Jennifer Government Part 44

"Something fishy is going on," Violet said slowly. "Someone's trying to screw me."

Maybe John was going to pay her three million out of his own pocket. That was possible. But it was also possible he was planning a nasty surprise for her at the Nike Town. That was very possible.

She checked her pocket. She still had the gun. "Funny business," Violet muttered; there would be some funny business, all right. She took hold of Kate's arm. It was time to go shopping.

74 a.s.sault

Hack hadn't been to the Chadstone Wal-Mart mall for years, and it seemed to have grown in his absence, sprouting additional shops and food courts. The parking lot was jammed, and the bus took a long time to fight its way through. He looked at his watch, impatient. Claire would be waiting.

The bus wheezed to a halt and Hack disembarked into a ma.s.s of people, shouting and pus.h.i.+ng and clutching bags of merchandise. Hack hadn't seen anything like it since the January sales.

He forged his way to the mall's entrance and found a map, which said Nike Town was on level four. Hack walked to the escalators, past a raffle for a BMW convertible, and rode up. His bag was much heavier than it had been for McDonald's. He took the opportunity to rest it a second.

Claire was outside the Borders store, wearing Jackie O sungla.s.ses. She smiled when she saw him. Hack touched her hands. "How are you?"

"Last one, Hack."

"Yes," he said. "Last one." They entered the store.

Rows of carefully lit shoes adorned the walls. There was a row of chairs in the center, rock music pumping out of the speakers, and a counter at the back. Hack put his bag down on one of the seats and began unzipping it.

"Can I help you?" a clerk said.

"Yes," Claire said. She pulled a pistol from her coat and pointed it at him. They had planned fake guns, but it turned out to be easier to get real ones and not load them. "You can run."

"Everybody out of the store!" Hack shouted. "Nike's going down, you don't want to be here!" He pulled a paint tin from his bag and pried off the lid with a screwdriver. The smell was awful.

"Nike kills children!" Claire said. Hack had written her speech; he was pretty pleased with it. "They pay substandard wages in non-USA countries and sell shoes at inflated prices! One of their factories in China burned down and killed fifty-eight workers! They make huge profits but screw over their own employees in performance evaluations! Their Mercurys campaign killed fourteen children, including one girl right here in this store!"

But the customers just stood there, like at the McDonald's. People were stupid, Hack realized. You couldn't make anything too simple for them.

So he heaved. His tins were filled with blood and offal, courtesy of a visit to a butcher's this morning. The mess burst against the wall. It was almost too authentic. The light bulb above a pair of sneakers blew, spraying sparks.

"People before profits!" Hack shouted. The clerk had split, but customers were still standing around. "What's the matter with you people?"

"Is this, like, a promotion?" a kid said.

"No!" Hack said. "It's a protest! Nike is a murderer!" He grabbed another tin from his bag, but it slipped out of his hands and hit the floor. The lid popped off. Offal spattered his pants. "Aw, c.r.a.p!"

"Are you gonna be giving away shoes?"

"It must be a new product line," another kid said. His eyes widened. "Is it, like, 'Nike Murderers'? Is that it?"

"Oh, that would be so cool," the other kid said.

"No!" Hack said, outraged. "This isn't a promotion!"

"Throw some more blood, dude," the kid said.

"Am I wearing a Nike sweatsuit?" Hack demanded. "Do you see any logos on me?"

"Hey, he's right, man," the other kid said. "He ain't wearing logos." They looked at Hack nervously.

"Out!" Hack yelled, and they ran. One grabbed a pair of sneakers on his way out. Hack felt disgusted before remembering he was planning to do that himself.

"Let me help you with those tins," Claire said. "Let's get this done and get out."

"Okay," he said. Their hands touched as they reached for the same can of blood. They smiled at each other.

"Hey," someone said. "What's going on?"

"Jesus," Hack breathed. Some people were really slow learners. He turned. But it wasn't one of the kids. "Violet?"

"Hack! What are you doing here?"

"I'm" She was leading a kid by the arm, a girl of about eight or nine. "What are you you doing?" doing?"

"Are you doing the swap?"

"Swap? Violet, if you're following me around"

"Hold it," she said. "Are you John Nike's contact or not?"

Hack opened his mouth to reply. A man entered the store behind Violet. His face was distorted, like a melted wax sculpture. A line of thick black st.i.tches marched from one ear to the middle of his forehead. His hair was gone. But Hack recognized him anyway.

"No," the John said. "I am."

75 Threat

"Gark," John Nike said, or something similar.

"Hey, now," Jennifer said. "You don't seem pleased to see me at all."

