Chapter 6:

Jessica was waiting for Veronica when she returned. “We need to talk.”

“It can wait.” With her bag slung over the left shoulder, Veronica took the stairs two at a time. Shower was first, that bigoted bitch after.

...

Feeling human again, the athletic blonde sought out her shorter forced roommate.

“So, talk.”

“Your interference and taking the subject out of observation is unacceptable.”

“Aw. Did you want to watch us running through the woods?”

“I don’t see the point of that anyway. You know how this will end up.”

“With your way, he will be in Russia. Or Norway or Spain. Isn’t that the goal of the Agency, to ‘remove the threat of all supers in this country’?” Lieutenant Lake attacked.

“Not true. We want them to be good citizens and not endanger the others.”

“Under the Agency’s thumb, you mean. Good little soldiers. Or should I say ‘Obedient’ instead of good. What do you think will happen when that Recruiter dangles ten million in front of Nate’s face?”

“He won’t be allowed to leave the country.”

“And if he goes with Ambassador Stavros in the diplomatic plane, like Lucy Green and Josh Murry?”

Agent Dubois had no answer for that. But she did know that this Lieutenant Lake had way too much inside information about her Agency’s affairs.

“As I thought. You would let us lose one of the five Class V’s out there, just for a few million dollars and a pretty smile to a rival country. Your paranoia makes me sick.”

“And if he Rampages and kills millions, what will you say then?” She shot back.

“That we fucked up and let everything go to shit. If that were to happen, the first place he would go is Warren. Then Bingham. Wait, aren’t those the main headquarters of the Powers Regulatory Agency? The only ones you could blame then, are your own, which will never happen. Bigots are never wrong, just ask them.”

“He’d never get that far,” called out the brunette agent to Veronica’s retreating back.

Hearing the threat, Veronica stopping on the carpeted stairs landing, “Agent Dubois, the second you touch Lu Tang, Nathan will kill you and Rampage, costing the lives of all too many to count. That HAS reached President Johnson, I’m told.” She coldly related without turning. Veronica had a report to file. President Johnson needed to be informed and she hoped that her superiors could make the idiot-in-charge see reason.

What the politician and her ultimate boss would do or say, was up to the polls to direct his voice and choice. As always, no politician or President could ever be trusted to act in good conscience for the nation or its people. They would just do whatever would make them look good. Especially first term Presidents. AND next year was an election year.

The next morning, Ronnie came over in not the best of moods. Thinking that she held yesterday’s over the top antics against me. I apologized before she could even say hi.

Of course, I got smacked upside the head for my ‘sorry’.

“We are extending our run today. You haven’t even been sweating the last couple days.”

Something was different today. She looked a little different. Felt that way too.

“It was raining. How would you tell the difference?”

“I’d know.”

Oookaaayy...

“Don’t give me that look. Lengthen your stride a little. We still will start out slow.”

Our fifty-minute start of the day on easy mode, became ninety on hell mode ... Walk five minutes, jog five minutes, sprint five minutes, jog five then restart the cycle. My legs were on fire and my side had major stitches, Plural! Thank God for healing, which I waited until we were home before activating, at her order.

“You did well. Have a big breakfast today. You burned a lot of calories.”

“Thanks,” I panted, lying on my back and wishing I was dead.

“See you at 1:30.”

Afraid to ask, but did anyway. “What’s at 1:30?”

“Another session, but easier, like yesterday morning.”

Groaning, I gave up and tried to sleep on the front lawn. The kick on the bottom of my foot got me moving, Ronnie standing there towering over my prone form in those tight shorts was a great motivator. Remembering yesterday vividly, I blushed and rolled over to hide my growing member from her. Not that I believed for a second that she didn’t catch my face reddening or the reason behind it.

Right up until Wednesday evening on the way to pick up Lu at his office, Ronnie acted normal around me. Exactly the same as she had before. There was something though. I didn’t know what, but something was different about her I couldn’t put my finger on. To me it was if she had become prettier, shinier and sparklier, but I thought that was me projecting.

Wearing my new dress-up outfit for the first time, the three of us entered the elevator, I said no to the tie and Ronnie didn’t insist, but she did insist on an ivory undershirt and emerald short sleeved button down, accompanied by black slacks. That wasn’t bad. I kinda liked it.

