Storm Front

“Good afternoon,” he said pleasantly. “How did the meet go?” Storm had arranged for Xi Bang to rendezvous with one of his sources. After she’d uttered a password, he’d provided her with a Senate staff ID card, a Virginia driver’s license, and a credit card. They contained her picture and the name Jenny Chang. He’d also given her a small pouch that included what he called “a pill and a powder,” then provided a briefing on what those drugs would accomplish for her.

“Went fine,” Xi Bang said. “Nice password, by the way. Are you sure you don’t have some kind of legume fetish?”

The password had been “soybean.”

“At least it’s a healthy obsession,” he said.

“Where are you right now?”

Storm leaned out the window. “I don’t know. That might be Bloomington, Illinois. Or maybe Bloomington, Indiana. But from this height every city in the Midwest looks the same. There’s a reason they call this flyover country, you know. Where are you?”

“In Washington.”

“I know that. I mean where are you, specifically?”

“Specifically, I’m sitting on a bench at the northeast corner of the National Mall. I was thinking about going to the Air and Space Museum and seeing if I could seduce one of the male tour guides into giving me your country’s aerospace secrets.”

“You probably won’t even have to sleep with the guy. Just offer him some freeze-dried ice cream and he’s yours. You’ll learn everything you ever wanted to know about Apollo 11. Just be warned: There’s no gas left in the tank, so don’t think you can use it to get ahead in the space race.”

“Yeah, you know we won that one, right? We Communists put a man up in space while you capitalists were still messing around with sending monkeys up there.”

“Yes, but think of how much fun the monkeys had.”

She laughed. Storm liked the sound of it.

“So I’ve got you set up with Senator Whitmer at eight o’clock to night,” Storm said. “His staff should be gone by then. He thinks he’s going to have an important, one-on-one, face-to-face meeting with Dianne Feinstein. But at the last second ‘Senator Feinstein’s office’ is going to call and cancel. That’s when you’ll move in.”

“Got it.”

“From there, just work your magic. We need to know who wanted that appropriations rider and/or who the mysterious donor behind the Alabama Future Fund is. Although, more than likely, it’s the same person.”

“Right.”

“Good.” Storm paused for a second, then said: “Now what are you wearing?”

“Are we really going to play that game? Come on. I’m in public.”

“No, no, I mean it. What are you wearing? Or, rather, maybe I should say: What is Jenny Chang wearing?”

“Same thing I wore yesterday, unfortunately. You may recall I didn’t exactly have time to pack when I left Paris.”

Storm flashed back to the last outfit he had seen Xi Bang in. It was lovely, but… the pants made her legs something of a well-kept secret. And the turtleneck?

“Yeah, that’s not going to work for Jenny Chang. She needs something a little more… youthful. Something that announces innocence, a lack of sophistication, and, above all else, availability. You said you’re on the northeast corner of the mall? Near the American History Museum?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, start walking north. I know a place.”

Xi Bang followed his instructions, which Storm didn’t mind admitting he enjoyed. It was like having his very own remote control girl spy. Talk about the most awesome toy ever.

Storm proceeded to guide her from the Mall to a mall. It was a store that specialized in making sixteen-year-old girls look and feel like twenty-five-year-olds, even if the only people they fooled were themselves — and old men who could no longer tell the difference. Which is what made it perfect for what Storm had in mind.

“I’m in,” Xi Bang said.

“Okay, first step, the skirt. The skirt is key. I’m thinking pleated. And short. You think you can handle that?”

“Am I going to have to get pom-poms with it, too?”

“Only if they have them on sale. Remember, Uncle Sam is footing the bill for this.”

Storm could hear the squeal of wire hangers being moved on racks.

“Okay. Pleated skirt. Got it,” she said. “Next?”

“Blouse now. Something simple. With buttons. It must have buttons.”

“Of course,” she said. “Let’s see what we’ve got here…. How’s white cotton with just a hint of spandex?”

“What kind of cut is it? Fitted? Kind of snug?”

“Yes. And it has cap sleeves.”

“Perfect. Do they have shoes there?”

“As a matter of fact, they do.”

“Do they have black patent leather shoes?”

“You are such a dirty old man.”

“Dirty, yes. Not sure I qualify as old yet. But I aspire to it.”

“All right. Uhh, yes, I have visuals on a pair of black patent leather shoes. They look like Mary Janes all grown up.”

“Brilliant. Acquire them, please,” Storm said. He heard Xi Bang ask a sales clerk for size nine.

“While she’s looking for those, they do have tights there, yes?” Storm asked.

“Yes. Black, white, or gray?”

“Let’s go gray. White is a little too Sunday School.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Xi Bang said.