Part 15 (2/2)
”She is already mine.” Windwolf parted the veil to touch the spell mark on Tinker's forehead.
”Do you take this man to be your husband?” Maynard asked.
”I really just want to mess around,” Tinker said.
”Oh, okay.” Maynard stepped back out of the room, saying, ”You can kiss the bride.”
Windwolf did more than kiss her. She was riding a wave of o.r.g.a.s.m when her doorbell woke her. She opened her eyes, the morning sun spilling across her bed, an echo of the pleasure still was.h.i.+ng through her. The doorbell rang again, and she stirred in her nest of rumpled white linens to find her bedside clock.
It was seven in the morning.
Who the h.e.l.l was ringing her doorbell at seven in the freaking morning?
She fumbled with her spyhole display and discovered the NSA agents actually standing on her doorstep and ringing the doorbell like real people instead of breaking in.
She thumbed the display to two-way sound. ”What do you want?”
Briggs located the camera and microphone first and pointed it out to Durrack while saying, ”We want to talk to you, Ms. Bell.”
Corg ducked slightly to look earnestly into the camera, as if trying to make eye-to-eye contact with her. In an apologetic mood, he actually had a boyish face with dark eyes and thick eyelashes. ”We're sorry about yesterday; we let our concern for your safety carry us away. We really crossed the line, and we're very, very sorry. We promise it won't happen again.”
”You sound like you get a lot of practice at groveling, Durrack.”
Hannah laughed at her partner while he rubbed an embarra.s.sed look off his face.
”Well, actually, being a federal agent is hard on relations.h.i.+ps,” Durrack confessed. ”Chicks really dig the spy thing, but they really get p.i.s.sed off when you miss their birthday because you were off saving the world.”
Tinker laughed despite being annoyed at the NSA agents. ”So you save the world a lot?”
”Small American slices of it, yes.”
Briggs pushed Durrack impatiently aside and leaned close to the camera. ”Ms. Bell, we believe you're in a great deal of danger.”
Tinker sighed, resting her forehead on her nightstand. Let them in or chase them away? Neither seemed like a good idea.
”We promise to behave,” Durrack added.
Yeah, right. She didn't believe them totally, but she suspected they weren't going away-at least not without talking to her face-to-face. She crawled out of bed, pulled on some clean clothes, and padded out to her front door, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. She supposed it was a good sign that they didn't rush her when she unbolted the door and swung it open.
Why was everyone suddenly coming in jumbo sizes? Both NSA agents towered over Tinker. Corg Durrack was broad-shouldered with deep chest and lean waist, giving him the proportions of a comic book hero. He fairly bristled with weapons and carried a white wax paper bag that he held out as a peace offering. ”We brought donuts.”
Briggs scoffed quietly at this. The female agent wore a long-sleeve s.h.i.+rt and pants that looked like black wet paint. Apparently the s.h.i.+rt doubled as a sports bra, and if she wore panties, they were thong. Still, Briggs was a stunning example of what strength training could do to the female body. As she stalked through the loft like a caged cat, the outfit showed off muscles on her long legs that Tinker didn't know women could develop.
”Do you want to start over from the top?” Tinker accepted the bag and swung up onto her countertop in an effort to keep a level playing field. ”My life is in danger, oh ah, and you want to drag me back to Earth in order to lock me up in protective custody.”
”Well, I'm glad you're taking this seriously.” Briggs matched Tinker's sarcastic tone.
”I know all about protective custody.” Tinker peered cautiously into the wax paper bag. Inside were four large coffee rolls of pure decadence. ”My grandfather did some time in it, and he had choice stories to tell of the victim, rather than the criminal, being the prisoner.”
Durrack sighed. ”The sad truth is that we can't arrest all the bad guys.”