Ronnie even dressed up a bit with navy slacks and a white blouse. And gun. She moved naturally wearing it, it was me that was uncomfortable. Lu didn’t give it a second glance when we met up.

On the seventh floor of the Hilton, not the luxury accommodation that I expected someone like Irene to stay at, the three of us walked down the short hall to room 701. I had looked it up earlier and the corner suite had two adjoining rooms, one on each side. But both her Class III guards were in the closer room to the elevator and stairs leaning forward across from each other. Playing chess or a different board game?

Answering the door herself, there was one other woman in the room. Irene welcomed us each with a brief kiss on the cheek while lightly holding our hands. No lipstick marks for Lu this time. Nor me. I killed hard the thought of Ronnie getting one before it took hold.

Silk ivory camisole and a skin tight pair of silken knit bellbottoms seemed to be all that our hostess wore. No lines anywhere. I Looked. So did Lu, but he was less obvious than me. A single gold clasp held her hair bunched down her back reaching mid shoulder blade.

“Do come in and be welcome. Anya, drinks please for our guests.” Lu took the offered chair and Ronnie and I shared the couch.

Anya was a pretty eighteen year old Class III with black eyes and long braided black hair, wearing a short black skirt and half shirt with long sleeves. All silk. Irene liked silken clothes it seemed.

Noticing my attention and where it was, “Nate, dear, once you start wearing silk, you won’t want to stop. Even the inexpensive crushed shirt you have on now is a start, but pales to the genuine article.”

Unconsciously, I rubbed the material of my new shirt. The best piece of clothes I owned. “I don’t know. I like my jeans.”

“Who says you can’t wear silk under?” She smiled mischievously at me.

I swallowed my blush.

Wordlessly, from a single glass pitcher, Anya poured four drinks and placed them on the coffee table between us. She retreated to stand behind Irene.

Letting us choose?

Lu reached out first, then me, Ronnie reluctantly placed one by her side without tasting. Irene, uncaring at our wariness accepted the last and drank unconcerned.

“Irene, I’d like to know who you are and what you want with us.” Lu in lawyer mode, opened up the business discussions.

I sipped my delicious half-frozen punch with more than a hint of alcohol. Not that I knew what kind was added or how much, but it didn’t seem to be a lot. If 7-11 sold these they’d make a killing.

“Anya.” Giving an unspecified command we waited for whatever she had in store.

Smoothly, maybe even more graceful in her heels than her boss, her assistant brought over a black box and set it on the table. Flicking the red toggle, an electric field passed through me and spread out to coat the walls.

I heard and felt the humming from the field, Sensed it too.

“What’s that?” I asked breaking Lu’s restriction on me.

“Ask your friend beside you,” came Irene’s mysterious reply.

Turning to the, up to now, silent Ronnie, I waited.

“Nathan, it’s called a Wave Breaker. It soundproofs a room.”

“Cool,” I couldn’t help my reaction. Even Lu looked intrigued.

“A very industrious young girl in Norway makes these and a few other interesting toys and sells them at a reasonable price,” explained our hostess.

“Nate, I’d like to hire you.”

Point blank Irene came out and said it.

“Twenty-five million dollars a year.

My jaw hit the floor. My brain, still numb from the other day, blanked.

Seeing my reaction, she smiled, genuinely. Very real and very intimidating. For some reason, I thought of the last Bond film and the thought of why Bond never stayed with the Heroines for long. I thought I knew a little more of why now.

“And what would you have Nathan be doing for this sum, Miss Irene...” Lu broke the spell.

“Petrovski. Spend two or three days a week at the local hospital. One in the children’s ward and one doing whatever he and the chief of staff deemed best.”

I was still stunned at the twenty-five million. I might have missed part of their conversation.

“ ... the house would be in his name.”

“Wait, where I live?”

“Anapa, Russia. It’s located on the coast of the Black sea. Anya would you bring the folder please?”

“Da.” The teen in black replied from her place behind her boss. Both Lu and I were handed a folder while Ronnie’s was placed on the table before her. In deference to her bodyguard position and not having things in her hands, I guessed.

The first page was an aerial map of the area. The southern tip of Russia near the Georgia border and 1400 kilometers south of Moscow, according to the legend.

