Gabriel's Stand (11 page)

On the night of Vince's task, Snowfeather noticed a message on her machine.
Vince
? She hoped. But the message was from one of the Sisters. Snowfeather was urgently needed by Berker; she was to report back to the Pioneer Square office of the League, at first light.

After failing to reach Vince, she tried her parents at home. Snowfeather then called the private number of her father's private secretary in DC

“He tried to call you. Your mom and dad are in Chicago and due back tomorrow morning.”

Snowfeather left an urgent message for them to call her; then turned in for a troubled sleep.

——

Snowfeather awoke at 6:00 A.M. with a headache and a summons. “Very urgent business, affecting the entire movement,” Berker's message had claimed.
It damn well better be.

Thirty-six minutes later, she appeared at the Woman's League offices, dressed in jeans and flannel shirt, her hair up, a large coffee in hand. Berker, who had arrived a few minutes before, kept her silence until Snowfeather reached the top of the stairs. “We need to discuss something in complete confidence,” she said, standing in the doorway. She motioned to the back conference room.

“Okay. What is it?” Snowfeather said, following.

“How quickly can you organize a large demonstration?” Berker sat at a small table and motioned Snowfeather into the opposite chair.

“I've done a large campus one in a half day. Coordinating multiple locations usually takes two days lead time, but it depends on what's going on.” Cynthia closed the door behind them. “But you both know a demonstration always needs some event for a catalyst.”

“It seems there's something like that in the media every couple of weeks, doesn't it?” Berker said.

“You have something in mind?” Snowfeather asked.

“Just assume that
something
happens within a few hours. Assume that you have your catalyst. How long would you need? Absolute minimum.”

Snowfeather noticed that the large table was stacked with posters and city maps. “As little as twenty-four hours, if I don't know in advance the day we are going to do it. As little as four hours, if we can pin down the day with good accuracy.”

“Good,” Berker said with satisfaction. “Assume you know in advance. Let's plan for City Center, tying up traffic, just in time for the early news.”

“When? Today? Tomorrow? What's up?”

“I just have a feeling,” Berker said smiling, “that something very, very big will happen tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Really?”

“She's usually right about these things,” Cynthia added.

——

Berker came by Snowfeather's office at noon. Snowfeather was busy with a stack of phone messages and maps.

“Do you need any help?”

“It's coming together very well. I have talked to all the groups and the key people. Everyone is on alert. We can mobilize tomorrow in as little as three hours. How sure are you?”

“I am absolutely confident this will be a go. I'll confirm first light tomorrow morning. Just watch the news.”

“Okay.”

“By the way,” Berker added with forced casualness, “Do you see much of Vincent these days?”

“Not very much,” Snowfeather lied while pretending to read a letter. Reluctantly, she glanced up at Berker. “He's studying for the Bar Exam.”

“I thought as much. Did you know he was going out with someone else?”

Snowfeather dropped her letters on the desk. Her heart was racing, but she kept her stone face. She noticed that Berker was holding something. Snowfeather stared coldly while Berker opened an envelope and removed a picture. Then she shoved it across the desk to Snowfeather, with a note of triumph. “Doesn't look like studying to me.” Berker carefully placed the eight by ten directly on top of Snowfeather's correspondence. Vincent seemed to be nuzzling the neck of an older blond woman in a restaurant. “Men,” Berker said.

Snowfeather was numb.
How can this be true?
She turned the picture over and over in her hands. Berker pressed her advantage. “We heard he is planning to take a job in Los Angeles.”

“Los Angeles?” Snowfeather's voice was very quiet, her stomach tightening.

“It's a long way, I know, but I understand
she
has a job there
.”

Berker has to be lying.

“Supposedly, he's planning to take the California Bar in the summer.”

Snowfeather felt like breaking something, but she refused to give Berker the satisfaction. “Vincent will do better there,” she said, her tone flat.

This doesn't sound right…not at all.

“As we say, my dear, men can be useful…to a point.”

Berker gently took the picture back. Snowfeather kept up the appearance of stoic indifference. “I'm pretty busy right now.” Snowfeather pretended to look down at the letters on her desk, but her vision was blurred.

