Operation Indigo Sky

by Lawrence Ambrose

  "No, I'm okay." Of course it totally figured that someone who could cook like Lilith would disdain fast food. "Maybe he won't take too long."

  Two hours later, Ellenberg plodded out of the restaurant, unbuttoning his sports jacket. Who wore a sports jacket in this heat?

  "Looks like he ate himself up one clothing size," Lilith snickered.

  I was starting to feel hungry enough to eat my clothes. On cue, my stomach growled, and Lilith shot me a sardonic half-smile. Ellenberg rolled out of the parking lot, and we followed. The Mercedes glowed like a red star in the setting sun. I popped on my sunglasses.

  We trailed him to a place called "MICHAEL'S" on a downtown street.

  "You go get your junk food," said Lilith. "I'll go inside and make contact."

  "It says bar and grill on the sign. Why don't you go inside, and after a few minutes I'll come in? That way I can order a steak or something while you do your thing."

  Lilith mulled that over, her full lips pursed just short of a frown. "Okay."

  She slid out of the van and strode to the bar. No side-to-side sashaying. She moved like an athlete. Unfortunately, that made her even sexier in my eyes, damn them. Good thing I wasn't a slave to biology.

  I waited maybe five minutes before getting out and following Lilith into the bar. The vibe wasn't quite what I expected. There was loud, thumping rave music and some half-naked girl cavorting on the stage. A really broad-shouldered girl. I stopped myself from gawking and moved on.

  The place wasn't exactly "rocking" for a Saturday night. A lot of tables strewn across two adjacent rooms surrounding the stage were empty. Lilith occupied one not far from where our target was sitting alone, nodding and smiling with the raucous beat. It was a diverse crowd. Singles, couples, guys and girls in groups, ranging from twenties to fifties. I didn't waste too much time casing the joint. Lilith was seated at a table next to Ethan Ellenberg's table, but he showed no sign of noticing her.

  I ordered a T-bone steak and a cold beer from a tattooed blond chick bartender with a lip ring at the bar. I swiveled casually to face the room. Ellenberg was continuing to ignore Lilith, who sat with her hip thrust out on her chair, casting an occasional sultry look in his direction.

  The tattooed bartender strolled over to Ellenberg's table with a drink – a creamy yellow concoction that I thought might be a pina colada – and they chatted and smiled as if they knew each other. After the bartender returned to her station, Lilith rose and took a couple of steps before appearing to stumble. She took a convincing nosedive a few feet from Ellenberg's table – convincing enough that I almost believed it. Ellenberg glanced in her direction with mild interest, but made no motion to rise. It was the bartender who bolted across the room and helped her to her feet.

  As the bartender fussed and cooed over a scowling Lilith, Ellenberg resumed sipping his drink, his gaze distant. Something clicked. As a light switched on in my dense brain, I noticed the keys on the floor near where Lilith had taken her swan dive. I didn't know if she'd done that on purpose – I guessed she had, judging from her annoyed backward glances as the bartender led her away.

  I sprang out of my barstool and half-sprinted across the room. Lilith and the bartender noticed my swift approach and froze. Ethan Ellenberg cocked an eyebrow and pursed his lips in question. I retrieved the keys from the floor.

  "Miss," I called after Lilith. "I think you dropped these."

  Lilith regarded me with cold blue eyes. She extended one regal hand, and I deposited the keys in it.

  "Thanks," she said.

  She about-faced, shook free of the bartender's grasp, and strode, heels clacking on the hardwood floor, toward the exit. She paused at the door, and for a fleeting second our eyes met. A cool smile twitched on her lips, and then she was gone.

  "You're going to let her get away so easily?"

  I turned to see Ethan Ellenberg arching a dry eyebrow and a thin smile at me.

  "She's not my type," I said.

  "Beautiful, stuck-up women aren't your type?"

  "Uh, well..." I sucked it up and summoned a smile. "Women in general aren't my type."

  There it was. The gauntlet. I waited, while Ellenberg regarded me with a carefully composed poker face.

  "May I buy you a drink?" he asked.

  "Um, okay. Sure."

