The Law of Averages

Book 2: Chapter 169: Loud

"So, this is a problem," Dan concluded, after explaining what he'd found to Anastasia. They'd regrouped in a neighboring room, with plush leather chairs and a broad office table. The silver-haired matron looked irritated, slouched in her seat with her chin resting against a fist. The fingers of her other hand drummed on the surface of the table making the rough pitter-patter sound of heavy rain.

Dan's portal still sat open in the other room, connected to Madison's home through the glass of his front window. A thousand different sensors waited for stimulus, but Dan didn't dare let a single pollen through. What if Madison could somehow sense the loss? It seemed ridiculous on its face—a few pollen among countless millions—but cosmic fuckery could never be discounted.

"I'll have to hollow out a space," Dan decided. The listening device was very thin, and the television had plenty of non-organic material within it. He could carve out a space wide enough to store the bug, though that might compromise its effectiveness.

Anastasia's lips thinned in displeasure. "Might as well not even take the risk. The bug has a laser microphone that will work through CRT glass, but I don't know what kind of functionality it will have if it's encased in another solid. Very little, I'd assume."

She fished out her phone and sent a text to her technician. They continued to mull over the problem for another minute, making very little progress, before her phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen, the thin frown growing more pronounced.

"No good," she said. "It won't work."

Dan groaned, falling back into his chair. He pressed his hands into his brow and mumbled, "I don't suppose you know someone who has the power to listen in at a distance?"

"Not that I would trust with this," Anastasia replied dismissively. She grimaced. "Perhaps there's another option."

"Yeah?" Dan perked up. He looked at her, and the expression on her face. "Uh oh."

Anastasia thumped her fist against the table. "If he can sense the addition of new non-organics, then we must simply add so many that he cannot tell which is surveillance, and which is not!"

"Yeah," Dan drawled the word, "except for the fact that he'll obviously know someone has been mucking about in his house if a bunch of electronics just randomly appear inside it."

"Not if the cause is something so huge and obvious that he disregards everything else," Anastasia declared. And then, in the tone of someone commenting on the weather, she said, "I shall have to arrange a plane crash."

Dan almost choked on his own spit as he sucked in a sharp breath. "You what?"

"A plane crash," Anastasia repeated, as if she was speaking plain sense and not completely out of her mind. "Directly onto his property. The entire damn lot will be filled up with shrapnel and wreckage, and then you'll mix in some laser microphones pointing at his window. Simple and clean."

That final, obviously inaccurate statement hung in the air like a bad odor. Dan shifted in his seat, and felt the leather creak. The table was cold and grainy against his sweaty palms. Somewhere in the distance, a clock ticked. He waited for Anastasia to come to her senses, but time marched inexorably forward.

"Well, it's nice to know you're capable of terrible ideas just like the rest of us," Dan finally offered.

"It's perfect," Anastasia insisted. "Madison will assume it's either an assassination attempt, or some kind of petty revenge. He might even find out it was me who ordered it, which is even better. If he panics, he'll lead us to Echo even faster."

"Yes, sure, whatever. That's all fine, but let's rewind a bit, and revisit the plane crash," Dan said, making vague gestures with his hands that were meant to be convincing but were really just exasperated. "You can't crash a plane into the man's house. How is that any different than just having me dump a bomb in it?"

"I assumed you would have a problem with that," Anastasia noted. "Besides, I don't want to wreck his home. I want him inside of it, and talking. My guess is that the house is fortified enough to withstand far more than a plane landing on it, but this should send a message loud enough to get him talking."

"All it's going to do is piss him off and make him unpredictable," Dan countered. He jabbed an accusing finger at her. "You really want to take the risk that he does something crazy? We have no real idea what his powers can accomplish."

Anastasia flicked her hand like one might flick away a booger. "You're missing the forest for the trees, Newman. Look at the big picture."

"A plane crash is not a tree!" Dan exclaimed.

