Watermind by M. M. Buckner

pearlescent fluid stirred like the silty white glitter in a child’s snow globe. He handed it to CJ, and she took it in both hands like a precious jewel—or a ticking bomb.
Shift
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    Thursday, March 10
    9:35 AM
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    â€œYesterday afternoon, when Manuel de Silva fell into the contaminated pool, witnesses said it froze over. Just like that.” The Spaniard snapped his fingers.
    CJ flinched. She could feel him watching her reaction. He tilted Meir’s desk chair around and sat facing her. Their knees were almost touching. “You know about this,” he said.
    She placed the jar on the desk and tucked her shaking hands beneath her thighs. Now was the time to confess, before others died. But after all, what did she know? She watched the sifting jar, backlit with sunbeams. In that jar lay the truth. She longed to test and probe that glittery fluid the way the pond had probed and tested her.
    The man’s left eyebrow quirked upward, distracting her. As he leaned closer, courteous but unsmiling, she noticed again the touches of silver at his temples. His irises were very black, very hard to read. His manicured hands rested lightly on his tailored trousers. She noticed his loosened silk tie, his open collar, his bare throat. Without thinking, she glanced at his mouth.
    Immediately, she reddened and shifted away. “Quimicron can’t claim this. It belongs to the world.”
    â€œWhat belongs to the world?”
    His black gaze riveted her attention. But she would not let this corporate mouthpiece bully her. She remained silent.
    â€œYou have your father’s spirit,” he said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI met your father once. Dr. Reilly lectured in Buenos Aires.”
    She gawked at him.
    When she failed to speak, he said, “You have his eyes.”
    â€œLiar.” She shot to her feet, knocking the chair backward. “I won’t be part of your lies. If you don’t make this discovery public, I will.”
    The man seemed bewildered. “Carolyn, I promise, there will be no lies.”
    â€œAnd don’t call me that. I’m CJ.” She pointed to the phone on Meir’s desk. “If you’re not lying, phone the newspapers. Let people know about this.”
    He rose and lifted the desk phone receiver. “What shall I tell them? Shall I say we’ve found a lethal material six miles from Baton Rouge, that we don’t know where it came from, or how widespread it is, or how to neutralize it? Shall I tell them how de Silva died? Maybe we should evacuate the area, do you think?”
    CJ opened her mouth, but his questions confused her. She righted her chair and sat down.
    â€œEven in Boston, you must have read about the hurricanes.” His voice carried an edge. “The first one was called Katrina, remember? The governor ordered an evacuation, but thousands were left behind. They were trapped and terrified, and that’s an ugly combination. It turns decent people into savages.”
    He circled behind her and grabbed the back of her chair. She sat paralyzed, trying to process what he was saying.
    â€œSurely you remember the looting and burning? Everyonein Louisiana remembers, I promise you that.” He let go of her chair and began to pace. “People here are teetering on the edge of a maelstrom. Every year, the Mississippi runs higher, and the hurricanes blow harder, and the local citizens are trapped between. Meanwhile, the entire southern edge of this state is sinking into the Gulf. Thousands of acres have gone under, and I’ll tell you an open secret, Carolyn. The next public scare may start a bloodbath.”
    When he paused, CJ bit her thumbnail. He gestured toward the phone. “Do you still want me to call the media?”
    She kicked Meir’s desk with her bare foot. After a moment, she spat out three words as if they burned her mouth. “I don’t know.”
    â€œHelp us, Carolyn. We have the material contained