by Robert Graf
Isaac laughed. "I didn't, the Cardinal did. I helped with the wording." His tone sobered. "He didn't come right out and say so, but he's very worried that the Curia isn't as concerned.
"Did your Cardinal give you a hard time?"
"Not really. He chewed me out, but his heart wasn't in it. I've got to run or I'll be late for Vespers. Keep in touch."
She put the phone down. Well, that was enlightening. Can't put it off any longer. She opened her tablet and linked to the Independent Journal’s obituary section. Let's see how others have dealt with their families. She began to read.
Ann glanced at the clock, two hours gone. Her neck and back had stiffened, so she got up and tried a few stretches. They helped. She resumed her seat and re-read the draft obituary, basically a brief biography. She couldn't submit it until the memorial date was set.
Now for a eulogy. What could she say? Not the truth, yet twenty years of marriage deserved something. What was that saying, "Speak no ill of the dead" or "I come not to praise Caesar, but to bury him". She put her head in her hands. "Damn you, why did you have to get killed?"
She tried to relax and write an outline but gave up. She strode back to the bedroom and changed into a comfortable shirt and pants and running shoes. A brisk walk should clear her head. On the way out she pocketed her phone and a small stuff-sack.
Cool sunny weather and a slight breeze calmed her, and she began to enjoy the exercise. The eulogy bothered her. It’s like sitting in judgment of their life together, and she'd already made that decision. Was he a good man? She supposed he was, though she'd never thought of him in quite that fashion. He was a competent scientist, not intuitive like her but methodical and thorough. Had she really loved him? Maybe at first, though thinking about it, infatuation, even gratitude was closer. Losing the baby had hurt, hurt terribly, and learning any more could kill her had placed a tremendous strain on them. It was her decision to have the hysterectomy. Then the endless months struggling to prove their theory pushed children into the background. The years passed and now this.
A muffled chirp from her phone stopped her. She pulled it from her pocket. Winslow!
"Dr. Grey, do you have a minute?"
She looked around, surprised to find herself near the shopping center. Good thing traffic was light. "Sure, what can I do for you?"
"Two things: First, you may pick up your husband's body from the Portland City morgue; the official cause of death is a massive heart attack. Please accept my sincere sympathy at your loss."
Her scalp prickled. "Official cause?"
"The medical examiner found significant residue of a powerful sedative in his blood, though it was not the primary cause of death."
That was too clinical. She wanted to sit down, but there were no benches or anything else. "He was drugged."
"I'm afraid so. That's the second item. We're treating this as a kidnapping and murder case. We’ve collected enough forensic evidence to conclude the warehouse fire was arson."
She felt the cold anger building up. "What did you find at home, besides having a house guest?"
"Nothing, except your front door lock was forced, a professional job."
Who would do this? "Did you question Farid's brother?"
"The engineer? The brother lives in Cairo."
"Yes, and Farid told his brother about fact checking."
Politeness vanished. "How do you know this?"
"I asked."
"The engineer?"
"No, my prototype."
"You believe the machine?"
She wanted to scream. Was it always going to be pulling teeth? "Yes, ask Dr. Toffler at NASA."
"I certainly will. Do you have any other information you've neglected to tell me?"
She hesitated. What about Ian? Fuck it, let the chips fall wherever. She was sick of the secrecy. Her instincts told her secrecy was the ultimate cause of all the deaths. “Ask MacDougal who he's discussed the fact checking with besides our CEO and me and my husband. Oh, I'm certain my husband discussed it with people at the moon base, but I don't know who."
Winslow’s eyes widened. "Your machine told you?"
"Essentially, yes." She should shut up before she talked herself into getting arrested.
"Dr. Grey, we'll speak further."
Ann just stood there, barely aware of pedestrians detouring around her and cars turning into the parking lot. Well, now you've gone and done it, she thought. She found Ian's code and tapped it.
"Yes, Ann."
He looked tired and depressed. No wonder, Hooper blamed him for the deaths, and to some degree that was true. So did she. "I just spoke with Agent Winslow. They've released Jon’s body and concluded it's a kidnap and murder case. I told her about Farid's brother and hinted at Swales."
"As we suspected. Clio cleared Swales of destroying the lab, though I’m positive he’s responsible for Doug’s death. Anyway, it's out of our hands. Will there be a funeral?"
"I've made arrangements with a local funeral home; there will be a memorial service within the week. I'll let you know."
"Please do, anything else?"
"No, we'll talk later." She noticed the nearby Safeway and started toward it. Might as well get some food.
The groceries put away, Ann warmed the left-over macaroni and cheese in the microwave for lunch. While it heated she booted her tablet and checked for the NASA agreement. It was there, and she began reading, trying to translate the legalese.
Global would assign her to NASA for up to one year to explore the EntCom’s abilities. Her salary, unchanged, would be paid by NASA along with living expenses. The interesting section detailed what would be done with any discoveries. NASA would get the operational benefit and free upgrades while Global would get exclusive commercial use with a royalty paid to NASA.
