Jezebel's Ladder (32 page)

His mouth still full of corn bread,
PJ mumbled, “Sorry.”

She grabbed the phone and dialed.
After several rings, she muttered. “Answer!”

No one did.

“Could just be the batteries,” he
said wishfully. “Or he could be taking a shower.”

Amy dashed off, bent on finding
someone on the staff to give her a situation update. After leaving a message at
Amnesty International for Nick to call, PJ located the angel who had brought
him the corn bread and thanked her profusely. They were having chicken for
dinner, the same recipe she’d used during the Camp David Middle East peace
talks. Martha was a gem. She was in the middle of a story about the Russian
delegation when Amy caught up with him. “We’ve got to go. Gunfire has broken
out at the Cape. The FBI hostage team has been called in. We can resolve this
without bloodshed, but only if we move our asses,” Amy exclaimed.

PJ apologized mutely to Martha, who
smiled and handed him a large, paper bag. “Don’t worry yourself about it. I
don’t take it personally.”

Hearing the diner nurse’s testimony about a drug deal gone
bad, the ER doctor diagnosed Jezebel’s nosebleed as cocaine induced. “The
strawberry was incoherent, kept babbling about the strangest things. She
couldn’t even focus on my finger.”

“Put her in the rehab ward for the
weekend. We’ve sent her prints in, and we’ll get them back Monday if she’s in
the system. Till then, mark her Jane Doe.”

“Should we run a tox screen?” asked
another nurse.

The doctor shook his head. “No
permission, no insurance, and no imminent danger. We fixed the hand. Her vitals
are stable now. Let her sleep it off.”

Jez slept until ten Sunday morning.
She woke up wailing and holding her temples. She wore a plastic wristband,
hospital gown, some kind of adult diaper, and the bloody slippers.

Nurse Lydia came in wearing pink
scrubs. She was near retirement, had short, blue hair, and had no sympathy for
junkies. “What’s the matter? Are the spiders still crawling on your belly?”

Freaked out by the suggestion, Jez
ran her hands vigorously over her arms and front. “Eep!” was all she could
manage.

When she saw the nurse chuckle, she
calmed her heart rate down. Weak and ravenously hungry, she struggled to form
the word “Eat.”

“You slept through breakfast. Lunch
is in the cafeteria in an hour.”

Jez whimpered as something in her
stomach wanted to twist out of her. The nurse grabbed her by the arm. “Easy,
sweetheart. If you’re going to splash, let’s do it in the bathroom. It makes
everyone’s day nicer not to walk in vomit.”

Vomit she did, but not much came
up. She was sweating and undeniably sick. Coming out of the bathroom, she saw
the time. “No! MissedLaunch.”

“Lunch isn’t for another hour, I
told you,” said Lydia.

“MeetingPresidentRunningNoShoes,”
Jez slurred, willing the woman to understand. When the nurse led her back to
bed, she shrieked, “Phone.”

“Sorry, can’t call your dealer from
in here, against the rules.”

When the woman tried to push her
into the bed, Jez resisted with her training and threw her into the nightstand.
Jez staggered toward the door, swaying like a dinghy in a hurricane. “Orderly,
sedation!” Lydia shouted.

Two burly men grabbed her before
the exit while the nurse got the hypodermic. Jez shouted, “Falling.
IsFallingBoom. NeedCallDirtBagQuarterback. CallBennyTellYou. Aliens.
KeepThatAway.” She made noises like a wild coyote as they forcibly injected
her.

****

Agent Normandy answered Benny’s
phone several times in the night because the celebrity slept through it. He
took notes about the death of Sedna and Crusader, promising the authorities
comparative DNA samples in the morning.

At quarter till six in the morning,
Benny heard the alarm go off for Jez’s door. He ran in, not knowing what to
expect, but hoping to see his wife. Instead, the three half-dressed men found
Claudette searching for more writing surfaces. She had filled all three
white-boards in the office with drawings, including the back of the door.

Groggily, Benny said, “Claudette,
we agreed not to wake up till nine.”

“I have to get the shape out before
I can do anything else,” she whimpered.

Benny nodded sympathetically. “I’ll
arrange that if you make us breakfast and eat some yourself.”

When she left, still carrying the
black permanent marker, Benny said to the others, “Normandy, take digital
pictures of everything. I’ll call the programmers to come in on a Sunday
morning. Tan, you call my pastor and let him know I won’t make services today;
I don’t want to use the national security excuse.”

