by Cyril Adams
“Tough lunch?”
Garrett told him about Katherine’s morning. Charlie was as surprised by the ordeal as Garrett.
“And the Secretary was there?” Charlie asked, making sure he had the facts straight.
“Katherine said she spoke with him. So what did you find?”
“Your source may be legitimate after all. I spoke to one of Talbot’s coworkers. A Joshua Yaden.”
Despite his foul mood, Garrett could not help smiling. Good ol’ Charlie, as resourceful as ever.
“So, what’s the story? He actually works as a researcher in the gravity propulsion division. A child genius, he’s been in the division since he was thirteen.” Garrett joked.
“I already told you he works for Global Information Corporation,” Charlie replied, dismissing Garrett’s attempt at humor. “Global is an information technology contract company.”
“Information technology?” Garrett queried, not registering the significance.
“Yeah, information technology,” Charlie responded. Garrett shrugged. Charlie continued, exasperated, “information technology, I T, the group of fifteen-year-olds who fix your computer when you can’t.”
“Then why didn’t you just say IT? So what’s the big hoohaa?”
“Where he works,” Charlie was grinning from ear to ear.
Garrett put his hands up, “I give up. Where does he work?”
“He does IT support at the State building,” Charlie revealed, raising his eyebrows to accompany his Cheshire-cat grin.
Garrett sat up. “The Department of State building where Katherine works?” he rapidly questioned.
Charlie, exceedingly pleased with the outcome, sat back in his chair. “The very one.”
Garrett responded slowly. “Whoa.”
“Right,” Charlie added enthusiastically. “On Tuesday, Rubin’s computer received an errant message. This Yaden works in the cubicle next to Rubin. He said Rubin’s computer locked up momentarily,” Charlie paused at Garrett’s lack of attention. “You know computer failure while the operator is jacked in can be painful?”
Garrett nodded absently.
Satisfied Garrett was keeping up, Charlie continued, “When it happened, Rubin started cursing the computer, so Yaden peered around the cubical wall to see what was wrong. Rubin had logged out and was leaving. Yaden said he asked if there was a problem, but Rubin just brushed by him. About an hour later some “goons,” as he put it, arrived and shut down the office. So, my boy, it looks as though Mike may be on to something. Of course, if it could damage the government or Federation, we won’t be able to do anything with it due to the Alien Defense Act.”
With the revelation complete, a very satisfied Charlie placed his hands behind his head and leaned farther back in his chair. Garrett continued to stare at the floor, sorting through the implications this could have for Katherine.
After several quiet moments, Charlie’s jubilant air dissolved into concern. He leaned forward, placing his hands on his desk. “Garrett, did you get all that? This could be the big one.”
Garrett responded slowly, “Yeah, I got it.” He looked at Charlie, “but the Department of State building? That message may have been intended for someone in Katherine’s office, like Greg. Maybe that’s why the alpha scan injured him. He could have been trying to hide something.”
Charlie had expected a different reaction. “So?”
“If I pursue this, it could put Katherine in danger.”
“What are you talking about?” Charlie began, flabbergasted. “She already passed whatever test those knuckleheads gave her. They don’t think she’s involved, or they would never have let her leave.”
Garrett stood and walked to the large window, watching several aircars as they maneuvered through the city. The possibilities roared through his head like a freight train. He was disturbed by an unshakable impression that his choice would have ramifications that eluded his full comprehension. The issue that oppressively loomed before him was what did pursuing the story reveal about his priorities? He recalled Katherine’s words “Do you see a time when we come first?” Part of him screamed in protest at the idea of staying a course that could involve Katherine, but he already knew his nature would not allow him to put it aside. Beyond his personal reputation, there was Mike to consider. If Garrett could not bring this to the surface, whomever Mike was afraid of probably would not stop until all the loose ends were tied up. That did not bode well for Mike and, by extension, Garrett.
“Garrett, this is big news. Sometimes the tough ones can seem daunting before all the facts are in,” Charlie coached.
Garrett turned back to Charlie, his face grim. “Don’t take on the sage-editor-guiding-the-neophyte role with me. I’m not wet behind the ears,” he seethed.
“I know, Garrett. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…” Charlie trailed off.
Garrett turned back to the city skyline. “Just what?” he shot back, feeling the turmoil of his decision rise to the surface.
“Come on, Garrett. This could be the story of a lifetime,” Charlie encouraged. Garrett did not respond, so Charlie continued his attempt at coercion. “Well hell, a few years ago you’d have been champing at the bit to break something like this. If you’re lucky, you may get an opportunity to cover a story like this once in your entire career. This could put the Rimes debacle behind you for good,” Charlie counseled.
“Right, get the story,” Garrett muttered. The words were detached as if spoken by someone across the room. He sensed he was being led down a path he did not want to take but was powerless to alter his course.
Charlie jumped out of his chair and slapped Garrett on the back. “That’s my boy. I thought you were fading on me there for a second. I understand your concern. Garrett, we’ve been through a lot together. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you or Katherine, but if you’re not fully committed, this thing could get away from us.”
