Senescence (Jezebel's Ladder Book 5) by Scott Rhine Read Free Book Online Page B

contractors, Laura
managed to bluff her way onto Edwards and into the offices of the Judge
Advocate General. Over the next few hours, while she and a couple lawyers tried
to navigate the maze of bureaucracy, the video of Stu speaking Panda on the
beach trended upward. First, governments scrambled to analyze the veracity of
the recording. Next, every linguist on the planet shared the video, calling
their colleagues regardless of the hour.
    The
legal clerk in the waiting room kept glaring at the required empath badge on
Laura’s suit. Lawyers hate people who can tell when they’re lying. In his
case, he doesn’t want to agree to anything I ask for in case I’m trying to
influence him. Flirting and flattery didn’t work either. He wouldn’t even
tell her where she could refill her water bottle. The tufts of hair on either
side of his balding head reminded Laura of Krusty the Clown.
    Laura
made online corporate donations to the World Wildlife Foundation and several
zoos in order to increase panda exposure in the media. As pandas rose in the
public consciousness, so did coverage of her client’s plight.
    At
seven, the legal clerk informed her entourage, “We’re closed for the day. Come
back tomorrow.” The little man clearly relished the power.
    “You
haven’t even charged Mr. Llewellyn,” she objected.
    The
clerk shut down his workstation. “We’re allowed to hold anyone for twenty-four
hours—
    longer if they’re an
enemy combatant.”
    “He’s
an ambassador. You have no right to hold him.”
    The
clerk replied, “We don’t recognize Sanctuary as an independent nation.”
    “Then
how can he be an enemy?” she argued.
    “Okay,
he’s out of uniform and guilty of espionage.”
    “We
demand proof that Mr. Stewart is being treated humanely.”
    “You’re
not allowed to speak to the prisoner for his own health. He’s in quarantine.”
The clerk locked his file drawer.
    “Then
let us speak to him by video!” The last time she had used that tone with a man,
she had been holding a riding crop.
    The
clerk considered for a moment. “No. As an enemy spy, he may attempt to
communicate state secrets.”
    “A
spy does not announce himself on live TV. Let me see a live video feed of Mr.
Llewellyn in his cell.”
    “Submit
your request tomorrow,” the clerk said, attempting to leave.
    Laura
stepped into his path and read his nametag. “Mr. Abramowitz, if you walk out
that door without giving us a video feed, you will regret wasting my time.”
    The
clerk evicted the legal team. “I have my orders.”
    “I
tried to be nice. I hope you don’t live too far away because you’ll be driving
back here soon.”
    ****
    Sitting in a jeep
outside the JAG offices, Laura called the head of Fortune security , Mr.
Maurier. “The lawyers are shooting blanks here. Did your wife think of a
medical loophole we can use to get Llewellyn relocated?”
    Maurier, originally one of the
elite Swiss Guard, had emigrated to the States to be with his wife, a world
expert in treating Page talents and helping them reach adulthood. “Lena says
they might move him to the Beverly Hills Hyperbaric Unit if air quality becomes
an issue.”
    Laura shook her head. LA had
air-quality alerts almost daily. If the boy really had been raised in space,
breathing in LA would be like sucking on an exhaust pipe. Desperate, she called a congressman she once had dated, who
phoned a golf buddy in Special Forces, who called in a favor.
    Abramowitz
was back in an hour with an IP address. Angry, he told Laura, “You haven’t won.
We’re charging him tomorrow. They will break him in interrogation.”
    Laura
entered the link address into her sleeve comp. Stewart was doing pushups on the
tile in tight, black underwear and a T-shirt. His arms and legs were ripped.
“Why have you taken his clothes?”
    “We
confiscated the clothes he came with—standard procedure. It’s not our fault the
stubborn bastard refused to wear the prison