longer a secret. You're also noticeably beautiful and you have distinctive features. Since plastic surgery probably isn't a realistic option, I'll suggest that we use what's available downstairs -- a science fiction convention with 25,000 registered attendees -- to toss together a look-alike contest." After a moment, Mandi sipped her beer, then shook her head as she quietly said, "You don't look insane, you know. You don't usually sound insane, either. Did you skip your dinnertime meds or something?" Chuckling, Cade said, "Maybe I'm just all flustered at being in the same room with you, Miz Superlady, ma'am." Mandi returned his grin as his cell phone rang and he answered it. She heard John instantly ask, "Cade, have you seen Mandi?" "She isn't in her room?" asked Cade. "I saw her there a little while ago." "She isn't answering her phone and if she's in there, she isn't answering her door, either." "Huh. Got any idea why she'd be avoiding people, John?" There was a pause before John very quietly said, "We really need to talk to her, Cade. Is she in your room?" "The official word is 'no', John, but why don't you come here alone and have a look? Repeat; alone." Another short pause ensued, then John said, "Alone it is." John disconnected and Mandi regarded Cade for some moments in silence, then said, "You could have asked me before you invited him." "Do you want to try to find out what's going on? I do." "Do you think John will know who released the pictures?" "I think that's not the most important issue right now. Done is done. Now it's time to try to fix things a bit." Standing up and pacing, Mandi asked, "The contest? How the hell is a lookalike contest going to make things better? If anything, it'll call even more attention down on me." "It'll call more attention to the superwoman, yes, but it'll only get you second or third place as a runner-up." Stopping her pacing and staring at him with open irritation, Mandi said, "Okay, Ed. It's time to explain what you've got in mind -- and explain it well -- or drop it." Tossing his empty beer bottle at the trash can, Cade said, "You got it. Agent Phyllis Morey can make anybody look like just about anybody else and she has her kit with her. At the contest you'd fly in..." "I'd fly in?!" "It's the easiest way to instantly prove that you're you, right? You'd get an intro, do a trick or two, a bunch of people would take a bazillion pictures of you, and then you'd see or hear an emergency and excuse yourself to fly out and deal with it. The contest would go on in your honor, but without you, 'cause you'd be busy having your makeup removed." "Makeup." "Yup. At your first public appearance, you wouldn't quite look like you. A bit more ear, nose, and chin. Wider cheeks. A slightly different skin tone. A birthmark or a mole. Like that. Then you lose the makeup and get on stage later as one of the many contestants. You might come close, but you probably won't win. Sorry 'bout that." Mandi noticed the way he'd switched from sounding speculative to sounding rather definite in his last sentence, but she didn't challenge him on it. In fact, the idea didn't sound quite so insane, after all. "Of course, you might want to give some more thought to wearing some kind of a mask when you're on duty," said Cade. "And it probably wouldn't hurt to..." A rap on the door interrupted whatever he'd been about to say. Cade rose to go to the door, checked the peephole, and let John into the room. John nodded to Cade as he hurried toward Mandi, but he stopped well short of her as he saw her tight expression. "Well, John?" she asked. "What happened?" For the first time in the thirty-odd years Cade had known John, the guy actually looked apologetic. "Mandi," said John, "We tried. We really did. My people picked up nine copies and warned everybody, but somebody pulled an end run. A hundred or so international TV stations and newspapers received an anonymous email that contained a download link to a website on a Dutch server." Her expression unchanged, Mandi asked, "And now?" Shrugging slightly, John said, "We can try to find out who did it and prosecute him. Or her." Setting her empty bottle on the desk, Mandi said, "Which helps me not one damned little bit." With a sigh, John said, "It's about all we can do." "Not quite," said Cade. "I told her about my idea for a contest. If we can provide her some cover, we owe her the effort, and this is a perfect place and time to test the idea." "It's pretty short notice for a schedule revision, Cade." "That's my problem. If we start the ball rolling here, will the agency help us organize similar events in other cities?" Shrugging again, John said, "Can't see why not, if we use cutouts to handle the details." "Cutouts?" asked Mandi. "Go-betweens," said John. "With anonymous seed money." "Aw, dammit!" said Mandi, "Speak English." Cade laughed at John's expression and said, "They'd set someone up with a few bucks and an office. That someone would find local advertiser-sponsors who'd supply the place, the bleachers or whatever, the refreshments, crowd control, security, and all the other stuff an event needs." With a little grin, he added, "All you'd have to do is show up, show off a bit, and smile a lot for the cameras. Think you could handle that, ma'am?" Mandi gave him a mock glare and smilingly asked, "How would you like to be dropped from ten thousand feet?" "No sweat. Been there. Dunnit." With a saccharine-sweet little smile, Mandi asked, "Without a parachute?" "Yup." Glancing disbelievingly at John, Mandi said, "Bullshit." "Nope," said Cade. "You said 'without a parachute'. We'll stop at my house so I can change into my flight suit." Her gaze narrowed as her head canted slightly. "You have a flight suit?" "Sure do. Got it to use with my Falcon 195." Again glancing at John, Mandi said, "Okay, I'll ask. What's a Falcon 195?" "A hang glider." One of Mandi's eyebrows went up as she peered at Cade, then she looked at John and said firmly, "Okay. He'll do." "Glad to hear it," said John. "Do for what, exactly?" Laughing shortly, she said, "Just about anything, I expect."
Chapter Nine
Paul Money ignored the buzzing of his walkie-talkie until he'd finished scribbling a phone number on a tiny memo pad. "If you have any real problems, call this number," he told the female volunteer staffer. "Ted's crew knows how we like to set up the speakers. Ask if they brought Darcy's amps, okay?" With a nod, the woman headed for the doors. As Cade approached the stage, Paul waved to him, glanced over the stage once again, and then answered his two-way and dealt with another issue that had developed in the dealer's room. Cade hefted his backpack and waited until Paul had finished that conversation before he said, "Hi, Paul. Look up." With a harried expression, Money said, "Oh, nothing much. It's seven o'clock and we're still working on stuff that should have been done half an hour ago. I'm swamped with details, three people are out sick, and..." Casually pointing skyward without lifting his arm, Cade said, "I said 'look' up, not what's up." Paul Money looked up and his mouth fell open as his eyes widened. A blonde woman in what seemed to be a white bathing suit with a red cape and blue boots appeared to be standing on thin air near the auditorium's high ceiling. She gave him a little wave and a smile. "Oh, damn!" muttered Paul, thumbing his walkie-talkie on. "What the hell..? I'll get someone in here with a ladder." "She didn't get up there with a ladder," said Cade. "She won't need one to get down, either. Cancel the call." "Damn it, Martin, answer up!" Paul muttered into the walkie-talkie. He turned to Cade and asked, "Cade, why the hell are you jeopardizing the entire convention with a stunt like this?! We don't need a lawsuit." "It isn't a stunt, Paul. She's the woman who was on the news. Cancel that call." Glancing up, Money asked, "The, uh... superwoman?" Cade reached quickly for the walkie-talkie, snatched it out of Paul's hand, and turned it off. With a chuckle, he said, "Oh, good guess. I'll give this gadget back to you in a minute. This isn't a gag. That's her." Turning a very skeptical gaze at Cade, Paul asked, "And you just happen to know her?" Shrugging, Cade said, "Yeah, that's about the size of it. Everybody knows somebody, y'know. She'd like to make her public debut here at DragonCon. If you can fit her in, that is." Paul Money took a deep breath, counted to ten, then asked in a controlled voice, "How would both of you like to be banned from this and all future DragonCons