by Darrell Bain
“Good, but don't delay. It's bad enough that we've got so many Jews and Moslems in the country now without having to worry about some cockeyed brand of atheism agitating the people.”
Phillips made a mental note to infiltrate several more agents into Masterville, and also to begin tracking down the whereabouts of former Masterville residents who had moved from the valley to other areas of the country in the last few decades. It wouldn't hurt to see what activities they were involved in now. He made a swift mental calculation of how much manpower that might require, and quickly saw an opening for expanding the agency even further than he already had since Smith had secured his appointment.
“I'll probably need a supplemental appropriation to cover the costs of investigating all possible agents who have left Masterville.”
“I can't go to congress; it would attract too much attention. I want this kept quiet. There are too many goddamn bleeding heart liberals ready to jump all over us for if they find out we're investigating American citizens for no other reason than that they're different from the mainstream.”
“But these people are way different! They could pose a threat to the safety of the nation!” Phillips exclaimed righteously. If the President believed it, he was bound to convince himself of the danger, too.
“I know that and you know that, but we can't control the press, not yet anyway.”
“All right, but I'll still need more money; either that or I'll have to cut back on some other operations. We haven't licked the terrorists overseas yet and you know how much of the agency we've got tied up with the discrediting and agitation ops against the damned Moslems here.”
“I know, and we have to stay on the Moslems. We're making progress there. Sooner or later we'll chase them the hell back to where they came from. In the meantime, I'll transfer some money from my discretionary account, then ask for an increase in your budget next fiscal year. How's that?”
“Great.” Phillips had paid particular attention to the President's remarks about not controlling the press yet. Did that mean he thought he might gain control eventually? Wouldn't that be great! So far as he was concerned, the sooner those agitative papers and their reporters were brought to heel, the better.
“All right. Anything else? I've got a breakfast prayer meeting with some of our congressmen at nine.”
“No, sir, not today. We can discuss China any time. They aren't going anywhere.”
President Smith chuckled as he unfolded his lanky, slim frame from his chair. He paused at the exit to check his appearance in the full length mirror there, made a slight adjustment to his bright green tie. It would be subtly suggestive at the public signing of a Parks and Wildlife bill right after the prayer breakfast. Never forget the spin he reminded himself as he left Phillips to the nuances of investigating a whole city without the public catching on.
Phillips picked up his phone and asked his secretary to choose four more of the best field agents she could shake loose. What with all the investigations Bobby Lee had the agency involved in, he didn't have much more choice in the selection, but it really didn't matter. Next fiscal year he would have more money and a bigger agency. And Bobby Lee was right in his reasoning. Whether the American people realized it or not, the country was involved in a religious war, and he and the President were going to win it, in America, at least. And after that ...
* * * *
“They're on their way,” Marybeth Chambers said, looking at her friend, Lisa.
Lisa Berry smiled and nodded. “We got lucky, didn't we?”
Marybeth didn't return the smile. “If you call having our whole city investigated by the National Security Agency lucky, yeah I guess we did.”
“Sorry, I didn't mean it that way.”
Marybeth got up from her computer chair and went over to sit beside her friend. “I know you didn't.” She leaned forward and kissed Lisa on the lips. Her lips lingered there for a moment. When Lisa began to respond, she broke the kiss. “I know you didn't mean anything by the remark. And you're right; we did get lucky, having them call us for reservations rather than staying outside the city. At least here we can keep an eye on them.”
“Tyrone was right, wasn't he?”
“He's a smart man,” Marybeth said. “He told me that sooner or later someone would pick up on how different we are. And that having a Bed and Breakfast in town might be a good idea.”
Lisa examined her friend, thinking, not for the first time, that they looked enough alike to be sisters, other than the fact that she had long brown hair and Lisa's was red, but equally long. Both had freckles chasing across their cheeks. “Well, I'm glad he asked you to run it, and that you wanted me to help. But how did he know-and you know, as far as that goes-that I wouldn't spill the secret?”
“He trusts me. Besides, he's a good judge of character. Shucks, you ought to know; he hired you, didn't he?”
“He talked to me for a few minutes after I had gone through all the paperwork for the application to work there.”
There meant only one thing in Masterville: Beamer Research Company, a private, unincorporated laboratory owned by Tyrone Beamer, the principal employer in Masterville. Beamer Research wasn't in the business of production to a very great extent. It was a state of the art genetics and molecular biological research facility that brought products to the commercial feasibility stage then licensed them out.
“But you've met him since then, haven't you?”
“Sure. At the Christmas party last year and I talked to him for all of five minutes.”
Marybeth grinned. “He's a good judge of character. He picked me, didn't he?”
Lisa grinned back. “Anyone would pick you. Are you still seeing him?”
“When he has time. It's not like we're living together. And he could have a dozen more girl friends for all I know.”
Lisa was silent for a moment as she gazed around the parlor of the old turn of the century home that had been converted into the small Bed and Breakfast establishment. The decor was traditional southern, but of a time in the past when rooms were more crowded with furniture and paintings, rugs and shelved knickknacks. She turned back to Marybeth.
