Wired (8 page)

“Well, we can't be sure, but I should expect so.”

“But you don't know who is after her?”

“No real leads, I'm afraid” Oliver said ruefully, clasping his hands on his knee. “But this e-mail exchange in and of itself only serves as confirmation of my suspicions. It can hardly be denied that someone is after her. We just need to determine who.”

“Do you think the answers might be in her computer?”

Oliver barked a short, quick laugh. “What were you thinking? That we'd just hack into her laptop? Dont you think she'd realize if you'd been at her private files?”

Jake flushed. “You're right, of course. I always forget who I'm dealing with” Of course Gaia would notice if Jake had somehow just run off with her computer. His delusions of Bond were getting the best of him.

“It's easy enough to do so. We've all underestimated Gaia at one point or another.”

“But not you. You never did.”

Oliver cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “You give me too much credit. I have, at times, underestimated her. But I learn from my mistakes” He gazed wistfully at the wall, momentarily lost in thought. It could have been Jake's imagination, but was Oliver slightly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking?

“Now, then,” Oliver said brusquely, snapping back to attention and hastily straightening a disorganized pile of papers that lay scattered next to the computer. “Your job should be simple enough, especially given your relationship with Gaia. I merely want you to keep an eye on your girlfriend—a closer watch than before, given this new piece of information.” He began to tap a pen against the desk rhythmically. “I imagine you wouldn't mind that.”

Jake laughed. “Nah, that shouldn't be too painful. But are you sure there isn't anything more—?”

“You were hoping for what? Espionage? Deep undercover? Disguises? Fancy toys? Not just yet, my friend. There's no need for anything more than active surveillance. I want you to report back any suspicious behavior, anything odd or off—even something Gaia herself might say or do.”

Jake thought back to Gaia's panicked indictment of Oliver the night before, her uncharacteristically clingy behavior in school. That was definitely suspicious
behavior—but he worried that he'd sound like a real jackass “reporting” that his girlfriend was too
into
him lately. No, he'd take a watch-and-wait approach before reporting that, for sure. He wanted something more concrete. Something that seemed less, well,
Jake-centric
. Something less easily dismissed as ego. “Do you think it's someone at the boardinghouse?” he asked suddenly. Anything was possible, after all—he was learning this fast.

“Doubtful The boardinghouse is run by top Agency officials.”

“But infiltration would be possible, right?”

“Possible, yes. But unlikely. However, I see no reason why the boardinghouse shouldn't fall under the scope of your surveillance. Just don't concentrate too much of your effort there.”

“What about the Droogs? That's the new threat in town. Do you think IV could have anything to do with whoever's after Gaia?”

A flash of consternation flickered across Oliver's face, but when he spoke, he was composed. “Absolutely not. Droogs are simply immature thrill seekers who've run out of ways to pass time. I can't think of anything less likely to be connected to Gaia. Don't waste our time with such trivialities, Jake.”

Jake was instantly contrite. “You're probably right. I'm sorry. I was just, you know, trying to open my
mind to every possibility. But yeah, I'll just stick close to Gaia. That'll be the best plan for now.”

Oliver fixed Jake with a measured smile. “Indeed. A sharp eye on Gaia is really all that we need.”

The
boy's eagerness can work both with me as well as against me. True, he is confident almost to a fault—some might say arrogant—and ready to take on whatever task I may give to him. True, he has proven himself in the field. He is strong and physically capable, and his loyalty to Gaia is impressive indeed. I can think of no one better suited for the act of surveillance, particularly given his neophyte status. Jake Montone is far too inexperienced to come close enough to learning the truth.

Although… he has demonstrated that he yearns to be at the center of the action. He wants to know all there is to know. He courts danger, even more than he is aware. He will ask questions, and I must cover my own tracks and shield my own suspicions. He cannot learn more than I am ready to reveal. He must work with me, for me, on my timeline, or he is
useless to me… and to Gaia.

