Robert Ferrigno - Heart of the Assassin

"What do you think, General?" asked the president.

"I think it's a good long-range strategy," said Kidd. "We currently have over fifty percent of our military tied down along the border with the Belt."

"Exactly," said Amir. "A declaration of unity allows both nations to shift their forces against Aztlan, the true enemy."

"National unity should be pursued quietly, through diplomatic channels," said Kidd, "not out in the open for all to see. That way, both nations can gradually redeploy their forces, building trust over a few years, and keeping Aztlan unaware of our intentions."

"That's exactly what I was thinking," said the president.

"Father, you're too cautious," said Amir. "Argusto does not suffer the same affliction."

Kidd's eyes flashed.

"We need to act immediately," said Amir. "These are dangerous times."

"What do you know about dangerous times?" snapped Kidd.

Amir stared back at him, the planes of his cheeks sharp and shiny as obsidian.

"We're just having an innocent discussion on a sunny day," said the president, stretching out his long legs. "No harm in that. As my two chief military advisors, I welcome such talk. It's…stimulating."

Kidd stared at the president. This was the first time he was aware that Amir's advice was considered equal to his own.

"The goat is tasty, isn't it?" said the president.

"Publicly supporting the Belt will give Aztlan an excuse to take action against us, which is just what Argusto wants," explained Kidd. "Our ground forces may be superior, but Aztlan controls the air. We go to war, they win."

Amir didn't react, didn't lower his eyes, just kept staring at his father.

The president tossed aside his sandwich. "Who wants to pass the ball around?"

Amir slowly stood up. Bowed to his father.

Kidd watched the two of them trot off to the center of the field. He wished Rakkim were here. More and more lately he wished Rakkim were beside him.

The president tossed the football from one hand to the other, squinting in the sun. "Your father is right, Amir. We're in no position to take on Aztlan. They own the skies."

Amir snatched the ball away from the president. "What if they didn't?"

"Y'all want a refill, hon?"

"Thanks," said Rakkim, as the waitress filled his coffee cup and started down the counter.

"How about me?" demanded Baby. "What, am I invisible?"

The waitress ignored her, chatting with a hefty farmer with tattooed forearms. A game show played on the TV over the counter, a photo of the young, swivel-hipped Elvis on one corner of the screen, Never Forget superimposed.

Rakkim dropped a twenty-dollar bill into the REBUILD GRACELAND canister on the counter. "I don't think she likes you."

"If I was a bubblebutt like her, I wouldn't like me either," said Baby.

Their progress toward Atlanta was still slow, and their calls to the Colonel hadn't gone through. Aztlan was jamming most communications in the Belt.

A trio of rough-looking men walked through the front door, automatic rifles slung over their shoulders. What with the mobilization, restaurants and markets had abandoned their gun-check policy and just let people be. With everybody armed, things tended to stay polite. As long as folks weren't too drunk. One of the men noticed Baby, nudged the others. They tripped over their own feet twice on their way to a booth.

"Where you folks headed?" said the waitress, sliding a plate of grits and eggs in front of Rakkim.

"Atlanta," said Rakkim. "They say ninety-five is closed, but we're hoping to find an alternate route. If you got any suggestions…"

Baby gripped Rakkim's upper arm, cocked her head at the waitress. "It's our honeymoon. What with the war coming we didn't want to wait another minute."

Rakkim tried to shrug her off, but she held on.

"I thought me and the mister was about to set the sheets on fire last night," said Baby.

"My Gerald and I were the same way," said the waitress. "Wait until you have kids."

"Oh, I bet you and your husband still rock and roll," said Baby.

The waitress smiled as she topped off Baby's coffee. "We do all right."

"Knock that kind of talk off," said Rakkim after the waitress had left.

"Everybody likes lovebirds," said Baby. "Maybe she asks around to see if anybody saw Lester."

"I already asked," said Rakkim. "Nobody's seen him or the truck he boosted from the Colonel." He stretched. Definitely feeling better, the effects of his radiation exposure minimal now. "Gravenholtz might have changed rides."

"Like I said, we'll catch him in Miami." Baby watched herself in the mirror behind the counter, touched her cheek. "Look at my complexion. Sleeping in the car is ruining me."

Rakkim glanced at her, then went back to his grits. He spent too much time looking at her as it was. She knew it too. "How is it you think you can crack the Old One's security?"

Baby leaned closer. "You think shadow warriors are the only ones know how to make friends?" she whispered. "The Old One's got all kinds of people working for him, and most of them like nothing better than impressing a pretty girl with what they know." She reached over and scooped up some of his grits with her fork.

"If you're hungry, why didn't you order something?" said Rakkim.

"I like eating yours better," said Baby, sucking on the tines of the fork. "I know I said I wanted you to kill Lester when we catch up with him…I just hope you're up to it."

Rakkim stabbed at his sunny-side-up eggs, the yolk running across his plate.

"I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"Sure you did."

"It's a bad habit of mine, I'd be the first to admit it." Baby rested her head on his shoulder. "Seems like I always got to be testing a man."

Rakkim shrugged her away.

Baby smacked the counter with her hand. Heads turned but she ignored them. "Jesus, Rikki, I was just playing."

"Maybe I don't want to play. You ever think of that?"

"Maybe you need some damn rest. You ever think of that? It's been days…"

The waitress came by again with the coffeepot. "Everything okay?"

Rakkim waved her off. "Just a little lovers' spat."

"I been asking around about alternate roads for you two honeymooners," said the waitress. "So far, looks like you're out of luck, but I'll keep trying."

Baby waited until the waitress moved away. "That was sweet what you said, Rikki."

"Don't get excited. I didn't want to draw any more attention than we already have."

"A lovers' spat." Baby tapped her nails on the Formica counter. "Seems to me you could have come up with some other phrase to deflect attention. That's interesting, don't you think…you choosing to say that?"

Rakkim put his coffee down as LIVE SPECIAL REPORT bannered across the TV. The camera showed Seattle, panned across the cityscape. He heard boos and curses as the Grand Caliph mosque appeared, then the camera cut to President Brandt standing behind a podium in his private office. Somebody turned the sound up. The picture quality was crisp-the usual signal jamming between the two nations halted for the broadcast.

"…welcome you all, citizens of the Belt as well as the Republic," said Brandt. "These are momentous times…challenging times, calling for anything but business as usual."

"What's going on?" said Baby.

The camera pulled back and Rakkim was startled to see the president flanked by General Kidd on one side and Amir on the other. The president usually chose to dominate the stage. For Kidd to be there implied a state of national emergency, since Brandt, who had no military experience, needed the presence of the general to reassure the country. Kidd's erect posture and serene confidence did just that. But why was Amir there? Kidd represented the Fedayeen. If anything, the chairman of the joint chiefs should have been present to affirm the support of the army.