“It still doesn't seem quite real. I mean really, practically everyone in the city, including us, being that different from the general population? It's like something out of a science fiction movie.”
Marybeth took Lisa's hands in hers. “It does take some getting used to, but it's not like we're really so different. It's more a matter of lots of small things than something like having two noses or a brain that bulges out our ears. Hardly anyone around here even suspects they're different from the general population, and even fewer know it for a fact, like you and me.”
Lisa giggled then turned serious again. “But why should the government want to bother us? We're not doing anything wrong.”
Marybeth's grip on Lisa's hands tightened. “It's not that hard to understand. Any minority who is different automatically becomes suspicious. Tyrone told me he thinks it's a territorial thing, inherent in our genes, but I really don't know. We sure don't have problems like that here. All we can do is try to get along with outsiders now-if there is any getting along while Bobby Lee is President.”
“That man scares me.” Lisa shivered, causing Marybeth to draw her into an embrace.
“He scares me, too.” Marybeth kissed Lisa and moved her hand up to caress her breast. She moved her lips against Lisa's, murmuring “And just think: if he had his way, what we're doing right now would be a crime.”
Lisa didn't answer, but neither did she draw away. Marybeth continued caressing the other woman, moving her hand in a slow sensuous stroking motion from her breasts to the indentation of her waist, over the pleasant curve of her hip and back up again to her breasts. Presently, she broke the embrace and stood, drawing Lisa up with her.
“Let's go to the bedroom.”
Lisa nodded, flushing but acquiescent. Marybeth smiled to herself. Men were fine but there was no sensatio
n in the world to compare with making love to a woman for her first time. This was going to be fun, and she could tell Tyrone about the agents in the morning; they wouldn't arrive for three days yet.
* * * *
Tyrone Beamer sat at his huge old oak desk, an antique inherited from his grandfather. From his position, he could look down on Masterville and the valley and today he was wondering how long it would remain so serene and peaceful, not only in appearance but in actuality. The feds were coming, and with that nutcase ex-preacher ensconced in the White House, there was no telling what might happen. He still shook his head in disbelief every time he thought of the past election, and it had been well more than three years ago.
If Beamer looked to one side or the other of his spacious but not overly large office, he could see doors. One led out into the alcove where Gina Lester and Timothy Powers, his administrative assistants held sway. The other led into an adequately furnished four bedroom apartment where he stayed much of the time when he had enough urgent problems that he didn't want to waste time commuting down from the side of the “mountain,” as it was called, even though it was really only a large hill. Beamer Research sprawled on a flat expanse of granite near the summit. If it grew much more, this space would be used up and he would either have to build up or down. Or in some more-but he didn't like to think of the implications there. However, he didn't anticipate much more growth, nor did he want it. The bigger the company, the more attention paid to it by various government agencies, and they were doing fine as they were.
One of a bank of phones sitting to one side of the desk gave a muted ring and began flashing red. Beamer picked it up. “Tyrone here,” he said, the way he always answered, even if it might be Gina or Tim. But not this time.
“Hi big man. Marybeth here. I thought I better let you know. Two NSA agents are due to check in here day after tomorrow. They're calling themselves Daniel and Shirley Stenning, but their real names are Daniel Stenning and Shirley Rostervik; or perhaps I should say that's the names on their paychecks. God knows what they were originally. Anyway, they're posing as a married couple.”
“Field agents?”
“All the way. And very good ones, too, according to our source. He steered them to us, by the way. You ought to give him a bonus.”
Beamer already knew that but didn't say so. “Great. But as of now, let's not mention any of this on the phone or by mail again. You can expect to have your place bugged within a day or two after they arrive.”
“Oh, my. Sound or sight or both?”
“Both, probably, but it shouldn't bother you, exhibitionist that you are.”
“Ha! You should talk. Besides, it's not me I would worry about.”
Beamer laughed. “Lisa? That didn't take long.”
“It might have taken longer if you came down from that mountain more often.”
“You can always come up, you know. Anytime.”
“I may before the bad guys get here. In the meantime, Lisa and I need to get busy making this place look like a real B&B.”
“All right. Just remember, be careful what you say, but you and Lisa keep them razzled and dazzled. You can borrow Gina and Tim if you need them.”
“If you send Gina down here, I might keep her for myself. I like red hair.”
“Yes, I know,” Beamer chuckled, running his hand through the red hair which he wore cut short and without a part.
“Devil. Talk to you later.”
“'By,” Beamer said, then touched the button which would summon Gina and Tim into the office. He trusted the feds, and the NSA in particular, about as much as he trusted World Peace to break out before dark. Just as sure as Politicians used tax money to further their own ends, Phillips or his underling would send more than two agents here, and Terrell wouldn't necessarily know about it and be able to warn him. Times were going to get very interesting before it was over-if it ever was over, which he doubted.