Jake believes that our interest lies in protecting Gaia, and he is right. I would sooner poison myself than see her hurt at the hands of another. But there are other factors involved. It may be that someone is after Gaia due to her unique gifts. It may be that someone has learned of her genetic composition. Someone may wish to harness her power, to learn from it, to replicate it. And though I said otherwise to Jake, that someone may have leaked a dangerous chemical onto the black market, this Invince, this drug that makes people think they are immortal. It is a wild card, an element of uncertainty that threatens to unravel my careful efforts. This I cannot allow. No one will have my niece under a microscope, examining her like a laboratory rat and manipulating her biochemistry for their own benefit. I will not have it.

As her uncle, Oliver would not
have Gaia the subject of a nefarious science experiment.

Loki, that old, comfortable companion, agrees.

If anyone is to benefit from a study of Gaia Moore, it will be me.

ED WAS PLEASED TO NOTE THAT THE doctor leaning over him, clipboard in hand, was humming. Humming had to be good news. There was no way a doctor would be so cruel as to exhibit such unrelenting exuberance if he didn't have something key to pass along to Ed.

Such as, for example, a discharge notice. A clean bill of health.

Ed had been in and out of hospitals more than he cared to reflect on ever since his skateboard accident a few years ago, and while he had by now gotten used to the sterile, antiseptic atmosphere, it didn't mean he was eager to set up short-term residence at St. Vincent's. The stack of extreme sport magazines piled up on his nightstand was as homey as he wanted the room to be. He wasn't interested in being on a first-name basis with each and every staff member, no matter how friendly they were to him. No, he'd be thrilled to return to his parents' apartment—and maybe even willing to allow them to shower him with embarrassing amounts of affection. Or at the very least, a decent meal. The cookie Kai had brought him was the closest he'd come to actual sustenance in days.

And it had, evidently, done wonders toward nursing him back to health. The doctor took a quick listen
with his stethoscope (which Ed was fairly convinced was actually just a prop), clapped Ed on the shoulder, and sat back on the edge of the bed. “Well, son, I gather you're ready to leave?” the doctor asked, eyes twinkling.

“Definitely. What sort of time frame are we talking about?” There had been discussion of leaving that evening, but Ed didn't want to hold his breath.

“How quickly can you pack up?”

“Man, are you kidding? That's awesome.” He wasn't going to
have
to hold his breath. Excellent.

“We've called your parents. They'll be here in an hour or so to check you out and take you home. There are some papers they need to fill out for you to be released. In the meantime, you can collect your belongings. And do let me know if you need anything else.” The doctor smiled, readjusted his stethoscope, and left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Ed really didn't have too much to pack; he'd just change back into the clean set of clothes his mother had left for him. He'd already read and reread all of the magazines more times than he'd wanted to—they were more than ready for the recycling bin. But there was no pressing need to leap out of bed and get to gathering, so he lay back for a moment, thinking. Reveling in the thought of returning home.

The door squeaked open again and Ed turned toward it, thinking the doctor had forgotten one
semi-vital piece of information—some nonparental form to be filled out, probably. But he was wrong.

Instead it was Gaia, looking more disheveled than usual. Of course, even in this condition she was a vision to Ed, but he was instantly concerned nonetheless. Who wouldn't be? Her jeans were streaked with dust and she had a scratch on one cheek. She was flushed and her hair hung in sweaty straggles. Her hooded sweatshirt was slightly askew. “Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey,” Ed said, glad to see her. He figured he'd let her warm up to telling him what had happened. He knew better than to push with Gaia. “I'm getting sprung today. In an hour, actually. You're just in time.”

She beamed at him, her entire face lighting up. “Really? That's great. I'm so glad you didn't have to stay longer.” She came around to the side of the bed and lowered herself into one of the two plastic visitor chairs that stood beside it. “I'm really, really glad that you're okay,” she said, her voice grave.

“Of course I'm okay! Don't overreact. Seriously—surface wounds,” Ed joked. It was obvious that something was bothering Gaia. There was something she was trying to to tell Ed. But she was having trouble getting it out. “Gaia,” Ed said insistently, “is there something on your mind?”