Garrett turned back to the office, his lips drawn into a thin line. Bubbling with energy, Charlie sat down again, ready to return to business. Garrett slowly returned to his chair.
“When are you meeting Mike?” Charlie asked.
“Tomorrow morning, outside Penn Station,” Garrett responded unenthusiastically.
Charlie’s eyes narrowed as he studied Garrett. “Hey, are you all right?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just don’t know if I like where this is going,” Garrett admitted.
“Garrett, stay focused here. This doesn’t have a bow on it. It looks like it may hold water, but I need a tiger out there to bring this in. Of course, if it actually bears fruit we could be talking Pulitzer.”
“I’ll get the story, Charlie,” Garrett responded with resigned acceptance. “I always do,” he concluded.
“That’s right. You always do. I’m going to call it a day. Are you finished here?” Charlie asked indicating the remaining holographs.
“Yes.”
Charlie shut down the computer. “You sure you want to go it alone tomorrow?”
“Yeah, Mike is going to be nervous, and I don’t want him to change his mind if he sees me there with someone else."
“Be careful, and this is for Mike,” Charlie threw Garrett a credit chip.
“If this pans out, Mike is going to need some running money as well."
“I threw in some extra,” Charlie chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“It came out of your expense account,” Charlie joked as he walked out.
Garrett slowly followed him out of the office, his emotions still at odds with his decision to pursue the story. He felt as though he had left behind part of what some would call his soul, and he was not sure he was satisfied with the sum of what had emerged.
Garrett checked the time. It was Five o’clock. There was a reasonable chance Katherine’s mood had cooled to a light simmer. He had his comband request a cab as he made his way to the aerial port on the ninetieth floor. The aircar was waiting when he arrived. Once inside, he
began parsing through his inner turmoil. A cloud was blotting the normally inviting vista of his mental landscape. The origin of the shadow was simple guilt, but due to Garrett’s rare exposure to the emotion, its source was elusive. One of the advantages of carefully pruning relationships was the ease with which one could act. Why should he feel guilt over Katherine’s tangential involvement with his case? He could not be held accountable over an inconceivable coincidence. He had not violated their pact. Of course, he had not told Katherine about the meeting with Mike at the party, but that did not constitute a breach of trust. They rarely spoke of work. Perhaps Katherine wanted him to open up more about his day-to-day regime. That was not an unreasonable method of drawing them closer. By the time he arrived at the apartment, the issue was resolved, and he felt right as rain.
He entered the apartment to find it empty. Jacob, the house computer, indicated there was a message from Katherine. Garrett had a sinking feeling he was not going to have an opportunity to present the reconciliation speech he had rehearsed on the ride home. He poured a scotch and retired to the comfort of the sofa. He took a long drink before having Jacob play the message.
“Garrett. I'm at the hospital with Greg. I need some time away to think about our situation. I'll probably stay at Sharon's.”
It was hard to discern whether the source of the burning sensation spreading through his body was the scotch or Katherine’s message. Well, that went as planned, Garrett bitterly concluded. They were both career people. It seemed something like this would happen eventually, he conceded, but a not-so-small part of him rejected that assessment as decidedly one-sided. As he considered their interaction of late, it seemed that only one of them was talking about careers. He elected not to follow that line of reasoning and turned on the holograph, scanning various programs and pausing at the few that showed promise. He settled on coverage of a recent fad called morphing. Garrett had seen a little of it in some of the gangs he had reported on, combining various animal and human attributes: fangs, hair, horns, among other oddities. Lion manes were particularly popular. Garrett could not understand the interest, but according to the program, reversal was turning out to be more difficult and painful than originally advertised. Garrett switched to the local news channel as he settled deeper into the sofa.
As per its programming, Jacob woke him at nine. He had drifted off to sleep watching the monotonous drivel. Resigned that none of his endeavors could be advanced until the sun rose again, he turned in for the night.
A barely perceptible movement in the room interrupted his slumber. Startled, he woke instantly, straining to determine the source of the compelling impression that he was not alone. Someone was stealthily sliding into bed with him. To his relief and surprise, it was Katherine.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Me, too. I wasn’t working on your security breach,” Garrett responded, pulling together the tendrils of the dialogue he had rehearsed earlier.
Katherine put a finger over his mouth. “We’ll talk about it later,” she insisted as she climbed on top of him with a long kiss. Later, Garrett acknowledged her approach to reconciliation was decidedly superior to his.
8
The cold morning air whipped at the loose folds of Garrett’s coat as he stood next to a bench on the southwest corner of Penn Station. He checked his comband; ten minutes until seven. His breath escaped in large white plumes. Despite the wind’s intentions, only his exposed face was subject to the chilling temperatures. His clothes automatically compensated for environmental conditions to keep their occupant wrapped in relative comfort. A figure slept on the bench closest to him. For the homeless, enviro-clothing made the New York winter almost survivable. There were more than enough free shelters in the city to feed and clothe the dwindling number of people living on the streets, but the recipient had to submit to a drug test before receiving aid. Not all were willing. Garrett sat on a bench across from the slumbering individual, counting each minute as it passed. The tone in his earpiece startled him. He stood up reflexively and answered the incoming call. His comband projected an expanded image of Mike across his palm.
