However, the main attraction was the vintage Ferrari-branded pinball machine. Spicer was currently beating the flippers to a pulp while his former boss was leaning on the wall next to him, a glass of single malt scotch in his hand.
“I told you from the start I didn’t know what kind of job it was,” Kilmer said, swirling the fast disappearing ice cubes around.
Spicer snarled. “They told me it was gonna be peaceful.”
“I’ve never seen you run off in the face of work before.”
Anger mounting, Spicer sent another ball flying into the game.
“It’s not the work I’m afraid of, it’s what they have me doing. I think they expect me to do for them what I used to do for you.”
He missed the ball as it tumbled from his flipper and it was game over. He backed away from the machine and grabbed his drink from the small tiki bar in the corner. Meanwhile, Kilmer set his own glass down and took his turn at the pinball.
“Well, they know what you did before. My guess is that’s why they hired you.”
Spicer sighed. “Look, I have nothing against my job description. I’m supposed to check out security leaks and stuff. I have no problem with that. I’ve had to check out who wrote a newspaper article this morning, what do I care, right? It was about someone who might think he knows about some of our projects. No specifics.”
“First Amendment,” Kilmer said.
“That’s what I said, but I do my job. Then there’s this guy who feels like blowing up half of Virginia, says the government is coming to get us, shit like that.”
Having lost a ball, Kilmer reached for his drink and took a long gulp. He turned to Spicer to listen to the rest of the story.
“But then as the cops are preparing to go in, I get a call. They tell me I have to make sure the guy doesn’t come out alive.”
“Gene, goddamn it. That’s classified information.”
“Two guys trying to denounce our project on the same day? Don’t you think it’s weird?”
Kilmer lifted his hands, palms out. “I don’t think anything right now. You can’t tell me any of that stuff.”
“Fuck that. This is too bizarre.”
“This entire government is bizarre!”
Spicer swallowed the rest of his drink as he began strolling around the room. “I didn’t wanna kill anymore, Doug.”
“I know. But you still have a long life ahead of you. Isn’t it too much to risk? Don’t mess with it. People like us are always better off doing what we’re told to do.”
Spicer started. “That’s exactly the problem.”
He woke up with a start. Someone was knocking at the door. From decades of conditioning, of being alert to anything out of the ordinary, he was awake at the first knock. Logic told him that if there was danger, they wouldn’t have knocked. Nevertheless, he hadn’t stayed alive all this time by being careless.
While he blinked the cobwebs away, he reached under his bed for his red gym bag and produced his pistol. It was a Taurus though not the same one he’d used in Europe — he had tossed that one in the river after the job.
Making sure the weapon was loaded, he held it firmly and tiptoed quickly to the door. His instincts were in overdrive, thinking about what was happening. The apartment was a tactical nightmare but he supposed he could shoot it out in the hallway and make an exit through the balcony if he had to.
Taking a deep breath, he glanced through the peephole and allowed himself to relax when he saw that the surprise visitor was his neighbor Esther. He was relieved about going back to DEFCON 5 but also simultaneously annoyed by her presence. The one thing he’d never be able to tolerate was socializing neighbors.
He tossed his gun in the closet and finally opened the door. She was barefoot and was wearing a bathrobe over a nightshirt. He realized she was much more beautiful than he’d given her credit for.
“Uh, hi.”
“Good morning,” she said, chipper. “I’m sorry to come by this early in the morning… I didn’t wake you up, did I?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Oh my God, I did, didn’t I? I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right,” Spicer said with a dismissive wave. “What can I do for you?”
“Actually, I ran out of coffee, forgot to buy some. I was wondering…”
She extended her right arm which held a pink mug.
“Sure. Come in.”
He took the mug from her and headed to the kitchen while she lingered by the front door. She craned her neck and gave a cursory inspection to the apartment. There were a smattering of cardboard boxes and the only furniture was a recliner and a flatscreen TV.
“You don’t receive many guests, do you?”
Spicer came back, sporting a frown at her comment. “No.”
He noticed what she was looking at and handed her the cup filled to the brim with instant coffee powder. If she was a coffee snob then she was out of luck.
“It’s pretty much me by myself. And I very rarely nag myself about the mess.”
“You’re a very tolerant person.”
He nodded, grinning. “I am.”
“Well, thank you.”
“No problem.”
He opened the door for her and she left. He couldn’t help himself and watched her go back to her apartment through the peephole. It was the first time in a long time he’d felt more than annoyance from a woman.
That was quite unfortunate.
Chapter 9
The wind was cold as it slapped against Spicer’s cheeks but he couldn’t deny how gorgeous the scenery was. While the campus of Cornell University reminded him of the recent adventures at UVA, there was a laid-back yet classy vibe that could only be found at Ivy League schools. Fallen leaves were whirling around him and Ned.
“If we’re to get to the guy who wrote that article we don’t have much of a choice.”
Ned agreed. “The Anchises Project is the only active business right now.”
“We check all the ongoing research, see what it’s about. We’ll see how people feel around us.”
With not much to go on, their plan hinged on basic investigation methods, namely beating the bush and see what came out.
Shortly after walking by the Big Red Barn, a charming former carriage house, they went into McGraw Hall. They climbed to the third floor where they had an appointment with an aging professor. He was two cheeseburgers away from a heart attack.
“So you folks are from the foundation. You’re not cutting off my grant, are you?”
He chuckled and the others politely joined in while the academic closed his office door.
“No,” Spicer began. “We came to check up on your research, see how it’s going.”
“It’s going well. I’ve just reached the middle-ages.” He sat down and lit his pipe. “You don’t mind, do you? They threaten to fire me over this terrible habit about once a month. But at my age you start putting pleasure ahead of everything. Otherwise, what’s the point of living?”
Ned shook his head. “It’s fine.”
The professor smiled. “With my prostate down and out and my slight, shall we say, weight problem, this is the only pleasure I have left.”
Spicer said, “Why don’t you give us your sales pitch on this research?”
“I can’t say that I have one. I’m not supposed to talk about it, remember?”
“Just try anyway.”
“Are you sure you guys really are from the Anchises Foundation? I wouldn’t want to be in trouble over this.”
“That’s the spirit,” Ned said.
“Perfectly understandable, sir. I’m sure you have the foundation’s phone number in your notes. Give them a call and ask about us.”