s tablet. This was almost too much for Ben — monopolizing Nicole
and
using his tablet as a coaster?

Amy, amused at what was happening to Ben, held a fixed expression of delight, and she decided it was time to introduce Jason to the rest of the “family.”

“Well, hello there. We haven’t been introduced.” She held out her hand to Jason. He shook it.

“Jason.”

“Jason. Sweet. I’m Amy, Nix’s BFF.”

Nicole winced as she moved to give Jason and Amy room for greetings. As anticipated, the flight was having an adverse effect on her leg wound. She caught a look of concern on Jason’s face, and, trying to shrug off her pain, made a more casual effort when she sat back down.

“You OK?” He placed his hand on her arm. The effect was of a small firework going off and tingling through every vein. She had to take a pause before replying with a near-frantic nod.

Jason kept his hand on her arm. It gave Nicole a moment of hope.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

Nicole then turned to Ben, and her expression changed. It wasn’t the way she looked at Jason. Nicole looked at Ben the way Ben’s sister would when asking him for a big favor.

“Is it OK if Jason sits here? Just for a little bit?”

“Sure,” was all Ben could say.

Jason handed Ben his tablet, still paused on the opening of
Game of Thrones
. “Oh, these are yours, too,” Jason said as he gathered up Ben’s headphones and the tablet’s various cords. As if that were all Ben had to be concerned about.

For a moment, Ben just stood there holding his tablet uselessly. If he could have crawled away, he would have, but instead he aimed for the nearest empty aisle seat a few rows up and plunked himself down, defeated.

The guy sitting by the window glanced over at him briefly and then stared back out the window.

“This OK? I didn’t see anyone here on takeoff?”

“Yeah. Whatever.” The man looked at him again.

Ben noticed beads of sweat on the man’s balding head. Nervous flyer, perhaps?

“My wife. She didn’t come,” the man added.

“Oh. Sorry.”

The guy shrugged and turned back to the window.

Ben could still hear Nicole and Jason’s voices above the hum of the jet engines. Jason was explaining to Nicole how, the previous Christmas, he had managed to play off his two sets of parents to end up with not one but two tablets. This was the second tablet, which had been stowed safely in his friend’s bag. Living with his mom and her new partner in D.C., he spent holidays with his dad and stepmom and her kids in Florida.

It was a little hard for Ben to be mad at Jason. He seemed like an OK guy. There was an edge of humility to his voice, and he spoke so fondly of his new, blended family. Nicole was clearly getting to like his combination of quirky charm and caring.

Feeling more than a little sorry for himself, Ben plugged in his headphones and resolved to tune out what was happening between Nicole and Jason a few rows back. He started watching
Game of Thrones
and let himself zone out. The man by the window seemed frozen in a thoughtless stare out past the airplane’s wing and into the horizon.

Minutes later, Ben felt a sudden tingle of sharp pain on his lip, and he jolted back from his tablet, accidentally nudging the man. Ben looked back toward Nicole’s row to try to see what was happening. A tall, slender blond girl was talking to Jason. Ben couldn’t quite hear what she was saying, but she sounded a little irritated. Could this be Jason’s girlfriend? Ben could only hope so.

The man next to Ben was now scanning the cabin with an expression that seemed to be a mixture of shock, horror, and irritation at having been awoken. Ben was used to being a source of annoyance for people, but this seemed to be a bit of an exaggerated reaction.

“How long have we been airborne?” the man demanded, reaching down to the storage space below the seat in front of him. He unzipped a small leather case. Ben caught a glimpse of what was inside, and the contents excited him. It was a piece of computer hardware about the size of a tissue box. Its design was professional-looking, but a lack of brand markings and model numbers meant it was probably a well-made custom gadget. The upper third of the device had a see-through Plexiglas screen protecting a rotating lathe. Ben also noticed a warning label that indicated there was a laser inside and to protect your eyes when using the device.

“How long have we been airborne?” the man repeated, with more anger in his voice this second time.

“Only about 45 minutes,” Ben offered, feeling his lip and the surprising sensation of smooth, pain-free skin.

