Cloud Dust: RD-1 (R-D #1)(4)

"I know how the others feel about her. I treat them, too, remember?"

"Yeah. I remember. Are you telling me that the Five are schoolyard bullies?"

"I wouldn't classify three of them as bullies—just indifferent or superior in their attitudes. The other two are definite bullies."

"How the hell do you pull that shit out of them? Seems to me it would be wiser to keep their mouths shut." I was getting angry, and that wouldn't do. I had more research to go through and Shaw was interrupting.

"They don't consider that sensitive information. These were elite soldiers before they volunteered. Inevitably, they'd see Corinne as the weakest one in the pecking order."

"Do they have hearts, or are they just machines, now?" I snapped. Yeah, Corinne has been a sore spot for me for more than six years. I'm teased regularly by the other handlers. It pisses me off. They have Dobermans, while I have a toy poodle.

"This isn't a competition, August. I try to tell the others that—that Corinne didn't choose to compete, as they did. It never sinks in."

"You got that right," I muttered.

"Colonel?" James was back.

"Hold on a minute," I said, putting a hand over the receiver. "What is it, James?" He'd never interrupt unless it was important.

"Word just came in. NCIS found evidence that Hugh Lawrence murdered General Edwards. They found the gun in his belongings. He obviously didn't have time to get rid of it."

"What the f*ck?" I exploded. It wasn't any secret that Lawrence and Edwards didn't like each other, but what the hell was Lawrence thinking? I went cold for a moment. "Let me call you back," I said to Shaw before dropping the receiver in its cradle and staring at my assistant. "This is what Corinne saw. What she meant in the transfer Maye picked up. Maye says she heard Corinne thinking murdering, filthy bastard. Get me everything you can on Hugh's death," I demanded. "Start a file."

"Right away, sir." James left my office in a rush to collect the required information.

*

There's a small restaurant on the Mansion's first floor. It's open until eight every day and serves breakfast, lunch and dinner to those who get tired of cafeteria food. That's where I'd asked Jeff to meet with me. The cafeteria is on the third floor, and their fries are always soggy.

"Rumor has it that Lawrence wanted Edwards out of the way so he could control the Program." Jeff Chambers, Maye Canton's handler, stuffed a French fry in his mouth.

"When did that rumor start?" I asked. James hears everything, then reports it to me. He hadn't reported this.

"It started when they found the gun that killed Edwards in Lawrence's sock drawer. Standard investigation—the President wasn't satisfied with the preliminary cause of death. Lawrence was a health nut."

"I know that," I said. I'd ordered coffee while Jeff got a burger and fries. The burger disappeared in roughly four bites. The fries looked to last only slightly longer.

I couldn't begin to say how thankful I was that Edwards had been a hands-off Director. Well, lazy might be a better term, but I didn't want to emphasize that. I preferred to make my own decisions, and Edwards didn't care as long as no laws were broken.

"How's your poodle?" Jeff grinned. Maye was considered a pit-bull. I had the pampered show dog, in his opinion.

"Corinne is fine. Just went through the move."

"Has it been that long? Damn," Jeff chewed another French fry. "Any ideas on Edwards' replacement?"

"None. The President will weigh in, and it'll likely be her replacement for Secretary of Defense."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"We could get a pool started. My money's on Cutter."

"Cutter's an *," I said. "Wouldn't want to see that happen. Can you imagine what he'll say when he's briefed on the Program?"

"The work of the devil?" Jeff grinned.

"That's mild to what I was thinking," I said.

*

Corinne

While they scrutinize everything else I buy, examining it for equipment, plans or information on an attempt to overthrow the government, they barely glance at my purchases for office supplies.

I wandered down the aisles in the local office-supply warehouse, dumping pens, binder clips, folders, staples and anything else I wanted into a basket.

Some women buy shoes.

I buy office supplies.

Just in case a pair of boots might be considered contraband or a cover-up.

The taxpayers foot the bills for the Five. I pay my own way whenever possible. I wanted to hire an assistant. August put the kibosh on that.

I had an editor and two attorneys already, with all business handled by e-mail or phone. That was hard enough to push through, and they don't do my filing. I do that, along with the housework, cooking and laundry. Sometimes, I dream about a big house or condo on the beach. I don't live in one because they don't want me to get that far away from them, and not because I can't afford it.

When I'd lived next to Max and Eric, I had somebody to talk to about books. Eric was a huge fan. Max didn't like to read that much but he always read mine after Eric was finished with them.

Eric frequently asked questions and requested spoilers. I seldom gave anything that might ruin an upcoming novel if the information got out. Poor Eric—I'd never see him again, and that was sad.