“The natives picked them up for weapons and carving food. That’s expected,” Rodriguez declared.
“Yes and why?”
“Need. It made life easier.”
“Okay, so reasoning backwards from the unexpected will provide us with credible answers in every case?” Tamburro asked.
“That’s right,” Dr. Alpert responded.
“I’m not so sure this time,” McCauley added.
Back in the cave, the team moved slowly. “Did I mention I don’t like fun houses?” Alpert whispered to McCauley.
“Not to me. We’ve only had a few conversations,” McCauley replied. “I don’t recall discussing that.”
“Well, put it on your list.”
“Right to the top,” he said as they crawled uncomfortably through the cavern. “But you sounded like you were really into it back there.”
“I think I was lying. And you?”
“That I was born to work in the sunshine. Not in enclosed dark places.”
At that moment his flashlight flickered and off. “Damn.” He tapped it twice. It came back, but only intermittently.
“Quinn!” she said, “My flashlight’s on the fritz…”
“Mine, too. Give me a sec. I’ll change up the batteries, then I’ll do yours.”
He unscrewed his flashlight, found replacements in his backpack, swapped them out and pressed the button.
“Dammit,” he said. “Same problem.”
By now, the others were catching up and also complaining. All their flashlights were acting up.
Twenty-four
“Mr. Kavanaugh.” Martin Gruber’s assistant Felicia Dunbar was noted for her brevity on the phone. However, this was more clipped than normal.
“Yes.”
“Mr. Kavanaugh, please come up to Mr. Gruber’s office.”
Good, he said to himself. He urgently wanted to discuss information he gleaned from Ten. “Be right there.”
Following Gruber’s procedure for carrying sensitive papers through the building, Kavanaugh locked the report in his attaché case. One important lesson had stuck.
Three minutes later he was at Dunbar’s desk. Gruber’s door was closed.
“I’m ready?”
“Mr. Kavanaugh…”
“Yes?”
“Mr. Gruber is not here. He collapsed at his home today.”
“Is he all right?”
“Mr. Gruber died thirty minutes ago,” she stated. “On the way to the hospital.”
“Oh my God!” Words failed him, but his thoughts didn’t. He’d actually been waiting for the end, hopefully not too obviously. Gruber had been pestering him with lessons for years. The last few months were almost intolerable. Do this. Think that. Don’t question. Pay attention. No mistakes. Listen. Learn. Obey. He’d had enough of the old man’s endless diatribes. He’d been ready to take the reins, no take control, seemingly forever. But he would have to mask his enthusiasm and proceed respectfully.
“Ms. Dunbar, I will expect your complete cooperation and faithful assistance through this difficult period.”
“Just as Mr. Gruber instructed, Mr. Kavanaugh.”
Bitch, he thought. Show some goddamned respect for me.
“The first thing you will need to do is read a letter Mr. Gruber left for you. My instructions were to give it to you upon his death. Please come with me.” She stood at attention.
It wasn’t a question and there was definite attitude. Kavanaugh would deal with the fifty-eight year old secretary later. Now he continued to project grief and sorrow.
“Of course, Ms. Dunbar. But give me a moment.”
Kavanaugh excused himself to the men’s room closest to Gruber’s office. Soon he’d have his own private bathroom. Such things meant something to him. He splashed cold water on his face and rubbed his eyes until they became bloodshot. He loosened his tie and slumped his shoulders creating the perfect look to bring back into Dunbar’s office and then into Gruber’s inner chamber.
A few writers for Voyages saw him leave the bathroom. They’d report that he looked positively shaken. Soon they’d put two and two together and word would spread that the inevitable had happened. This would help him when it came time to bring the staff together; both the general editorial team and the others who only worked in Ten.
“Ms. Dunbar, I’m so sorry.” Kavanaugh said returning. I just needed to…”
She didn’t let him finish. “This way.”
The secretary led him into Martin Gruber’s office. The curtains were drawn. It felt cold, and in fact, dead.
“The envelope is on the table at the sitting area. His wishes were quite specific. You are to read it there. Do not sit at his desk until I pack up his personal possessions.”
Kavanaugh stopped and peered down at Dunbar. He had a significant height advantage, yet she exuded greater stature in the situation, which he hated. He decided this was going to be a defining moment for him.
“Ms. Dunbar, I will pick up the envelope and I will read it at what is now my desk. You may remove whatever you must after I am through. That is the way it’s going to be on this most difficult day and every day forward.”
“Mr. Kavanaugh,” she replied, “the office is certainly yours. Rest assured, Mr. Gruber left me an envelope as well. In it, very specific procedures to help you through the transition and beyond. I will be doing that.”
And beyond. Colin Kavanaugh did not like the sound of that at all.
“Thank you, Ms. Dunbar,” he replied with a more conciliatory tone. Inwardly he was determined to rid himself of the witch. “You may leave now.” Kavanaugh picked up the envelope and walked to his new desk. Without another word he sat in the chair that still held the mold of Martin Gruber’s ass.
The letter was in Gruber’s own hand. Three pages long. Instantly ponderous and full of the same tone Kavanaugh had come to despise.
Congratulations, young man. The job is finally yours. You may feel it’s long overdue. You probably wondered when, or if, I’d actually depart. At last that time has come. However, even though I am no longer there to quiz you, the greatest tests of your life are still ahead. Will you have the moral fibre to do what must be done, to decide, to lead, to implement? It, of course, is no longer what I believe. You must now prove it to yourself. Prove it to Autem Semita. Prove it to God Almighty.
More lectures. The importance of everything had been drummed into his head every way. Kavanaugh knew it all. He believed in The Path and the absolute responsibility he inherited. It’s just that Colin Kavanaugh was ready to do it on his own. New times called for new solutions. And a new boss to call the shots.
You will live your duty. It remains a nagging internal voice when you fall asleep and when you awaken. It is your wife and mistress, but not your friend. And if you fail, you fail more than yourself. You fail history. You change things that cannot be unchanged.
Three full pages. More rambling advice. Nothing Kavanaugh hadn’t been told to his face time and time again.
Kavanaugh now waited for Dunbar to leave. The rest he would do without interruption.
Thirty minutes later, she finally went through her exit rituaclass="underline" pushing her chair straight in, locking her drawers, making sure everything was in its place on her desktop, removing her purse from the closet, and taking perfectly measured steps to the door.
Once gone, Kavanaugh began his real search — through Gruber’s desk and the hidden compartments behind the false backs.