Behind him, he heard the raucous laughter of his friends. Nicole and Amy were huddled together in their seats, failing to stifle their hysterical giggles. He turned the tablet’s camera on himself, and, sure enough, there it was. Or wasn’t. No cold sore. Weird.

A moment later, Ben heard an anguished squeal from the pretty blond girl as she ran through the aisle to the bathroom.

“Crazy kids,” the man remarked.

“Uh, is that a 3-D printer I see in your bag? That’s a small one if it is. I’ve never seen one that size before. It’s amazing how they keep shrinking those things!” Ben was trying for small talk. Well, his version of small talk, which was tech-based. The man considered Ben for a moment and seemed to decide that he was harmless.

“Sure. It’s a prototype.”

“Can I see?”

“Not a chance. It’s a one-of-a-kind prototype.”

“No worries. I’ve got my eyes on a 3-D printer myself. Nothing as advanced as yours. But I’m saving up for it. I keep thinking of the kinds of things I’d create with my own one. I could make figures for my DragonsBlade game, futuristic vehicles, or birthday gifts for my sister and mom. I know you can print custom jewelry. They’d like that. And I was just reading about some doctors who created a replacement skull for a woman whose brain was expanding beyond her existing head.” Ben continued to babble on for a few more minutes. How much of what he was saying was actually being processed by the man wasn’t clear.

“You know what they say, though? First thing you do when you get a 3-D printer? Print yourself a 3-D printer and then take the first one back! Right?”

The man just wasn’t interested in Ben or his joke, though, and a bored, slightly irritated expression came over the man’s face. Ben had seen that expression a thousand times before on any number of faces, and he knew it was his cue.

“Hey, thanks for letting me sit down, man. I’m Ben, by the way.

“Allen.”

“I should probably get back to my friends soon.”

The man was glancing at his watch again and seemed to be making some kind of inner calculation.

“Nervous flyer, huh?”

Ben thought he saw a glint of sadness in the man’s eyes, and then the man put the printer back into the case and zipped it up.

“Toilet.”

Ben nodded and slid out into the aisle.

Just then, the
ding
sounded across the cabin again.

“This is your captain speaking. As you’ll see, the seatbelt sign is back on. We’re looking to be heading into an area of turbulence, so please return to your seats as soon as you can.”

Time for Ben to return to Nicole and follow up on the cold sore. It didn’t take a mastermind to figure out what Nicole had done.

It was mean-spirited and a complete waste of Nicole’s Balancing gift, Ben thought. She could be doing something big — like curing cancer or solving world hunger — not pulling little pranks. Nicole was better than that. Wasn’t she?

Like StarCraft, But for Real

C
atching his reflection
in the glass turnstile doors of the Capitol building, Senator Robert Jennings took a moment to rectify his harried expression. At least his dark hair looked neat, complemented by his usual Friday suit. Expensive but not vulgar (his wife, Joanna, had seen to that.)

He was late to a meeting for which everyone had to be on time. Big investors, hedge fund people. Booked months before. This was bad form. His father had always taught him never to be late, and to wait only 15 minutes for anyone who was late for you. His tardiness was heading more toward the half-hour mark now; there had been an unexpected amount of tourist traffic on the Eisenhower to D.C., and he hadn’t taken into account that it was the day before Columbus Day weekend.

An oversight.

As he strode in, the reception hall was abuzz with senators, assistants and dignitaries alike. He nodded his greetings to one or two, but he knew the air he was putting off was that of a man on a mission, so no one would likely interrupt his beeline to this meeting.

The usual security checks were slower today, but the senator stifled his rising impatience. He could see his assistant, Michelle, on the other side of the checkpoint, unruffled as usual and holding his cup of coffee. She always looked sharp, but today he could see she’d made a little extra effort with her hair. Homecoming queen, Fulbright scholar. The kind of ambition he’d only seen a few times. Likely he’d be waiting with coffee for her in a few years’ time. But “years” was the operative word — the senator still had some go in him yet, and until the day came that he didn’t, Michelle was a powerful weapon in his arsenal.

After a few minutes, the senator was free to pass through security, and he rushed to catch up with Michelle.

