Up Against It - M. J. Locke [108]
Once in her office she called Sean, and told the older man the news. He appeared stunned. Then angry. “It’s not right.”
“It’s a done deal. You report to Aaron now.”
He was silent for a long moment. Finally he said, “My people have several efforts going on—any last orders on how we should prioritize?”
“That’s Aaron’s call.” She added, “If it were me, I’d carry on with what I was doing. Let Aaron get his balance. The shit’s really hitting the fan for him.
“And I’d say report to him first thing in the morning tomorrow, if he hasn’t contacted you by then. Be prepared with a full briefing and recommended priorities.”
“All right. And ma’am—” he said, as she started to disconnect. “It’s been a pleasure.”
Jane frowned over the sudden lump in her throat. “Likewise.”
Next she tried Tania, but there was no answer, so she left a message. Then she called Marty. When she told him, he yelled, “What? Are they insane?”
She had no answer for that. She spent a second or two searching for words. “I don’t know what to tell you. Just … do your best for Aaron. He’s going to need you. OK?”
“You got it,” Marty said. “The bastard.” She was unsure whether he meant Benavidez or Aaron.
Jane said, “He’s just doing what he thinks is best for the cluster.” But Marty’s indignation was balm for her spirit. A long, awkward pause. “I’d better let you go,” she said. “Good luck.”
“I’ll miss working with you, Chief. Maybe we could get together before you leave, and you could meet Ceci. She’s a big fan of yours.”
That brought a smile to Jane’s face. “I’d like that.”
Then she called Xuan. He was tied up in a meeting at the university. While she was leaving him a message, someone tapped on the door.
“Enter,” she said. She finished the message and turned off her communications. Aaron latched the door behind him and bobbed there, twenty degrees askew. To the two agents by the door she said, “Gentlemen, please excuse us.”
They glanced at Aaron, who nodded. Once they had gone, he said, “I tried to warn you.”
“I know.” Jane started emptying the drawers of her desk. The contents tumbled out into the air.
“They didn’t want me to say anything ahead of time. But I couldn’t—” He broke off with a little jerk of his head. “I had to try.”
She was surprised at herself: less than a minute ago, she had been advising Sean and Marty to make things easy on Aaron, and now here she was, wanting to rip his face off. A harsh laugh escaped her. “Maybe next time you could try a little harder.”
“I am so sorry—”
“Don’t.” She said it sharply. Then she shook her head. “I know. You did try. I’m just,” she turned to him. “I’m too angry right now to be reasonable. I thought we were friends. You must have known last night. You could have called me.”
He said nothing. She turned her back again. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine. It shouldn’t take me long to get things cleared out for you.”
He drifted there silently, watching her for a moment. But she had nothing more to say. Finally he left. She stopped dragging things out of the drawers and just floated, staring blindly at the desk detritus settling slowly, at the hangings she’d pulled off the wall: pictures of family; holograms of No-Moss and their habitat as they had built it; two carvings Hugh had done; an art project Dominica had made as a teen; several education, award, and appreciation certificates.
After a moment she realized that the two agents weren’t going to come back in. Aaron must have sent them away. A kind gesture. She should thank him for that. She turned on her interface. It wove itself around, through, and beyond all her meatspace, with its lists, notes, works-in-progress, schedules, resource- and project-tracking ribbons.
They could shut her out of the area-wide systems, but they couldn’t shut her out of her own local waveware—not until they had her ear lozenge. And Benavidez had not had