?Remember the punch line I forgot yesterday?? I asked, scanning the crowd as I moved toward what I presumed was the entrance to the main dining hall. ?The really funny one??
Shaun?s surprise faded, replaced by wariness. ?Yeah, I remember that one. Did you figure out the rest of the joke??
?Uh-huh, I did. Some friends of mine found it online. Where are you??
?We?re at the podium. Senator Ryman?s shaking hands. What?s the punch line??
?It?ll be funnier if I tell you in person. How do I get to the podium??
?Straight through the big doors and head for the back of the hall.?
?Got it. Georgia out.? I tapped the ear cuff, killing the connection, and walked on.
Shaun and Rick were a few feet to the left of the crowd of people the senator was glad-handing his way through. They?d paid for the privilege of meeting the man being predicted as our next president, and they were by God going to meet him, even if it was only for the few seconds it took to shake a hand and share a smile. On those few seconds are presidencies made. Here, behind the believable ?safety? of a double-checked guest list and that guest list?s triple-checked infection status, old-school politicians felt free to revert to their old habits, pressing the flesh like it had never gone out of style. You could tell the ones who were genuinely young from the ones who?d had all the plastic surgery and regenerative treatments money could buy, because the young ones were the ones looking nauseated by all the human contact around them. They hadn?t grown up in this political culture. They just had to live with it until they became the old men at the top of the hill.
The senator didn?t look uncomfortable at all. The man was in his element, all toothy smiles and bits of practical wisdom sliced down to sound-bite size in case one of the nearby reporters was broadcasting on an open band. He?d known to do that sort of thing long before we joined his campaign, but having a constant press entourage had forced him to master the art. He was good. Given enough time, he?d be great.
Shaun was watching for my arrival, his shoulders set at the angle that meant he was tenser than hell and trying to hide it. They relaxed slightly as he saw me cutting through the crowd, and he nodded for me to approach. I shook my head, mouthing ?Where?s Tate??
Holding up a finger to signal me to quiet, Shaun pulled out his PDA and scrawled a message with the attached stylus. My watch beeped a second later, the message other side o/room w/investors what?s going on????? scrolling across the screen. The message I need to talk to Sen. Ryman w/o Tate hearing would have taken too long to type on the tiny foldout keypad. I deleted the message and kept walking.
?Georgia,? Rick greeted as I drew close. He was holding a flute of what appeared to be champagne, if you didn?t pay too much attention to the bubbles. Sparkling cider: another trick of working the crowd. If people think you?re getting as drunk as they are, they forget to be careful around you.
?Rick,? I said, with a nod. Shaun was shooting me a concerned look, and failing in his efforts to hide it. I put a hand on his arm. ?Nice tux.?
?They call me Bond,? he said, gravely.
?Figured they might.? I looked toward the senator. ?Gonna need to wade in there. I wish I had a cattle prod.?
?Are we going to find out what the situation is any time soon, or are we supposed to follow you blindly?? asked Shaun. ?I ask because it determines whether I?m hitting you in the head sometime in the next eight seconds. Very vital information.?
?It?s a little hard to explain here,? I said. ?Unless you know who?s broadcasting locally??
Shaun groaned, attracting startled glances from several bystanders. A plastic smile snapping instantly into place, he said, ?Jeez, George, that was a terrible joke.?
?I didn?t say it was a good punch line, just that I?d remembered it,? I said, stepping a little closer. Pitching my voice so low it verged on inaudible, I said, ?Dave and Alaric had their big breakthrough. They followed the money.?
?Where?d it go?? Shaun was even better at this than I was. His lips didn?t even seem to move.
? ?Where?d it come from?? would be a better question. It went to Tate. It came from the tobacco companies, and from some people they haven?t traced yet.?
?We knew it was Tate.?
?The IPs they?re pulling are from D.C? and Atlanta.?
There?s only one organization in Atlanta important enough to bring me running the way I had, especially when we?d already known at least a part of the conspiracy. Shaun?s eyes widened, need for secrecy eclipsed by sudden shock. If the CDC had been infiltrated?
?They don?t know for sure??
?They?re trying, but the security is good, and they?ve nearly been caught twice.?
Shaun sighed. That was audible, and I elbowed him in the side for it. He shook his head. ?Sorry. I just wish Buffy were here.?