  I settled awkwardly at his table under his amused gaze.

  "I'm Ethan Ellenberg," he said.

  "Hay – " I cleared my throat, cursing myself for the slip. "Scott Harrow."

  We shook hands. His soft grip barely creased my flesh.

  "I don't believe I've seen you here before," he said.

  "No. I just started a job in the area."

  "As have I. May I ask what kind of work?"

  "Oh, just some retrofitting at Wal-Mart."

  "In Brookings?"

  "Right. Yes."

  "How are the FEMA detention camp cells coming?"

  He said it with a perfectly straight face. Only when I stared at him did he offer the faintest of smiles.

  "Ha," I said. "No, I haven't been involved with that. Probably above my security clearance."

  He responded with a soft chuckle. He lifted one finger to the bartender, who sent a waitress over. I ordered a beer, and he another piña colada.

  "You must know Burt Maxwell," Ellenberg said.

  "Yeah." I thanked my lucky stars that I had his name. "He hired us. Is he a friend?"

  Ellenberg wrinkled his nose. "Hardly. But we've had some business dealings."

  "You're in the construction business?"

  "Property development, yes. We specialize in large-scale building projects, such as hospitals, hotels, military facilities, and malls."

  "Do you build Wal-Marts?"

  Ellenberg chuckled. "No. They hire their own general contractors. We aren't a construction company per se. We develop properties as the property owner, overseeing construction operations."

  "Oh. Sounds like you're big-time."

  "Well, I certainly do have an appreciation for big things."

  Our gazes met. I swallowed and worked up a shaky smile.

  "You mentioned you were working on something in the area," I said. "So when you said you had business dealings with Wal-Mart, I just sort of assumed..."

  He nodded and smiled patiently. "No, I'm overseeing the Sioux Falls Mall construction. It's one of our properties."

  "Oh. Wow. Yeah, I've heard about that." I concocted a mischievous grin. "How are the detention camp cells coming?"

  Several beats passed before Ellenberg dredged up a short laugh.

  "Touche," he said.

  The waitress returned with our drinks. A reddish glow suffused Ellenberg's plump cheeks as he drew a long dose of piña colada through his straw. I wondered what Lilith was doing. I had the keys to the van, so she wasn't going anywhere in it. I probably should excuse myself at some point and go check on her.

  "Anyway," said Ellenberg, "enough talk of business. Where do you hail from, Scott Harrow?"

  "The, um, Denver area."

  "Ah. I'm a great admirer of Colorado. I'm especially fond of Aspen. I have a chalet there."

  Why wasn't I surprised? "Cool. Wish I could afford that."

  "Well, one never knows. A resourceful, handsome young man like yourself – the sky should scarcely be the limit."

  He said it matter-of-factly, but his eyes weren't matter-of-fact. I couldn't remember any woman ever looking at me with such open appreciation. I almost felt bitter about it. And creeped out.

  "Ah, thanks," I said. "Not sure I'm feeling that 'sky's the limit' thing, but I'm not completely pessimistic about my future."

  Ellenberg smiled indulgently. "It all comes down to goals and choices and, most of all, believing that you will succeed. If you do, nothing can stop you."

  I wondered how hard Ethan Ellenberg had believed in himself to get where he was. From what I'd read, everything had pretty much been gift-wrapped and handed to him. But maybe to him that seemed like some ep
ic struggle of will. I forced a smile.

  "I'll try to keep that in mind," I said.

  "I'll bet I know what you're thinking." Ellenberg's dark brown eyes drilled into me over his knowing smile. "Some old rich fart spouting off."

  "I don't think you're that old."

  His smile broadened. I hadn't even thought of complimenting him – just stating my honest opinion.

  "Very kind of you to say. Lord knows, I'm feeling more and more ancient these days. I try to take care of myself, but it's difficult on my schedule."

  "Yeah, it's kind of hard when you're traveling. I haven't worked out for days." In truth, I couldn't remember the last time I'd skipped a workout or a grappling session for this long. I was pretty sure my companion hadn't seen the inside of a gym or watched his diet for ages.

  "What do you say we get out of here?" He massaged the back of his neck. "The loud music is giving me a headache."