“Morning.” They started their pace toward the meeting room on the other side of the building, third floor. Michelle’s cat-like green eyes flicked him with a little side-glance. How did he manage to get grief at home and at work?

“I’ve let them know.”

“Good.”

Michelle handed him his coffee, and he nodded his thanks. “So, what do I need to know?”

“Your 4:00 cancelled, but I moved the Jonas briefing in its place.” This is what Michelle excelled at — briefing on the move. “I’ve assembled your required reading today. Just the essentials. I’ll be there to fill in the gaps.”

“OK.” Jennings took a sip of coffee, but he immediately spat it out. “This is cold!”

“It reflects the amount of time that your guests have been waiting.”

“And you?”

Michelle smiled. “Also, you can make light of it when you go in there. Break the ice. They’re not too happy.”

“It’s Columbus Day weekend. Everyone’s happy, right? It’s just some made-up holiday about a guy who wanted gold and preyed on the Native Americans. Why shouldn’t everybody be happy?” Jennings quipped. He overcame the urge to hurl the cup of cold coffee into a nearby trash bin. Michelle was right; he could soften up the delegates with their shared First World pain of cold coffee.

“Speaking of being happy, Drake called. He says he’s taken that flight to Florida.”

“That flight? Which flight? He didn’t mention one to me.”

“Oh.” For a second, the unflappable Michelle looked in danger of losing her cool. “Well, he made it seem to me that he had. I probed.”

“Of course you did. Who’s he with?”

“Umm … Amy, Nicole and Ben? Hey, are Drake and Amy back together? I thought he was with that Stacey girl now.”

Jennings hesitated for a moment and almost ran into a hasty intern dashing through the corridor the other way. Michelle took his arm and guided him to the elevator.

“You don’t like her, right?”

“No, no. Amy’s fine. Nicole — she’s the one who rescued the girl from the fire?”

“Yep. Regular heroine. Oh, and just so you know, while we’re on my mea culpa, I booked the tickets for him using those air miles you’ve collected. He said you wouldn’t have problem with it. Should I not have done that?”

Jennings’ mind was racing. The elevator doors shut and the car carried them upward. He knew he had to focus.

“What was that? Airline tickets with miles? OK, fine. That’s fine. Just make sure he’s back home before school resumes. But tell me Drake’s flight number again?”

“I didn’t tell you yet.” Michelle smiled. “Where is your head today, Senator? It’s 91.”

“91 — got it. Just a lot of things, Michelle.”

The elevator chimed and the doors opened onto their floor.

Jennings stepped out of the elevator and then to the side to let people pass. “Just one moment, Michelle. There’s something I need to do.” He pulled out his phone from his suit pocket. “Give me one second to call somebody about that.”

Michelle snatched the phone, grabbed Jennings’ shoulders and turned him in the direction they should be heading. “Go! Walk! Stay focused. You don’t have a second. Call later. You’re late.”

“You’re right.” Jennings made a mental note to make that call immediately after his meeting.

The pair resumed their rapid pace through the hallways, but soon the senator unexpectedly turned to Michelle. “Am I a good father?”

“Excuse me, Senator?” Michelle was caught off guard for the second time in one day.

“Am I a good father? I sometimes feel like maybe this is all a bit much. I’ve given so much to my public service that I haven’t been around as much as I could’ve or should’ve been.” Jennings stared off into space.

Such reflecting wasn’t the sort of behavior Michelle was used to seeing from the senator. “Drake loves you, sir. I can tell. He looks up to you, and he’s proud. He’s also smart and knows that he has to share you with the country at times.”

Jennings paused and gave the warm smile of a proud father. “Yes. Of course. He’s a good kid.”

“Oh, and one more thing. They wanted you to see it just before the meeting. It’s classified, so I couldn’t look.”

Michelle passed him a folder. Its title — “Project TSP” — was clear as day on the front. Seeing it caused Jennings’ thoughts to stumble again. “So, the Terran Stim Pack project is getting results?”

“Didn’t we cut funding for this guy?” Michelle asked.

“Just the opposite. We doubled his funding. But it’s from the black budget — nobody is supposed to know about it.”