“This has happened to you before?”
asked the agent.

Benny just groaned. Tan chuckled.

Over breakfast, Normandy told them
the bad news about the explosion. “I called them, and they’re sending a uniform
over to get the DNA.”

Benny wasn’t sure. “I’m okay
sending out Crusader’s pouch, but I don’t know if Jez would want us sending
Trina’s. That could cause complications.”

When he dialed his wife’s number to
ask, there was no answer. Fortune didn’t answer either. He cursed. “I’d smash
this useless phone in a heartbeat, but Jez gave it to me. I know I should be
arranging funerals, but she always handled that sort of thing. I don’t know
where to start. Where is she?”

From the stove, Claudette said,
“Scroll down to the button that says assistants. They have an informal
call-center now. The one on duty picks up and forwards specialized requests.”

Benny blinked. He scrolled down to
the preprogrammed number on his phone and hit send.

“Adrien here. We were starting to
worry. How can I help?”

“Hello, sorry to bother you on a
Sunday morning.”

“Mr. Johnson?”

He ignored the slight. “Yes. I need
to schedule two funerals.”

After he provided some details,
Adrien told him, “Crusader had a copy of his will on file with the company.
Since Ms. Johnson was the executrix, I can read it to find out what his wishes
for the remains were and contact the family.”

“There was no family. You wouldn’t
happen to know where my wife is right now, would you?”

There was tapping in the
background. “I’ll check the bulletin board. She was scheduled to fly from Miami to New York City early this morning. She never checked in at her hotel.” More
keyboard clicks followed. “I see from our log there was a related call from
corporate security earlier. Let me call around and get back to you.”

****

By nine, Claudette and the three
men were gathered in a huge, special-effects studio. Claudette was fitted with
data gloves and virtual-reality goggles. Kyle said, “This rendering program
isn’t elaborate. It’s based on the sculpting model we use for squashing and
stretching animated characters. I adapted it some for the PBS galaxy animation.
Tap your fingers together twice to create a start point. Drag with fingers
closed to make a line. To rotate an object, select it using the tap method and
twist with your other hand. We’ve loaded the shape from last night as a
starting point.”

Claudette was already ignoring him
to fix places where the clay had sagged or proportions were askew. The white
wall behind her showed the rapidly developing model. Her only comment in the
next half hour was, “Needs color-coding.”

“Drag your left pointer finger down
for that menu.”

As she worked, Kyle gave Benny the
latest technology updates. The actor took the red giant globe and located the
new planet, zooming in on it with help from the technology team. He stared at
the display until more FBI agents joined their ranks. Benny stuffed the globe
in his pocket before the newcomers could see it.

When questioned, Normandy said,
“Your cover story is that your space agency is a joint public-private venture.
From what I’ve seen in one day, this is bigger than the Apollo launch. My boss
agreed that watching this particular barn door before the horse gets out would
be a good idea.”

Buddy had just drifted back to
sleep on a chair near the mixing board when Elias Fortune knocked. The actor
bit back his planned reply when he saw the man’s distraught face peering
through the window. He walked over and let the man in on the theory that even
moral slugs have feelings. “She’ll be fine as soon as she completes the model.
I thought we agreed your being here was too dangerous.”

Fortune looked him directly in the
eyes. “Things are happening. There’s a very good chance that none of us will
survive past tomorrow. I had to see her again, to make peace before the end.”

Benny blew out and fell back into
the chair. No one else was listening to them because Trina had just pushed
Daniel into the main room. She was dressed in Daniel’s dress shirt and not much
else. Doc Vader stood watch over the whole group.

“I wanted the whole family here for
my announcement,” Fortune said.

“Family? You’re including Trina in
that? Wow. Whatever this is must be hitting you hard.”

“I was hoping the lust from the
page-bonding would have burned out by now, but he chose her over the
inheritance from the parents who raised him. Even I can read that handwriting.”

“Have you watched them, seen them
touch foreheads?” Benny asked. “I’d call it love.”

Eventually Fortune nodded, as if
the word were ‘cancer’ instead. “I was hoping to spare him that.”

“It’s a cross he’s willing to bear.
You’ll have to wait for Claudette to finish this model before you can make your
announcement. She won’t hear a word you say until then, trust me.” Benny
changed gears. “Speaking of crazy wives, I got you yours. Where’s mine?”

Fortune stared at Claudette’s shape
for a while. “I don’t know. She disappeared last night during a gun battle in Miami. We’ve received no ransom demands. Crusader had all the pertinent data on his palm
computer when he screwed the pooch. We’re reconstructing her steps now.”

