“Does the First Amendment mean anything to you? I’m pretty sure you’ve covered the topic at Quantico.”
The man glanced over his shoulder to see what Ned was up to. It turned out he was looking down the window.
Spicer spoke to get his attention back. “This was advertisement, not a journalist’s column, not a source.”
“This person paid for this ad because he or she wanted their message screamed out and loud. And that is what freedom of expression is all about.”
“We’ll get a warrant,” Ned said.
Spicer turned to his new assistant, knowing too well they couldn’t do that without involving seven other layers of bureaucracy.
“You can get all the warrants you want but there’s no way you’ll get it outta me. My lawyers’ll be on you so fast you won’t even have time to haul our computers out.”
Ned walked back to the center of the room and touched Spicer’s arm. In a flash, he smiled brightly at the editor-in-chief.
“All right. Thank you for your assistance, sir.”
He nodded goodbye and started walking away. Spicer wasn’t used to investigative work so he reluctantly followed.
As soon as they work out of the office, Spicer said, “I really didn’t like that guy.”
A few minutes later they were down on the street, walking away from a hotdog vendor with food and sodas. Spicer was used to exercising patience because killing someone in a way that didn’t arouse suspicion was all about biding your time. However, it was frustrating that his new career made it seem like the old one.
“We came to New York for nothing,” he barked. “I hate New York.”
Ned chuckled. “I hear you. But what I wouldn’t give to fly my Hornet through Manhattan. Man, that’d be sharp!”
He made his hotdog fly through the air like a five-year-old. All that was missing was the pew-pew-pew noises.
“We have to get inside those computers, Ned. Any ideas?”
“We got a guy at Sigma, a keyboard genius.”
“Okay, put him on it,” Spicer said before taking a huge bite.
They found a bench and for a few minutes they just ate.
Ned turned to his partner. “What did you do before?”
“What do you mean?”
“What was your affectation, at the company?”
“Office of Security, in the Directorate for Support.”
Ned nodded as he processed this. “So if I was to go there and ask around about you, nobody would know anything, right?”
Spicer paused to stare at him a second. The kid was smarter than he looked.
“Eat your fucking hotdog.”
Ned grinned while Spicer walked away.
Chapter 5
The University of Virginia campus was generally considered to be one of the most attractive in the world, especially in the fall, but Gilmer Hall was kind of lackluster. Having been built in the 1960s, it was a nondescript brick structure that had been meant not to be an architectural marvel but rather intended as a serviceable research facility for the Biology and Psychology departments.
Harland Fry had his office on the second floor. As a young associate professor of 32, he was considered lucky to even have an office. Hell, he was lucky just to be a professor. College employment was more convoluted than politics in the middle ages. At the moment, he wished he had gone into the private sector instead.
He was bent over an opened drawer with his hands deep inside. He was in a hurry as he fiddled with the thing and his face was covered with sweat. He should have been done ten minutes ago. No amount of deep breathing was helping.
Without warning, the door opened and a grad student entered. “Professor, I got your mail.”
Fry just had time to push the drawer halfway in to conceal what he was doing. The girl had a bunch of documents in her arms and she dropped a stack of letters on the desk. She didn’t notice the copy of the New York Express-Ledger which was flipped to page 36.
“Uh, thanks. Thanks. I… Could,… could you hold my calls this afternoon? I’m gonna be busy, very busy.”
She creased her brow, not exactly getting it. “Sure.”
She was acting as a secretary basically for class credits and after two years she still couldn’t presume to understand the inner workings of the faculty. Professor Fry had always been kind of normal though. Now he was just plain weird. She shot him one last probing look and walked out, closing the door behind her.
The moment she was out, the guy reopened the drawer and made some final adjustments. He was sweating more than ever and ran a hand through his unkempt blond hair. He was pleasantly surprised at his handiwork.
He never thought that he would ever feel pride about a string of dynamite.
Frustration was still coursing through Spicer’s body even though he was back in the plushy leather seat of the Gulfstream jet. They were flying back to Washington, this time without the three-star general and his entourage.
He was starting to wonder if he’d made a mistake by taking this job. He had been working alone for so long that having to depend on others would take some getting used to. Maybe it wasn’t too late to go back to his former position? Come to think of it, maybe he could simply retire now and turn his back to this life forever.
The attractive Air Force Sergeant came down the aisle and stopped next to him.
“Sir, we’ve just received an urgent message for you. You have to call Dr. Michaels.” Spicer reached for his phone but she puts his hand on his, stopping him cold. “I’m sorry, I can’t allow you to use this. If you want, you can use the in-flight system up front. Or you can wait, we’ll be landing in just a few moments.”
“I’ll take it now if it’s all the same.”
She nodded and he was quickly out of his seat. The lady got him a phone from the galley and even though she urged him to strap himself in, he remained standing to make the call.
“Michaels?” he said once the man answered.
“Spicer, we have a goddamn problem.”
“What is it?”
In his office, Dr. Michaels turned to his television which displayed news coverage from the University of Virginia. Cops were running around, students were scampering away, SWAT teams were aiming at a brick building.
“It’s a clusterfuck,” he said before explaining the situation in more detail.
With his marching orders, Spicer hung up and pulled out a map book which was in a magazine compartment next to him. He flipped to the right page and rapidly located the University of Virginia. He snapped his fingers to get the flight attendant’s attention.
“Sarge, we need to divert this plane.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
“Forget Andrews, I need to go to Charlottesville. They have an airport.” He looked at the map again. “Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport. We need to get there now.”
“I’m sorry, sir. We’re already in final approach. We’re landing.”
“Let me talk to the pilot.”
Talking to the captain proved to be futile. The Navy Chief of Staff was already scheduled to use this aircraft in a few hours and they wouldn’t budge. Spicer walked back to his partner who by now was overtaken by curiosity.
“What’s going on?”
“Can you fly a chopper?” Spicer asked, recalling how he’d been told they could commandeer military aircraft.
Ned shrugged. “I’m qualified. It’s no Hornet but if it got an engine I can fly it.”
“Goody.”
Then he explained to him what was going on.
The UH-1N had been loaned by the 1st Helicopter Squadron. Spicer was curious to see what Ned could do behind the controls but the squadron was eager to provide a crew. Quick deployment to transport VIPs was their primary mission after all. They even kept the aircraft cocked, some switches fully set ahead of time to be able to leave at a moment’s notice.