Luke stared at Raymond. He couldn’t decide whether to ask him to shut up or to laugh it off. “Maybe it’s just where the United States government does secret airplane testing, and they don’t want you to know about it. Why can’t you let the government have some secrets?”
“It’s not secret airplane tests I’m worried about. It’s UFOs, and they’re there. I promise you.”
Luke looked at Stamp and rolled his eyes as he sat back in his chair.
Raymond could read their body language. He’d had enough. He folded up his papers, tattered from months of being carried around in the pocket of his jeans. He jammed the papers in his pocket and headed back into the café. “You’ll see,” he said over his shoulder, more in the nature of a mutter than a farewell, “you’ll see.”
“There goes one of our crack employees,” Stamp said. “Completely off his rocker.”
“He’s harmless. They’re doing a good job running the café,” Thud said.
“He’s gonna scare off the students if he starts telling them those stories about how John Denver got called home by the big UFO.” Crumb laughed.
“I don’t think too many people ask him about it, and I don’t think he feels free to share that kind of… insight with just anyone. I think he’s pretty touchy about it.”
“I sure as hell hope so.”
Kevin waited as the phone rang. It was late on the East Coast, and almost late in Nevada.
Brian picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Kevin said.
“Hey! What’s up?”
“I talked to my friend in Pakistan.”
“What’d you find?”
Kevin could hear the anticipation in Brian’s voice. He hated to disappoint him. “Really interesting. Nothing very specific, but one thing surprised me. They ran it by the Air Force attaché in Islamabad. He had actually heard of your guy.”
“Why would an attaché know about a Major?”
“A lot of people know his name. It’s one of those names that gets everybody to clam up and look over their shoulder. He’s spooked a bunch of people, but no one seems to know exactly why. Or how. The thing everybody says about him is he came out of nowhere. He wasn’t known in the Air Force at all, until recently. The attaché knows about all the movers, all the hot officers. He’d never heard of this guy before six months ago. Now everybody knows about him.”
“So do we need to worry about him?”
“There’s nothing anybody could put their finger on. Best we can tell right now is that he’s a regular Air Force Major who seems to be well connected.”
“That isn’t much. Keep looking,” Brian said hopefully.
“I can’t, really.”
“Why not?”
“I got busted. My division head jumped on my ass for calling Pakistan.”
Brian asked, “How did she even know about it?”
“No idea. It’s kind of spooky.”
“You think she had your phone monitored?”
“I’m sure she does. They’re all monitored. But what would make her listen to it? What would make her think that she even had to worry about listening in on my phone? That’s what I can’t figure out.”
“That’s just weird.”
“I agree, but, dude, I ought to lay off for a while.”
“I don’t know,” Brian wondered. “Is she really worried about you wasting time, or is she trying to protect somebody?”
“Don’t go paranoid on me. Who would she be trying to protect?”
“How the hell would I know? You’re the intelligence puke.”
“So are you. Do you sniff anything? Anything else about the government? Any side shows going on I ought to know about?”
“Just the Pakistani guys. I’m probably chasing smoke. The other day, though, when the Major found out we’re going to be test-firing some live missiles, he about came unglued. It was like news he hadn’t anticipated, that really mattered a lot, for reasons we can’t figure out. It’s probably some sort of bias on my part. I don’t know. Maybe you should just forget about it.”
“I trust your judgment, Brian. I trust your instincts. If you want me to keep pushing, I will. I’ll be hanging my ass out, but if it’s really important to you…”
“What could you do?”
“I’ll get my person in Islamabad to do some active questioning. She has some sources. She wouldn’t tell me about them, but I know she has some.”
“It’ll get you fired.”
“I’m sick of this shit anyway. Sitting in a cubicle all day trying to patch little pieces of information together about a continent so screwed up I don’t even know where to start.”
“I can’t be responsible for you getting canned.”
“You probably need an assistant intelligence guy at the Fighter Weapons School anyway. Don’t you?”
“I’ll split my salary with you.”
“There it is. I’ll live on scorpions and rattlesnake meat.”
“It tastes like chicken.”
Kevin laughed. “Everything tastes like chicken.”
Brian laughed, too. “Rattlesnake really does taste like chicken.”
“You’re so full of it. How would you know?”
“SERE school, bro. Navy survival and POW training.”
Kevin laughed at the image of his little brother chasing snakes in the desert and eating them. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it for action.” Kevin hung up and looked over his shoulder. No time like the present. The Wicked Witch had gone home for the night, but not until she’d checked on Kevin and all the others who worked for her, to make sure they weren’t playing solitaire on their computers. He went into the conference room and closed the door silently behind him. He was breathing more heavily than he would like. He turned on the lights and went to the secure encrypted phone. He opened up his PalmPilot and looked up the number of the embassy in Islamabad. He dialed the number quickly, glancing at the closed door. The phone began its odd ringing sound, and he waited patiently for someone to pick up the receiver. Finally a voice answered in English, “United States embassy.”
“Administration, please.”
“I’ll connect you.”
Another odd ring commenced, and again Kevin waited. Finally a woman answered. “Renee Williams.”
“Renee, Kevin Hayes.”
“Kevin, how are you?”
“Not so well. Since I called, I’ve been read out by my boss for ‘interfering’ in Asian affairs.”
“Truly?”
“Truly. Who did you tell that I’d called?”
“Just the attaché. I… can’t think of anyone else.”
“Must be somebody. It took all of about three milliseconds for her to hear about it.”
“Maybe she was listening to your phone.”
“Possible. But I don’t think so. That would have meant she thought I was doing something else that might have been interesting. And I’m not. My Africa stuff is boring as shit. Nobody would spend five minutes listening to my telephone calls.”
“So what’s up?”
“I know I’m asking a lot. I asked you to look into that guy’s background, but I didn’t tell you much. The more I think about it, the more I think we have to be very careful with this. I also didn’t say why I was asking.”
“No. You didn’t.”
“Go secure,” he said.
“Got it,” she replied.
They both turned their phones to the encrypted mode that made it impossible for anyone to listen in. All someone who had tapped the line would hear was static.