The microwave dinged. She quit reading and ate, mulling over what she'd read. It was a sweet deal for Global, but what about her? The agreement omitted anything about publishing. That's what she burned to do, announce to the world what she'd found. There's that damn NDA, how to get around it? Jon was right, they'd tie her in knots. Or would they? Maybe not, the secret's out; Hooper admitted it's too late. What if she resigned and went to work for NASA as an independent contractor? That appealed to her far more than staying with Global. Let them make all the gazillions they wanted, she didn't care. But would NASA balk if Global put up a fuss?
She needed an experienced lawyer. The communication application was based on the theory she and Jon published as post-docs. They’d developed the prototype before being bought by Global. The NDA was specifically for the EntCom as a communication system, not her prototype as a fact-checker.
Screw Global, she would do whatever the hell she wanted. She needed a lawyer, and quick, before returning the agreement. What about the firm that had handled the buyout? Greedy bastards, necessary at the time but too expensive now. One of Alex’s daughters was a freshly-minted lawyer. Would she do? She needed to make a to-do list. With that in mind she jotted down her priorities on a napkin:
1. Call funeral home about body, schedule memorial service
2. Write eulogy
3. Get copy of NDA
4. Call Alex about lawyer daughter, which one?
5. Write resignation letter
6. Check on wills or whatever Global had made them sign, HR?
7. Check with Moshe about exotic matter
8. ?
She studied the list; that would keep her busy for the rest of the day. She picked up her phone and tapped in the funeral home link.
The kitchen clock ticked over to 6:30, and she wasn't finished. Time to call Alex. She selected his link. Several rings later the voicemail menu activated; she left a brief message and disconnected, her spirits downcast.
Her stomach reminded her she hadn't eaten, and she didn't want to cook. She shuffled through the everything drawer, looking for takeout menus. She found Hunan’s and after perusing the choices, ordered veggie chow mein, Sichuan prawns and
spring egg rolls. The polite woman promised delivery in half-an-hour.
Her phone blinked indicating another call..
Alex’s tired face peered at her. "Ann, I just missed your call."
Her pulse quickened. "I'm glad you called. How was your day?"
"Busy and long and tiring, and yours?"
She laughed. "The same which is one reason I called. Didn't you say one of your daughters was a lawyer?"
"Yes, Lynn. Why?"
"I'm going to resign from Global and go out on my own. I need legal advice to steer clear of any complications with the NDA."
He whistled, "Wow, that's a big change. What's NDA, some government agency?"
"Sorry, Non Disclosure Agreement. We had to sign one to prevent us from giving away corporate secrets. But it's so narrowly focused on the EntComs’ communication ability I think I can squirm out of it."
"I don't know exactly what she does. What you want sounds rather specialized, so she may not be able to help."
"I'd still like to try."
"OK. I have the weekend off. What if I come down to your place?"
Her heart leaped. "The long drive won't leave us much time."
He laughed. "I'll rent a plane and be there in the morning."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "You fly? But you only have one eye."
"I had to take a special checkride, but I passed. Sometimes I need to see the terrain from the air, and a light plane is ideal. It's only a couple hours from Yreka to Petaluma. There must be an airport nearby."
"Yes, it's a few minutes from the house."
"It's a date; I'll call when I get in. I'd fly down tonight, except I'm too tired."
"You be careful."
"Always. Good night, Ann."
She placed the phone on the counter and smiled, excitement and expectation filling her. "What have I started?" she asked the kitchen. “Whatever it is, I like it.” She yawned, early to bed and tomorrow...
[Saturday, Petaluma]
Impatience drove Ann to arise early to shower and dress, then breakfast on toast and fruit. Only eight. He couldn't get here much before nine, could he? She examined her to-do list, two left:
5. Draft resignation letter
7. Check with Moshe about exotic matter
8. ?
The exotic matter would have to wait, but the letter? She booted her tablet, selected the write app and began.
She studied the umpteenth draft and shook her head, unsatisfied. Keep it simple and give no hint of her future plans. Her phone chirped; in her haste she knocked it off the counter. Damn, she muttered and retrieved it. "Alex?"
His face appeared. "I'm here; can you give me a ride? I'll be in front of the general aviation building."
"On my way."
Ann parked near the general aviation building and got out, surprised at the activity. Men, women, and children hurried in and out, small single-engine and larger twin-engine planes landed and took off, climbing into the clear blue sky. Totally different from that horror-filled early morning.
She spotted Alex and waved while hurrying towards him. His face split into a huge grin, and she flung her arms around him and kissed him. He hugged her back, and they clung to each other, drawing glances and smiles from passersby.
"Glad to see me?" he asked, finally letting her go.
She stepped back, drinking in his twinkling blue eyes. "Oh, yes." She admired his dull-green jacket with its profusion of pockets and zippers. "Pretty fancy."
"It's Army surplus, keeps me warm. I didn't eat breakfast, and the restaurant here is supposed to be good. Are you game?"
"Airport food? Are you kidding?"
