Part 54 (1/2)

Tjan's eyebrows shot up. ”Hilda *Hammersen*? From the mailing lists?

*That* Hilda?”

Hilda was the queen of the mailing lists -- brash, quick, and argumentative, but never the kind of person who started flamewars. Hilda's arguments were hot and fast, and she always won. Perry had watched her admiringly from the sidelines, only weighing in occasionally, but he seemed to remember now that she'd taken Tjan to the cleaners once on an issue of protocol resolution.

”That's the one,” Perry said.

”I always pictured her as being about fifty, with a machete between her teeth,” Lester said. ”No offense.”

”Lyenitchka, go get my phone from my bed-stand,” Perry said, patting the girl on the shoulder. When she got back he went through his photos of Hilda with them.

Lester made a wolf-whistle and Suzanne punched him in the shoulder and took the phone away.

”She's very pretty,” Suzanne said, disapprovingly. ”And very young.”

”Oh yes, dating younger people is *so* sleazy,” Lester said with a chuckle. Suzanne squirmed and even Perry had to laugh.

”Guys, here it is. I need to spring Hilda, and we need to do something about all those customers and supporters and so on who went to jail today. We need to fight all the injunctions -- all of them -- and prevent them from recurring.”

”And we need to eat breakfast, which is ready,” Lester said, gesturing at the table behind him, which was stacked high with waffles, sausages, eggs, toast, and pitchers of juice and carafes of coffee.

Lyenitchka and Sasha looked at each other and ran to the table, taking seats next to one another. The adults followed and soon they were eating. Perry managed a waffle and a sausage, but then he went off to his room. Hilda was in the slam in Madison, and who the h.e.l.l knew what the antipersonnel stuff the Madison cops used had done to her. He just wanted to get on a f.u.c.king plane and *go there*.

Halfway through his shower, he knew that that was what he was going to do. He packed a shoulder-bag, took a couple more painkillers, and walked out into the living room.

”Guys, I'm going to Madison. I'll be back in a day or two. We'll work everything out over the phone, OK?”

Lester and Suzanne came over to him. ”You going to be OK, buddy?”

Lester said.

”I'll be fine,” he said.

”We can spring her from here,” Tjan said. ”We have the Internet, you know.”

”I know,” Perry said. ”You do that, OK? And tell her I'll be there as soon as I can.”

The security at the airport went bonkers over him. The perfect storm: a fresh arrest, a suspicious cast, and a ticket bought with cash. He missed the first two flights to Chicago, but by mid-afternoon he was landing at O'Hare and submitting to an interim screening procedure before boarding for Madison. His phone rang in the middle of the screening, and the wrinkly old TSA goon-lady primly informed him that he might as well get that since once the phone rings, they have to start the procedure over again.

”Tjan,” he said.

”They can't spring her today. Tomorrow, though.”

He closed his eyes and shut out the TSA goon. She had a huge bouffant of copper hair, and a midwesterner's sense of proportionality when it came to eye-shadow and rouge. She was the kind of woman who could call you ”honey” and make it sound like ”Islamofascist f.a.ggot.”

”Why not, Tjan?”

There was a pause. ”She's in the infirmary and they won't release her until tomorrow.”

”Infirmary.”