Free The Blue-Haired Bombshell by John Zakour Page A

somebody wanted to do a ‘‘Where are they now?’’ story about me.
    ‘‘HARV, are there any reporters snooping around the office?’’ I asked.
    HARV appeared in my dash. ‘‘Nope. You are literally yesterday’s news.’’
    I was slightly relieved and perhaps slightly disappointed, though I was determined not to show it.
    ‘‘Well, back to my normal life,’’ I told him.
    HARV snickered. It’s unnerving to hear a supercomputer snicker. ‘‘Zach, with you there is no such thing as normal.’’
    ‘‘Good point.’’
     
I parked my car next to my office and went in. Carol was sitting at her desk.
    ‘‘Morning, Carol,’’ I said.
    No reply.
    I looked at her and noticed she wasn’t moving. I popped my gun into my hand. My first concern was Carol’s health.
    ‘‘HARV how come you didn’t tell me Carol was in trouble?’’ I barked.
    HARV’s hologram appeared next to me. ‘‘Zach, she was fine less than a nano ago.’’
    I gently pressed my index finger on Carol’s neck, searching for a pulse. I found one. I breathed easier. I waved my hand in front of her eyes. They didn’t blink.
    ‘‘She appears to be psionically frozen,’’ HARV said.
    Carol was a very powerful psi. Anybody who put her out of commission had to be at least as powerful.
    ‘‘She’ll live,’’ I heard a familiar voice call from my office. I headed toward that voice. I knew I knew it, but I couldn’t wrap my brain around it.
    ‘‘HARV, who’s in my office?’’ I asked.
    ‘‘Can’t tell,’’ he shrugged. ‘‘They’re disabled the video cameras.’’
    ‘‘Any guesses on who it might be?’’ I said, gun in hand, moving closer to the office.
    Hugging the wall, I peered through the open door into my office. There, sitting at my desk, was Shannon Cannon. She looked a bit distraught. I assumed she was still recovering from her bout with the Ogre.
    I walked into my office with my Colt 2062 trained right on Shannon’s ample chest. Shannon was looking at everything in the office but me.
    ‘‘I assume you’re the one who put Carol on psiice,’’ I said.
    Shannon simply nodded. ‘‘She’ll come around in an hour or two,’’ she said to me without actually focusing on me.
    I stopped about two meters from her. ‘‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’’ I asked.
    Shannon looked unkempt. Her hair was out of place and she had a very nervous demeanor, far different than the cold and calculating bombshell I was accustomed to.
    ‘‘Sexy is dead,’’ Shannon said, not looking at me.
    ‘‘What?’’
    Shannon shook her head. ‘‘Reduced to ashes under my watch, my guard.’’
    Shannon put her head in her hand and started weeping. I was at a loss over what to do. The comforting side of me wanted to put my arms around her and tell her it would be all right, even though I wasn’t sure it would be. My cautious side warned that this lady was one of the most deadly beings on Earth. She could overpower a band of samurai with her breath. I needed to shoot her now and let the police deal with her. My cautious side can be a bit overprotective but I’m still alive, so that’s a good thing.
    ‘‘What are you talking about?’’
    Shannon looked at me, her eyes unblinking as if they had been glued open. ‘‘We were preparing for a highly sensitive meeting. Sexy and fellow councilpeople Carl Weathers and Russ Tree were preparing for a very high level, ultra hush-hush conference,’’ she stopped. Her eyes welled with water. She dropped her head to the table and sobbed, ‘‘They’re all dust now, dead, dead dust . . .’’
    I felt Shannon’s pain from across the room. This was no act. This was a woman who trained all of life for solely one task—a task she had just failed at. I moved up to her, not putting my weapon away but pulling my finger off the trigger.
    I put my arm around her and asked, ‘‘What happened?’’
    Shannon looked up at me. Mascara running down her face made her look like a