I knew it would be just a matter of time before Givings called, especially after the conversation I'd had with Smith the other day. Of course, she wanted to meet at the Menlo Park Mall, in the center of the Food Court again. I got there about a half-hour early. This time, I parked around the back, in the garage area which is where I think Givings parks herself. I wanted to see if I could catch her, then gauge her mood by how she got out. I was in luck. I only had to wait about 15 minutes. I could see her from where I'd parked. She pulled in, got her briefcase and laptop from the back seat, and headed for the Mall entrance. She didn't look around at all, or she probably would have recognized my car. She just walked - quickly - straight ahead.
She was not in a good mood. I gave her a head start, then followed her in.
It think most people tend to look at themselves in store windows as they pass by - I know I do. Givings didn't. She headed straight down the hall and up to the escalator to the Second Level and the Food Court. I followed along (and I did glance at myself).
She sat there at a table in the center of the Court, in the slightly raised area, surrounded by plants and trees. There is a bit of privacy here. She had her laptop open in front of her. She didn't have a cup of coffee or a muffin. Not a good sign.
"Hey, Givings. What gives? No coffee?"
She barely glanced at me. "No, Mr. O'Neill. Not today. There won't be time for any."
"Really? So I shouldn't get anything?" Trying to lighten the mood. Didn't work.
"I'll get right to the point, Mr. O'Neill. As, I understand, you've been made aware, the Random Fire Events process has been terminated. The last one, which took place without my supervision, was poorly handled and, unfortunately, drew media attention. The People Upstairs were not happy."
She bent down to her laptop, pretending to look something up. I knew she was just trying to keep me from seeing how upset and angry she was.
"Well, we knew it was a short-term thing, didn't we?"
"Yes, Mr. O'Neill. We did. But the People Upstairs thought we could have gone for 1 or 2 more due to the severity of the winter so far. They were disappointed that this did not prove to be the case."
"Fire is unpredictable, you know. At least that's what they say on the TV programs."
She wasn't going to be calmed so easily.
"I met for several hours yesterday with the People Upstairs. Met? No...It was more of a Kangaroo Court. I was blamed for this. They see it as a failure. And coupled with the Adams Tower attempt, I am, apparently, on "Probation". They are going to give me one more chance to prove my effectiveness."
"OK. At least you get another chance. We'll come up with something."
"No, Mr. O'Neill. WE will not. This Fire Event scenario was your idea, and I still believe that the Adams Tower Event would have worked but you did something wrong in the placement of the canister. I will be doing this on my own."
I was speechless. Now I knew what dumbstruck meant.
"You're blaming me? Are you kidding? Adams Tower was your idea, and, yes, this Fire stuff was my idea, but you set them up. You set it all up." I was trying to keep from yelling, from attracting attention. She just looked at me and smirked.
"Well, you won't be setting ME up, I'll tell you that. I'm outta here." I stood up and turned towards the exit. "If you guys want to reach me, have Doyle do it."
I stormed off, back to my car, where I sat there seething. Last time we met, everything was all smiles. She met me after church, all giddy about how good things were going, and even wished me a Merry Christmas. Now, because things had gone South, she wanted to pin it all on me. Well, no way, sister.
As I sat there, I found that I was watching her car. I saw her come back, replace the briefcase and laptop in the back seat, and get in. I opened my door and walked over, taking the Flasher from my pocket.
I wanted to shake her up.
She was looking down, rummaging in her purse for something, as I tapped on her window. She looked up, startled, but saw it was me and the smirk came back. I lifted the Flasher.
Point, press, Flash.
Her head slid to the right, the smirk still there, her eyes open but empty.
That wasn't supposed to happen. Doyle had told me when we'd first met that the Flasher would not be effective on DHS employees. I just wanted to show her how mad I was.
I looked around. I didn't see anyone, so I walked back to my car. I sat there a while, trying to decide what to do. Obviously, DHS knows where I am and what just happened. They always do. Something to do with the tracking mechanisms they use.
Should I call them? What would they think? What could they do?
Moot questions. Just then, an EMS vehicle pulled into the lot area, followed by a black SUV. An EMT got out, opened Givings' car door, and looked to be feeling for a pulse. He straightened up, pulled out a cell phone, and dialed a number.
My cell went off. Confirmed.
The EMT nodded towards the black SUV. Two men got out - of course, dressed in black. One went to the EMT and one came towards me. I lowered my window.
"No reason to hang around, Mr. O'Neill." He said with a smile. "We can take it from here."
I must've looked like at idiot, staring at him, but I started the car and pulled away. As I raised the window he said...
"Have a nice day, Sir!" and snapped off a quick salute. That's when I recognized him - he was the "cop" by the fake Water Department dig outside the Adams Towers who gave me the canister.
I'm guessing someone will let me know what happens next.
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