Berker whistled as she left. As soon as the door shut, Snowfeather called Vincent's room. The second time, she left a message. “Vincent. Vincent. Pick up, damn it. Are you in trouble? They say you are planning to go to LA. Are you? I don't believe it! Vincent, if anything has happened… Call me, okay?” After a long moment, she slammed receiver into the cradle and fought for control of the tears that had begun running freely down her cheeks.

Headlines, coast to coast, carried the story; programs in progress were interrupted; and the President was given an urgent note in the middle of a speech.

HUGE PANAMA CANAL NUCLEAR DISASTER…TWO NUCLEAR WASTE BARGES COLLIDE…MASSIVE TOXIC SPILL…HUNDREDS DIE, THOUSANDS SICK

——

Snowfeather's phone rang in her dormitory room at dawn. It was Berker's harsh voice. “Check the news,” she said.

A moment later, “My God, you were right! How did you know?”

“No time for small talk, dear. You know what to do?”

“Of course,” she said. “This is so big.”

“Yes it is. Bigger than anyone thinks.”

——

“Longworthy, this worked better than either of us expected,” Berker said.

Rex was leaning back in a chair in his office conference room. He smiled and nodded. “More dramatic than the BP Gulf oil plume, much more impact than any eco-disaster to date. This is a coup.”

“The Canal is completely unusable.” Berker said.

“They will be netting radioactive fish from both oceans for twenty years,” Rex said quietly. He was pointing to the television screen at the end of the table. “Look at her!” Snowfeather was standing on a police car, amid a sea of people, holding a microphone.

“Chief Seattle must be weeping because now I learn that a poison more terrible than anything nature can produce is killing the ocean, the cradle of all life, and our leaders still hesitate. How long must we wait, while this poor wounded planet reels from death blow after death blow? We must act. We must take back the streams, the wind, and the mountains. When must we act?”

“NOW!” shouted the crowd.

“Isn't she great?” Rex said.

“Perfect,” Berker said with satisfaction.

On screen the crowd surged out of control, surrounding the patrol car. “Every day, the natural world shrinks, driven back by the irresponsible forces of urbanization, the unstoppable monster we call technology. When do we rise up and protect our planet?”

“NOW!” the crowd shouted.

Longworthy leaned back in his chair. “How will her father vote?”

“Gabriel Standing Bear? Unfortunately, that is still unclear,” Berker said. “He is in Seattle with Senators McKernon and Smith and their drug-money guy, John Owen. So we suspect he and his little clique will hold out against the Treaty ratification to the very end. But we will have more than two thirds of those fools in the US Senate rounded up after our campaign. I'll see to that.”

“Good work, Louise. I have just sent the final version of the American addendum to the Earth Restoration Treaty to the White House—it sets up the new governing structure so that the Senate will act on the whole package at once. President Chandler plans a new signing ceremony tomorrow where he formally reaffirms President Baxter's agreement to the Treaty, and incorporates all the new provisions. The pro-ratification blitz will start immediately.”

Berker nodded.

“Here is your copy,” Rex said, sliding a sheet across the table. “The Technology Licensing Commission will be empowered to override all state and federal law…including by necessary implication, the constitution itself.”

“I've been in the US long enough now to appreciate just how brilliant and necessary this step was. It will be a true
coup d'état
, but delayed until the opposition has been suppressed, intimidated and ultimately…eviscerated. And you will make the perfect High Commissioner for Greater America, Rex.”

“Thank you.”

“I heard you had a little trouble last night,” Rex said. “Will you need any help?”

“We have, ah, disposed of it, but thank you very much.”

“How will this affect Snowfeather?”

“We don't think she was aware. The boy was questioned very thoroughly before…he disappeared.”

“But she will figure it out eventually, don't you think?”

“Yes, Rex, but we only need her help for a little more time.”

“I want her in DC as soon as possible,” Rex said. “Have her taken directly to the airport. She'll be wanted at the White House. We need to keep her in public and preoccupied.”

——

Snowfeather pulled her parka around her shoulders as she was helped from the top of the patrol car. The remaining crowd parted to let her escorts make room for her to pass through. She had looked in vain in the crowd for a sign of Vincent. He had never missed a rally. As she got in the back seat of a car supplied by Mr. Fowler, she pressed against the window.