Anastasia huffed in exasperation. "There won't be anyone inside of it. And it'll be a small plane. Smallish. Honestly, I have no idea why you're so against this."

Dan wasn't sure either. It just seemed so loud and obvious, like a bright red flag that read, 'We're coming for you!' All that noise, and against an enemy who didn't even yet know they considered him one. Madison might suspect that Anastasia was on to him, but materializing that vague future into a life-threatening present was probably not a good idea. Dan could speak now with experience, very little focused a mind quite like an attack on one's home.

He tried to picture coming home to a flaming ruin. All of his hard work, his time and love and care, reduced to a smoldering wreck. He tried to imagine just how angry he would be, and what he would do to the person responsible. He'd killed the last person who violated his home. Andros Bartholomew's pallid smile flashed across his vision, accompanied by a surge of rage so intense it left spots in his vision.

He grit his teeth and let it pass. Then, Dan asked, "Do you really need more people trying to kill you?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Newman," Anastasia replied breezily. "He's already trying to kill me. This will simply make the matter more urgent."

"I think it's a bad idea. You're inviting retaliation," Dan explained. "You've got the RED Building investigating him. You've got Dunkirk in custody, spilling who knows what secrets. And now you're lobbing aircraft at his house. It's too much pressure, all at once. He'll break, and you have no idea in which direction."

"Just so long as he does."

The remark was so casual, so careless. Dan nearly flinched away from the woman. Even after her recent losses, she expected to win. Demanded it, not just of herself but of reality itself. It was something inevitable. She wore arrogance like plate mail, and why not? It had kept her alive thus far. Supreme self-confidence, and a gargantuan dose of raw power. But the people around her had not been so lucky.

Whatever strange rules the People used to play by, they'd obviously disregarded them. Cannibal had proven it when he tried to eat his way through the Summers family. And Madison was not even one of them, not really. The man was a walking, talking question mark. Dan's own ignorance made his scalp itch.

"What if he doesn't go to Echo?" Dan asked. "Hell, what if he doesn't do anything at all? Just sits there and endures. He might pull it off. The man's been around so long he might as well be a monument."

"He'll run to Echo," Anastasia said with confidence that Dan wasn't quite sure she could justify. "When facing a superior force, the first thing any intelligent person does is look for help. At the very least, he'll want to use Echo as a distraction. If we're lucky, Echo will just teleport right in to the house, and I'll have them both right at hand. Two birds with one hammer."

"That's not..." Dan trailed off. He looked at her. Really looked, past the wall of smug self-assurance. She almost looked like Abby. The lines on her face had receded. Her skin was soft, supple, and alive. But the eyes were wrong. Too hard and jagged. They glittered with malicious anticipation. They were hungry things, looking to hurt something, and looking forward to the experience.

She'd made up her mind. It was pointless to try and convince her otherwise. Anastasia was too used to getting her own way. Declining to help would only cut Dan out of the loop. His priority was Abby. Whatever insanity Anastasia engaged in might blow back on her. He needed to know what moves were being made, and he had just enough leverage to ensure it. Anastasia would still need his help to plant her bugs, both on the property and on Madison's clothing.

The cufflinks, Dan decided. The tracker would go in the cufflinks. All of them. Anastasia had plenty of trackers to spare.

"Fine," Dan said. "Make your calls. Let's get this over with."

Anastasia gleefully vacated the room to arrange a plane to fall on her political rival. Dan remained where he sat, his veil still connected to Madison's home. His job wasn't over yet, but all the important decisions had been made. All of them wrong, in his opinion.

So, in the privacy of his mind, Dan made a decision of his own. He'd keep an eye on Madison himself. He could afford to take a week or two and just watch. And wait. And if the Senator did what Dan feared, and decided to retaliate against Anastasia's family, well...

Dan could probably find something a lot heavier than an airplane, and he could get it moving a hell of a lot faster. And unlike Anastasia, he wouldn't miss.

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