Nine-Tenths (22 page)

As Leonard’s coworkers began filing in, he slammed his fist on the counter and then shook it in the air to dull the pain. Time to abort. Mark Dickens would presumably be returning to his station any minute. Leonard exited the WLN system hastily and returned to the SSP01 menu page.

No one stopped by his desk, not even McGinnis, so Leonard stealthily downloaded Max’s Priority Target file on the thumb drive. He slipped the drive into the side of his sock. Uncomfortable at first, the little device eventually warmed up and became virtually unnoticeable.

For the duration of the afternoon, Leonard tried to keep his mind busy by perusing the Priority Target reports and examining the Beta Site data. If the Beta Project proceeded as outlined, a half dozen satellites would be tested for six months. Pending success, the whole fleet would be up in operation in about a year.

Contemplating the complexity of the situation, he wondered if his family would ever find the opportunity to flee Denver. He looked at his watch. Quarter to four. Another tedious hour to go. Leaning back in his chair, Leonard gazed at the ceiling and sighed.

“Excuse me, sir.”

Startled, Leonard jolted and spun around. Reilly, the young man in a gray uniform who had escorted him to Carlyle’s office yesterday, stood nervously near the edge of the cubicle.

At the end of his rope, Leonard had no patience for Reilly or Carlyle. Feeling as if he were a tagged bird, the world around him loomed like a prison. Breathing deeply did little to relieve his anxiety; the air felt hot and oppressive as it passed through his lungs. “What?” he snapped.

“Commander Carlyle wants to see you, sir.”

“That’s just great,” he mumbled under his breath. “Now, I suppose?”

“Yes, sir.”

Leonard rose, pushing his chair back so it smacked into his desk.

“Would you like me to escort you again, sir?”

“No. I can manage on my own, Reilly.”

***

After locking the door, Carlyle strutted to his desk and sat on the edge. He folded his arms and stared at Leonard, who sat in an armless wooden chair a few feet away. In this arrangement, the commander towered over his subordinate. Leonard shifted in discomfort.

Impassive and appearing to have all the time in the world, Carlyle merely stared, making Leonard more uncomfortable by the minute. Eventually, Leonard concluded that
silence
was just another game — a game of intimidation. Focusing on the absurdity of the strategy, Leonard resolved to wait it out and remain aloof.
If Carlyle wants to play, let’s play,
he thought as he adjusted his posture to mirror the commander’s. Arms folded, left foot on the right knee, Leonard hardened his face and glared at the commander.

After several minutes, Carlyle smirked. He tipped his head to one side and regarded Leonard with a hint of amusement. “Kind of cocky for a son-of-a-bitch who’s locked in a room with the most powerful man at this base.”

Speaking as dispassionately as possible, Leonard replied, “You summoned me. I presume you have something you wish to discuss?”

“I do.”

“Then please, go ahead. I can’t read your mind.”

The commander stood and took a step forward. Leonard craned his neck to maintain eye contact while projecting a sense of detachment. Unable to rile Leonard, Carlyle commenced pacing slowly and confidently.

“People are concerned, Leonard.”

“Are they?” Leonard said, a thinly veiled mockery in his voice.

“Shouldn’t they be?”

“You tell me.”

Carlyle laughed. He ceased pacing and leaned against his desk. “My, my, my. You are going to make this so—very—easy.”

Leonard’s heart skipped a beat. He cleared his throat, hoping his voice would not betray his fear. “What is that, Chris?”

Carlyle glowered. “Let’s stick with
commander,
shall we, Tramer?”

Leonard nodded meekly. For the first time since he resolved to stare Carlyle down he glanced away. Clearly the faux friendship between them had deteriorated. Furthermore, it was evident that Carlyle was on to something. Only an hour ago, Leonard had wanted to lay low and find a way to turn off his tracking link. Now he was mouthing off to the commander. Things were not improving.

What is going on?

Did security discover Leonard hacking into the WLN System? They should have caught that yesterday. Maybe they did. Or was it Sandy? Did they think he had a connection to her death? It could be any number of things. Did they catch him downloading data for Max? Leonard resisted the urge to feel his left sock. At this juncture, there were so many possibilities, his head spun. Hoping to take control of the conversation, Leonard switched tactics. Aloof and cocky wasn’t going to save him. He needed to find out how much they knew.

