Page 40 of Unnatural Death

I’m reminded of her teenaged years when she and Marino constantly sparred with each other even as they were best friends. He was the uncle, the father figure she never had. He also was bigoted and backward, the two of them everything that threatened the other.

“… All I’m doing is temporarily shooing off a nuisance without causing permanent damage. Also, tough to prove it happened or that anything did.” Lucy is pleased with herself. “Poof! And they don’t know what hit them.”

“Hit them with what, for cripes’ sake? What kind of weapon?” Marino’s voice is increasing in volume.

“The bug zapper with its insane range. I can knock out your lights with surgical precision from a hundred miles away. Basically, it’s the same thing as a UFO signal-jamming a fighter jet that gets too curious.”

“I’m serious!”

“So am I.”

“I can’t see the chopper anymore. Jesus, you didn’t shoot them out of the sky, did you?”

“Too much paperwork.”

“What you just did isn’t funny!”

“They’re fine.”

“Well, you won’t be after pulling a trick like that.”

“Apparently they had intermittent avionic problems while interfering with a federal police investigation.” Lucy gives Marino the sound bite.

She flies us over heavy traffic on the Capital Beltway while reaching for the HUD display again.

“And presto!” she says. “Like magic! Everything’s up and running just fine after all. How lucky is that? Mission aborted, and they’ll be diverting back to Dulles for the second time today.”

“You’re going to have hell to pay,” Marino replies. “They’ll probably report you to the FAA, getting you violated so you can’t fly anymore.”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

“Or sue.”

“Good luck suing the Secret Service,” she says, and we’re five minutes from my office.

* * *

The George Washington Masonic National Memorial soars from a hilltop like an austere granite cathedral or a lighthouse from the ancient world. People on the ground are aware of the powerful helicopter churning in low and slow with its grotesque payload on the skids. Cars pull off the road, the drivers climbing out to stare.

Multiple news choppers are deploying throughout the greater Washington, D.C., area, and stories have gone viral on the internet. Lucy passes along the latest information she’s seeing in the cockpit’s HUD and the lenses of her wearable computer glasses. Out of necessity she’s developed an ability to multitask that’s uncanny. But it’s not easy getting her undivided attention.

“…Violent extremists who call themselves The Republic claim responsibility for the deaths of outdoor enthusiasts Huck and Brittany Manson.” Lucy reads from the headlines as she flies. “The owners of a successful retail business had been camping in Buckingham Run throughout the fall. Sources close to the investigation said the couple was ducking federal law enforcement while planning to flee the country…”

“Where the hell is all this coming from?” Marino asks. “There are mentions of me piloting the chief medical examiner because we’re family,” Lucy says.

“Unfortunate, but I’m not surprised.” I think of the crowd gathered in my parking lot when we took off this morning.

“I’m betting the leak is someone in our building,” Marino decides.

“It might be,” Lucy answers. “And it might be more than one person. Almost any assumption you make in this situation likely will be wrong. Be careful.”

“What are you telling us?” Marino sounds exasperated.

“I’m reminding you that we’re tangling with very dangerous people who shouldn’t be underestimated.”

“How did the Mansons’ names get out, and who would be so reckless as to release their presumed identities?” I ask Lucy. “We’ve not confirmed anything or notified next of kin. I’ve not even examined the bodies yet.”

“We’re talking about someone who has reason to know as much as we do. Maybe more. Probably the same person who made the anonymous phone calls,” she says.

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