”'Sorry, madam, I couldn't get your rapist, but I did lock up the baby girl next door just in case.'” Oops, judging by the look Durrack gave Briggs, there was only so far Tinker could push the NSA agents-or at least Briggs-and she had just hit it. ”Come on; let's do a history update. Twenty-five years ago, a quarter of a century, someone killed my father. They've got their gate. They don't know that I exist, unless someone leaked the CMU information, but even then, there's no proof I can build build a gate. h.e.l.l, even I don't know if I can build one. There's a big jump between knowing something well enough to answer elementary questions and being able to create a working prototype. Oilcan does as well as I do on just about any test, and can understand what I create, but he can't develop things on his own. The spark isn't there.” a gate. h.e.l.l, even I don't know if I can build one. There's a big jump between knowing something well enough to answer elementary questions and being able to create a working prototype. Oilcan does as well as I do on just about any test, and can understand what I create, but he can't develop things on his own. The spark isn't there.”
”But you have the spark, and anyone who puts Alexander Bell together with Tinker is going to know it too.”
Tinker picked up a dog-eared copy of Scientific American Scientific American off the counter. ”In the last quarter century, scientists have been working feverishly to understand what Leo did. This magazine is two years old, but there's an article in here from some Norwegian who's doing field manipulation using quantum particles.” off the counter. ”In the last quarter century, scientists have been working feverishly to understand what Leo did. This magazine is two years old, but there's an article in here from some Norwegian who's doing field manipulation using quantum particles.”
”Torbjorn Pettersen,” Durrack said.
”Pardon?” Tinker said.
Durrack tapped the magazine. ”The Norwegian was Torbjorn Pettersen, and he's been missing since that article hit the streets.”
”Oh.” She dug out the most recent issue-although the mailing lag made it the December issue and not the May one. She noted with a sudden relief that even though she paid the exorbitant subscription, it was still addressed to Timothy Bell, Neville Island, Pittsburgh on Elfhome. Timothy Bell, Neville Island, Pittsburgh on Elfhome. ”What about”-she checked the table of contents-”Lisa Satterlund?” ”What about”-she checked the table of contents-”Lisa Satterlund?”
”Dead,” Briggs said simply.
Durrack expanded the single word: ”Satterlund was killed during a kidnapping attempt in December.”
”Marcus s.h.i.+pman? Harry Russell?” Tinker named the two scientists she could remember who had published important advances in gate theory.
”Missing,” Briggs said.
Durrack sighed. ”Harry Russell had a GPS chip on him after a DWI arrest. We found the chip in the stomach of a catfish in St. Louis. The forensic scientists are trying to determine when he died. The thing is that, for at least four months, the chip wasn't in North America.”
”You think he was here in Pittsburgh?”
”Yes.”
”It's a possibility,” Durrack allowed. ”It's possible that the kidnappers just managed to block the signal while holding him in the United States. It seems more likely that they brought him to Elfhome.”
”To kill him and dump his body into the river?”
”These people use excessive force,” Briggs snapped. ”His death was probably accidental.”
”How he died isn't as important as the fact that you're still in peril,” Durrack said. ”At the moment, we have an advantage. You're a complete blank: no fingerprints, no retina scans. The other side is going to be looking for a guy about to hit middle age. With just a name change, you could vanish into the general populace. h.e.l.l, you could go to MIT or Caltech and live in the dorms. That's a.s.suming you want to attend college. If you don't, we could set you up with a lab.”
”Like I want to turn my life over to you.” Tinker shook her head as her stomach growled. ”I have a life here. There's my cousin, and all my friends. Besides, I thought you couldn't take me off Elfhome since technically I'm an elf now.”
”We can't take take you off, but you can request permission to leave,” Briggs said. ”Elves have traveled to Earth in the past, but they usually only stay thirty days, until the next transfer. They don't like living without magic.” you off, but you can request permission to leave,” Briggs said. ”Elves have traveled to Earth in the past, but they usually only stay thirty days, until the next transfer. They don't like living without magic.”
”Neither do I,” Tinker said, and gave in to the temptation of the donuts, taking out one of the still-warm pastries. ”There's lots of cool possibilities with magic I haven't explored yet. If I go back to Earth, I'd lose that ability.”
”The U.S. government would be willing to make it worth your while,” Durrack said. ”Everything we offered before and then some. A house. Someone to cook and clean so all you have to do is invent. A fully equipped lab. A law firm to file your patents.”
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