Staring at the floor, Leonard spoke softly. “I didn’t know Sandy Little was so messed up. I would have reported her if—”

“Fragile women are of no concern to me. Honestly, I couldn’t give a damn about Sandy Little.” He rolled his eyes.

Taken aback, Leonard said, “That’s a little harsh—”

“You will do well to address me in a civil tone, Tramer. You need me. I’m the only friend you’ve got right now.”

Friend? What is he talking about?

Confident that the issue, whatever it was, had nothing to do with Sandy Little, Leonard considered the other possibilities. He could not approach any of the topics without giving Carlyle a lead, so he remained quiet, praying that the commander would let something slip.

Carlyle resumed pacing. “I got several calls about your lunch outburst.”

“Outburst? Oh, that stupid break enforcer.”

“Marge Simpleton.”

Leonard shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. “I guess I kind of did take it out on her. I mean, she wouldn’t leave me alone. After Sandy…you know, I didn’t have much of an appetite.”

A sly grin formed on Carlyle’s face. “You’re exhibiting rather CARS-like behavior.” As he spoke, he stared unblinking, watching for any sign of disquiet.

At that moment, the commander surely was not disappointed, for a bead of sweat rolled down Leonard’s right temple. Trembling — he prayed not visibly — Leonard tallied the bits of information. Like a physical blow to the gut, it hit him. It made absolutely no difference what Carlyle and his boys saw or knew. All that mattered was that they suspected something was amiss. Perhaps they had nothing but a lunch tantrum, a feeble hunch. But that was enough. Carlyle could send him to the DOH to be
retested
for CARS. No one would bat an eye after his unruly outburst.

The commander was telling the truth.

He is my only friend right now.

Leonard took a deep, steadying breath. “Sir, I am so sorry that I frightened Ms…Simpleton. I really ought to apologize.”

“No need.”

“But I—”

“Don’t fuck with me, Tramer.” Carlyle marched forward, his finger pointing in accusation. “You’re up to something. You’re flustered. Nervous. Angry.”

“It’s—”

“And don’t tell me you’re in mourning over the Little woman. I know damn well you don’t give a shit about anyone in that department. You’ve made that abundantly clear on a number of occasions.”

Leonard bit his lip and closed his eyes.

“I used to find that an admirable trait. Figured you’d keep an eye on those morons. No personal loyalties.” He raised one eyebrow. “But you’ve been spooked by something these past few weeks. I used to think Alina was the weak link, but now I’m not so sure.”

“You really think I have CARS?” Leonard blurted, testing whether or not Carlyle knew about the CARS scam.

The commander guffawed.

He knows.

“Don’t tempt me, Tramer. All I have to do is push a button.”

Leonard’s stomach turned. It was all over. There was nowhere to run. Even if he found a place to run, the Feds would track him in a matter of seconds. His world was collapsing around him and there was nothing he could do. He could not save Natalia from the rape that awaited her on Friday. He couldn’t whisk Alina away. No Grand Junction. No free society. Only the infirmary.

A sinister smile formed on the commander’s lips. “You seem a little shook up there, Tramer. Feeling okay?”

Regaining his composure, Leonard replied, “Of course.”

Carlyle nodded. “So why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

Leonard turned his palms upward, indicating confusion.

“What are you two planning?” Carlyle barked.

“Us two?”

“You and Alina. What are you up to? You took a walk last night, very late.” Carlyle put two fingers over his lips and smiled. “Visited the Guilder Project. Very odd for someone who has barely touched his wife in years.”

This remark sent Leonard over the edge. They actually kept track of how many times he had sex with his wife? He leapt out of his chair, fists clenched. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Carlyle laughed. “Relax, relax. The Watchers don’t waste time with that.” He cleared his throat. “At least, they have the decency not to log such details on their reports. I was just testing you. Nice reaction. I kind of made the presumption since you haven’t had a nice thing to say about her since I’ve met you.”

Leonard sat down.

“Except yesterday,” the commander said. “When I spoke to you, you kind of defended her, didn’t you?”

“I don’t hate my wife.”

