Saints Astray

Page 67


“No media,” Loup interrupted her. “I don’t want a big scene. I just want to see everyone, you know?”


“Yeah, I do. Sorry, I kind of got used to thinking about how to do everything possible to keep your story out there while you were detained. No media.”


“Thanks. Pilar… there’s something I need to try to do before we leave here.”


“You want to talk to that Johnson guy.” She smiled at Loup’s surprised expression. “I figured you would.”


“You know me pretty well, huh?”


“Yep.” Pilar kissed her. “You think there’s a chance? After all, no one was allowed to see you.”


“Abernathy thinks so. Something to do with extraordinary circumstances, the image of the military, and the fact that I’ve already been inside the detention center… I dunno. He said he’d call within a day or two.”


“Okay. You want to meet with Geordie to talk about the movie deal?”


“Sure.” Loup nodded. “Guess we need to talk about our contract with Kate, too.”


“True,” Pilar agreed. “They’re being cool about it, but I know they’d love to have us tour with them in North America this fall.”


“It is kind of fun. And we owe them.”


“Oh, they came out of it okay, believe me.” Pilar’s Dataphone rang. “Hello?” She beamed. “Magnus, hi! Yeah, thank you. Oh, believe me, we’re delighted. Yeah, she’s right here.” She passed the phone to Loup.


“Hi, Magnus! Thanks, thanks so much.” She listened, smiling. “Yeah, we’ve got some things to take care of, but we’ll keep it in mind. Thanks, I appreciate it. Say hi to Sabine, will you?” She listened some more, eyes growing wide. “No kidding! Wow, well, congratulations. That’s wonderful. I’m sure we’d love to come. You don’t think Sabine’s head would explode?”


“No!” Pilar breathed. “They’re getting married?”


Loup nodded vigorously. “Okay, well, thanks again for everything. Take care.” She ended the call.


“Seriously?”


“Yep.” She grinned. “And Magnus wants to invite us to the wedding.”


“Ohmigod! Sabine will have a fit.”


Loup shook her head. “He said he thinks she’s come to bear a—a certain grudging respect and perhaps a soupçon of affection for us.”


“Soup’s on?” Pilar said, bemused. “What does that mean?”


“I think it’s French for ‘I no longer consider you a guttersnipe’ or something.” She flopped back on the bed. “God, this is all so bizarre! We went from being stuck in Outpost and having no futures at all to having all the possibilities in the world open to us.”


“You deserve it.” Pilar sat cross-legged, settling Loup’s head in her lap and stroking her hair.


“You too.” She gazed at the ceiling. “And so many people to thank, you know? Senator Ballantine and all of his people in their Reform Caucus, that Mr. Sandoval, Abernathy, Magnus and Sabine… Jesus, Clive and Addie!”


“Ms. Coxcombe.”


“Yeah.” Loup smiled. “You were right, those deportment and elocution lessons did come in handy. That’s why you were so good on the stand.”


“Mm-hmm.” Pilar kissed her forehead. “And then there’s Randall and the boys…”


“All the Kate fans…”


“All the soldiers…”


“Christophe,” Loup said wistfully. “Tía Marcela, and all my aunts and cousins.” She craned her head around. “Jesus, I should call them! Hey, Pilar? Do you still think you might like to live there? Huatulco, I mean.”


“In a cute little house near the ocean?” She kissed her again. “You bet, baby.”


“It wouldn’t be full time,” Loup mused. “Not for a while. But it would be nice to have someplace to call home. And as excited as I am about going back to Santa Olivia, I don’t think that’s gonna be it.”


“No.” Pilar’s hands went still.


“In a way, it always will be. I mean, that’s where we’re from, right? It’s a part of us; it’s who we are. But I don’t think it’s where we’re meant to stay.”


“I couldn’t live there.” Pilar shook her head. “Not in the shadow of that military base, remembering what they did to you.”


“Yeah, but they’re still our people there.”


Her hands resumed their idle stroking. “And some will stay and some will leave. Some might even want to come to Huatulco.”


Loup’s eyes brightened. “You think?”


“Maybe.” Pilar twined a length of Loup’s hair around her fingers. “Maybe we could get funding for a nice little church dedicated to Santa Olivia.”


“For Father Ramon?”


