Robert Ferrigno - Heart of the Assassin

"Back at you," said Colarusso, gulping his champagne. He waited until the ambassador had left. "Your ass must be getting sore from being kissed all night."

"Thank you for your concern, Anthony. You should have considered a career in the diplomatic corps."

"I'll talk it over with Marie. Never too late, and the food's a hell of a lot better than at a police potluck." Colarusso handed his empty glass to a passing waiter, grabbed another one off the tray. "You heard anything from Rikki?"

"He's on his way back, that's all I know."

Sarah looked around the packed ballroom of the Brazilian embassy, decorated tonight like the Amazonian rain forest, wild orchids blooming in the lush green canopy overhead, enormous butterflies fluttering above the tropical flowers, and caged parrots squawking from the dwarf banyan trees. Colarusso had spent the first hour there wandering around with his head tilted back saying, What the fuck? She knew just how he felt. The two of them glided across the room, Colarusso in a rented tuxedo a little small on him, Sarah in a sea-foam green silk ball gown that rustled faintly with every step, the tiny seed pearls across the bodice gleaming softly in the light.

The international elite were here-billionaires and ambassadors, kings and queens, presidents and pashas, everyone eager to congratulate the victorious regime on vanquishing the evil empire. The very same empire that they had courted and cajoled for the last ten years. Everyone loved a winner, and the French ambassador wasn't the first one to compliment Sarah as being the hidden architect of the rapprochement with the Belt and the defeat of Aztlan. Legault had been relentless in promoting her contributions on television news specials, and it hadn't hurt that President Brandt had been incapacitated for the last two days with the flu, leading to all sorts of ugly jokes and rumors.

"He'll be fine," said Colarusso.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Rikki." Colarusso jerked as an iridescent blue hummingbird zipped past him. "He'll turn up, don't worry."

"I'm not worried," said Sarah, not caring that they both knew it was a lie. She looked around. "I'm surprised Amir isn't here."

"Something's going on with the Fedayeen high command," said Colarusso. "I'm hearing rumblings, but nothing clear." He hitched up his trousers. "You mind if I find some more of those prawns? Fucking things are the size of Shamu."

"Go ahead, Anthony."

"You'll be okay, won't you? They got more security here-"

"I'll be fine." Sarah kissed him on the cheek. "Go on."

She waited until he wandered off, then made her way through the crowd, forced to stop several times to be praised shamelessly, before stepping out onto one of the balconies off the ballroom. It was cooler and quieter out here, room to breathe.

Alone now, all she could think about was Rakkim. Her longing for him was always there, just under the surface, kept at bay by her relentless schedule, the constant spinning of different possibilities. Busy making history and no way to know how her efforts would work out until it was too late, whether she had created a heaven or a horror show.

She waved away a waiter who approached with food and drink. She had lost five pounds since Rakkim had been gone, too nervous to eat, barely sleeping. There was a reason her uncle Redbeard had never married, all his attention taken up with matters of state security. I'm married to the future, he had told her once when she asked him why he didn't have at least one wife. She hadn't understood then, but she did now.

Legault approached, leading a young woman by the hand. Probably a budding newsanchor, or producer, or spokesmodel. She was beautiful, of course, moved like she was stalking something, lean and tan and healthy in a pale pink dress, her honey blond hair to her shoulders. The woman every man wanted and every woman hated. Particularly a married woman. Sarah smiled at her.

"Sarah, I have someone here who's dying to meet you," said Legault. "Sarah Epps, I'd like to present-"

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sarah," drawled Baby, slipping her hand into Sarah's and giving it a gentle squeeze. "My name's Baby."

"Baby?" Sarah stared at her. "Are you…are you the Colonel's wife?"

"Don't look so surprised, sweetie, Christian wives get to travel and-"

"Don't call me sweetie."

"Oh my, Rikki said you were touchy, but you're really kind of a bitch."

"Sarah, I…I had no idea," stammered Legault. "Baby said-"

"Shoo now, Robert," said Baby. "Sarah and I got some girl talking to do."

"It's all right, Robert," said Sarah, "I can handle this." She looked past Baby, saw the Old One walk into the ballroom with the Russian ambassador. He had changed his appearance since the last time they met, what…five or six years ago, but it was definitely him.

Baby followed her gaze. "You don't miss nothing, do you? Just like Rikki." She waved to the Old One. "Hi, Daddy!"

In spite of the distance and the sound level in the ballroom, the Old One paused in his conversation with the ambassador, looked around until he spotted Baby, and waved back.

Baby turned back to Sarah. She still didn't know what Rikki saw in her. She was pretty enough, but she had lines around her eyes and you could see the veins along the backs of her hands. Daddy said Sarah and Rikki had a kid. Case closed. She could see Sarah checking her out too, but Baby didn't mind. Eat your heart out, lady.

"Daddy?" said Sarah. "Is that a pet name?"

"Don't be mean now," said Baby. "He's my father."

"My sympathies."

Baby had to hand it to her, she didn't let things throw her. Just processed the new information and moved forward like a shark.

"Is the Colonel here?" asked Sarah.

"Not that I know of," Baby said airily. "I think he's busy driving the Mexicans back across the Rio Grande."

A parrot cawed in the ballroom, the sound echoing. "You must be very proud of your husband."

"Well, tell you the truth, I'm more proud of yours." Baby saw Sarah's mouth tighten. "Golly, that just slipped out."

"Golly gee," said Sarah.

Baby brushed past her, stood at the railing of the balcony, letting the cool breeze tickle her skin. Headlights and spotlights all across the city, horns blaring, songs echoing through the streets, just one big party. Quite a change from three days ago, when everybody hunkered down waiting for the bombs to drop. Judging from Sarah's surprise when she saw Baby, the little woman didn't know anything. Rakkim was still probably trying to get home-if he had made it out of the Belt he'd be here now. Ignorance is fertile ground, that's what Daddy said, and Baby wasn't about to let the opportunity pass.

"I talked to Rikki a couple hours ago," said Baby, still looking out over the city. "I told him I might be running into you."

Sarah moved beside her, but didn't take the bait.

A waiter stepped onto the balcony. Sarah shook her head, but Baby beckoned him over, took a couple of champagne glasses from the tray. She handed one to Sarah.

"That's a real pretty dress you got," said Baby. "Flatters you."

"What do you and the Old One want?"

"You know Daddy, same as ever, he wants it all, every last bit of it," said Baby. "Me, I'm still trying to decide."

Sarah watched the bubbles rise in her champagne glass.

"Robert says you got the whole country in the palm of your hand," said Baby. "Politicians falling all over themselves to-"

"Whatever you're here for, you and your father, it's not going to happen," said Sarah. "The Old One's going to have to find another ugly little dream."

"I'll be sure and tell him, thank you kindly." Baby sipped her champagne, felt it fizz gently down her throat. "I wonder, though…you being so busy with interviews and politics, doesn't really leave much time for you and Rikki, does it? A man like Rikki, he won't stand for playing second fiddle to a wife's ego."