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constantly disagreed with her.
    Still, through it all, Sturmer had never forgotten her roots. She never forgot how hard the road had been, or how much help she’d needed from others in order to get over the hurdles. That was why she devoted so much of her free time to working as a volunteer mentor for teenage girls, doing what she could to help them succeed in school and their future goals. She’d lost count of just how many girls like Taleisha she’d helped over the years, but many of them still filled her mailbox to bursting with holiday cards on a regular basis. She cherished the relationships she had built with these girls, and while she didn’t know where all of them were today, she could still see every single one of their young faces in her mind’s eye.
    Sturmer grabbed her purse and a leather-bound notebook from her desk as she walked to the door. The aide was already consulting her own notes to bring Sturmer up to speed. “Today’s agenda leads off with a revised proposal for HR#22-571.” She handed Sturmer a thick file of papers and followed her into the hall, past the uniformed guards who were stationed at regular intervals. “Which one is that?” Sturmer asked.
    “The allocations for satellite-guided missile development.”
    Sturmer made a face. “That nonsense again?”
    “The contractor is one of Representative Zwiren’s constituents.”
    “Oh, right.” Sturmer flipped through the hefty document as she walked. “Does this revision make any more sense than the last one?”
    “I’m afraid not.”
    “That’s not much of a surprise, I suppose. Well, let’s see what sort of case the old windbag makes this time.” “And then, after that...”
    “Never mind the ‘after that,’ Maggie. You can throw out the rest of the agenda. This Zwiren thing’s going to take a while.”
    “Will you want me to bring you some coffee?” Sturmer grinned. “Lots of it, thanks.”
    As they turned the corner, Sturmer stopped at the sound of a quiet voice off to her side. “Representative Sturmer ...?”■
    She turned to see a slim, twelve-year-old girl standing there. The girl had long, dark hair and would have been quite pretty, if it weren’t for the blank, impassive expression on her face. It must be nerves, the poor dear, Sturmer thought.
    Sturmer bent down toward her with a warm smile. “Yes, that’s right, dear. I’m Representative Sturmer. What’s your name?”
    The aide tapped Sturmer on the shoulder from behind. “Um, the meeting ..
    Sturmer waved the reminder away with a dismissive gesture. “It’s just a roomful of stuffy politicians. They can
    wait a few minutes. Some things take priority.”
    She turned back to the girl. “Now, what can I do for—?”    '
    The girl’s hand lashed out to clutch Sturmer’s throat. In less time than it took to tell it, she crushed Sturmer’s windpipe between her fingers.
    Representative Charlene Sturmer fell to the floor, dead.
    The aide stared, wide-eyed, then screamed.
    From either side of the hall, a pair of armed guards came charging toward the scene, their rifles drawn. The closer one ordered the girl to halt. Yet, even as he raised his rifle, he knew that, deep down, he couldn’t quite imagine shooting a twelve-year-old girl.
    That was his mistake.
    With blinding speed, the girl grabbed the barrel of his rifle and yanked it from his grip. She broke his arm in three places before he could react.
    That was all the second guard had to see. Disregarding every regulation against discharging firearms in public places, he stopped outside of arm’s reach, quickly took aim, and opened fire.
    At least three of his bullets hit her dead center. He was sure of it.
    But they didn’t seem to have any effect.
    Calmly, the girl picked up the first guard’s fallen rifle. With one hand, she flung it at the second guard. The stock caught him right between the eyes, sending him flying off his feet. He was out cold before either his body or the rifle could hit