Blades of Winter (21 page)

Every day I spend in rehab, I find another reason to hate being in rehab. The first day it was all I could do to have Cleo help me walk down to the end of the hall, and that was with a goddamn walker. My legs were as floppy as cooked spaghetti, and my forehead was slick with sweat from the effort. The second day Harriet removed my catheter and helped me use a bedpan to pee. I’d never used a bedpan before, and after that one time I vowed that I’d get to the bathroom if I had to drag myself there by my fingernails. A twenty-year-old woman deserves
some
dignity.

While I was on my twelve-week holiday in Comaville, Harriet shifted the position of my body so I wouldn’t get bedsores and Dr. Herodotus used some mild electrotherapy to keep my muscles active, but even with my Mods and physical conditioning I have to learn how to walk all over again. My legs have been incredibly stubborn about this. At first, I couldn’t even get myself out of bed without falling down in a cloud of swear words. After a week I could lurch myself into the bathroom with my stupid walker. Thank God my arms still have some strength, because they had to do most of the work. It’s been two weeks since I woke up, and now I can get around fairly well. It’s been really humbling to be so completely dependent on other people.

I’ve done a lot of reading. Patrick brought me tons of files and dossiers from the ExOps Archive, including a long
New York Times
article with information about the European campaigns in World War II. I’ve only read
stories about the American fight against Japan, so it’s interesting to read about what happened in “the other war.”

I’ve also been grinding my language skill by taking an advanced course in German. Every morning a nurse wheels me to class, where I learn amazing words like
Geschwindigkeitsbegrenzung
, which simply means “speed limit.” My classmates and I have found that the easiest way to memorize these monsters is to shout them at one another while we pound our fists on our desks.

After class I have lunch, then more physical therapy, then dinner. In the early evenings I either meet with Cyrus or attend a tedious Info briefing about the Blades of Persia or the Middle East. All this activity keeps my mind off how much I hate rehab, but eventually I wind up back in my goddamn bed, trapped and lonely.

Last week I was so miserable that Cyrus wheeled me outside to the park across the street from the Bethesda for our meeting. He set me on the grass under a tree and sat next to me. I helped him unload a bag of lunch he’d brought from a deli down the street. Subs! Sodas! Bags of potato chips! That morning, Dr. Herodotus had finally cleared me for regular food. I tore into my sandwich like a Tasmanian devil. After a week of being on hospital chow, it tasted like heaven. Cyrus and I ate and went over some things that the Information Department had figured out.

Cyrus didn’t waste much time on small talk. “We think someone has taken out a contract on you and hired the Blades of Persia to carry it out.” He cracked open a can of soda.

I reeled in shock. My mouth hung open for a moment until I remembered it was still full of potato chips. I crunched them down. “Who the hell would take out a hit on me? I’m only a Level 6—I mean, Level 8.”

“I’d say it’s whoever we’ll find at the end of this investigation.”

“Don’t you have any guesses?”

“Of course.”

I waited for him to go on. Finally, I prompted him. “Well?”

“They’re too speculative for me to say out loud.”

“Oh, c’mon!”

Cyrus shifted onto his side so he could see me better. “Drop it, Scarlet. Leave this to us grizzled old geezers to figure out. There are a lot of angles to consider, and it could be a lot of different people.” He rolled onto his back again. “I am sure of one thing. It’s related to the mission we’re doing.”

“Then why aren’t they after you, too? You’re the Front Desk.”

“I’d say it’s because you scare them more than I do.” Cyrus propped himself up on his elbow and sipped his soda. “Don’t forget, I’m only an expendable bureaucratic cog. You’re the superspy.”

I waved my hands in frustration. “Why are you so freaking relaxed about this?”

Cyrus looked up at the sky. “Alix, sooner or later this happens to practically everyone in our business.” He stifled a small belch, then said, “The Cuban Liberation Movement has had a price on my head since 1959. During the embargo, the Germans found out your father was the American agent who’d been kidnapping all the Reich officials. They put out a huge bounty on him. When he tried to rescue the hostages in ’67, their reward for delivering Big Bertha went through the roof.” Cyrus picked up his bag of chips and regarded it thoughtfully. “It’s actually quite a compliment.”

