“Nervous?” he asked.
Dewey nodded. “A little. I don’t like dealing with them. They look at me funny.”
He smiled. Another of Dewey’s idiosyncrasies… he said whatever popped into his head. “You will do well, Mr. Green.”
Dewey’s office door opened and Hobert Barnwell and Nathan Elliot entered. Hobert made a face as he wormed his way through the piles of electronic gear until he reached the table. He glanced down at the metal chair. “Is it even safe to sit in that?”
“Yes, Hob. Try not to hold Mr. Green’s… habits… against him.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Elliot stood, his massive black hand on another chair, watching their interaction. He cleared his throat. “Mr. Smith. We’re here. The question is why.”
“Because I asked you, Nathan.”
Elliot hesitated, then managed, “I know why we’re here. I mean, why are we here?”
“Mr. Green has been working on a very special project. Mr. Green?”
Dewey watched their exchange with apprehension, then said, “I’ve done some work on your deep-brain stimulation hardware.”
Elliot drew back, eyes widening. “And how, exactly, do you know about that?”
“Be-because,” Dewey stammered. “Uh—”
“Surely you didn’t think your research here was secret,” Smith said. “I’ve assigned Mr. Green many tasks over the years, including looking for work that I might find useful.”
Elliot glanced over to Barnwell, who only shrugged. “You had him sneaking around my work,” Elliot said.
Dewey started to speak, but Smith raised his hand. “Please, Nathan, he wasn’t sneaking around. He was following my orders.”
“What exactly is this deep-brain stimulation hardware?” Barnwell asked.
Before Elliot could explain, Dewey jumped in, “Doc Elliot discovered a way to thread micro-electrodes into the brain and then use electrical stimulus to increase brain activity.”
Hobert’s expression changed from annoyance to dread. “You can’t be serious.”
“That’s not an accurate description,” Elliot interrupted. “It doesn’t increase brain activity. It’s been theorized that for treating epileptic seizures—”
Smith cut him off. “I understand the theories, but Mr. Green has devised a new use for your invention.”
“No,” Hobert said. “Absolutely not.”
Elliot turned to Barnwell, confused. “What’s going on?”
“Mr. Green, please continue.”
“Uh, well, I did some computer modeling,” Dewey said, “and I figured if someone was suffering from dementia or Alzheimer’s, this device could provide electrical stimulation to the hippocampus. This would increase memory retrieval—”
“Hippocampus?” Elliot asked, indignant. “Do you even know what that word means? I’m sorry, I missed the part where you went to medical school.” He glared at Dewey, who sat frozen, his face draining of color.
“You know Dewey’s gift,” Smith said. “He may not have the extensive training of a medical doctor—”
“Or any doctor,” Elliot pointed out.
Smith continued, “He does have a unique ability to absorb information and connect disparate ideas. I want you to examine his research.”
“You’re out of your damned mind,” Barnwell said, “and I think it’s time you told Nathan why you’re grasping at straws.”
All eyes turned to him. “You are correct, Hob. It is time. Gentleman, I am suffering from Alzheimer’s. Hob has been treating me with an experimental tau-protein inhibitor.”
Elliot’s eyes widened in recognition. “He’s patient X?” he asked, angrily pointing his finger at Smith’s chest. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
Hobert ran his fingers through his gray hair. “It was need-to-know basis and you didn’t. I’m giving him well above the maximum dose and he’s barely holding on. He wants you to implant the deep-brain stimulator inside his head so that he can have a few more months to finish transitioning the Directorship to Eric Wise.” He spun around. “That’s all it would give you, Fulton. A few months.”
Nathan and Dewey appeared shocked, but he continued as if Barnwell hadn’t spoken. “I’m sure you’ll do your best, Nathan. I want your conclusions within the day.”
Elliot shook his head. “I can’t believe you’ve been taking the tau-protein inhibitor. It’s still experimental.”
Smith smiled. “It’s performed admirably. You should be proud. Now it is time for something else. Gentleman, if you would excuse yourselves, I would like to have a word with Hobert.”
Dewey craned his head, looking around the room. “Well, since this is my office, and I kind of live down here—”
Smith turned to Dewey and raised an eyebrow.
Dewey gulped. “I mean, hey, maybe I could go get coffee or see what Nancy is up to. Yeah, that’s a good idea, I’ll do that.” He stood and made a beeline for the door, never looking back.
Elliot shook his head. “There is something wrong with that man.” He stood, then paused, deep furrows upon his forehead. “I find this whole thing… inappropriate.”
Smith said nothing. Elliot finally turned away and followed Dewey out the door, shutting it carefully behind him.
Hobert frowned. “I’m asking you… no… I’m begging you. Don’t do this.”
“Did you watch the President’s address?”
“What? Yes, I did, actually. He appeared to be an incompetent boob.”
“He did as instructed. He’s not a bad man and certainly not the worst President I’ve dealt with.”
Hobert shook his head. “You still haven’t gotten over Johnson.”
“The man was an uncouth pig. I still detest him, even after all these years.”
“For God’s sake, he’s been dead for almost forty years. For a man with a fading memory, you certainly hold a grudge.”
“How did Frist perform?”
“Quit changing the subject,” Hobert said. “We need to discuss this crazy idea you’ve cooked up.”
“Hassan was captured without incident?”
“Damn it,” Hobert said. He stood and paced around the desks in Dewey’s office. “Yes, Hassan was captured. I wouldn’t exactly say it was without incident, but Freeman is preparing to interrogate him aboard the Peleliu. Now can we talk about your plan?”
He slumped forward. “I’m sorry, Hob, but I need more time. I’m committed.”
“You should be committed,” Hobert said. “I won’t approve this.”
He looked up at his old friend. Hobert stood, hands on hips, red-faced. He knew the deep-brain stimulation had taken Hobert by surprise, but wasn’t prepared for such an emotional reaction. “It’s my life, Hob,” he said quietly. “I’m willing to take the risk. I need to know that Eric will continue our work. I need to know that Nancy will be safe.”
Hobert exhaled deeply, then took his seat at the desk. “I’m sorry, Fulton. I’m sorry we grew old. I’m sorry that I recommended you bring her into the OTM.”
He took Hobert’s hand in his and squeezed. “It’s worth the risk. It’s all I have left. I have to make things right while I still can.”