Chapter Nineteen

“How about some news?” I asked.

“News?” Her eyes widened.

“We could watch the Terran News Network.” I nodded.

“Yes! That sounds great!”

Much as I would have preferred a go-round in the sheets, I could tell she wouldn’t be into it. During dinner, she’d seemed distracted, tense. She’d begun to worry about tomorrow. Totally understandable. Tomorrow would determine the fate of her planet and its people, and Jessie wasn’t one to sit back and let others take control. I was the same way. But she had to stay out of the way. We had one shot at capturing Imana, and if we missed it, we wouldn’t get another.

From my handheld, I activated the news vid system. With a hum, a screen rose out of the coffee table. Fast music and opening credits announced the start of the TNN broadcast.

“I’m surprised safe houses can access the news. I would have thought you’d prefer to keep vic-people incommunicado while they’re in here,” she said, taking a seat on the sofa.

“Generally, that’s true, but bodyguards need to know what’s being reported, what the local chatter is.” I wanted to listen to the news, make sure nothing disturbing had been broadcast, like a UFO sighting, or missing person report.

“I suppose it can only be activated with a handheld.”

“Correct.” I set my device on the counter and settled next to her, wrapping an arm around her tense shoulders. I wished I could reassure her everything would be all right, but, in truth, I was getting a little nervous myself. We had so much riding on the operation. We’d never had a chance like this before. Imana had already changed the schedule due to the storm. What if something else went wrong? I’d promised Jessie no harm would befall the abductees, but what if it did? Furthermore, being here with her meant I was out of the action, had no control over anything. “This is cozy,” I said.

“Uh-uh.” She briefly rested her head on my shoulder before stiffening again as the president’s image appeared over the shoulder of the news announcer.

“In tonight’s top story, the president has announced that she’ll be going to Camp Larabelle for a special planning session with key members of her cabinet and staff,” said anchor Jack Miles. “Our own Margo Roberts has all the details.”

I heard Jessie suck in a breath. Her eyes were glued to the screen.

The vid shifted to the reporter standing inside the rotunda of the Jericho Conner complex. “Thank you, Jack,” she said. “Yes, today, TNN has learned that President Stadler will be departing soon for Camp Larabelle, but she is leaving us with more questions than answers. Her office is keeping mum on who among her staff will be joining her at the presidential retreat and what’s on the agenda. However, President Stadler has promised a full report upon her return. This is Margo Roberts, TNN. Jack, back to you.”

“You can’t leave now!” Jessie burst out. “You need to be in Jericho!”

“It won’t make a difference,” I said.

“Says you.” Her tone sharpened.

I looked at her.

“Maybe…maybe…not to the LOP, but she’s our leader,” she said.

“In other big news, get ready to hunker down, folks,” the anchor said. “TNN’s meteorologist Amber Cayle has the details on the approaching storm.”

Almost as if it were part of the broadcast, the windows lit up with a flash of lightning, and, three seconds later, a crack of thunder followed.

Dressed in waterproof clothing and lit by camera lights, Amber smiled woodenly and clutched a mike in the pouring rain. “It’s a doozy, Jack,” she said. “This storm promises to be the fiercest one in twelve years. We’re expecting heavy rainfall and significant electrical activity, which could be dangerous if you’re out and about, particularly in hovercars. So, stay inside, folks. If you don’t have to go out, don’t. The weather service predicts power outages may occur, so be prepared. But the good news is, the storm is expected to pass fairly quickly. By morning, it should all be over and you can resume your normal activities. This is Amber Cayle reporting for TNN. Jack?”

The broadcast cut to the studio and the anchor. “Good advice, Amber, thank you. In other news…”

We watched the entire broadcast, mostly in silence, one of us occasionally making a comment. When the news report ended, a talk show followed, and she excused herself to use the bathroom. When she returned, she took a seat at the end of the sofa to watch the show. Outside, it stormed. Meteorologist Amber hadn’t overestimated the virulence. Twice, the lights flickered.

The talk show was about to end when the room lit up, thunder cracked, and then everything went dark—the lights, the vid screen, the entire house. Even with my excellent night vision, I could barely see Jessie a cushion-width away.

I waited. One second. Two seconds. Three. “I don’t think the lights are coming back on,” I said.

“Nope. This is the power outage they were talking about.” She paused for a beat. “You don’t have a generator?”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll take that as a no. It’s a portable machine that produces electricity. In the old days, they used to run on gasoline. Now they’re solar-powered. You have to plan ahead. Once you need it, it’s too late to charge it. But all of that is moot because you don’t have one.”

“I didn’t realize New Terra had power outages.”

“Any good storm can knock out the electricity.”

“What does a bad storm do?”

She snorted, the first chuckle I’d heard from her all evening.

“How long does it last?” I asked.

“Depends on how widespread it is, and how long it takes for the crew to fix it. Could be a few minutes, could be hours. Twelve years ago, after a storm, some areas lost power for an entire day.”

What might this mean for Imana’s plan? Would the storm cause a delay, or, worse, result in her abandoning the effort altogether? My mind raced. Electrical storms could interfere with a ship’s controls. The slave ship had already landed. However, if lightning struck the grounded ship, it could knock out the shimmer. The ship would be visible. If it got spotted by authorities…

Imana hadn’t gotten where she was by taking foolish chances. She’d made bold, brazen moves, but she didn’t hesitate to cut her losses and move on if the odds weren’t in her favor. That’s why she’d eluded capture for so long. A couple of times in the past, the LOP had closed in on her location only to have her vanish.

She was a master at protecting the principal—and she was the principal.

Now I was getting as anxious as Jessie had been. I had to reach Garrison, but I couldn’t do it with her right here. I would have to wait until she fell asleep and then I could slip out and call him.

I faked a loud yawn. “Sorry,” I apologized. “It’s getting late. Since we don’t have any lights or vid, maybe we ought to go to bed?”