“Congratulations,” Foreman said, “you are now the chief administrator of the Metahuman Policing and Threat Response Task Force. You’ll be running the entire administrative apparatus—finance, intelligence gathering, liaising with the Department of Homeland Security, everything except ops—but you’ll work directly with the head of operations to support them as they run response during this crisis.”
Ariadne stared blankly at him and then tried to muster her dignity by straightening her worn and dirty clothing. “All right. I’ll need to assemble my department. When do I meet the head of operations?”
“Oh, you already know her quite well,” Foreman said casually, and I felt his heavy hand land on my shoulder. I looked up at him in alarm and saw the smile on his face. “What? I told you I love surprises.”
Chapter 7
“I have to work for her?” Ariadne’s voice was strained, bitter disbelief seeping into it.
“You don’t have to,” Foreman said seriously. “The women’s correctional unit at Shakopee is always an alternative.”
I saw the slightest hint of irritation from Ariadne at his threat; the skin around her jaw got tight and her brow creased. “Fine. I’ll work with her.” She trembled slightly, her lips becoming a thin, straight line. “If you can make her work with me.”
Foreman gave me a sidelong glance, and just beyond him I caught sight of Scott watching the whole thing with a barely disguised look of shock. “I have faith that she’ll gladly work with you,” Foreman said to Ariadne then gripped my shoulder more tightly, “because she’s very motivated to make this partnership work, in order to avoid the consequences of failure. Isn’t that right, Ms. Nealon?”
I couldn’t decide if he was referring to the extinction of the metahuman species or the fact that I could potentially spend the rest of my very long life in a cell in the Arizona desert. Neither of those was very appealing, actually. “Oh, yes,” I said, with only a little sarcasm. “Very motivated.”
“Good,” Foreman said, and stepped out the door, gesturing for the three of us to follow him out into the hallway. Once we did, he pointed at a far distant door at the end of the hall, something that seemed like it was a mile away. “Mr. Byerly, Ms. Fraser, if you’d make your way through that door, one of my aides is waiting with Mr. Li and they’ll start making arrangements for you to put together what you need.” He whipped his gaze to me. “You and I have one last stop.”
“Oh, good,” I said, feigning breathless anticipation. “Is this going to be another one of your surprises?” I shot Scott a supportive look as he broke off to head down the hallway toward the door that Foreman had indicated. He gave me one back, something in the vein of Be careful, though it was mixed with some other emotions that I couldn’t figure out immediately.
“Of course,” Foreman said in his deep timbre. We stopped outside a door that had a number twelve on a placard above it. “What’s life without a little surprise? Boring, right? I mean, if you just have the same thing over and over again, totally expected, it’s kind of like only having one season.”
“The irony being that this is Minnesota,” I said. “The only place where the winters are longer than here is Westeros.”
“It’s the change,” Foreman said, not losing his enthusiasm as he went on. “The same season on and on and on is boring, just the same as one note dragging along isn’t music. Surprise is when the change comes and you don’t expect it.” He clicked the lock and nodded, preparing to open the door. “So ... are you ready for your next surprise?”
“Sure,” I said without any of his enthusiasm and stepped in as he opened the door for me.
The fist hit me squarely in the side of the head as I walked in, blindsided by a sucker punch that had a lot of power behind it. I hit the wall with my shoulder, and there was a flashing of lights in my vision that couldn’t be accounted for by the single, spare light source in the room. Something like dancing multicolored fireflies sprinkled all around my vision. I knew enough to throw my left arm up and it blocked the next hit, knocking it aside as I tried to recover and turn my head to catch a glimpse of my would-be attacker.
Foreman beat me to the punch. The senator unleashed an uppercut that knocked my assailant back, catching her - and it took me a moment to process that it was a her - on the chin and causing long brown hair to flash between the fireflies in my vision. I couldn’t help but feel that if I could have seen the person who’d attacked me, I might have known her. I watched her roll back from Foreman’s blow, springing to her feet in a move that was all too familiar—something I did all the time when I got knocked down.