  "Well, uh" – I tried to think fast – "where do you want to go?"

  "How about my place? Not to be pushy, but it has a pool, an indoor movie theater, and plenty of booze. And a lot less noise." He smiled and raised his hands as I struggled to wrap my hetero Marine brain around this. "No pressure, Scott. I know we just met, and I'm a lot older and – let's be blunt – a lot homelier than you. I could just use a friend out here, and that's all I'm suggesting."

  "Okay."

  "Okay about coming home with me?"

  I compelled myself to shrug. I was facing a crisis of conscience. I told myself all was fair in love and conspiracy theories...?

  "Sure," I said. "In all honesty, the friendship part is more what I was thinking."

  "I understand. Fine with me. It's not like I'm some young pup overflowing with testosterone anyway."

  He staggered to his feet. I grabbed an arm to steady him.

  "Thanks. You're very kind. I just need to use the little boy's room, and we'll be on our way."

  As Ethan Ellenberg shuffled toward the restroom, I slipped quickly outside and jogged over to my van. I didn't see Lilith, but when I opened the door, I heard heavy breathing in back.

  "Hey," I called softly.

  The floorboard creaked and Lilith rose from behind the second row of seats, blinking hard.

  "I conked out," she muttered.

  "Sorry to disturb your beauty sleep, but I'm about ready to follow Ethan Ellenberg home. If you wouldn't mind staying in and lying low."

  "Go ahead and say it," she grumbled. "I made a fool out of myself."

  "Maybe later. Just keep down for now, okay?"

  I made my way back into the bar about the time Ellenberg emerged from the bathroom. He looked a bit unsteady on his feet.

  "Are you sure you're okay to drive?"

  "Two watered down drinks are hardly sufficient to impair my judgment, my boy," he said, carefully enunciating every word. I made a snap decision.

  "Give me your keys. I'll drive you home."

  "Sweet, but completely unnecessary." He pondered my outthrust hand. "Oh, very well, if you insist."

  He plunked his keys in my hand. I walked with him to his SUV, wondering what the hell I'd gotten myself into.

  "I'll just lock up my car," I said when we reached his car.

  "Of course."

  I hustled over to the van while Ellenberg dropped into the passenger side of his Mercedes. I cracked open the door and dropped my keys onto the front seat.

  "I'm driving him back to his place," I said under my breath. "Why don't you get some dinner? I'll let you know when to pick me up."

  I heard her rustle around behind the seats. I expected her to protest or make some snarky comment, but instead she answered in a quiet voice: "Okay. Good luck."

  When I climbed in next to Ethan Ellenberg, he stirred groggily.

  "You're very kind," he said, placing a hand on my knee.

  Crap. I gritted my teeth against the urge to remove his hand with force. Fortunately, it withdrew as I started the Mercedes. Ellenberg provided directions as we rolled out of the parking lot and then onto the freeway.

  His Mercedes was as smooth as silk compared to the van. Ellenberg's fingers flicked over the controls, and the cabin chilled down as though an arctic breeze had been funneled inside. I spotted my van in the rearview mirror and the familiar outlines of her Blonde Highness behind the wheel.

  Ethan slid over, his hand returning to my thigh, his boozy breath tweaking my nostrils.

  "Ethan." I bit down on the harsh tone. "I need to concentrate, dude."

  "Oh, yes, of course. I'm sorry. I forget myself." He laughed, and slid back into his seat. "Something I don't do often enough, I'm afraid."

  What happened to him not being pushy? I fought back my irritation. Getting him drunk and loose-lipped – as long as those lips stayed away from me – was my goal, after all.

  "How is it going with the mall?" I asked.

  "No complaints. The foreman's an ass, but he gets the job done."

  "I read that a number of stores are closing in the other mall, so I'm surprised someone would be building an even bigger, more expensive store."

  "Yes," Ellenberg said with a thoughtful smile. "That does present something of an enigma, doesn't it?"

  "And it's further from the main boulevard, unlike the old mall."

  "Quite true."

  "Not that I know much about shopping malls. It just made me wonder. You guys must have your reasons for thinking the business will be there."

