I crossed to the other side of the street, and the alternative source for finding information led to another thought. There was another place I could make inquiries. The consulate in New York. Fothergill had been pretty disparaging about them, but before I’d left four days ago I’d built up a pretty good rapport with the staff there. And with Lucinda in particular. She’d been Tanya’s assistant, and the way she’d watched my back in the days that followed the official end of my assignment had been invaluable. She’d called me on my way to the airport to thank me for what I’d done, and to give me her private cell number in case I ever needed anything. I got the impression she really meant it. And whether she did or not, I’d committed the number to memory. Just in case.
I texted Lucinda with my name, and Tanya’s initials and serial number in case she was spooked by the unknown number I was using. I waited a moment, hoping she’d read it and understand what I meant. Then I cursed the handset for not letting me dial the number without keying it in all over again on another screen. I’d have to be more careful about the kind of phone I stole in the future.
Lucinda answered on the eighth ring.
“Yes?” she said.
“You don’t have to keep the accent out of your voice,” I said. “It’s me, David.”
“David? Really? Excellent. How are you are? How’s the Windy City?”
“So far, so good. What I’ve seen, I like. How’s things with you?”
“Quiet, since you’ve been gone. I’ve been doing some work I can actually tell my bosses about, for a change. And I was beginning to worry about you. I’ve been watching the news every night. There hasn’t been a single report of riots or civil commotion in all the time you’ve been there.”
“That’s because you’re not here. You were a bad influence.”
“David, that’s not fair. You’re the one who made all the mess.”
“Not all of it. And I’ve reformed, now. I’ve been keeping a low profile.”
“That I can’t believe. But talking of profile, have you come across a guy called Richard Fothergill? I heard he’s in Chicago these days.”
“I’ve heard the name.”
“You’d know if you’d met him. He’s an older guy. A real character. And a really sharp dresser, I remember.”
“Where do you know him from?”
“Training. He was one of my instructors. The best thing was he used to wear a bow tie every time his class passed an assessment.”
“Bizarre.”
“In a way. But a much more popular incentive than what some of the guys liked to use. I felt quite lucky to be in his group.”
“If you were in his group, I’d say he was the lucky one.”
“David, you’re too kind. Either that, or you want something.”
“You think I’m only calling ’cause I want a favor? I’m hurt. And shocked. Such cynicism in one so young . . .”
“Come on. Out with it. What are you after?”
“Well, now that you mention it, there is something. If you’re sure you don’t mind?”
“After what you did for Tanya, you name it. whatever you need.”
“Thanks, Lucinda. I really appreciate it. But it shouldn’t be too hard. I’m just looking for a little background information, if you’ve got five minutes. It’s a little delicate, though, so best kept to yourself.”
“No problem. I can research whatever I like. No one’s going to ask any questions.”
“They might, with this one. There’s a decent chance that what I’m working on won’t have a happy ending. So I wouldn’t leave anything that could point back to you, just in case.”
“OK. I’ll be discreet. Just tell me what you need, and when.”
“All right. Two things. First, as much background as you can get on a country I’m interested in. The Republic of Equatorial Myene.”
“Never heard of the place. But I’ll get what I can. What else?”
“Something more scientific. And it might be harder to find. I need the lowdown on a chemical agent. It’s some kind of prototype. Officially it doesn’t exist, but you know what that means. Its code name is Spektra.”
“I’ve never heard of that, either. Give me a little while to get to grips with it, and I’ll call you right back.”
“Thanks, Lucinda. And I don’t mean to hassle you, but as soon as you can would be good.”
I kept on going down Michigan, weaving my way through the knots of shoppers and businesspeople who were constantly meandering along the sidewalk. It seemed like none of them had any purpose in being outside, from the aimless way they were moving. And it seemed like every kind and age of person was there, doing their best to get in my way. Except for kids. I couldn’t see many of them. Not counting the ones in strollers, anyway. I guessed the older ones must be in school. Or if they were playing truant, they must have found somewhere more interesting to hang out. I was still wondering what kind of place that would be, and thinking back to the haunts I used to disappear into, when I reached the entrance to the Apple store. But I didn’t go in right away. Because I realized my phone was ringing again, already.
“Ready for the first installment?” Lucinda said, when I got around to answering.
“That was quick,” I said.
“It was easy. All you needed to do was google the name of the country. Or look it up in an atlas.”
“Why use books or computers when I could ask you?”
“Cheeky bastard. I don’t get paid to—oh, wait. I don’t get paid for this at all. I’m on my lunch break.”
“I’m sorry, Lucinda. And seriously, I was on my way to do those exact things when I called you. I just don’t know how much time I have.”
“The consulate in Chicago doesn’t have computers?”
“It does. But there are reasons why I don’t want to use them.”
“OK. Sorry, David. So, are you ready?”
“I am. Fire away.”
“Grab your pencil. Here we go. The Republic of Equatorial Myene. Well, what can I say about the place. It’s a small, landlocked country in West Africa. Population, five hundred thousand. Allegedly democratic. Relatively stable. As in, they haven’t had a coup since 1979. That’s when the nephew of the existing president decided he could do a better job than his uncle.”
“Have they got elections coming up soon? Or are there any more nephews waiting in the wings?”
“Elections, apparently. They’re due within a year, unless the government suspends them again. And there are always nephews.”
“Do you know anything out about the opposition? Do they have much of a chance?”
“Ha. I wouldn’t hold out much hope, if that’s where your sympathies lie.”
“No?”
“Put it this way: do you know what the population was in 1979, when the current guy took office?”
“How many?”
“Closer to seven hundred and fifty thousand. Which means it’s fallen by a third in thirty years. And there’ve been no famines to account for it. No natural disasters. No mass emigration. The people have just disappeared.”
I took a moment to think about the implications of the statistics. I didn’t like where that was leading, but it did seem to tally with the picture that Young had painted.
“And there’s more, if that’s what you’re interested in,” she said. “This isn’t on Wikipedia, obviously, but I checked our own internal files, too. It seems the rate of decline has increased recently. Say in the last four years or so.”