“Mike, what’s going on?” Garrett asked quickly. He was anxious.
“Easy, Garrett. Are you alone?” The light from Mike’s screen illuminated his face. It made his head appear as if it were floating, disembodied. Garrett considered his dark clothing and imagined his face probably looked similar.
“Yeah, I’m alone. Well, someone is sleeping on the bench across from me, but other than that, I’m alone.”
“You sure he’s asleep?” Mike asked skeptically.
“Yes. Come on, let’s get this over with.”
“Okay. Okay. I’m just a little jumpy. This may be bigger than I thought when I talked to you before. There may be aliens among us already. The information is on the chip. It’s encrypted so you’ll have to...” Mike trailed off, turning from the screen to address some unseen activity.
“Mike, what chip?” Garrett questioned emphatically.
Mike’s attention was still focused off screen; something Garrett found increasingly disturbing. He was struck with a primal urge to flee but steadied his resolve. He still needed information only Mike could provide.
“Mike!” Garrett was yelling. “What chip?”
Mike turned back to the screen. “You have the chip. I put it in your…”
A flash from a stunner cut Mike off in mid-sentence, an explosion immediately followed. Garrett stood motionless, mentally cobbling together what he had just seen: the flash from the stunner too bright, the noise from the explosion too loud. His faculties desperately tried to fit together pieces of a puzzle that did not support Garrett’s perception of reality. Understanding snapped into place with brute force. The flash had not just been transmitted through his comband screen. It had briefly illuminated Madison Square Garden. The noise had awakened the figure sleeping on the bench across from Garrett. Mike had been on the northwest corner of the building. He had used the call to ensure Garrett was secure.
An aircar was rising from the location of the explosion. The sound stirred Garrett from the surreal moment. He ran along the south side of the building, keeping it between him and the rising vehicle. As he arrived at the corner of Penn Station, he heard the vehicle land in the direction of the bench he had just vacated. That homeless person was in for a surprise.
The sidewalks were already beginning to fill with people starting their week. It was easy to blend in. He slowed to a brisk walk, just one of the masses trudging to work. Not willing to risk the time it would take to hail a cab, he made his way through the throng of commuters plodding toward the Penn Station entrance. Aircars were moving overhead. Normal traffic, but he flinched involuntarily each time one passed. Several police vehicles were already responding to the incident with lights blazing, and their sirens screaming angrily.
Garrett settled into a subway seat that could only be considered comfortable by someone endowed with an excessively rigid spine. The seats were originally designed to conform to the passengers’ physique, but the days when they were still capable of performing that service had long since passed. Still, increasing the distance from Penn Station allowed him to relax. He considered what Mike’s reference to him having the chip meant. He had not received any packages at home. It was possible the item was still in transit. He reexamined the scuttled meeting with Mike. He could not set aside the disconcerting impression the timing of Mike’s apprehension was significant. He examined that prospect, probing it from various angles, considering who would have benefitted from the failed exchange, certainly not Mike. The realization struck him like a lightning bolt. He sat up rigidly and instantly the seat fit like it was custom-made for his current posture. They could have taken Mike at any time, but they wanted his conspirator. If they had Garrett’s identity, they would know where he lived. He frantically directed his comband to call Katherine and waited nervously for her to complete the connection. She did not. He selected the apartment
.
“Please answer. Please answer,” he repeated in the manner of unrecognized prayer. To his relief she did.
“Garrett?” The surprise in her voice was evident even through the small earpiece.
“Katherine, are you all right?” Garrett was talking fast. He knew he sounded frantic, but every second counted.
“Of course. What’s wrong?” She responded, mildly amused by the suggestion she would be otherwise.
“You didn’t answer your comband,” he accused.
“It was on the counter. I just missed your call,” she explained.
Garrett could not get the words out fast enough. “I think someone killed Mike, the guy I was meeting. Are you still in the apartment?”
Katherine took on a serious tone, “I’m leaving now. Do you want me to meet you?” Garrett had a car that he and Katherine kept for trips through the countryside. They never used it in the city and he could probably walk back to the apartment before she could cover half the distance trying to negotiate traffic.
Garrett responded without giving the offer any consideration. “No, go to work. It’ll be safer.”
“Do you think they would come here?” Her quick response gave way to concern. “Do they know who you are?”
“I don’t know,” Garrett admitted, “but I don’t want you to be the one who discovers they do.”
“Go to the police,” Katherine advised.
“I will,” Garrett responded, knowing that course of action ranked about eighth on his list of ideas.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to meet you?”
“I’m sure. Just get out of the apartment,” Garrett responded emphatically. Every fiber of his being screamed this conversation should have ended one “get out of the apartment” ago.
“Call me after you talk to the police,” Katherine directed.
“You call me when you get to the office,” Garrett countered.