CHAPTER FOUR
Daniel and Shirley stopped the first night at a Holiday Inn. Before going in, Daniel asked, “Shall we start practicing now?”
“Being married, you mean? Sure Dan. The sooner we get in the habit, the better the cover. Get us a room with double beds, though, if you don't mind.”
“I don't mind,” he answered, wondering what Shirley would think if she knew that a double was exactly what he wanted, and that she held very little sexual appeal for him. Or perhaps she already knew; things like that were more apparent to women than men, and maybe they are simply more attuned to the sexual dance between the sexes, he thought. Whatever, so far they were getting along fine without sex and that suited him.
After dinner at the adjoining restaurant, the two agents retired to their room and began discussing their assignment. He sat on one of the perennially uncomfortable motel chairs while she stretched out on one of the beds, facing him and propped up on an elbow.
“Doesn't this whole thing seem rather hurried to you?” Daniel asked.
Shirley plucked at a thread on the sleeve of her long sleeved red blouse. “Hmmm ... no, not considering the direction Bobby Lee and his minions are trying to lead the country-or drive it might be a better term.”
“Do you agree with them?” There, Daniel thought. A direct question, right to the point. He was famous for those within the agency-and constantly in hot water with his supervisor for speaking his mind.
Shirley eyed him from the bed, as if were a professor who had just called on her in a class where she wasn't quite prepared to respond. She swung her feet off the bed and sat up. “It's not good to go into an Op if you don't really believe in it. If you don't, you should have turned the assignment down.”
“That's no answer.”
“It wasn't intended to be. What I believe, or you, too, for that matter, shouldn't have a bearing on the Op, once we're committed. Pour me another glass of wine, would you?”
Daniel had brought another bottle from the restaurant after they had consumed one during their meal, paying a usurious price for it. He refilled both their glasses.
“What brought you to the agency?” Daniel asked, wanting to get to know his partner, even if her beauty didn't excite him.
“Hell, it's hard to remember now. I was recruited right out of college. The salary was good and it sounded adventurous. And the training wasn't hard for me. I've always been the athletic, outdoorsy type. How about you?”
Daniel shrugged mirthlessly. “Same story, more or less, except I did a stint with the Marines first.”
“Officer?”
“Not at first. I enlisted, then went to OCS.”
“Couldn't you have gotten a direct commission with a degree?”
“Probably, but I guess I wanted to see how the other half lived first. It made me a better officer, I think.”
“Well, be that as it may, we need to start talking about how we're going to go about this thing. I'll confess, I've never been involved with anything like this Op.”
“Me neither,” Daniel admitted. “I suppose we should just act like an old married couple and do the same things they would.”
“Have you ever been married?”
“No. How about you?”
“No,” Shirley said, smiling. “I guess we'll have to fake it.”
“How so?”
“You wander around to the bars and stores that handle men stuff; I'll try the beauty shops and boutiques and antique shops. We can compare notes at night.”
Daniel nodded. “Sounds good, except for comparing notes. I'd rather do that somewhere besides the Bed and Breakfast place.”
“Why? No one can possibly know we're coming, or what we're after.”
“Just normal precautions, I guess. I always like to play the odds, whatever they are. And frankly, I'll confess that I'm not sure what we're after, either.”
Shirley mused for a moment with a frown on her face. She sipped at her glass of wine and moved from the edge of the bed to one of the chairs. “Okay, we can find another spot. I see now why yo
u have such a good rep. You don't’ take chances, do you?”
“Not unless it's necessary. Now back to the subject. Just exactly what are we after?”
Shirley quoted the Op Orders. “You will determine in so far as possible whether there is a unifying factor that causes the inhabitants of Masterville and the surrounding area to exhibit the following differences from the average or “normal” population base: Increased life span, less marriage, lack of religious affiliation, lack of...” She finished the entire list from memory.
Hearing her relate all of the anomalies to be found in the residents of Masterville, spoken in a precise, lecturing type of voice finally brought it all home to Daniel. The people they were going to investigate were different. And yet, he felt a vague affinity for the place already. He shifted in his chair uncomfortably. Too many of the attributes were ones which could just as well apply to him. Whether there was anything in their makeup that might threaten national security was another question, one he wasn't prepared to answer yet. But there was one thing he was certain of: delving into their lives promised to be one of the most interesting assignments of his career. If they didn't catch on, of course.
That thought brought up a sudden association in his mind. “I wonder if the Masterville people are even aware that they're different?”
“Now that's in interesting observation. Phillips and the Agency sociologist and psychologist he consulted believe they must know.”
Daniel remembered scanning over that portion of the analysis and not attaching much importance to it. As predictive sciences, he believed both sociology and psychology were tight up there with Astrology as useful tools for anticipating human behavior. “I'm not that convinced,” he said.
“Oh? Why not?”
Daniel poured another glass of wine before answering, almost emptying the bottle. Shirley shook her head when he offered her more. “Well, in the first place, all the differences are minor ones if looked at individually. Would you notice if your neighbors were less religious than you, for example?”