After the Golden Age (Golden Age 1)

“Huh. Wild.”

Yeah, every kid dreamed of having Captain Olympus as a father. They had no idea.

FOUR

SHE called Bronson to make sure Captain Olympus wasn’t going to be at the prosecution team’s strategy meeting. If he had been, she would have called in sick. She didn’t care about her career enough to go through that.

She walked into the conference room, harried because the bus was late. The place was packed. Every branch of law enforcement in town wanted a piece of the Destructor, and they’d all sent people here to make sure they got it. Cops, detectives, the mayor’s office, the DA’s office. Detective Paulson was there and gave her a friendly smile that made her knees go a little shaky. He looked taller in daylight, when her vision wasn’t swimming.

Stacks of paper filled the table and flow charts were pinned to the walls: photographs, diagrams, copies marked EXHIBIT A, EXHIBIT B, and so on. And no Captain Olympus.

But Dr. Mentis was there. Her stomach did a flip, responding to that self-conscious twinge she felt whenever she encountered any members of the Olympiad. Even him.

He caught her eye and nodded. Made no move to approach her, to berate her, or to tell her how her family was doing. Her nervousness eased. She could always count on him to give her the space she needed.

Of all of them, Mentis had a clear idea of what her childhood had been like. Telepath that he was and all.

The room’s ventilation system couldn’t keep up with the mass of body heat. People fanned themselves with photocopied handouts, but managed to keep their tempers in check. Their intensity was palpable, though. Bronson left no loose ends, demanded that every shred of evidence be brought to light. When Celia’s turn came to stand and plot out the details of Sito’s nefarious accounting practices, her anxiety went away. She had to make it clear to these people exactly what the evidence entailed, so they could coordinate and ensure there were no holes in the prosecution.

Arthur Mentis was heading up the psychological evaluation. Unflappable, he spoke of his belief that Sito was perfectly sane. He’d already been declared competent to stand trial, and the various crimes of which he was accused were proof of his own rationality. No irrational madman planned fraud so assiduously as he had.

It felt like a conference of generals, like they were preparing for battle. Even Celia felt the excitement of it—ready to move forward with the plan, happy to be part of a team. God, teamwork. What would her father say?

When the meeting broke up, people drifted off or gathered in small groups to talk. As she was repacking her attaché case, Mentis moved around the table toward her.

“Celia. It’s good to see you.”

She had to take his word for it. He never let emotions get the better of him, which made up for the overexcitableness of the rest of the Olympiad. It also made him irritatingly hard to read.

“Hi.” Her returning smile, she discovered, was genuine.

“I have to admit, I was a little surprised when I heard you were working with the DA. Does Bronson know you have, ah … a bit of history with this case?”

She wryly pursed her lips. “He knows. He unsealed the records. He got the idea that I have some sort of privileged insight into the case because of it.”

“Hm. A bit presumptuous of him. Let me know if he gives you trouble and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks.”

He walked alongside her as they left the room. When they reached the el

evator, he asked, “Are you hungry? May I take you to lunch?”

“So you can get the full report of what I’ve been doing to take back to Mom and Dad?”

“Suzanne does complain that you never call.”

“But I do!”

He looked at her sidelong, disbelieving. She slouched. “Right. There’s a deli on the corner, about a block down. That okay?”

“Lead on.”

* * *

The place was run-down, with a scarred tile floor, forty-year-old chrome and formica chairs and tables, and flickering fluorescent lights. But they seasoned their own pastrami and made a killer egg salad. Celia had a turkey sandwich big enough to provide tomorrow’s lunch as well. Arthur ordered onion soup and tea.

She said, “Last week Dad stormed into the DA’s office and threatened to walk into Elroy Asylum and murder Sito himself. He sort of freaked when he saw me there.”