Page 20 of V-Day
“We didn’t know it was Serrano until twenty minutes ago,” Graves said. “Then a woman representing General Serrano contacted the White House. My guess is the woman is Serrano’s wife, as she was seen in Mexico and the States in the last few days. Anyway, after ensuring the call was being recorded, she left a message for the President.”
“She put the squeeze on him,” Cristián guessed.
Parris nodded.
“What did she want?” Chloe asked. Her voice was strained.
Parris shrugged. “Stop all US military advancement on Vistaria, or she will blow up the White House and spray toxic waste all over the greater DC area.”
Cristián swallowed. “Everyone knows the US doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.”
Parris shook her head. “We don’t. For now, until we can deal with him, Serrano has tothinkwe are.”
“The US forces are halting?” Chloe breathed. “Nick and the others were so emphatic about maintaining momentum…”
“Just until we can deal with this,” Parris said. “The bomb has to be taken out of the equation, first. Then we can move in with impunity.”
“That’s where you’re going? To deal with the bomb?” Cristián asked, wondering how a ten-man unit could disengage a drone heading for Washington, from the far reaches of… He pressed his fingers to his temples. “You’re taking out the flight center controlling the drone,” he concluded.
“It’s here?” Chloe added, sounding stunned.
“The Palace or the admin building in front of it, inlas Colinas,” Parris replied. “We can sneak in. We sound like Vistarians and we’ll look like you by the time we get there.”
“Then what?” Cristián demanded. “The Palace is the most heavily guarded building on Vistaria.”
“We just have to confirm the location of the control room. Another drone will take care of the rest,” Parris said.
“You’re going toblow it up?” Chloe asked, her voice rising.
Parris’ smile held a note of puzzlement. “What else should we do with it? We have to stop the bomb.”
“Youcan’t,” Chloe said. “Calli is there. The Mexican ambassador, all the women in the bordello in the basement…all the homeless people begging for a handout at the gates!”
“The Palace is right in the middle of the city,” Cristián added. “Babylon has a point.”
Chloe’s gasp was soft, barely heard. She didn’t quite smile, although her eyes and her face flooded with warmth as she looked at him.
Parris tilted her head. “Babylon?”
Cristián tried to thrust away the effect Chloe’s warm expression was creating. He bundled it up with his own dismay for speaking the name aloud and unconsciously. He was letting his instincts move his mouth. That was bad. He must think. “An old nickname of Chloe’s,” he told Parris. He waved his hand, a gesture which helped clear his mind. “You can’t bomb the Palace,” he said, bringing the conversation back to where it needed to go.
Chloe was still looking at him with soft, heated eyes and all the arguments he’d marshalled to convince Parris she couldn’t take out the Palace evaporated.
Why on earth had he used her Group handle? It was stupid, stupid, stupid. The Group would laugh at him, if they knew.
The Group had been his invention, although he didn’t realize at the time he was building a community. His mother bought him a computer and modem for his ninth birthday and Cristián embraced the on-line world, finding there an easy acceptance. It didn’t matter that the Internet which existed back then was all English-speaking. He taught himself to read and write English, driven to learn it quickly so he could stay in this world.
He practiced his burgeoning English skills upon anyone who would speak to him. He learned that the only people who even knew what the Internet was were geeks, mostly male and introverts. That was an English term which, when he learned it, delighted Cristián for it described him perfectly. Finally, he had a key to understanding his preference for his own company and his beloved books.
The Group coalesced around him without him noticing, until there was twelve of them, all using handles instead of their real names. They were the people Cristián sought out and spoke to about everything in his life, for they understood his differences while even his family did not fully grasp them.
They had no formal name or organization. They were just the Group. They didn’t swap personal information, for it was irrelevant. All of them had come to the painful realization they did not match the people around them. While other people struggled to understand basic concepts, they were already many years beyond the education considered appropriate for their age.
They taught themselves what they wanted to know, their curiosity guiding them. They helped each other. Supported and encouraged each other.
They learned to hide themselves in plain sight. As some of the Group discovered, there were too many negative consequences to letting the world see their advanced abilities.
Instead, they taught themselves and each other how to blend in and look normal, so they could live normal lives with their families and raise no flags with authorities. They coached each other in how to land on pre-determined scores in exams and tests.
