Peter groaned. “I warned you. Itoldyou we had no idea where the fuel was coming from.”
“I’m the fuel, it’s me,me,”Ella screeched, leaping at her.
Beatrix ran, the naked limbs of trees catching at her as she stumbled through the forest. Finally, she sank to the ground, shivering. Helpless as she was to keep variations on this theme from replaying night after night, she knew even now that this was a dream—the real nightmare was that the accusations from these figments of her imagination were probably true.
Peter and Ella reappeared, moving fast. As she staggered away, she heard him calling to her, voice thin and oddly distant.
“Beatrix!Beatrix!”
Something about it made her stop and turn. The next instant, the Peter-that-was-not-Peter bowled into her, his eyes the fathomless sockets of a skeleton as his skin slid off his face.
She jerked up in bed, mercifully awake. The alarm was ringing.
“Bee?” her sister said, hoarse with sleep.
“Yes?” She could hear the tremble in her voice.
“You were screaming.”
“Bad dream,” she murmured, feeling her way out of the room in the dark.
By running full tilt,she managed to get to the Senate cafeteria with two minutes to spare. Gray was already there, sitting alone at a table with a cup of coffee. He sighed when he saw her. Perhaps he’d been hoping she wouldn’t show up.
After he looked around, clearly checking that no one was in earshot, he murmured, “You recall my office is bugged?”
She nodded. “I won’t talk to you about anything important there.”
“You’re not to go there at all.”
She blinked at him. “Senator?—”
“You’ll only be on my staff for a few weeks. It’ll be easier for everyone if no one notices.”
“I’ll be on the payroll.Someonewill notice.”
“Nevertheless,” he said grimly, “don’t come into my office, avoid talking to me in public and do not identify yourself as my secretary.”
She took a deep breath and smiled. “How would you suggest I get work done on your behalf?”
That was one detail to which he apparently had not given any thought. After a moment, he consulted some paperwork and made notations. “Here—this week, attend the hearings I circled and take notes.”
“All right. And get them to you … how?”
He hesitated. “I’ll pick them up from your house after work.”
“My house is also bugged, remember. And there’s a tele-vision camera aimed at the front door.”
He scowled. “Fine, fine! I’ll meet you here at 5. Give them to me then.”
She nodded and stood to go. “The first hearing isn’t for two hours. Should I go to HR first?”
“Wait until 8:30. I need to explain matters to the payroll chief.” He downed his coffee. “The ID they’ll give you—don’t display it. Just act as if you’re here as a regular citizen.”
Good God. “Yes, Senator,” she said, and left.
Seven hours later, ID squirreled away in her bag like contraband, she trudged back to the cafeteria with pages of notes she doubted Gray would even glance at. She sat at an empty table and tried to think of something useful to do with her remaining time on the clock.
She started by making a list of senators sitting on the committee that would have to give his Twenty-fifth legislation a thumbs up before the full Senate could vote on it. She added brief intel about their political backgrounds and what they’d said to the League on the matter—most claimed to be on the fence. Then she outlined a recommendation for a joint press conference with the Sugarworkers, who’d told Lydia they would come to her June march on Washington in large numbers.
