“Forget about your folks being deported,” Andy said with a malicious grin. “How long would you last in the Net Force Explorers if word of this got out?”
His tone was somewhere along the line of “Hey, rich boy, how much is our silence worth to you?”
Megan gave Andy a sharp look. “This from the genius who dragged a virus into the system for last month’s meeting.”
“How did you—” Andy began. He quickly shut up under the glares of everyone in the virtual hangout. “It was supposed to be a joke.”
“Very funny, Moore,” Maj Greene growled. “I wasted hours making sure nothing had infiltrated my system.”
Matt Hunter, who’d been very quiet up to now, suddenly leaned forward. “What was this Nicola Callivant like?”
“Pretty snotty, it sounds like,” Maj said flatly.
“Not a good first impression — on either of our parts, that’s for sure,” Leif agreed. Then he was looking up at the planetarium show overhead. “But she was surprising, too. Pictures don’t do Nikki Callivant justice. They make her look like some kind of starved waif doll. But when you see her in person, there’s something else…something more.”
“Right,” Andy Moore joked. “There’s that rotten personality.”
Megan didn’t pay attention. She was giving silent commands to her computer. An instant later, Nicola Callivant’s image floated in front of Megan, for her eyes only.
Leif had been surprisingly careful, not calling the girl pretty. But seeing her in a formal gown, that was exactly the word that came to Megan’s mind. Nikki Callivant did look like a doll — a high-fashion model doll.
Megan struggled to keep her face still as she vented a sigh of frustration. Looks like Leif’s off on another wild chick chase, she thought. Boys and their hormones. What can you do with them? Even a thorough dunking didn’t cool him off.
Sooner or later, she was sure, Leif would come back to earth again — probably with a thud. She had seen the pattern often enough. The only problem was that the Callivant clan was tightly knit, not terribly kind to outsiders, and all too powerful.
If Leif decides to make a fool of himself over her, I hope he doesn’t get any of the other guys involved.
She looked at him, still singing the praises of the girl who’d insulted him. He can play with fire if he wants to, but I don’t want anyone else burned.
For Matt Hunter, Leif’s story of the doings at the Delmarva Club gave a fascinating — and not too pleasant — peek into the world of the rich and powerful. Leif might joke about lynch mobs, but he had undoubtedly passed quite a few uncomfortable minutes after his run-in with Nicola Callivant.
That Charlie Dysart must be a real piece of work, Matt thought as the others began cheerfully ragging on Leif and Andy Moore. Matt couldn’t imagine leaving a friend dangling in the wind — especially if he’d been responsible for putting the friend out there in the first place.
But that’s what Dysart had done. Leif’s ride home had suddenly vanished into the crowd, probably before Nikki Callivant’s eyes could incinerate him or the well-soaked Leif could desecrate the upholstery of his collector car. He hadn’t helped Leif. In fact, he seemed to have gone out of his way to pretend that he didn’t even know him.
The club was a bad place to be — especially if you weren’t exactly welcome, you were soaking wet, your ride had vanished, and your wallet-phone had picked that moment to die. Leif had finally dried off and called for a cab. The hit to his pride probably matched, if not exceeded, the damage to his Universal Credit Card account. A ride from Wilmington to Washington made for a hefty fare — especially since he’d have to pay for the cab’s empty trip back as well.
Matt could just imagine Leif’s comment as he got in the car: “Driver, I’m about to make you a wealthy man.”
The rest of the night probably hadn’t all been that humorous, Matt was ready to bet. Leif hadn’t much gone into that. But he had mentioned that in the end he’d waited for the cab standing outside on the pillared porch, still slightly damp.
Apparently, the chill of a February night had been preferable to the deep-freeze atmosphere inside the ballroom. Megan, being her usual vengeful self, asked Leif what he was going to do about Dysart.
“We go to the same fencing club,” Leif explained with a barbed smile. “Charlie is not going to enjoy his next practice bout with me.”
Leif had been genuinely embarrassed as he begged his friends’ pardon for the disturbance this latest escapade had caused them.
“I guess it’s nice to know your parents care,” Maj said.
“More than you know.” Leif sighed. “That will be the last time I go out for a bit. I’m grounded for the foreseeable future. I’m not sure which they thought was worse — that I scared ’em by going missing, or what I was up to while I was missing. Dad’s more interested in finance than keeping the family name out of the papers, but my mom—”
“Couldn’t be happy about gaining a Callivant for an enemy,” David finished. “It could even blow back on your father. The Callivants have lots of pull—”
Leif gave an unbelieving laugh. “You’re as bad as Andy with that stupid deportation joke. I traded words with a teenage girl. What are they going to do about it?”
He was a little more serious as the group began breaking up. “Can I have a private word?” he whispered to Matt.
“Your place or mine?” Matt replied.
Moments later they switched from Megan’s amphitheater to Matt’s flying desktop. Grinning, Matt adopted the cross-legged lotus yoga position as he floated in the starry night sky. “What’s up?”
“Just something I was reminded of during my evening in hell,” Leif said. “I wasn’t actually in Wilmington, but in a town outside the city boundaries — a place called Haddington.”
Matt looked at his friend in puzzlement. “And what—”
Leif interrupted, breaking the town name in two. “HADDING-ton. As in a town founded by somebody named Hadding.”
Matt realized his mouth was hanging open, so he shut it. “Those Haddings?”
“A bit of the story I’d forgotten,” Leif admitted. “There was also a really strict chaperon keeping an eye on things. Charlie said she was the widow Hadding, who’d apparently lost a child to some sort of disaster.”
“Pretty weird,” Matt said. “Imagine stumbling over that place — and that lady — right after talking about it.”
Leif nodded. “It reminded me that there are two families involved in the case — two rich families, both of whom can use high-priced lawyers.”
“Why would the Haddings want to hush up all references to their daughter’s death?”
“Some society families might consider murder somewhat…vulgar.” Leif shrugged. “Go figure.”
Matt took a moment to absorb what his friend was saying. “I guess that makes some sort of bizarre sense.”
“I keep telling you, buddy, the rich are different,” Leif said.
“What you’re telling me now is that Ed Saunders may have the reclusive Haddings on his back instead of, or in addition to, the snotty Callivants.” Matt threw out his arms. “More enemies — great! Well, it’s unlikely that I’ll have much chance to discuss the case with Ed. It’s a dead matter now. He’s pulled the plug on the sim.”
As he spoke, one of the icon objects on his floating desktop began to glow — the ear.
“Looks like someone is trying to get in touch with you,” Leif observed.
Matt picked up the icon and gave a command. A list of virtmail messages appeared in the air before him, urgent flames licking around an all-too-familiar name. “Speak of the devil, as the old saying goes.”