The Inner Circle (32 page)

"On a related topic, sir, I discovered a piece of news about one of the discoverers of the comet."

"I hope this isn't bad news. Now would
not
be the best time for someone to remember Comet Clement. I've been dreading turning on the TV and seeing a breaking news story about someone who remembered an old comet and discovered it was on a whole new path."

"No, sir. Nothing that major," Mansfield said. "Nothing has surfaced to indicate that anybody is currently tracking Comet Clement's whereabouts. But do you remember the name Sarah Rose?" Mansfield knew Marshall well enough to know that the president would not remember, but he took a few moments to think anyway.

"The name sounds familiar, but maybe you should refresh my memory."

"Nicholas Rose was credited as being the co-founder of the comet with Joshua Clement. Sarah was his sister."

"Oh, yes. Now I remember. She's the waitress you went to check on."

"That's right, sir," Peter said. He could see the look of pride Marshall had on his face for having remembered. The president was easily pleased with himself. "If you remember, her story was a sad one. Her parents died and Nicholas did as well, leaving her broke and all alone. Anyway, while doing research on her, I came across a gap of almost a year where she seemed to disappear off the face of the Earth. Not that it's very important, but I've discovered where she was during that time."

"And how did you do that all of a sudden? Haven't you had more pressing issues to deal with?"

"Yes I have, sir. But it was one of my informants who discovered. And believe me, I was just as surprised when I heard that there was news about her," Mansfield said.

"Informants? They better not have done anything to this girl, Peter. You know what I told you last time."

"I know, sir. And this is nothing like the last time. I figured that since Sarah Rose was the only person left who was even remotely connected to the comet, we'd better keep an eye on her. Just in case."

President Marshall's worry that his Chief of Staff was involved in more mischief eased a bit, though he still did not like the fact that Mansfield kept his crew of 'informants.'

"Okay then. Where was she?"

"My informant reported to me that Sarah Rose was recently arrested for breaking into an adoption agency," Mansfield said. "She tripped a silent alarm and when the police arrived, she was found breaking into the computer files. She was apparently trying to find the address to the child she put up for adoption eight years ago. The agency didn't press charges, though, so the story will likely be quashed."

"She got pregnant, hid away for a year, gave the kid up for adoption and now wants it back?"

Mansfield nodded.

"Did you find out what happened to the kid?"

"I looked into it briefly, sir, but all I found out was that she had a son. The adoption agency was very secretive and I didn't want to force the issue, especially since they were nice enough to drop the charges against the woman. All that they told me was her son was placed with a nice family."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Colin McKay lay flat against the floor, tossing a baseball up in the air, watching it come within inches of the ceiling before arcing down and dropping in his glove. He had been doing this out of sheer boredom for about an hour now, wishing that he could be either out playing baseball or watching a game on television. He was not allowed out of the house when his father was at work, though, and he did not dare disobey his old man.

"Bottom of the ninth, Game 7 of the World Series. McKay's team is up by one and all they have to do is get one more out. Here's the pitch. And the batter smacks the ball high into the air towards center field. This one has a chance. McKay runs toward the fence. If he makes this catch, they win it all."

Colin threw the ball up again, but in the excitement of his make-believe moment, he lost control of his throw. His heart sank to his feet when he heard the crashing sound of breaking glass. He jumped to his feet to assess the damage.

Colin looked like a normal eight-year-old boy. He had short brown hair and freckles dotted his face. The thing that made him different from all the other kids at school was his clothes. Colin was forced to wear ratty, second hand clothes – which were bought cheaply at a thrift shop – and sneakers that were not a brand name, two things that drew the ire of many kids with whom he went to school. His father, though, always said that he was not going to spend his 'hard-earned' money on clothes that Colin would grow out of in a year's time. If only Colin could make his father realize how important it was to be cool...

Besides, it wasn't like his father was spending money on making their house look any nicer. Their old, two-bedroom house was the size of many neighborhood sheds. Brand new homes had been built all around Colin's neighborhood, making Colin's house appear even more worn-down and dirty than it already did. This was just one more thing that angered his father. The inside of his house was not any better and looked to Colin like a blind person had furnished it.

Although a part of him wanted the ugly, puke-green lamp on the coffee table to be broken, Colin was relieved to find that it had only been knocked over, shattering the bulb in the process. He carefully unscrewed the remaining part of the bulb and gathered all of broken pieces of glass on the floor, depositing them in the kitchen trash can before getting a new bulb from the closet.

He looked at the clock and saw that it was 10:45. Colin breathed a deep sigh of relief that this accident did not happen fifteen minutes later. His father was a construction worker and usually came home around eleven to eat lunch. If he had walked in and saw the mess made by the baseball, Colin was sure the belt would be coming off.

With the bulb changed and all evidence of the crime gone, Colin walked through the house to double check that all of his chores were done. He did not want to give his father any reason whatsoever to get angry. Satisfied that everything was in order, he went back to the living room and turned on cartoons. Like clockwork, Colin heard his father's truck pull up outside a few minutes before eleven.

Please be in a good mood, please be in a good mood...

When his father came in the house, Colin noticed that he did not have the angry look on his face. That was certainly a good thing.

"Hey, boy. Watching cartoons
again
?" he asked. His father was a large, ugly man with dark black hair and long sideburns. Working in construction for fifteen years made his body rock solid, just one more thing that made him appear very frightening to Colin.