He turned and fled. She took off after him. Max Synergy and the US Alliance suits just stood there. This, she discovered, was a common thread to the next four and a half minutes: office workers standing around gaping while she and John zipped past them. John was screaming for the NRA or security or anyone with a gun, please, please, but there was not a lot of action from the suits and skirts at US Alliance. Companies claimed to be highly responsive, Jennifer thought, but you only had to chase a screaming man through their offices to realize it wasn't true. but there was not a lot of action from the suits and skirts at US Alliance. Companies claimed to be highly responsive, Jennifer thought, but you only had to chase a screaming man through their offices to realize it wasn't true.

John tried to catch an elevator, but she was closing on him so he ran up the stairs instead. He gained a little ground by pus.h.i.+ng a woman with a stack of files into her path, but only a little, and the more floors they climbed, the more her regular gym workouts and John's regular big lunches became evident. He was gasping and wheezing at the twenty-ninth and her fingers closed on his jacket. He wriggled free and burst out of the stairwell. She followed and found herself in an enormous board room. Two walls were gla.s.s. The view over L.A. was incredible. John was flat against a pane as if he were trying to squeeze through it. It was, she realized, a lot like the room in which she'd told John about her pregnancy, eight years ago, when they'd both worked for Maher. She hoped he noticed the symmetry.

"Get away from me! You stay back!"

"Sorry, chum," she said. "Can't do that."

"Where's the f.u.c.king NRA?" he screamed, and that she couldn't answer.

"Wait. Wait a second!"

"Uh-uh."

"Stop! Or Kate will regret it!"

Jennifer stopped. "What?"

"Talked to your daughter recently?"

"John," she said. "You don't want to give me any extra reasons to be p.i.s.sed at you. You really don't."

"You'd better call home. Your daughter's been missing since this morning."

"You lying piece of s.h.i.+t." Her voice trembled. "How dare you say something like that."

"You think I'm kidding?" He sprayed spittle. "You think I'd wait for you to come for me without taking steps to protect myself? You think I'd believe you'd give up give up? You think I'd be unprepared unprepared?"

She hesitated.

He saw, and his eyes brightened. "You know me, Jen. Am I the sort of guy to take half-measures?" There was a phone on the counter. "Go on, call home. Find out for yourself."

She took a deep, steadying breath. "If you're lying, I'm going to beat the s.h.i.+t out of you."

"Do I look worried?"

She walked over to the phone and dialed Buy's cellphone. "And if you're not lying, I'm going to kill you."

His smile flickered.

It only rang once. She heard Buy's voice. It was anxious and strained. "Hh.e.l.lo?"

"It's me."

"Oh Jen. Jen. I'm so sorry."

She put down the handset.

"So," John said. "Now we understand each other."

She started walking toward him.

"Ah-ah! Not a good idea, Jen. Not smart. You want to hold it right there."

Jennifer stopped. Her hands were shaking. "She is your daughter daughter."

"Oh, please," John said. "I made this very G.o.dd.a.m.n clear eight years ago. I never wanted a kid. You You wanted it, and I couldn't stop you. I couldn't do a G.o.dd.a.m.n thing to stop you. So, fine, you had a kid. But don't think you can turn me into a wanted it, and I couldn't stop you. I couldn't do a G.o.dd.a.m.n thing to stop you. So, fine, you had a kid. But don't think you can turn me into a father father."

The elevator dinged behind her.

"At last!" John said. "What took you a.s.sholes so long?"

She felt rough hands seize her arms. "Sorry, sir! There's a disturbance out front. We responded as soon as"

"Not good enough. I'll be speaking to Li."

"Sir, what would you like us to do with...?"

"Take her somewhere," John said, "and shoot her in the head."

The soldier said nothing.

"You have a problem with that?"

"Sir, I'm not sure you can authorize me to do that."

"I f.u.c.king can!" John shouted. "Don't make me take this to Li!"

"Yes, sir," the soldier said. Jennifer could barely see him. She was starting to cry. She let herself be dragged.

The two NRA soldiers took her down the stairwell. She felt as if she were shaking apart. She wanted to catch the first flight back to Melbourne, and hunt down John and kill him, both at once. But she couldn't do both. She couldn't do either.

Halfway down, one of the soldier's radios said something, and he spoke into it. Then he looked at his companion. "They want us out front. It's getting worse."

"What about her?"

"I dunno."

n.o.body said anything for a moment. Jennifer waited for them to decide whether they were going to kill her.

"I mean, if they want us out front, that's an NRA order. That takes precedence over what Nike wants."

"Does it?"

"s.h.i.+t, I dunno," the soldier said. "But I'll tell you right now, I don't want to shoot this woman in the head. That's just wrong."

Suddenly, Jennifer's cellphone rang. Her nerves were so frayed that she jumped.