  "Well, Scott, my boy, there are many kinds of business, and income can come from many sources."

  "Customers buying things is the only source that comes to mind."

  Ellenberg dug out a flask of whiskey from the glove compartment and took a generous swig. I declined his offer of a taste.

  "Questioning things is the luxury of youth," he said with a wistful chuckle. "When you reach a certain age, asking too many questions and making people explain too much becomes less desirable."

  "Sounds wise."

  "No. Just practical."

  Ellenberg's smile was starting to resemble the cat that had swallowed the canary.

  "There's something more involved?" I knew I had to be cautious, but Ethan Ellenberg's conspiratorial smile seemed to invite questions.

  "What if your investment was guaranteed? What if you didn't even have to pay for it?"

  I played along. "Through what magic would that happen?"

  "What's the biggest source for guaranteed investments and free grants?"

  "Are you saying...some form of government money is involved?"

  "One never knows."

  "Part of the infamous DHS-Wal-Mart partnership?" Ellenberg shrugged and smiled and sipped his drink. "You're saying you have government backing for the mall?"

  "I didn't say that. I'm merely pointing out that appearances can be deceiving in our brave new free enterprise system."

  He motioned to the next exit, which I took. We soon entered his neighborhood. He triggered his garage with a touch on his control panel. I slipped the Mercedes next to a Porsche coup.

  "I have my sportier side," he said, noting my glance at the Porsche.

  We entered into what struck me as more a museum than house: huge, open rooms, cherry cabinet built-ins, curving windows, marble sculptures on pedestals, art hanging everywhere on the walls.

  "I suggest we retire to the main balcony," Ellenberg said. "The view of the sunset from there can be exquisite. What are you drinking?"

  "Ah, whatever you're having." I had no intention of doing anything more than pretend to drink.

  "You have excellent taste."

  He mixed up something from the bar perched near the kitchen and led the way out to the balcony. The sun had already dipped below the trees but was illuminating the pink clouds overhead, bathing the pool and the yard in an eerie light.

  "Cheers," said Ellenberg, and we clicked glasses. "I've found that with enough alcohol, and at the right time of day, even this dreadful place can appear beautiful."

 
; I took a sip. Predictably, it was something fruity. Not bad, though. I watched the last sunlight shimmer in the clouds and a crescent Moon rise below a bright evening star. Venus, I guessed. I was surprised to find that for the first time this evening I was enjoying the moment. I wasn't sure how much more if anything I could get from my host. I was pretty happy with what I had right now. Still, the intrepid investigative reporter never fails to go for the news jugular, right? I dug out my cell and set it to record before slipping it into my front shirt pocket.

  "Someone called?" Ellenberg asked.

  "No," I said. "I thought I'd check." I added, "I'm afraid they might ask me to come in to work tomorrow. They're on a tight schedule."

  "Aren't we all? But even wage slaves have a right to one day off a week."

  I took another tiny sip from my drink, and watched the Moon expand just over the trees. The Moon looked strangely large tonight, the rest of its body darkly illuminated by the sliver of sunlight on its side. It made me think of a science fiction movie.

  "What you were saying before..." I coughed into my hand. "About the government and these buildings. To be honest, I found it kind of disturbing."

  "Don't bother your pretty head about it, Scott. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss."

  "But I'd like to know what's going on. I get the feeling I'm missing something – something important."

  "Once you know something, it can't be unknown. My father said that to me many years ago, when I still believed in the Tooth Fairy."

  "What does the Tooth Fairy represent?"

  Ellenberg laughed. "It's the grand illusion – that good triumphs, that our rulers are good and looking out for us. America and freedom and apple pie and even those dratted picket fences."

  "I still believe in that. Otherwise, what did I and my friends risk their lives for?"

  "You were in the military?"

  "Yes."

  "I had that feeling." He nodded to himself. I fought down a frown. Was I that transparent?

  "What did your dad tell you?" I asked.

  "Just that the tooth fairy doesn't exist. Though some of them believe they are gods."

  "The 'Powers that Be'?"

  "That's one name for them."

  "It's a big club, but we aren't in it."