“I don’t want to contain this problem,” Beck says. His tomato face ripens before my eyes. “I want to eradicate it. I want to bury it.”
I look at the domed ceiling and sigh. “You going to nuke the Kaiju.”
“You’re damn right I’m going to nuke them.”
“Where?” I ask. “Because in case you haven’t noticed, they tend to only surface in populated areas.”
Beck’s anger slides away. He understands the reality of his position. “Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good.”
I smile like Steve Martin just entered the room holding a banjo. Still smiling, I take my red beanie cap, which now has a neural transmitter woven into the fabric, from my pocket and slide it onto my head. It’s a tight fit, but makes my head feel normal for the first time in a week of disguises.
“What?” the President asks. “You find all this amusing?”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I really shouldn’t be smiling. It’s just that I’m very glad to hear you say that. Because sacrifice is exactly what will be required.”
Beck nods slowly, unsure whether I’m agreeing with him.
I reach out to shake his hand. He looks down at my peace offering with skeptical eyes. “This is why you entered my office unannounced?” He waggles his finger at me. “I don’t think so. You’re many things, but agreeable is not one of them.”
I keep my hand extended. “Funny, that’s how I would describe you.”
“What are you really after?”
I lift my hand higher. “A hand shake.”
Beck winces like King Kong just farted. My very presence offends him, most likely because I’m a stark reminder that he’s a sucky president.
“Maybe you should look at what’s in my hand,” I say.
Beck squints at me and leans forward. “I don’t see—”
I snap my arm up, twist it around and smack the face of my watch, identical to Endo’s, against his temple.
The President reels back, aghast, blubbering, winding up to scream for help.
“Sit down and shut up,” I say.
The man obeys. My orders—my very thoughts—are sent to his mind as though God himself were commanding the man. The connection to a human mind is insignificant compared to that of Nemesis. I feel a slight headache coming on. Nothing a few painkillers couldn’t handle. I can feel his mind, like a pliable blob of clay, ready to be shaped. I’m not sure what it would feel like with a stronger minded person, but luckily, Beck is fairly weak-willed.
Endo yawns and leans back, placing his feet on the couch. “How does it feel?”
“Easy,” I says.
“That’s not what I meant,” Endo says. “How does it feel to be the most powerful person in the world?”
I don’t respond to the question. It reminds me of why I considered not going through with this. If I can control the President of the United States, what’s to stop Zoomb from doing the same?
“I need you to do two things for me,” I say to Beck. “Cancel your appointments and request to be undisturbed for...” I look at my watch. It’s nearly 5pm. The sun won’t be down for another few hours. Gordon will wait until dark like a good soldier. “...the rest of the night. And while you’re at it, request a large dinner.”
Beck slowly reaches for the phone, and I imagine his hand reaching for a big red button. Way too dangerous.
While Beck makes his calls, I close my eyes and focus. I’ve got a few hours to brainwash the President.
35
Michael Spielberger lifted the $9 bottle of wine and looked at the label. It was simple and artistic. At least it doesn’t look cheap, he thought. He had spent a year’s worth of savings on this date, which had taken three months to plan. Cheap wine wasn’t originally part of the deal, but the price of renting a yacht for the night, was far higher than he’d anticipated. He’d been boating since he was a kid. Knew how to navigate the 40-foot-long yacht—it wasn’t even a sailboat. But his experience didn’t change the price tag. So he made due by cutting corners elsewhere.
He left the small galley where he’d cooked supper and headed for the deck, and his date, Deb Burns. She was a long time friend. His best friend. They spoke nearly daily, e-mailed and texted all the time. They had fun. Went to movies. Traded secrets. But in their fifteen years of friendship, nothing more had developed, despite Michael’s desires. A year previous, his friends in the IT department where he worked, had mocked him. Declared that he’d been sent to the ‘friend-zone’ until Deb decided to get married to someone else and dropped him like a sack of cow patties. The thought sickened him enough to push him into action. Tonight was the result of his long-term plan to break free of the friend-zone.