"Yeah, nothing else is on."

"Well, for your sake, I hope all the chores are done," he said. His father was dusty and sweaty and everything he touched became dirty. This made Colin question the reason his father even became so angry when his chores weren’t done.

"They are, sir."

"Good boy," he said, rubbing Colin's head roughly. Colin wondered why affection from his father hurt almost as much as punishment. "What have we got to eat around here?"

Colin listened as his father opened the refrigerator door. It took only a few seconds for him to hear the sound of a beer can being opened. His father drank his lunch most days, many times making a big meal out of it. He stumbled in the house from work at lunch every day from being tired, but he stumbled back out for another reason.

"I thought I told you not to leave your ball and glove laying around," his father said from the kitchen. Colin had left it there after throwing away the broken bits of bulb. His father – who did not appreciate his son’s affection for playing sports – yelled at him no matter where he found the glove and ball.

"Sorry," Colin answered. He normally would have jumped right up to go and get it, but he could tell that his father was not in a bad mood.

He continued to watch cartoons until his father yelled at him to come into the kitchen.
Maybe I
should have
gone and gotten the glove
, he thought. When he walked into the kitchen though, he knew the glove was not the reason for his father's yelling.

His father seemed menacingly tall, especially as he stood over the lidless trash can, looking down into its contents.

"What the hell is that broken glass?" he asked.

Colin thought that he’d gotten away with breaking the bulb and hadn’t bothered to think of a lie to tell in case his father found out. Because of this, he stood there in surprised silence, praying that his brain would come up with an excuse.

It didn't.

"Tell me, boy. And you better not lie," his father said, taking a long guzzle from the can of beer.

"I'm sorry, sir. I was tossing my ball up and down and it hit the lamp and the lamp fell over and the bulb broke," Colin said nervously.

"What did I tell you about playing with that damn ball in the house? Huh? ANSWER ME WHEN I SPEAK TO YOU, BOY."

"I know, I'm sorry, Dad."

"I don't want to hear sorry," he yelled. "I want you to tell me what I told you about it." Colin looked down at the ground, not wanting to see the scary look of anger in his father's cruel eyes. "LOOK AT ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU."

"You told me not to do it."

"And why did I tell you not to?"

"Because I could break something."

"Did you think I was saying that to hear myself speak?"

Again, Colin did not answer and tried to avert looking at his father. He thought that if he looked away, somehow his father would not be as angry. His father was not the kind of person to say something twice, though, and he smacked Colin on the side of the head when the boy again disobeyed his orders.

"No," Colin said, the tears beginning to build up at the back of his eyes.

"You know, boy, you have no respect for the stuff that we have around here. You know we can't afford many things, especially since that devil of a mother of yours left us last year. I tell you not to play ball in the house so things don't get broken." He finished drinking his beer and went to the fridge to get another. He cracked this one open and took a long drink. "Like I said, I can't afford to buy so many new things."

"Maybe you could if you didn't buy so much beer," Colin said, surprised when he heard the words come out of his own mouth.

His father looked down at him and Colin was not sure whether his old man wanted to yell at him or laugh. The baseball rolled out of the glove when his father picked it off the counter. He threw the glove very forcefully at Colin, who did not flinch and easily caught it.

"You think you can talk back to me and make me look stupid boy?" his father asked, his voice eerily calm. Although he asked him a question, Colin knew that now was not the right time to respond. His father next picked up the baseball and threw that as well. Colin was skilled enough to catch a large, leather mitt, but a small, hard baseball was something completely different.

The ball
whacked
Colin in the shin and he immediately fell to the ground. Pain stung throughout his entire leg and while he had grown adept at holding back tears of mental abuse, physical abuse still made him cry. He pulled up his pant leg to reveal a large red welt on his shin and he could feel a bump already beginning to form.

For a brief moment, Colin's father looked concerned, like he wanted to come forward and comfort his son. This look disappeared as quickly as it appeared, though. He opened the refrigerator yet again, took out a cold beer can and handed it to Colin.

"I don't know how I ended up with such a weak kid like you. Put the cold can on it, it will help with the swelling. But make sure you put it back in the fridge when you're done with it."

With that, his father walked out of the room. The stinging soon subsided, as the beer can helped numb Colin's shin and keep the swelling down. He realized that the pain was not all that bad and his tears stopped. His pain was replaced by shame and he realized that he shouldn’t have pushed his father's buttons the way he did.

Why did I make him do that? I bring these kinds of things on myself. I should just keep my mouth shut.

Colin put the beer can back in the refrigerator and hobbled into the living room, where his father had changed the cartoons to a news channel.

"Do you see this crap on the TV, boy?" his father asked. "They're actually thinking about sending a person into deep space."

Colin saw a huge ball of fire emitted from the back of a spacecraft and he wondered how the fire could have started. After a few seconds though, he realized that the craft was not on fire, it was blasting off into space. A person on the television was describing the probe launch.

"The probe is a brand-new design, but it appears to be performing the way NASA has intended," the news anchorperson on TV said. "The success of this project will determine the future direction of the entire NASA agency."

For a few short seconds, Colin forgot about the dull throbbing in his shin, as he watched in awe as the spacecraft streaked across the blue sky, leaving a long trail of smoke in its wake. He had never seen a real spaceship launch before and it appeared much different than the bad science-fiction shows that portrayed ships traveling to and from outer space.