“Conversely, you could live in Rostov-on-Don, a much large city bordering the south edge of the Lenin forest, still a port town but more of a true city instead of a resort town. There is also an Eurail station there.”

“Nate, you have never been to Europe, have you?” At my headshake, “Think of working your two days and spending the next five or ten traveling to Athens, Florence, Paris, Berlin, Istanbul or any of the other stops. Spend a few days touring and playing then return home, work a bit, bank up some time and off you go again.”

DAMN. That sounded awesome.

“Bank?” I asked. I was way over my head here. WAYYYY over.

“I ask that you work and live nine months out of the year in Russia. Where, is mostly irrelevant to me. If you want to travel to, Moscow say, and spend a month there touring and learning about the country, I would expect that you work in the hospitals there your two days a week. It’s completely up to you which ones and why.”

“What would you expect Nathan to be doing in your hospitals, Miss Petrovski?” Ronnie interjected on my behalf.

Shocking me really. I didn’t expect her to say anything.

Relaxing into her chair, “All this is contingent on whether or not Nate here can and will Heal as I expect he can.”

“Why would he want to move to Russia?” Lu redirected the conversation. Which was good, my acting skills were mostly nonexistent. Probably completely nonexistent in front of Irene.

“Nate, has your country shown any indication that they want you? If you stay, will the PRA give up on their pursuit of you? Their repression? How many times have you filed discovery suits against them only to have them ignore both you and the courts, saying that your father was in custody for national security reasons, yet you knew all along that he was dead. They knew it too. Yet refused to be the least bit humane about it.”

I grunted. But remembered my admonishment not to answer. That was Lu’s job.

“Nathan’s father’s status has been clarified.” Lu interjected.

“Yet, you filed a hundred million dollar lawsuit against the PRA. ‘Intentional pain and suffering by withholding the status of his deceased father from his minor child’, I believe is how you put it, did you not? Do you believe that they will allow Nathan to roam free? Staying put in your sleepy little town is one thing. Imagine if he wanted to travel to New York or LA. Or live there. Will they allow that?

“Nate, did you know that America is the 91^st ranked nation for Supers’ livability?”

“No, I didn’t,” I admitted. I didn’t even know there was a list.

“Even Iran is higher up the list at 90 for non-Muslims and 30 for Muslims. America, who once welcomed all, now doesn’t welcome you. Very specifically you.”

I sighed. I couldn’t help it.

“Nate. England, is cold and damp, it rains a cold rain all year. Their food is terrible and you will be followed everywhere you go. Their special forces are among the best in the world but they will still do it, even if you never notice them. ‘For your protection’. They won’t be hostile, just careful.

“France won’t appreciate you for the very simple reason you were not born there and do not speak the language better than a native Parisian. They are rude, demanding and impolite to their own countrymen. To outsiders, they are worse. Vacationing there has always been a disappointment for me for those reasons. I love the country, yet dislike the people.”

“Norway is cold. You think it’s cold in Moscow. Try Oslo. They are the nicest people in the world, absolutely the best. But they live in snow and ice eight months of the year.” Leaning forward and mock whispering confidentially, “And all the girls are built like Veronica there.” She smiled a sly smile, “But do you want to spend your life in snow?”

“No,” I answered unconsciously at her enticement.

“Germany is fine, but they have two major American military bases located there. Bumping into your fellow Americans might be good, at first, but the ‘69%’ voter turnout against Supers includes over 90% among the active voting military...”

Ronnie didn’t like or agree with that. But now was not the time to argue.

“Spain and Greece are dead broke and in such massive debt that they will drop the Euro soon or face serious sanctions for lying about their finances and debt when joining. They don’t have two wooden nickels to rub together. Some businessmen do. But do you think they do business at home or go abroad to make and spend their money? Again, great places to visit. But do you want to live in a country that makes Mexico look rich?

“Mexico is openly ruled by the cartels,” Irene shrugged, “If you wanted to embrace your dark side, go there, anywhere in Africa or in Portugal, which is overrun by expats.”

Expats?

“The Baltics are a mess. Canada would be your best option if ... IF they would not extradite you if and when the President demanded it. If he doesn’t, you would be doing the same things there as I want you to have doing for me for less money and freedom. They too will have you followed everywhere. Again, Canada is much further north than Missouri. You will have to get accustomed to the cold.”