Hellbender - Dana Cameron Page 0,46
she was just coming around when the flames really got going. The bullets and the gas might not have been enough to kill her. That’s sad to imagine, isn’t it?” She wuffed and coughed as if she were Fatima suffocating.
I lunged for her and fell to my knees. I felt a jarring bolt of a Taser and the prick of a needle.
“Oh, save it for someone who cares. You and me, we’re gonna go see the big guns.” She pressed her face down into mine as I sank into unconsciousness again. “You’re getting a treat. Not everyone gets to meet Carolina Perez-Smith in person.”
Carolina—“Leena” to those very few who knew her well—was only in her early fifties and already a one-name celebrity, but one who most certainly didn’t crave the spotlight. There was a great deal of mystery and mystique around this woman, with her trademark flaming red hair, alabaster, almost translucent skin, and rectangular glasses, so much mystique that I was surprised to see how petite she was, no taller than me, and chicly thin. Asked yesterday, I would have said I had as much chance of meeting Carolina as I did meeting the queen of England.
She had the eyes and ears of billions of people and her Rolodex might be the envy of the NSA. Industrialists craved her attention and fortune and feared them. With ten houses and a fleet of personal jets, she had a net worth that was conservatively estimated to be equal to the GNP of a not-so-small country—much bigger than Belize, but smaller, probably, than Jamaica. While her own fortune was rooted in real estate and industry, she married into communications. Information gathering was now something of a passion of hers. That marriage was short and tragic, and after the death of her husband, her army of lawyers made certain that the children of his first wife never saw anything like the fortune they should have received. So now Carolina had newspapers and television stations and satellites of her very own. She hired people to create a compelling image for her.
Recently, she had been developing an interest in politics, which was reciprocated eagerly. In an age where airtime means elections, there was no part of Carolina’s wealth and influence that was not attractive. Websites were devoted to demonizing her as a modern-day robber baron or praising her as a model of the American dream.
A temporary office had been set up; this place had to be an Order facility. I knew most of Carolina’s office real estate was back east. She glanced up, her eyes flicking over me. She seemed disappointed in what she saw, and I couldn’t blame her.
Though the stuff she’d doped me with was strong and new to me, I was feeling better than before. Okay, maybe I’d find out something by letting her think I was weaker than I was.
“It’s as simple as this,” she said, making no introductions. “You’re useful to me, for a while. You creatures quite possibly represent the next step in evolution. Even if the rest of us have to wait for ten thousand, fifty thousand years before we see any new physical, evolutionary developments, what your powers represent is certainly the next renaissance. What we apply from studying you to medicine, technology, exploration will be the heart of that renaissance. Sebastian Porter was making tremendous strides when he was killed.
“Even if we only use observation and testing, we’ll gain in one year the same amount of ground we’ve covered in the past thousand. Imagine what we can do with vivisection.” She smiled. “Cooperation would be more efficient, of course.”
It made sense now. “You’re part of the Order.”
“I funded Porter’s research; I’m the financial foundation of the Order. And with his death, I’m seeing a vacuum, so I’m stepping into his place. For my investment, I have in my hands the chance to control that next leap, to make sure that it benefits the right people.”
“You and your friends.”
“I mean, our country and her allies. And yes, it would be disingenuous if I said I didn’t think I’d be able to make a fair bit of money off the process, too.” She paused, then gave into curiosity. “I was on my way back from LA when I got the call you’d been captured. I had to see you for myself. People like you . . . Do you even know what you are?”
“A woman. An American. An archaeologist. A werewolf and Fangborn. Not always in that order.”
“You’re