She sat up and spotted her neighbor standing at the window. He was only wearing his pants and he was looking through a crack in the blinds, clearly lost in thought.
She said, “You’re an early riser, uh?”
He looked back to acknowledge that she’d woken up and then returned to staring outside.
“Esther, I’ve…”
“What is it?”
“I want to tell you something.”
“Yes?”
“I’m not allowed though.”
She frowned. “Who doesn’t allow it?”
“Esther, I’ve done some terrible things in my life.”
“The war?”
“No,” Spicer said, shaking his head. “That was just the easy part.”
He spun around and went to the bed, sitting next to her.
“You didn’t beat your wife, did you?”
“No, never.”
“Then it doesn’t matter. It’s in the past, right?”
“Absolutely.”
He liked how Zen she was about this. Maybe he was the one stressing out over nothing. For the first time in months he saw the future as something bright and inviting. He took her in his arms and hugged her.
Ned had a small — though massively overpriced — bungalow just outside of Arlington. It was freakishly decorated with an aviation motif. On most walls were framed photographs of fighter jets, biplanes, and even airliners. There were posters from air shows. Over the couch in the living room was a life-size wooden propeller.
And Ned was looking forward to adding to the collection. He walked into the kitchen, still in the process of knotting his tie. He bit into a piece of toast that was already getting cold and went to pour himself a second cup of coffee.
“You’re out of milk,” a voice said.
He almost dropped the pot of coffee as he turned around toward the intruder.
Spicer was standing next to the fridge, dressed casually in jeans and a sweater.
“Goddamn it, I’m gonna need to change underwear.”
“Morning, Ned.”
“What the hell are you doing in my house? How’d you get in?”
Most importantly, why had he broken into his house with his little red gym bag?
Chapter 17
He put the coffee pot back without refilling his cup. He was angry and even Spicer could tell it was more about getting caught off guard than and about the home invasion.
“You didn’t hear me knock so I walked in. I need your help, Ned. I need the list of universities working for Anchises.”
“If it’s for what I think it is, you can forget it. You’ve been fired, you’re out of the loop.”
“You know and I know that something’s not right. I know who wrote the article.”
“Why didn’t you say anything? Maybe you could get your job back.”
Spicer shook his head. “No, they’d kill that person. Look, your job isn’t bureaucratic anymore, it’s real fucking concrete now.”
Ned was conflicted. He began pacing around and ended up behind the little counter.
“They find out I’ve helped you and I’m the next stress-related suicide. My wife’s pregnant, I tell you that? I can’t jeopardize that. Maybe you don’t mind risking your ass on some silly little goose chase, but I happen to be very much attached to my ass.”
“I’m not asking you as your boss, Lieutenant. I’m asking you as your friend. If there’s anything you think you can get, I’d really appreciate it.”
Ned looked down, weighing the situation. “This is crazier than dodging Migs, y’know.”
Spicer touched his arm to say thanks because he knew his friend would pull through. Then he looked around, noticing the decor.
“This house reminds me of my room, when I was five.”
“My wife thinks that when she gets back from her sister’s all this will be gone. Can you believe that?”
“I’m rooting for her,” Spicer said with a wink.
CIA headquarters was buzzing with activity but Ned was slow to start the day. He was in the hallway, waiting behind two other people to get some coffee from a vending machine, which would save him a trip down to the cafeteria. That’s how badly he needed caffeine, risking food poisoning instead of a ten-minutes round-trip.
A tall woman came to him. He moved so she could go behind him. Hell, she wasn’t bad looking and he would probably let her cut the line if she asked. But she didn’t. Instead she turned to face him.
“You’re Lieutenant Wallace, right?”
Surprised, he looked up at her. “Yeah. And you are?”
“Clara Mailley, I’m your new boss.”
She offered her hand and it was either shake or be branded as a traitor. He chose the former.
“Hi.”
“Listen, I’m settling in, they gave me an office in Medical Services. I gotta bring in all of Spicer’s files in from Dr. Michaels’s office.”
Ned nodded thoughtfully. “You mention him by name, did you know Spicer?”
“Uh no, I didn’t. But bring in the files, would you? I’m going down for some breakfast. My office is B-1943.”
She pulled her face into a wicked smile, something he’d seen on candy ass superior officers in the Navy, those who enjoyed power more than the service itself. She left and it was his turn at the vending machine. He didn’t need coffee anymore.
She had succeeded at wiring him up.
He would definitely not enjoy working with her, he thought as he rode the elevator upstairs. Spicer was a block of ice but from the beginning he’d known there was someone under that facade. This lady? She looked driven. From his experience, driven people were selfish and devious. He would have to watch his back around her.
He reached the seventh floor, navigated the maze of hallways, and found the office of Dr. Michaels. His secretary waved him in and the man was at his desk, his feet propped up on the desk. He was on the phone.
“No, there’s no problem there. After the elections people’ll start to see clearly again.”
Michaels nodded to the young man and pointed at two corrugated boxes stacked up in the corner. Ned nodded back, grabbed the rather heavy boxes, and left.
He missed flying so much. A part of him wanted to simply ditch the boxes, tend his resignation, and move out west where he could dust crops or maybe drop water on forest fires. Nothing would ever measure up to a fighter jet but it was bound to be better than carrying boxes for some bureaucrats.
He took the elevator down again and found himself alone. He put the boxes on the ground and crossed his arms. All he could think about was Spicer in his house this morning. He had asked him a favor and clearly it was something important to him. He knew exactly what he would do if he were here.
Fuck it.
No longer hesitating, he crouched and opened the first box. He hurriedly flipped through the folders, glancing at the labels. Nothing was jumping out at him.
“Come on, come on…”
The car stopped and the door was opened. They were on the fourth floor. A redhead came in, her high heels louder than your average commuter train. They shared a glance long enough for them to realize they didn’t know each other.
The doors closed and he moved on to the second box. They were moving down again, the bell ringing ominously every time they passed a floor. He flew through the folders and finally found one related to the Anchises Project.
They reached the first floor, the doors opened, and Ned waited until the woman walked out to steal the folder. He shoved the file inside his pants, under his jacket. He replaced the lid, grabbed the boxes, and got back up.
He headed right after exiting the elevator and Clara was visible in the distance. She was coming toward him.
“Hey, my office is this way.”
She pointed behind her with a thumb. She had her purse now.