“I could have stopped it,” she blurted.

“What do you mean?” asked Ed.

“I mean I was headed towards the park that night. I ran into the thugs that attacked you. But I didn't do anything to stop them.”

Ed was silent for a moment. Whatever suspicions he'd had about Gaia's behavior were now confirmed. Her skittish behavior at their last meeting was definitely suspect. She'd been timid and twitchy—one hundred percent nerve endings. Not that every walking piece of scum was anyone's responsibility, let alone hers. She'd definitely exceeded term limits as self-appointed teen vigilante at large. But as far as Ed knew, Gaia had never seemed to be on the receiving end of that particular memo, so he could only guess that something was deeply wrong with her. Still, he had no intention of making her feel bad about what had happened. There was no way she could have known who those thugs would end up hurting.

“Gaia, don't be ridiculous. You've really got to get over this Buffy complex. I mean, you could also stop, um, gingivitis if you were willing to floss after every meal. I know you're, like, superhuman, but you can't prevent every bad thing, ever. I know you did what you could.”

“I should have stopped it,” she said, more to herself than to Ed.

The more Ed thought about it, the more it did weird him out that Gaia hadn't stopped the attack. The Gaia he knew and—hell, just admit it—loved
totally wouldn't have let any of those punks get by. Something was up with Gaia, but Ed didn't know how to go about probing without seeming suspicious.

He wondered, fleetingly (and not for the first time), if whatever was going on in Gaia's world had anything to do with the bizarre CIA visit to Heather. He contemplated mentioning that, asking her if she had done any follow-up, but at the last minute he chickened out. One look at her unkempt appearance suggested that now wasn't exactly the time. Gaia was acting so strange, solin-Gaia-like, that he didn't want to do anything to push her buttons.

He was started out of his thoughts by the sound of a pronounced sniffle. He glanced up to see what had to be the ultimate strangeness he'd ever encountered.

Gaia was crying.

She was pretending that she wasn't—staring off in the opposite direction of the bed and dabbing at her eyes methodically—and she was definitely trying to stifle the tears, but there was no denying that actual wetness was emanating from her eyes. Ed blinked. This had to be a first for them. In all that he had been through with Gaia, he didn't think he had
ever
seen her cry.

He sat up straight in bed, reaching out to her. “Hey—don't worry. I told you, I know that you did what you could, and you know, here I am, totally fine. They're letting me go. No permanent damage. No
worries. And I don't blame you, so please don't blame yourself.”

Gaia rubbed at her eyes but didn't say anything in response. After a moment she abruptly turned back to Ed. “Forget it, I'm being a spaz.” And just as soon as the tears had begun, they were locked away again. It was like spontaneous bipolar disorder or something.

“So other than your great escape, what else is new? Have you made plans for prom yet?”

Ed was starting to wonder if he had somehow stumbled into the twilight zone. What the hell was up with this non-Gaia—first the unnecessary levels of self-flagellation, then the spontaneous crying jag, and then the less-than-subtle subject change? Granted, Gaia had never been an open book, but they were plumbing new depths of odd behavior. And since when did Gaia Moore care about things like
prom?

“Uh, no plans yet. I guess I'm the last one to deal with it, huh? Probably all anyone can talk about at school?”

“Yeah, just about. There's a lot of speculation that the IV crimes will get in the way of the big night—but I don't think the students will really let that happen.” She wrapped a thick rope of hair around one finger pensively. “So, you're thinking of going, right? Who are you going to ask? Kai?”

Ed shrugged. “Who knows? I mean, she's really laid
back, you know, so I think we could probably go as friends and she'd be cool with it. But I guess I'll have to see. She might have had a more romantic evening in mind.” He thought for a moment. “I'll probably have to figure it out sooner rather than later, right? I mean, whoever I end up going with will want to have time to get a dress, or schedule a hair appointment, or….” He peered at Gaia inquisitively. “What is it you girls do for the big night?”