started shaking as the cameraman tried to follow the plane. Updike was screaming. "My God, someone shot it! Someone shot the plane—''
The wing crumpled into the runway, pulling the nose of the plane into the ground. It skidded like that for a half-second and the camera lost the plane off the right of the screen. The cameraman overcompensated and swept the picture back to the right, losing the tumbling plane off to the left.
The picture caught the plane center frame again. The focus was fading in and out. In the meantime, the plane was skidding on its side down the runway. The left wing pointed straight up, reflecting the sun back at the camera. The image briefly resembled a chromed shark. The camera followed the plane as it twisted and started to roll. The left wing crumpled and the tail section separated, letting the body roll twice before it broke in two as well. The nose kept going the longest.
Updike's voice-over was useless, so the commentator took over for him as the camera panned over the trail of wreckage and bodies that was scattered over the length of the runway. "Casualty estimates are still coming in, but there are at least one hundred dead. It has been confirmed that among the dead is Ohio Congressman Joseph Binder—"
Nohar felt like someone just kicked him in the stomach.
216
S. ANDREW SWANN
"—Binder was returning to Cleveland from Columbus, where he was reorganizing his Senate campaign which has been in chaos ever since the assassination of campaign manager Dary! Johnson. Also, sources say Binder's return was to answer allegations that there was a cover-up involving the Shaker Heights police investigation of Johnson's death.
"The FAA will not comment on the possibility that a surface-to-air missile was involved in the crash ... "
Nohar slowly sat down. Someone, it had to be Hassan, had killed a few hundred people just to kill Binder. Nohar could feel that events had steamrollered way past him. Everyone who had any connection with the Binder finance records was dead now—
With one exception.
Nohar reached out for Stephie, and pulled her into his arms. They watched the plane explode a few dozen more times.
Nohar turned off the water in the shower. He had finally gotten the baked algae out of his fur. He stepped out and unkinked his neck. Stephie was sitting on the John and drying her hair.
Nohar faced her, dripping, and asked, "What do you mean, I've been 'too hard on Angel'?"
Stephie looked down, shaking her head. Nohar could tell she was smiling. She picked up a washcloth and cleaned off a streak of algae on the inside of her thigh that her shower had missed.
Nohar was getting impatient. "Come on—"
Stephie handed him a towel. "I just think you haven't seen how bad this has all been for her."
Nohar started squeezing the water out of his fur, wishing for a dryer. "Stephie, this whole business has been bad for everyone."
"I know. But she's taking it hard. I know she puts on a brave face—" You mean an irritating, obnoxious one, Nohar thought. "But she's scared, Nohar. Scared FORESTS OF THE NIGHT
217
and alone." She stood up and helped him towel oif. "She has nightmares."
"Look, she should have known better than to answer Manny's comm. And I'm sorry if her wiseass attitude gets on my nerves."
"She's only fourteen."
Nohar sighed. "Stephie, for a morey, that's adult."
"Physically adult. She's still just a kid. How do you think you *d handle her situation if you were her age?''
That hit close to home. When he was that age, he was still with the Hellcats.
Back then he was probably worse than Angel—
' 'What do you want me to do?'' He mentally added, fuck her? He congratulated himself on not actually saying that.
"I think she needs some respect. She needs someone to show some confidence in her, reassure her. Most of all—" Stephie looked up at him, her hands knotted in a towel resting on his chest. "I think she needs you to like her."
"I do like her, sort of."
"She needs to know that."
Nohar shook his head. He supposed he had been treating Angel like a liability. Angel didn't deserve that. He changed the subject. "Stephie, I think we better get both you and Angel out of town."
She cocked her head to one side, "Is that necessary?"
"You're not safe in Cleveland. You're the only one left from the campaign that could have seen those records. Hassan blew that plane just to take out Binder. God help you if Hassan, or the people he works for, finds out where you are." "Thought you were an atheist."
Huh? Nohar mentally ran through what he'd just said. "Figure of speech.
Anyway, we can't have you anywhere near me until this is over. I'll have Bobby reserve a car rental and a motel room somewhere.
218
S. ANDREW SWANN FORESTS OF THE NIGHT 219
He can fudge the records so no one will see your name—"
"Why me and Angel?"
Nohar put his arm around her. "I want someone to be around to keep an eye out for you when I'm not there. Also, you pointed out, Angel needs a friend. You fit the bill better than I do."
"When do I leave?"
"Soon as possible. Sorry."
She turned around and started wiping the condensation from the mirror. "Why is Hassan killing everyone in the campaign?"
Nohar saw the two of them together in the mirror. She was so damn small. "I still think it's the campaign finance records—the Fed thinks some radical morey group is behind the killing. The target makes sense, but I'm not convinced."
"Why?"
"Daryl Johnson wasn't a terror hit. It was precise, to the point, with no collateral damage. Doesn't fit. There's a motive for Johnson's death beyond some ideology."
Stephie shrugged. "You're the detective. You talk to Bobby and I'll try and see if any of Manny's clothes fit me—"
She walked out of the bathroom, leaving behind the pile of her old clothes. He watched her naked back recede down the hallway and realized that she was adjusting well to living with a bunch of moreaus.
Nohar limped downstairs and headed for the comm. Angel was still stationed in front of it. She seemed to have a growing addiction to the news channels. She was flipping through the stations with the keyboard.
Morey this, morey that . . . The nonhuman population was getting top billing everywhere across the board. It wasn't just the Zipheads either now. Harsk was right about the summer being explosive. There were already reports of retaliatory human-morey violence from New York. A Bensheim clinic in the Bronx had been firebombed, killing three doctors and three pregnant moreaus.
He thought about what Stephie had said about being curt with Angel. "Angel, I need to use the comm."
Angel turned around, like she hadn't heard him approach. She looked a little surprised. "Sure, Kit."
Angel got up and Nohar slid hi and started calling Bobby.
"Nohar?"
She called him Nohar? He turned around and Angel was looking at him, "What?"
"Do you mind when I call you Kit?"
Huh? "No, go right ahead-"
The comm spoke up, "Budget Surplus."
From behind Nohar heard Angel. "Thanks for not minding.''
Angel left him alone with Bobby. Nohar watched her leave.
"What do you want, Nohar?"
Nohar turned to face Bobby and explained his problem.
After he was done, Bobby nodded. "Simple enough. I'll get back to you in a few hours with some specific instructions. By the way—"
"What?"
"Are you ever going to want that data on Nugoya? It took a little effort to dig up . . ."
Nohar had totally forgotten about that. "What could I possibly want out of that now. He's dead."
"Well, Daryl Johnson's name pops up in it."
Nohar sat bolt upright, ignoring the protests of his hip. "What?"
Bobby displayed his evilest smile. "I knew that would get your attention." FORESTS OF THE NIGHT