I didn’t know whether to hide under my wheelchair or chuck my soda can at his head. “Cyrus, are you
nuts
?” I looked over both my shoulders again. “How is
this
a compliment?”

“It means you’re kicking ass.” Cyrus winked at me. “Which we knew, anyway.” He explained that going after a Level is one of the most expensive things a competitor can attempt. “Honestly, Alix, don’t worry about
it. I’ve planned dozens of these things, and they’re much harder than you’d think, especially when the target is a Level. For example, what’s happened to the people who have come after you?”

“I’ve mangled the shit out of them.”

“My point exactly.”

I eyeballed him for a few seconds. He
really
didn’t look concerned, like he was only talking about a parking ticket. “Okay, Cyrus.” I shrugged and took a huge bite of my sub. “If foo fay fo.”

Cyrus looked over at me, grinned a little, and shook his head, “Alix, don’t take such big bites. You’re gonna choke on that.”

We chatted for a while longer as we finished eating our lunch. I asked if they’d gotten anything out of my Day Loop, but they hadn’t. The data had been too badly corrupted by the bullet circus that happened to me in Baghdad. It sounded like my verbal report still gave the Info people a lot to go on, but Cyrus made sure to drive home the importance of intel transmission. The whole time he lectured me about it I was gradually airing out a giant burp, so I just kept nodding until we both ran out of air.

Eventually Cyrus had to get ready for a meeting. He picked me up, put me in my wheelchair, and pushed me back to the Bethesda. As we rode the elevator up to my floor, I took one of his hands in mine and held it until the doors opened. When we got back to my room, he plucked me out of my chair and gently laid me back in my bed. He smoothed my hair with his hand and said, “All right, I’ll see you later. Keep up the good work with your rehab and you’ll be back in the field before you know it.”

“Okay,” I said. He began to walk out of my room. I called out, “Hey, Cyrus?” He turned and looked back at me. I had a little lump in my throat. After a few heartbeats I said, “Thanks for taking me to the park.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome, kiddo.”

The Oil Embargo and Hostage Crisis

This dossier contains public-facing and classified information. Do not remove this file from the ExOps’ Archive.

WASHINGTON—President Richard M. Nixon began his second term yesterday by declaring war on racism in the United States. His administration has spent much political capital getting the Civil Rights Act pushed through Congress, and now he intends to give it the teeth it needs to be effective.

“My fellow Americans,” said the president during his inauguration speech, “to quote the brave and brilliant Dr. King, ‘None of us truly have freedom until all of us have freedom.’ We must join hands and finish the work that our Great Emancipator started one hundred years ago.” After extolling the courage of those who participated in last year’s freedom rides, President Nixon leveled a challenge to our biggest ally, Greater Germany.

“We have an opportunity to end our past hypocrisies, to achieve our true potential, and to send a message to the world. Oppression, hatred, and bigotry are not American ideals, and 1965 will be the year they are no longer American realities.”

Over 70 percent of black children in southern states attend all-black public schools. Most of these facilities are in deplorable condition, despite postwar legislation requiring equal facilities for all publicly funded schools. While this is nowhere near the human rights violations committed by the Reich, this tragic situation has always undercut American diplomats’ attempts to persuade German officials to end Jewish slavery in their territories.
“Why should we listen to the Americans?” quipped a spokesman for the German embassy here in Washington. “They still lynch their Negroes.”

The president certainly has his work cut out for him. Jim Crow laws are deeply embedded in the cultures of the former Confederate states. Said one southern Democrat representative, “I’ll do everything in my power to preserve segregation, even if it means I have to stand in the school doorway myself.”

“The Greater German Foreign Trade Ministry today announced that it will cease exports of petroleum to the United States, effective immediately. The announcement makes it clear that President Nixon’s continuing charges of German human rights violations have infuriated both Chancellor Adenauer and the Reichstag. A U.S. embassy spokesman here in Berlin said: ‘If we shared a land border with them, they might have declared war instead.’

“This oil embargo will affect Americans from all walks of life. Gasoline may quadruple in price, when it’s available at all. The higher cost of transportation and energy will impact all American industries and businesses. Increased domestic oil exploration will eventually bring some relief, but that may be years away.”