The Rose Garden for a presidential ceremony? My own limo? A first class seat? Vincent, where are you? See, this was all a good thing. Every good cause has a few nuts, but they can't be allowed to spoil everything… Can they?

——

In Washington, Snowfeather closed the door of her hotel suite behind her. She looked around the well-appointed room. She tossed her worn garment bag on the bed; then she noticed the blinking message light. It was Berker.

“Snowfeather, you must contact your father and persuade him to let up on his opposition to the Earth Restoration Treaty. It will ruin his career. As his daughter, you need to protect him from himself. Call me immediately!”

Snowfeather cursed out loud. “That crazy bitch!” Furiously she dialed the number Berker had left her. She launched her tirade the second she recognized the voice on the other end. “Louise? I have your message. Is
this
why you flew me here? You want public appearances? Fine. You want me to lobby sitting US Senators? Fine. But you do not get to exploit my relationship with my father!” Snowfeather lowered her voice. “Talking to Gabriel Standing Bear about a matter he considers a measure of his integrity will not work and I wouldn't do it if even it did work. Am I clear?” There was a long pause. “Yes, I am tired. No, I won't change my mind. Do. Not. Ever. Ask. That. Again.”

Click.

It was very late and Snowfeather slept through the night. Early the next morning, she confirmed by phone that Vincent had dropped out of sight. A secretary at Rex Longworthy's Seattle law firm said Vincent had called about some trip to LA but no one else seemed to have any other information. “Are you calling from DC?” the secretary asked. Snowfeather simply hung up. She would go to Seattle as soon as she was done here.

Vince, I will find you.

On the fourth day, Snowfeather wearily opened the door to her hotel room, having spent the entire day in public appearances. She resolved to book a flight to Seattle before Berker and the Sisters could book yet another appearance for her.

——

Across the country, Gabriel Standing Bear was disembarking at Sea-Tac International, having arrived for a quick, pre-vote meeting with Dr. John Owen, Senator Thurston Smith and Washington Senator Lance McKernon in Edge Medical's downtown offices. The historic ratification vote on the Earth Restoration Treaty would proceed in three days.

Gabriel's friend and colleague, Senator Lance McKernon, was still sitting alone at his desk in downtown Seattle. It was 6:45 P.M. and getting late for that strategy meeting at Edge Medical. Lance was bone tired. The biggest vote of his career was just two days away and he was on the minority side. And it would be dramatically close as a Super Bowl in overtime.

Lines had begun to crease his movie-star handsome black face. Gray was rapidly spreading from his temples.
Maturity sucks,
Lance mused
.
He began to carefully fill his briefcase with the essential papers.
Damn. Those college football injuries still hurt…every last one of them
.

McKernon swallowed four ibuprofen, washing down the analgesic with a sip of scotch from a small flask he kept in his desk drawer.

He scooped all the papers from his desktop and dropped them into the case. He snapped it shut and rubbed his eyes. His flight back to DC from Sea-Tac was scheduled to depart at midnight, leaving time for the strategy meeting with Gabriel and Senator Smith at Dr. Owen's office. He knew that the meeting was important but he desperately, desperately wanted to be home with his family.

“Line two.” The voice came from the speaker on his desk.

“Who is it, Jean?”

“It's Ms. Berker of the Environmental Opinion Research.”

“Christ. Third call?”

“Fourth.”

Another sigh. “Put her on.”

“Senator, we would like just an hour of your time to discuss the Treaty vote.”

“I don't have an hour. I don't have a minute. But I do have a critical meeting to attend and a plane to catch, Ms. Berker. And you know my position on that vote very well.”

“We think your misgivings are unnecessary. Certainly you are not refusing to hear us out?”

“Ms. Berker, I have studied every version of the Earth Restoration Treaty carefully. I have declared my position, after due consideration. This Treaty, if ratified, will end the authority of Congress—”

“Which Congress has misused—”

“And hand it over to a non-elected Commission—”

“Dedicated to saving the earth.”

“Dedicated to ruining the economy. This is insanity, Ms. Berker. Give me one reason I should spend four more minutes listening to you.”

“Your son.”

“WHAT?”

There was a long silence, and a small, familiar voice came on the line.

