Turner 454

          The ATV pulled out onto the wide, tree line boulevard, and accelerated quickly. Cameron silently rejoiced in the wind now blowing through their hair. He turned to look at his passenger as she unfolded a pair of sunglasses and put them on. He caught a glimpse of the inside of the lenses.

          "What's on?" he asked.

          "You don't get much out here," she said, smirking. "I'm scanning through all of the BBC nets but there's nothing worth locking in."

           "Who needs the nets, Kitty?" Cameron said, gesturing toward the blue horizon to his left. "We've got beaches."

          "I hate sand," she said. Then smiled. "Besides, I'm here to work. That's why I get to ride with you, and not in one of those big, fancy coaches."

          "Only the best for our guests with the media," Cameron laughed.

          They bounced to a stop at a red light. Cars and trucks and big, fancy tour coaches streamed past. She looked around, getting her bearings, and turned away from him in her seat, leaning slightly out of the ATV.

          "The arena is up this way?" she asked.

          "Yes, they're almost done," he said. "The GL is going to convene its first session there next month, I think, and after that, it'll be where the new council will meet."

          "The GL-backed council, you mean," she said, turning back to look at him.

          "Yes," he answered, letting the barb pass.

          The light changed, and they were on their way again. She looked back, then settled back in her seat. "Don't we normally go that way?"

          "The freeway's shut down, so we'll stay makai - er, along the ocean," Cameron said. "It's not as fast, and we'll have to detour inland downtown, but ... at least it's more scenic."

          "Will we go near where Tuesday's explosion was?" she asked, suddenly sounding again like a journalist.

          "Not really, and we wouldn't have time to stop, anyway," he said, glad to be telling the truth. "Your plane takes off at three, and I've never seen it leave late."

          They drove the next few minutes in silence. Cameron opted against pointing out the landmarks as they passed - although he'd done it so many times he heard his own voice in his head. They crossed the street to the Mleynek Memorial, then turned up at the Old Federal Building. Winding through a few narrow streets, he turned onto another wide tree-lined street that passed north of downtown. Then he headed back toward the ocean and got back onto the boulevard and continued west.

          Cameron decided to break the silence as they neared Sand Island, the ATV carrying them through a dust cloud that an oncoming truck kicked up. "So I read your story last night," he said, clearing his throat. "You're the only one who mentioned the restaurant worker."

          "You mean you didn't just tell me about it?" she teased.

          "I told everyone, but no one wants to hear it," he said, laughing. "It's only interesting if the rebels are behind it, if someone was trying to kill Zhang."

          "So you think it was an accident?" she asked.

          Cameron winced, recalling the lecture he'd gotten from John a few hours before. "No, I don't want to give that impression either," he said, measuring his words as he had to when the press was involved. "The investigation is still ongoing."

          "Spoken like a true GL agent," she sighed.

          They followed the road under an elevated highway, and the air rushing around them turned cool.

          "So where are you headed now, anyway?" he asked, changing the subject. "And how did you land a seat on NAL? Most reporters can barely afford to come through on military flights."

          "The trip - and the cozy ocean-view room I just left behind - is payback to NihoNet for a profile my producer did on their new president a while back," Kitty said, taking off her sunglasses. "And it isn't exactly convenient - just about every NAL flight ends up in New Zealand, and then I have to swim two legs back to Hong Kong."

          Cameron turned right, and they were back in the sun, speeding down a narrow access lane. Clear blue-green water lapped at the edge of the roadway on one side, and on the other, a vast, dry field - runways 4L and 4R, fiercely protected assets of the Americans based at Hickam.

          As they reached the end of the road, high fences crowded it on both sides. Behind them, people were camped out on blankets and in tents, waiting in something that only vaguely resembled a line. Many of them were families.

          They pulled up to a small wooden building, and Cameron could see smartly-dressed women sitting behind a long window, and behind each of them, a dark-suited private security guard. Over the top of the building, he saw the gleaming metal tail of the waiting NAL jet, with the red, stylized bird in a diamond that was the insignia of the Republic of Nauru.

          "Bird shit, huh?" Kitty said, jumping out.

          Cameron laughed. "Come back soon," he said, mimicking the sing-song of a vacation commercial.

          "Maybe," she said, putting her sunglasses back on again and turning toward the civilian terminal. "But I hate flying, too."