“This is where we conduct the research.”
An unbearable grinding noise cut through the room which made Ned and Spicer cover their ears. For his part, the scientist seemed used to it.
“Don’t worry about it, it doesn’t cause any permanent damage.”
The noise died after a couple of students flipped a switch.
“What?” Ned screamed.
They both wiggled their ears in the hopes of getting some feeling back into them.
“We’re developing a high-frequency emission system like the world has never seen.” They reached a younger man of about 30 who was tightening screws on a machine. “How’s it working, David?”
“It’s gonna be okay.” He spoke with a deep Southern drawl. “I just need to replace the regulator.”
“Great. These guys are from the Foundation, checking up on how we’re doing.” The professor turned to Spicer. “David Weller second-chairs me.”
The guy was twitchy, his eyes darting from Ned to Spicer. “Hi.”
Spicer extended his hand for a shake. “Spicer.”
Weller wiped his hand on his already dirty Ralph Lauren shirt and took the hand. He then turned to his boss. “I’ll go get me a new regulator,” he said before walking away.
“That’s a very bright kid. Hell, he enrolled in this university at fifteen. Don’t mind his appearance, he’s under a lot of stress.”
Meanwhile, Ned examined a fridge-size machine and the professor noticed.
“That’s one of the things I’ve designed here. NASA’s interested.”
“What’s it do?”
“They’re thinking about sending it to Mars to help probe the underground. Here, I’ll show you how it works.”
They all approached the machine even though Spicer wasn’t interested. What mattered was appearing to be.
Even using premium government transportation, the CIA men were getting tired of the traveling. It was especially hard on Spicer who was definitely feeling his age. Now they were back at Langley and it was already late afternoon.
“Jetlagged? Ned asked.
“I’ve never really liked flying so much in so little time. Law of probability scares the shit out of me.”
“Probability? When you’re over the Sahara and you have three Migs on your six and they got you locked on, and that you’re the only one who makes it out alive… I say fuck probability.”
Spicer’s phone vibrated and he answered. “Yes? We just got in. Okay, I’m coming up.”
He headed for the elevators.
Houseman and Michaels were comfortably sitting in the lounge section of the office. If this were Saturday they’d surely have a glass of brandy and a cigar.
Dr. Michaels shook his head. “I’m not sure I’m ready to follow you on that one.”
“I assure you it’s wonderful. It’s a thrill, something so very beautiful. Helping the elderly is the quintessence of good. I know I’m not getting any younger myself but I feel it’s my duty to help while I still can.”
“I’ve never really felt the calling.”
Houseman shrugged. “At first it’s a bit odd, I’ll grant you that, but then you realize how fulfilling it is. Everything you put in you get back tenfold. They look at you with such delight, their eyes filled with happiness. They’re at your mercy, they depend on you. It’s an empowering sensation.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in.”
“I love candy-striping,” Houseman said as Spicer walked in and closed the door behind him.
“Is there something you want me to do?”
Dr. Michaels nodded. “I guess you could say that.”
“We’ve gone over your expense account, Mr. Spicer.”
This made Spicer’s eyes narrow. What was happening?
“We feel you’ve been spending inappropriately.”
“Inappropriately? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Travel fees Mr. Spicer, those nasty travel fees.”
“Okay, hold the horses over here,” Spicer said, putting a hand on his hip, ready for a fight. “Isn’t it my assignment to track down that newspaper article?”
“Of course it is,” Michaels replied. “But do you have to go there in person? We’ve had similar situations in the past and all were resolved over the phone.”
“Is that what I am, a goddamn phone operator?”
Houseman stood and went to him. He was trying to be friendly, smiling broadly, but Spicer wasn’t buying it.
“Look, we don’t want you to feel constricted by this position, we really don’t. It isn’t our agenda.”
“Should I dance now?”
If Michaels had had .50 caliber machine guns instead of eyes, there would have been nothing left of Spicer but a bloody mess. He clearly didn’t enjoy the retort and that almost made Spicer grin. Houseman tried to be more diplomatic.
“Our budget is limited.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
Spicer took a step back and spun a little which had the desired effect of fending off Houseman whom had been about to pat him on the shoulder.
“Did you ever see me drive up to the office?” Michaels asked. “What do I drive? You think I like driving around in a fucking Honda?”
“The bulk of our budget is spent on the research. Dr. Michaels and I have long reduced our salaries to accommodate things like your expenses.”
“But now we’re running dry.”
Houseman put up both his hands in a nonthreatening manner. “Maybe the trips you took so far were necessary, I won’t judge. But do try to keep your expenses down.”
He smiled. A warm, grandfather-type smile. Spicer had never wanted to hit someone in the face so much as he did now.
A text message instructed him to head down to the second floor, in a section allocated to the Directorate of Science and Technology. The place looked like any other business with rows and rows of cubicles under artificial lighting. After going through a checkpoint, he spotted Ned who was waving him over.
When he got to the cubicle, messy under layers of candy wrappers and Star Wars figurines, he noticed there was a young man in his 20s sitting at a computer. He was Middle Eastern, probably Lebanese from the looks of him, and his mustache was styled in flourishing curls. Fucking hipsters, Spicer thought.
“Old Spice, my man! I want you to meet Naaj, he’s Sigma’s computer guy.”
“Hi,” the kid said sheepishly.
“He tracked the money down.”
“The article?” Spicer asked.
“What else is there? Come on, tell him, Naaj.”
“Okay, first I located the Express-Ledger’s incoming funds. That was a bitch ‘cause I had to find their budget first by spoofing access through their remote…”
Spicer sighed. “Could you skip a few tracks?”
“Oh, okay, sure. The money came from a numbered account in the Cayman Islands. It belongs to Stellar Oceans Corporation. Their offices are in Biloxi, Mississippi.”
Ned was beaming. “We got our man.”
In Spicer’s office, Ned closed the door while the other man punched the code on the keypad to unlock the file cabinet. He navigated through the files and pulled one out. He brought it to his desk and sat down while his partner did the same.
Spicer scanned the document, flipping through the pages. All the while he was shaking his head because, as he figured, this didn’t make any sense.
“We have no project research going on in Mississippi, or the entire Gulf sector for that matter.”
“Christ,” Ned muttered. “The guy thought this through.”
“Yeah.”
“Looks like we’re gonna have to go to Mississippi.”
“Yeah.”
Exhausted, Spicer rubbed his face and eyes as he reclined. He had basically been told by his bosses to drop this investigation but he knew he wouldn’t do it. This in itself contributed to his fatigue.