“Of course. Of course.” He frowned. “As a matter of fact, I think you like her very much.”

“Is that a crime now?”

“It is if you intend to betray us.”

“How?” Leonard pressed, hoping to discern what it was they suspected. Did they know about the escape plan? “Has Alina ever been accused of traitorous activity? If she has, it’s news to me. And I would think a
friend
like yourself would give me a heads-up about such a matter.”

Carlyle examined Leonard’s face as if considering the possibility that his subordinate was being sincere. “We have our reasons,” he said, his voice low and menacing.

Who is we?
Leonard wondered.

“We learn all kinds of things when dubious citizens are left to wander unaware.”

With nothing left to do but bluff, Leonard sighed, a look of utter defeat and frustration on his face. “I have no idea what you are talking about, commander.”

“Really?” Carlyle responded, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You were just out taking a walk with your wife?”

“Yes, we took a walk. We needed to talk and didn’t want Natalia listening in on our conversation.”

“What did you talk about?”

“It’s really none of your business, sir.”

“I say it
is.
”

Grimacing, Leonard prattled on. He feigned embarrassment, hoping to distract and mislead the commander. “It has something to do with what you said before…you know, about me not touching my wife in years. We have some issues we need to work out.”

“I see.”

“I’m going to become a lonely, old workaholic if I don’t restore our relationship.”

Carlyle chuckled softly. “But yesterday you implied you’d like to be rid of her.”

Leonard sighed. “Exactly. What a horrid thing to say. I’m doomed to be a recluse.”

“Uh-huh. And what about your little visit in the Guilder Project?”

How should I play this?
“She needed to drop something off to a friend.”

“Did she tell you what it was?”

“No. Frankly, I didn’t want to interrogate her. Our conversation was already on shaky ground.”

Carlyle settled on the edge of his desk again. Leonard tried to maintain the face of an exasperated man — a man who believed he was being unfairly accused.

“Did you get a glimpse of what Alina passed to her friend?”

“An envelope.”
What are you doing, Leonard?
A wave of shame threatened to break his concentration. Was he setting up Alina to save himself?
What kind of man does such a thing?

“Interesting,” Carlyle whispered, his eyes alight with glee.

Leonard stared at the ground, unable to look the commander in the eye.

“Have you let anything slip…about the Stasi project?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“Now’s the time to fess up. I’m willing to overlook a transgression if we nip this in the bud.” His face reddened and his tone intensified. “These counterrevolutionaries are like a disease, Leonard. You have no idea how much damage they have done. We’re picking up traitors every day.”

“I—”

“What does Alina know?” Carlyle demanded, spit flying from his lips.

Leonard sighed. “As far as I’m aware, commander, she knows nothing. What could she possibly know?”

Carlyle narrowed his eyes and remained silent for several minutes. Finally, he nodded slowly.

“You’re good, Tramer.”

“Pardon me?”

The commander glowered, searching Leonard’s eyes. He stood and made his way around the desk in order to sit in his proper chair. “This is starting to sound like a DOH matter,” he said casually, fiddling with a file on his desk. “I’m going to let them sort this out.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Leonard cocked his head. A chill crawled up his spine. “Are you threatening me, sir?”

“I’m done threatening, Tramer. We’re past threatening.”

What happens when we’re past threatening?

“You need to spend a little time with your family. Make amends. Perhaps they will remember you fondly.”

Leonard’s breathing quickened.

“I noticed you’re taking Thursday off. Your daughter’s birthday?”

“Yes.”

“That’s very sweet…for a hard, unfeeling man.” One lip curled up in a smirk. “Nevertheless…” He rapidly clicked a ballpoint pen. “…I won’t let it be said I ruined the birthday of a young girl.”

“How would you—?”

“Report back on Friday.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“I want you off-base.”

“For two days?”

“Report to our DOH office, third floor, on Friday morning and—”

“A CARS test?”

“Don’t play stupid, Tramer. It doesn’t become you.”

Leonard swallowed.

Carlyle leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the edge of the desk. “I tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to turn you off for thirty-six hours. Your whole family.” He looked at his watch. “We’ll round it up to be extra generous. Say five o’clock Thursday morning.”