Dangerous Minds (Knight and Moon #2)(16)

“And, I’d like to talk with someone here about the government’s war on coal,” Vernon added. “America!”

Five minutes later they were escorted out of the building by two uniformed police officers.

“In retrospect, I suppose it probably wasn’t the best idea for a monk, a blogger, a known conspiracy theorist, and his amanuensis to march into a police station,” Emerson said.

Riley was taking deep, calming breaths. Thank goodness she didn’t see any reporters hanging out because if this got into the papers she would be a complete laughingstock in the legal community. She would be working for this nutcase forever, because no one else would ever hire her.

“You think?” she said to Emerson.

“On the positive side, we made our concerns known.”

Riley stared at him incredulously. “They threatened to get a restraining order against all of us!”

Emerson shook his head and smiled. “I’m rich. You have to do a lot more than that to get a restraining order when you’re rich. Wayan Bagus is just a harmless little monk, and Vernon gets a restraining order at least once a week.”

Vernon waved his hand dismissively and blew a raspberry. “Restraining order, shmestraining order.”

“So, there you have it,” Emerson said. “Nothing to worry about.”

Riley stuck her thumb at herself. “What about me?”

“Oh, you’re definitely getting a restraining order,” Emerson said.

“Seek not to contend. Where there is no contention there is neither victory nor defeat,” Wayan Bagus offered.

“All this not contending is making me hungry,” Vernon said. “Being as this is Little Buddy’s first time in our nation’s capital, let’s show him the sights. Little Buddy, you ever touch a genuine moon rock?”

Emerson turned to Riley. “Every time Vernon visits Washington, D.C., he makes a pilgrimage to the National Air and Space Museum to get an ice cream sandwich at the cafeteria, touch a moon rock, and take a nap at the planetarium.”

“Yup,” Vernon said. “Planetarium naps are just about the best kind of naps there are.”

They walked along the National Mall, past the Washington Monument to the National Air and Space Museum. As soon as they were inside, Vernon made his way to the cafeteria, and Emerson, Riley, and Wayan Bagus headed for the second-floor exhibit halls.

It was late in the day, and the museum was emptying out. Some school groups and clumps of tourists were still wandering around, but the earlier crowds had disappeared.

Riley was drawn to the special World War II Aviation traveling exhibit. Emerson and Wayan Bagus’s interests took them elsewhere.

This was nice, Riley thought, browsing through a collection of photographs and documents. She lived in Washington, D.C., but she didn’t take advantage of the culture. She didn’t visit the museums. She worked during the week, and on weekends she did laundry and food shopping.

She walked to the railing to look at the large prop bomber. The plane was suspended from the ceiling and hung just below the second-level balcony. She was looking down at the plane, imagining what it must have been like to be part of the war effort, when she was grabbed from behind, lifted off her feet, and pitched forward. Her knees hit the top of the railing, someone cursed behind her, and shoved her over the edge. She went into a free fall with arms flailing and eyes wide open, looking at the cement floor thirty feet below. There were no thoughts in her head. Just raw terror.

The plane was directly beneath her. She hit it square on the fuselage, couldn’t get a grip, and tumbled down onto a wing. Her momentum carried her off the edge of the wing, but she was able to grab on to one of the large propellers.

She dangled precariously, holding tight to the propeller. She felt the blade slowly rotate from horizontal to near vertical, and her grip started to slip. She looked down at the floor, felt panic sweep over her, and shouted for Emerson.

She looked from the floor to the balcony and saw Emerson launch himself over the guardrail and drop onto the wing. He stabilized for a moment and then grabbed her wrist from above and held tight.

“If you want to avoid situations like this in the future, we’re really going to have to work on your unagi,” Emerson said.

“S-s-sure,” Riley said. “Whatever. Just don’t drop m-m-me.”

Emerson pulled her onto the wing and held her tight against him.

“Don’t move,” he said. “We aren’t entirely secure.”

Riley had no intention of moving. Her heart was pounding, and she could barely breathe. She had her eyes squinched closed and her fingers curled into Emerson’s shirt. She thought she might have wet her pants a little. She hoped he couldn’t tell.

“My unagi tells me you’d like to be kissed,” Emerson said.

Riley opened her eyes and looked at him while he kissed her softly on the lips.

“How was that?” he asked.

“It was nice. You’re a good kisser.”

“I enjoyed it,” he said. “We should do it more.”

“And it helped to take my mind off our problem.”

“What problem is that?”

“The plane,” Riley said. “We could slip off and die.”

“That would be unpleasant,” Emerson said.

People were scrambling below them. Museum guards, Park Police, curious tourists. Sirens from first responders could be heard in the distance. EMT trucks, fire trucks, police cars.