Islands in the Net

Laura jumped to her feet. "I expected that!"

"Please sit down, Mrs. Webster."

"Ms. Frolova-Tamara-let me speak to you as a person.

I don't know what your bosses ordered you to say, but it's over now. You can't walk away from it anymore."

Frolova's face froze. "I know you have suffered an ordeal,

Mrs. Webster. Laura. But one should not act irresponsibly.

You must think first. Reckless allegations of such a kind- they are a clear public danger to the international order."

"They were taking me-both of us--to an atomic test site!

For nuclear blackmail! To Azania, this time--God knows they already had you intimidated."

"The area you saw was not a test site."

"Stop being stupid! It doesn't even need Gresham's tape.

You may have fast-talked these poor medicos, but the Azanian spooks aren't going to settle for words. They'll want to fly over the desert and look for the crater."

"I'm sure that could be arranged!" Frolova said. "After the current hostilities settle."

Laura laughed. "I knew you'd say that, too. That's an arrangement you'll never make, if you can help it. But the cover-up is still finished. You forget-we've been there. The air was full of dust. They can test our clothes, and they'll find radioactivity. Maybe not much, but enough for proof." She turned to Mbaqane. "Don't let them anywhere near those clothes. Because they'll grab the evidence, after they've grabbed us."

"We are not 'grabbing' anyone," Frolova said.

Mbaqane cleared his throat. "You did say you wanted them for debriefing. Interrogation. "

"The clothes prove nothing! These women have been in the hands of a provocateur and terrorist! He has already committed a serious information crime, with the help of Mrs.

Webster. And now that I hear her, I can see that it was not unwitting help." She turned to Laura. "Mrs. Webster, I must forbid you to speak any further!, You are under arrest."

"Good heavens," Mbaqane said. "You can't mean that journalist fellow."

"This woman is his accomplice! Mr. Easton! Please draw your weapon."

Easton pulled a tangle-gun from his armpit.

Katje opened her eyes. "So much yelling ... please don't shoot me, too."

Laura laughed recklessly. "That's fu

What are you going to say after Mali nukes Pretoria? You should be ashamed."

Barnaard spoke to the Vie

..." His voice trembled. "You knew they had the Bomb!

You wanted to see if they would use it on us!"

"I resent that accusation in the gravest possible way! None of you are global diplomats, you are acting outside your experience-"

"How good do we have to be before we can judge you?"

Laura said.

Easton aimed his gun. Mbaqane struck his wrist and the gun fell with a clatter. The two men stared at one another, amazed. Mbaqane found his voice: high-pitched, livid. "Cap- tain! Arrest these miscreants at once!"

"Director Mbaqane," the captain rumbled. "You are a civilian. I take my orders from Pretoria."

"You ca

The captain spoke again. "But I accept your suggestion with thanks. For an Azanian soldier, the course of honor is clear. " He pulled his .45 sidearm and leveled it at Mr.

Neguib's head. "Throw down your weapon."

Neguib pulled his tangle-gun carefully. "You are creating a serious international complication. "

"Our diplomats will apologize if you force me to open fire.'

Neguib dropped the gun.

"Leave this clinic. Keep your hands in plain sight. My soldiers will take you into custody."

He herded them slowly toward the door.

Barnaard could not resist a taunt. "Did you forget our country also has uranium?"

Frolova spun in her tracks. She flung her arm out, pointing at Laura. "You see? You see now? It's starting all over again!"

11

She lost the journalists at the Galveston airport. She was getting pretty good at it by now. They weren't as eager as they'd been at first and they knew they could pick her up again soon.

"Welcome to Fun City," the van told her. "Alfred A.

Magruder, Mayor. Please a

"Rizome Lodge."

She turned on the radio, caught the last half of a new pop song. "Rubble Bounces in Bamako." Harsh, jittery, banging music. Strange how quickly that had come back into style.

Weirdness, edginess, war nerves.

The city hadn't changed much. They didn't let it change much. Same grand old buildings, same palm trees, same crowds of Houstonians, thi

The Church of Ishtar was advertising openly now. They were almost respectable, flourishing anyway, in a time of war and whores. Carlotta had been right about that. She thought about Carlotta, lost somewhere in her holy demimonde, smil- ing her su

Carlottas, full of women whose lives were not their own. She didn't even know Carlotta's real name.

Storm surf was up, backwash from a tropical depression, broken up on, the Texas coast in a ragged, cloudy array.

Determined surfers were out in their transparent wetsuits.

More than half the surfers had black skin.

She spotted the flagpole first. The Texas flag, the Rizome emblem. The sight of it hit her very hard. Memory, wonder, sorrow. Bitterness.

The journos were waiting just outside the Rizome property line. They had cu

Laura's van stopped short. The hat and sunglasses wouldn't help her now. She climbed out.

They surrounded her. Keeping ten feet away, like the privacy laws demanded. A very small blessing. "Mrs. Web- ster, Mrs. Webster!" Then one voice amid the chorus. "Ms. Day!"

Laura stopped short. "What."

Red-haired guy, freckles. Cocky expression. "Any word on your impending divorce action, Ms. Day?"

She looked them over. Eyes, cameras. "I know people who could eat the lot of you for breakfast."

"Thanks, thanks, that's great, Ms. Day ..."

She crossed the beach. Up the old familiar stairs to the walkway. The stair rails had aged nicely, with the silken look of driftwood, and the striped awning was new. It looked like a good place, the Lodge, with its cheerful arches and sand- castle tower with the deep, round windows and the flags.

I

She stepped into the bar, let the door shut itself behind her.

Dim inside-the bar was full of strangers. Earth-cooled air, the smell of wine coolers and tortilla chips. Tables and wicker chairs. A man looked up at her-one of David's wrecking crew, she thought, not Rizome, but they'd always liked hang- ing out here-she had forgotten his name. He hesitated, recognizing her but not sure.

She ghosted past him. One of Mrs. Delrosario's girls passed her with a pitcher of beer. The girl stopped, turned on her heel. "Laura. It's you?"

"Hello, Inez."

They couldn't hug-Inez was carrying the beer. Laura kissed her cheek. "You're all grown up, Inez.... You can serve that stuff now?"

"I'm eighteen, I can serve it, I can't drink it."

"Well it won't be long now, will it?"