“Sure.” She smiled. “And Sister Martha, and Anna… I mean, I don’t know how all that works or if it’s even possible. And, um, there’s the fact that he doesn’t exactly believe in God and was never actually ordained.”


“Or celibate.”


“That, too,” Pilar allowed. “But they’re awfully good people who worked harder than humanly possible to keep the world together when it fell apart. Who knows?” She shrugged. “I’m just thinking out loud.”


Loup smiled wryly. “They’ll never leave Outpost while there’s work to be done there.”


“So we help them do the work.” She leaned over to plant a lingering, upside-down kiss on Loup’s lips. “Right?”


“Right.”


FIFTY-ONE


Loup hugged Miguel fiercely. “Just try to stay out of trouble, will you?”


He huffed, the air leaving his lungs. “Jesus! Lighten up, freakshow!”


“Oh, for fuck��s sake! I’m serious.”


“Yeah, whatever.” He squeezed her briefly, then pushed her away. “Ecchevarria… take care of her, will you?”


Pilar nodded. “You bet I will.”


“That’s my girl.” Miguel kissed her cheek. “Hey, have you still got that sexy little Hellfire maid costume Loup wore for the big rescue mission?”


“Um… yeah. Why?”


He grinned. “No reason. I just like to think about it from time to time.”


They watched him saunter away, suitcase in hand. Pilar shook her head. “Miguel fucking Garza, huh?”


“Yep.”


“I get it, though. Now.” She glanced at Loup. “He was really good to me while you were gone. In that totally grouchy, pervy, big-brother way. Whenever I was really down, he’d find a way to bully me out of it.”


“That’s Mig.” Loup’s Dataphone rang. “Whoops! It’s Abernathy. I’ve got to take this.” She answered. “Hi, it’s Loup. What’s the news?” She listened. “That’s great. Sure, I can be ready by two. I’ll be waiting at the entrance.”


“They’re gonna let you see Johnson?” Pilar said when Loup ended the call.


“Yeah, this afternoon.”


She shivered. “I understand, baby, I do, but the idea of you going back to that place gives me the creeps.”


“It’ll be okay.” Loup hugged her. “I promise.”


“I believe you.” Pilar sighed. “I just don’t much feel like letting you out of my sight. But that’s okay, I’ll start working on our travel arrangements. Once this is over, we want to get to Santa Olivia as soon as possible, right?”


“Don’t you?”


“Yeah. But we can’t just go yet. We have to apply for a cordon visa.” She smiled ruefully. “They’re still monitoring access in the interest of national security. Senator Ballantine’s office thinks they can expedite the process for us.”


“Thanks, Pilar.”


“You bet, baby.”


Tom Abernathy pulled up at two o’clock sharp and drove Loup to the detention center. She pestered him for news about the GMO detainees.


“It’s good,” he assured her. “We’re in the process of working out the terms of the general amnesty I mentioned. As soon as that’s finalized, most of them will be released.”


“What about Johnson?”


He shook his head. “He’ll do time and so will his brother, even though he’s not a GMO. They’ve confessed to aiding in your escape. There’s no getting around it. But since you weren’t classified as an enemy combatant, I’m pretty sure I can swing a minimum sentence for them.”


“How long?”


“Two years.”


Loup was silent.


“It could be a lot worse.” Abernathy glanced at her. “And now that the Human Rights Amendment has been repealed, once this is sorted out, I ought to be able to get him transferred to a much better facility. No more solitary confinement and MREs. Gym and library privileges, rec time.” He smiled. “I hear there are a couple of facilities where you can get a good basketball game going. That would be something to see, hmm?”


She smiled reluctantly. “Yeah.”


Inside the detention center, she was issued a security pass. Abernathy escorted her to the familiar interview room. It felt strange to sit on the opposite side of the table. A few minutes later, a guard brought in John Johnson. He was clad in an orange jumpsuit, his hands manacled in front of him.


Loup rose. “Hi.”


“Loup Garron.” Johnson met her eyes and smiled. “Can I shake her hand?” he asked his guard.


The guard shrugged. “Go ahead.”


They shook awkwardly, the chain jingling between them.


“So.” He sat with a precise economy of movement. “You did it.”


“Not alone.”


“No,” he agreed. “Not alone.”

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