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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 109 из 293I’m going to take Major Walters and his people with us, and letthem do their jobs.”
“And when they can’t handle it, and you need our help, you may not get it, Princess.”
And we might need their help. I hoped not, but we might. I had an idea. I turned to Walters. “Do you have a cell phone?”
He looked a little uncertain, but he held it out to me.
“Can I make a long-distance call on it?”
“Who are you going to call?”
“Washington, D.C.”
Walters took in a deep breath. “Be my guest.”
I dialed a number that I’d had the queen’s secretary get for me before we came out here. I’d hoped not to use it, but I’d seen enough territorial disputes in L.A. to know that the feds and the locals could do more harm to an investigation than good, if they got into a serious pissing contest. Marquez was making this one serious.
After hearing my initial greeting and request, Marquez said, “You are not calling the president of the United States.”
“No.” I was on hold. “I’m not.”
Marquez frowned harder at me.
A woman’s voice came on the phone, and I said, “Mrs. President, how good to talk to you again.”
Marquez’s eyebrows went up.
I’d first met Joanne Billings when her husband was a senator. They’d come to my father’s funeral, and their regrets had seemed the most sincere of the political people there that day. After that Senator Billings and his wife had made several visits to faerie, and I realized that Joanne Billings was a faeriephile. My father had not raised me to ignore a political advantage, and besides, I liked Joanne. She was open-minded about the Unseelie Court’s unfavorable press, and made a point of talking us up in a positive light when she could. We exchanged holiday cards, and I made certain she was invited to my official engagement party, the one for public consumption. She had actually visited me at college once, without her husband, just to see how I was getting along, and by that time she and her husband were trying to get the young vote. Pictures of her with America’s faerie princess didn’t hurt. I understood that, and didn’t think badly of her for it. I had even invited her to my graduation, and they had both come. We’d gotten photo ops together. One of the last things I’d done before vanishing from faerie and the public eye was to appear onstage with them at a couple of rallies.
We exchanged small talk, then she said, “I assume you didn’t call at this hour for a social reason.”
“No.” I gave her the briefest sketch of the situation.
“And when they can’t handle it, and you need our help, you may not get it, Princess.”
And we might need their help. I hoped not, but we might. I had an idea. I turned to Walters. “Do you have a cell phone?”
He looked a little uncertain, but he held it out to me.
“Can I make a long-distance call on it?”
“Who are you going to call?”
“Washington, D.C.”
Walters took in a deep breath. “Be my guest.”
I dialed a number that I’d had the queen’s secretary get for me before we came out here. I’d hoped not to use it, but I’d seen enough territorial disputes in L.A. to know that the feds and the locals could do more harm to an investigation than good, if they got into a serious pissing contest. Marquez was making this one serious.
After hearing my initial greeting and request, Marquez said, “You are not calling the president of the United States.”
“No.” I was on hold. “I’m not.”
Marquez frowned harder at me.
A woman’s voice came on the phone, and I said, “Mrs. President, how good to talk to you again.”
Marquez’s eyebrows went up.
I’d first met Joanne Billings when her husband was a senator. They’d come to my father’s funeral, and their regrets had seemed the most sincere of the political people there that day. After that Senator Billings and his wife had made several visits to faerie, and I realized that Joanne Billings was a faeriephile. My father had not raised me to ignore a political advantage, and besides, I liked Joanne. She was open-minded about the Unseelie Court’s unfavorable press, and made a point of talking us up in a positive light when she could. We exchanged holiday cards, and I made certain she was invited to my official engagement party, the one for public consumption. She had actually visited me at college once, without her husband, just to see how I was getting along, and by that time she and her husband were trying to get the young vote. Pictures of her with America’s faerie princess didn’t hurt. I understood that, and didn’t think badly of her for it. I had even invited her to my graduation, and they had both come. We’d gotten photo ops together. One of the last things I’d done before vanishing from faerie and the public eye was to appear onstage with them at a couple of rallies.
We exchanged small talk, then she said, “I assume you didn’t call at this hour for a social reason.”
“No.” I gave her the briefest sketch of the situation.