Sleeping Giants (Themis Files #1)(78)

—What will we do?

—The primary focus of the organization will be research: exploring the capabilities of the device and using it as a springboard for the development of new technologies with planetary-defense applications.

—I meant what will Vincent and I do?

—Parades and photo opportunities, for the most part. Unless, of course, Earth is attacked by alien forces, in which case you will most likely die a quick and meaningless death at the hands of a superior enemy with overwhelming numbers.

—You make everything sound so exciting. I’m psyched. And who will run this Earth Defense thing?

—I do not know. I have been tasked with finding a suitable team leader. I promise to stay away from any candidate exhibiting sociopathic tendencies. What matters for now is that this project cannot go forward without you, and I would like to tell the UN that they can count on your continued involvement.

—You want my answer now?

—There is no time like the present.

—…Sure. What am I gonna say? No, I don’t want to drive that awesome alien thing? I know Vincent wouldn’t give this up for the world. I sure won’t be the one to take it away from him.

—I am very pleased to hear you say it. I felt it necessary to ask, given all that you have been through recently.

—I know, you big softy. You act all tough, but really you’re all mush inside.

—That reminds me, your mother would like to see you.

—Mom? Where is she?

—Guantanamo.

—…Come on! Really? You put my mother in a cell to use her as leverage in case I said no?

—While it is not unfathomable that I would use the presence of your loved ones as a means of persuasion, you should know I would never put your mother in a cell. I am, after all, all mush inside. She is at the base in Guantanamo, not the prison. Her plane had to drop some Marines along the way. She should be here within the hour. You can fly back to the United States together.

—You’re an asshole. Vincent said you’d pull something like that.

—How is Mr. Couture doing? I have not had the chance to see him yet.

—He’s fine. He’s more than fine. He really likes that hero stuff. It’s scary.

—Is that a bad thing?

—I don’t know. I’m still mad at him.

—What has he done now to deserve your ire? He has been, as you pointed out, fairly heroic these past few days.

—Exactly. How could he be stupid enough to come back for me?

—Do you believe he had an ulterior motive?

—No, he just cared. That’s the thing. You know how I don’t easily trust other people.

—Is there anyone that does not know?

—Well, how could I possibly not trust him now? You know what’ll happen, don’t you? I’ll let my guard down, I’ll say stupid things I’ll regret later, I’ll turn into a fifteen-year-old. At some point, he’ll ask me to marry him, and I’ll be too gaga to get myself out of it.

—Mr. Couture does not seem like the marriage type to me.

—Did you know he’s been shopping for a ring?

—…

—Yep, I was speechless too when I found out. I’ve been acting as caustic as I can under the circumstances. So far, I’ve managed to look ambivalent enough about my feelings to keep him from popping the question.

—Perhaps, deep down inside that rugged shell of yours, there is a little girl desperately waiting for her Prince Charming to propose.

—Of course there is. Only until now, I’d been pretty successful at keeping that little brat’s mouth shut.

—What will your answer be if he asks?

—You’re funny. He can’t ask. I’ll find a way to be bitchy enough for the next forty years so that perfect moment never comes.

—You seem to have a good handle on that little girl after all.

Goodbye, Ms. Resnik.





FILE NO. 360


INTERVIEW WITH UNKNOWN SUBJECT

Location: Embassy of the United States, Dublin, Ireland

—How are you feeling physically? Do you require medical attention?

—I’m OK. Thank you.

—Is there anything I can get you to make you more comfortable? You were exposed to the cold for quite some time.

—I’m fine, really. They let me take a shower and gave me some warm clothes. Thank you.

—Do you know who I am?

—No, I’m sorry. I don’t know anyone in Ireland.

—What are you doing in this country?

—I’ve been kidnapped! Look, I’ve told you people a dozen times already. I don’t know how I ended up in Europe. A truck driver found me on the side of the road this morning—naked, for God’s sake.

—You say you have been kidnapped. Can you tell me how it happened?

—I was driving home from work when this van hit the brakes right in front of me. I crashed into it pretty hard. Someone dragged me out of my car. I must have fainted afterward.

—Where is home?

—I’m an American. I live in Chicago.

—You fainted and you woke up on the side of the road near Dublin.

—Yes…I…Yes, I did.

—What is it?

—I’m not sure. I think I was awake for a few seconds in between. I couldn’t see anything, but I heard some voices.