Busted Flush

“Time for business, I’m afraid,” John said, standing at the head of the table. “A lot’s landed on us all at once, but I think we have the resources to handle it. At least, I’d like to prove that we do.” He flashed a smile, almost shy. “We’re still keeping an eye on the situation in Texas. We know there was an explosion. Lilith and Bugsy concluded that it was nuclear. We still don’t know what caused it, but the Feds think it was terrorists. For the moment, there isn’t much we can do until we hear further developments. But here’s what we can do.”

Secretary-General Jayewardene had given the Committee three separate missions, all of them deemed urgent.

First: a brutal hurricane season appeared to be developing in the Gulf, and Jayewardene had a hunch. The secretary-general had a track record of accurate hunches. If he wanted a team there to help, the Committee would go.

Second: the UN had received reports of genocide in Africa, in the oil region of Nigeria near its border with the People’s Paradise of Africa, a newish, self-declared nation that was either the latest in a long line of corrupt, despotic regimes or the beginning of a new, empowered Africa free of colonial influences. It depended on who you talked to. A Committee team would investigate the genocide claims and make recommendations.

And third: the current oil shortage was artificially induced. Prince Siraj of the Caliphate had manipulated production and forced prices to their current, stratospheric level of three hundred dollars a barrel. In the opinion of the secretary-general, this was nothing short of economic terrorism that was impacting the entire world and causing widespread hardship and depression. A team would go to the Middle East to open oil production again, and UN troops were assembling in anticipation of direct intervention.

“I don’t think I have to tell you that this last objective is top secret,” John said. “We don’t want any leaks to the press clowns downstairs. No blogging.” He pointed at Bugsy, who held up his hands in a show of innocence.

This was a new development, and Kate was surprised that the secretary-general had decided on such direct action. They’d almost be causing an international crisis rather than fixing one.

John read from his notes.

“Earth Witch, Gardener, Bubbles, and Holy Roller. You’ll head to New Orleans tomorrow. See what you can do about reinforcing the levee system and aiding in the evacuation, if that becomes necessary. DB, you’ll be leading the team going to the PPA. You’ll have Brave Hawk, Snowblind, Toad Man, and the Lama—Han, not Juan—with you. Curveball, Lohengrin, the Translator, Rustbelt, Tinker, and I will be going to Arabia. Bugsy, you and Juan will hold down the fort here, and Lilith will keep us all in communication, and provide emergency transport if needed—”

DB was shaking his head, chuckling quietly.

John regarded him a moment. “Do you have something to add?”

“I see what you’re doing,” DB said. “Pretty slick, actually.” He tapped a couple of beats on the edge of the table.

“And what is that?” John said tiredly.

DB seemed happy to explain. “Here it is. You’re taking all the hotshots to Arabia to be the saviors of the Western world. And you’re sending me and the second stringers to some shithole in Africa—to do what? Observe? Investigate? To do jack shit is what.”

“Hey, who are you calling second string?” said Buford, glaring at DB with bulging eyes.

Bugsy smirked. “Turning into a giant toad is not exactly A-list.”

“Got me further on American Hero than you.”

Ouch. A year later, people were still throwing that at each other.

“DB,” John said, “I’m just trying to put people where their powers will be most useful. I don’t know what you think—”

The joker’s sarcastic smile fell. “I’ll tell you what I think. I think you’re a glory hound, I think you’re—”

John dropped a folder on the table with a slap. “Who’s the glory hound between us, Mr. Rock Star? Really?”

DB didn’t slow down. “You’re setting me up to fail, maybe even get me killed . . .”

Kate closed her eyes. Counted to ten. So help her, if either one of them brought her up as an excuse . . .

“. . . and I think you’ll do anything you can to keep me away from Kate!”

That was it.

John actually laughed. “Geez, would you let it go? This isn’t about Kate!”

Kate stood. Picked up a steak knife. Hefted it in her hand, testing its weight. Felt a warmth flow like flames through her arm. Eventually, everyone was staring at the knife in her hand. Things got real quiet.

She looked at John on one side of her, DB on the other. They stared back, stricken.

“Finished?” she asked. “Can we all sit down and play nice?”

DB muttered, “Tell Captain Cruller to stop rigging the missions in his favor.”

“You’re being paranoid,” she said. He had to realize how monumentally bad this looked. Halfway down the table, Snowblind and the Translator stared in fascination.