“Dad? Dad? Are you there? Please come get me! I'm still okay…”
Johnny! Good God.

“Thank you, dear.” It was Berker's voice, again. “Take him into the other room—now!” A cold, dead silence followed. Finally, Berker's calm voice: “Senator, your son will be safe with us for one hour…until we have our little meeting with you. At the Waterfront Hotel, room 205. We just want a little of your time.”

“This is kidnapping.”

“This is invitation, Senator. We'll see you very soon.”
Click
.

Lance McKernon stared at nothing. Then he looked at his watch.
6:05 P.M
. His hands were shaking as he speed-dialed his wife. “Where is Johnny?”

“He isn't home from school. Isn't he with you?”

“No, he isn't.”

Ice.
It spread from his heart to his chest, then his arms. Senator Lance McKernon stood slowly.

“Wait a few minutes. I'll call right back.” He let the phone fall to the desk. “Jean,” he shouted. “I need a cab. Now.”

——

While McKernon was rushing to the Waterfront Hotel and Gabriel was rushing from Sea-Tac to the meeting at the offices of Edge Medical, John Owen was about to be distracted by another element of the ongoing personnel crisis involving the death of his chief scientist, Dr. Christoph Fischer.

In Bellevue, Washington at 7:04 P.M., Dr. Elisabeth Owen-Larson repositioned her phone, her father, Dr. John Owen, having finally answered a call.

“Sorry. Been a real bust, Elisabeth. What's up?” he said.

Elisabeth looked at her toes, wiggling near the fire. Her legs were almost invisible below the formidable bulge housing her unborn baby. A half-eaten pizza languished on the coffee table next to an open novel. “Dad, I do not think Christoph was mugged.”

“I really don't have time, sweetie…
Not
mugged?”

“Christoph Fischer, your chief scientist, the man whose cure almost saved Mom, was definitely not mugged. He was obviously murdered, Dad. You haven't has a chance to look at the coroner's final report I put on your desk this morning.”

“That has very scary implications. But I'm pressed. We are in an emergency situation here. Sorry, gotta get off I have to go for now. Love you.” Silence.

“Damn.” Elisabeth was sitting in front of a tall stone fireplace in her own home in Bellevue, Washington, not far from her father's home. Her husband Josh was working at the Vector plant. Cradling the phone against her neck, she realized that John had disconnected her. She knew her dad was involved in politics tonight and was hurrying to his Edge Medical offices in downtown Seattle.

She redialed and got her father's message. After the beep, she left a message. “This is important, Dad. Follow this thought. This Treaty vote, all the attention directed at
you
in the press. Dad, something in all this just feels very wrong. Call it a premonition, but if you get this, please, please increase your security. Tonight, I was looking for my prescription list and I stumbled on an unopened envelope with Coroner's report of Christoph's death. Did you know that he still had cash on his body; and he was taken a good distance away from the office before he was killed? The sedative found in his blood was an uncommon one. The coroner missed that. It is not typically prescribed. Dad,
spies
use that stuff. It is much too sophisticated for a common street thug. If this was an assassination, think about what that might mean. Who would want to kill Christoph, a harmless scientist working to save lives? …And why?” The fire crackled while rain spattered gently on the skylight. “Second question while you're pondering that one. Is anyone else at risk? Are
you
at risk? Why pick on a pharmaceutical maker. You
save
lives. You follow the logic wherever it leads, just like you taught me. And that leaves just one thing.” Elisabeth paused, suddenly chilled. “My God, Dad, what if someone is on the side of the germs? Please, please call. I love you.”

Then Elisabeth called her husband at work, he was at Vector's data center in South Seattle. “We need you home,” she said.

“Hi, sweets,” Josh said. “How's little Josh coming?”

“Now you know we haven't peeked. We might be having a girl. Little Josh or Elisabeth is not coming fast enough, partner. She or he is kicking and I am ready to get on with it. So very ready. When
are
you coming home, big guy?”

“I need to stop by the Vector plant for five minutes; they are working three shifts because of the India emergency. Then home. Promise. An hour tops. What can I bring?”

“Just that warm body of yours. I want to see the man I married at least once before he becomes a dad.”

“Message received.”