Archangel Protocol

"I know that." My tone was flat. I wasn't going to give him an inch. "I was there."

"I think you're putting your faith in the wrong people for the wrong reasons, Deidre. All we're asking from you is a little information. In fact, all you have to do is tell us what the three of you were doing at Freshta's apartment."

When I found myself reaching up to caress the receiver, I jerked my hand away. I suddenly remembered the strange object Jibril gave me. I dug in my pocket for it. Of course, I found nothing except lint and Styrofoam pieces. All my possessions were locked in a safe box as part of the arrest procedures.

"Looking for this?" The agent held the mysterious item up for me to see. It was a short and squat cylinder, no larger than the spent casing of a .45. Smooth and silver it gleamed seductively in the harsh light. "Can you tell me what it is?"

"No," I said truthfully. I had to hold on to my own hand to keep myself from rubbing the implant.

"It's a hematite bead." He dropped it on to the table.

"It's a what?" I asked, stu

"A bead, for a necklace or something." The agent dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Take a look."

With numb fingers, I picked it up to examine it. On the top and bottom were holes for a string. I turned it over and over in my hands and prayed its true nature would be revealed. It was just as the agent said: a bead, nothing more.

"Where's the real item?" I tossed down the bead hard enough that it bounced. "What kind of idiot you take me for?"

The agent smiled. There was gloating around the edges of his curled lips. The good cop persona was slipping. "I'm not sure. Maybe you should tell me." Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he continued, "Tell me something, Deidre. If I had the 'real' item, why wouldn't I use it against you? Were you after a data chip? Something else?"

I looked at the bead and tried to remember what Jibril had handed me. I picked it up again and pressed it into my palm. The bead was cool, almost as cold and heavy as the dead receiver in my head.

"Do you have any idea why Jibril would set up a clandestine meeting to pass you something so useless?"

"Fuck," I breathed. "It was all for nothing."

"So it seems," the agent said with a smirk. He moved around the table. His hard-heeled shoes clicked on the linoleum floor. "Now why don't you tell us what they wanted from you, and what you thought you were getting in exchange?"

I gripped the smooth bead tighter. Did Michael intend to set me up? It seemed likely. Jibril wouldn't even let go of my hand as the FBI broke down the door. All he would do was talk about the will of Allah. Yet if they intended to be caught, why were they surprised? And, why did Michael resist arrest? Was it just a show for me? To make me think it wasn't a setup? It didn't make any sense. Dorshak said they didn't want me, but Michael. Otherwise, I might've believed Michael double-crossed me. But, why would the FBI want me? I had no real political power to wield against Letourneau or anyone else for that matter. I was a celebrity, sure, but without the LINK, I was a nonplayer.

I still didn't trust this FBI agent enough to tell him anything. There was something deeper going on here, and I wasn't going to give an inch until I found out what. Besides, I had an old score to settle. Looking up at the agent, I slowly shook my head from side to side.

"Look" – the agent sounded exasperated – "you were duped. Not only that, but right now you're facing a pretty serious charge of resisting arrest. You owe these people nothing."

No, I thought silently, but I still owe myself some dignity. Last time, I chose to save myself, and I've regretted it ever since. Michael might still be in a position to bring Letourneau down if he could get out of this somehow. For Da

The agent tapped his finger impatiently on the wooden desk. "Maybe you don't understand why we want Angelucci so bad. Let me tell you something about him. Angelucci is a vigilante." The agent pressed. "He's trying to take the law into his own hands. You and I both know how dangerous that kind of behavior can be."

I nodded despite myself. As much as I had loved Da

"If you have any feelings of loyalty to this guy, it's misplaced." The agent frowned. He stared at the oneway glass, considering something. Leaning closer, he continued in a conspiratorial tone, "He has more dotted lines to antigovernment groups than ... I don't know what. Angelucci has his fingers in all the radical groups: Hasidim, Muslims ... possibly other heathens as well. Not to mention the liberal fringe like ACLU, human rights campaigners – which we know is a front for queers – and God knows what else. He and his pals, like Jibril Freshta, have been stirring the pot of dissension for the last year. They're gaining ground, too. If left to their own devices, they could bring back an era of secular presidents. Think about that, McMa

In my mind's eye, I saw the result of science's most horrible creation – a frozen form that was once human, now a statue of glass, in a silent, but deafening, scream. "No," I whispered, my voice hoarse.

"I didn't think so," the agent said softly. "But that's what Angelucci wants: a world without a moral backbone. A world like our grandparents and parents suffered through, when drugs and violence were commonplace, when children were raised in schools where religion was outlawed, when the world had no common spiritual view..."

I nodded, but knew that the agent talked only about those who were LINKed. Crime still ruled my universe. However, I couldn't deny that the majority of the population lived better than ever since the war, thanks to the programs of the new religious governments. Despite the restrictions, the government worked, which was more than could be said for its last incarnation.

"Angelucci is a menace. I thought you understood that, Ms. McMa

That's what I told myself every day since Daniel's conviction: the truth was more important than loyalty. I took my oath to serve and protect seriously during my days on the force. That, to me, was the distinction between an honest cop and a dishonest one. Though the system became tougher and tougher to support in good conscience, I held on to the tenet that truth and justice were at the core of it all. Believing was how I lived with myself.

What if the FBI agent was right about Michael? I didn't know that much about his motivations. If I hadn't guessed that he was a LINK-angel, he would never have told me. My head ached.

"The LINK." I clutched the bead to my heart. "He promised me the LINK."

The agent nodded encouragingly. "Illegal biotech is an international offense. As a decorated tech-cop, I would've thought you'd know better. What on earth would make you cross that line, Deidre?"

I shook my head. The feds had more enhancements than the average cop, how could he know what made me consider it? He'd never lived without the LINK, in the dark, surrounded by the silence of one's own thoughts.

"What did they want from you?" he asked.

"Michael wanted my help..." Looking into the agent's eyes, I stopped. If I told the agent that I suspected that Michael was a LINK-angel, what then? If they were true to their bargain, I might be let off. But, what would happen to him?