“You said you had a
minute-by-minute update on her position.”

“Crusader moved the satellite to
follow Sedna. Ms. Johnson’s phone was stolen in Miami. I’ll let you know when…”

Benny picked the billionaire up and
pinned him to the wall. “That’s Mrs. Hollis, and you’ll tell me now.”

Agent Normandy came in to watch,
but didn’t interfere.

“The man who stole the phone said
she was on the ground, bleeding.”

Benny dropped him and roared as he
punched through drywall.

“You can use my jet. Tell her I
spent all night rewriting the image-alignment code myself. I did all I could,”
whispered the billionaire.

He had no idea what the man was
babbling about and didn’t care. On his way out, Trina handed him a large purse.
“Give this to Jez. It has a replacement phone, white deck shoes, toothbrush,
underwear, and few other female essentials, including her butterfly pendant.”

“Thanks. She’ll appreciate your
thoughtfulness. I’m sorry about your sister.”

“It was her choice,” said the blonde.

“That doesn’t make your second
guessing any easier. I’ll keep you all updated. Don’t let the bastard wear you
down.”

She smiled and said, “I’m cutting
him some slack. I read Jez’s private files to see if they gave any clues as to
where she might be. No luck.”

“Find anything good about
yourself?”

Trina laughed. “She tells me
everything, unfiltered. How do you think I knew the password? I did see some
interesting speculations about Dirt Bag. From his low energy, the way the Doc
keeps worrying over him, he probably just wants to make a few things right
before dying.”

“Wow. I should stick around in
case…”

She turned him around physically
and started pushing him toward the door. “It’s painful just watching you. Go!”

Normandy followed him to the car,
grinning. “I’ve wanted to do that from the moment I met the jerk. Why’d you
miss?”

“It’s not his fault. The people to
blame are already dead.”

As Daniel was busy with family
business, Benny decided to take the swami and Jez’s hairbrush along for
spotting. When they got to the airstrip, the manager told him, “The corporate
jet can’t fly back that soon and neither can the crew. It’s going to be another
ten hours at least till we can have this bad boy ready for Miami.”

Frustrated, Benny pushed the magic
assistant button on his phone again. This time, the faceless woman arranged
tickets on the next commercial flight for him, Normandy, and Swami Rama. They
raced over to the main terminal building. Unfortunately, during the security
screening, the man from Kashmir showed up on the Federal no-fly list.

“It’s some kind of sick
conspiracy,” Benny complained.

The swami was not concerned. “It
will all work out the way it needs to. We cannot control others. All you are
responsible for is yourself.”

Benny put in a requisition for
another set of eyes, but he had to board his plane before anyone was able to phone
him back.

****

That afternoon, Jez opened one eye.
The room was all white and she was Velcroed to a bed. There was an IV in her
arm dripping in nutrients. She had a brief flashback. “Tied up. Tunnel. Not my
feet, not my feet.” The words sounded like she had a mouthful of mud, but the
man in the white coat seemed to understand.

He was back-lit by a window, so she
couldn’t see the details on his face. He had a wide, well-groomed beard, and
the bottom half of a pair of glasses. He held a tablet computer in his hands.
“I saw the damage to your foot. When you pass out in crack houses, rats
sometimes take advantage.”

His voice reminded Jez of the actor
Paul Giamatti, but the tone reminded her of past interrogations. She wasn’t
sure whether the man was being coy or just ignorant. “Are you here to question
me?”

“What’s your name?”

“Jezebel Johnson…uh…Hollis.”

“Which is it?” the man in the white
coat demanded.

“I was born Jezebel Johnson, but I
married Benny Hollis, the movie star.”

The man typed a search on his
tablet. “I find no Jezebel Hollis.”

“We j…just got married
yesterday…no, two days ago. There might not be any record yet because of the
weekend.”

“The only Jezebel Johnson I show is
on a Las Vegas driver’s license. Yes, the picture matches, but there is also an
eviction notice for non-payment of rent at that address.”

“That was my fiancé’s sister,
Olive. She hates me.”

“Olive Hollis?”

Jez twitched a little. “No. My
other fiancé.”

“You seem confused,” he said.
“Perhaps it’s the exciting life you lead. Where was Mr. Hollis during the drug
shoot out?”

“At home in LA where I sent him.
Look, I’m famous. Look me up on YouTube or something. I’m more popular than the
Singing Hamster.”