He laughed. "Forget the stuff you've had at big airports. This is homey, or so I've been told."
She could eat again. "Why not," she answered taking his arm as he picked up his bag. "Which way?"
They entered the Two-Niner through double glass doors. Her first impression was of an airplane museum. The walls were covered with photos of old-fashioned bi-planes and tri-planes, and models hung from the ceiling over a soda fountain; black upholstered boots lined the aisles. The place was uncrowded, and except for the occasional yelling child, the customers chatter subdued.
They got a booth where they could watch the planes takeoff and land.
"This is lovely, I didn't know it existed."
"It's got a good reputation," he replied, opening his menu.
They spoke little while eating, mostly pleasantries about their respective weeks. Ann didn't want to bring up anything serious, and Alex didn't push. They finished, and she paid despite his protestations. Hand-in-hand they walked back to her Ford hybrid.
"I want to show you where I used to work."
He looked at her curiously. "The lab?"
Why did she even bring it up? She hadn't gone back, just seen news images that left her shaken. "I haven't had the nerve to visit it by myself. If you wouldn't mind?"
"So long as you're sure."
She drove to the old industrial park and stopped at the driveway. The burnt out shell of her lab was unchanged— broken, soot-covered walls surrounding mounds of burnt rubble, the blackened remains of the collapsed roof. A temporary chain-link fence surrounded the ruins.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she stared at the destruction. "We spent years here struggling to make quantum communication a reality. This destruction makes me sick. Why?"
He unclipped his seatbelt, leaned across and hugged her. She leaned into his embrace. "Craig and Ricardo never had a chance. A van packed with explosives was remotely detonated, and they were killed. It could have been me."
He held her. "It's survivor's guilt. For years I brooded over why I lived and my buddies didn't until finally accepting that's the way it goes."
She sniffed. "Sometimes I get so furious I want to scream and find the fuckers who did this and blow them to hell. Then I realize there's nothing I can do about it. It tears me apart."
He just held her. She pulled back and gazed at his serious expression. "See what you've gotten involved in?"
He returned her gaze. "I see a beautiful, brave, intelligent woman that I wouldn't trade for anything in the world."
She wiped her eyes. "You're the crazy one. Let's go home," she answered and drove away.
Once inside she took his arm and led him to the bedroom where, without speaking, they slowly undressed each other, dropping their clothes on the floor. They fell onto her bed and made love, tenderly, reverently until both climaxed and lay drained and sweaty, arms and legs all in a tangle.
"What should we do for the rest of the day?" she murmured into his neck.
He rubbed her neck, shoulders, back, and butt before answering. "Stay like this?"
She tingled at his touch. "Hmmm, I could be talked into it, but let's take a shower first before deciding."
He kissed the top of her head. "OK.” He untangled himself and sat up.
They showered, taking longer than necessary to soap, rinse off, and towel each other dry before dressing and repairing to the kitchen.
"Tea?" she asked, opening a cupboard and peering at the near empty shelves. "I've got Earl Grey and English breakfast."
"The English sounds good."
Ann prepared two steaming cups and sat next to him. She sipped her tea, burning her tongue. "I've arranged for Jon's body to be picked up from Portland and brought back for cremation. There'll be a small memorial service." She hesitated. "I'd like you to be there, or would that make you uncomfortable."
Alex sipped his tea before answering. "What about the families and friends, especially your husband's? How would you explain me to them?"
"I'm no good at lying, and my feelings toward you would be too apparent. Maybe that's not such a good idea."
"Think about it, in any case I need a few days warning. Now, tell me why the sudden desire to start anew? Resigning from a well-paying job is a huge step."
What did she want? One choice sat next to her sipping tea, and the other? "
I have to understand how fact checking works. My utter ignorance is driving me insane. If I stay with Global I won't have the freedom to pursue whatever idea I want, everything's focused on profit. I can still work with NASA as an independent contractor. Everything that's happened in the last few weeks has left me depressed." Seeing his fleeting frown, she hastened to add, "Except you."
He grinned. "I'm glad you qualified that. Aren't you giving up the funding for what must be expensive equipment and facilities? I know what my survey gear costs, and your requirements must be orders of magnitude more expensive."
“That’s the rub. Except for the exotic matter, I'd have to build another device with off-the-shelf components." At his puzzled expression, she added "I'll explain later. I talked to HR yesterday. When Global bought us out we had to agree to a Corporate Life Insurance policy, payable to corporate in the event we both died, or to whichever one of us survived. It's a million bucks."
"That a lot, but I suspect not enough, right?"
"Yeah. I have some money left from the original buyout, and there are stock options."
His eyes narrowed. "You're about to tell me you've got a lot of money?"
How will he take this? She'd been shocked when HR told her. "I also inherit Jon's options. Depending on the share value, the total's anywhere from five to six million."
He whistled. "That's serious money. Is it enough?"
"For what I want to do, barely. I can burn through that in a year. But I must do this."
"I've thought a lot about what you told me last weekend. I tried imagining what the Taliban or its ilk would do. What happens if a belief held by hundreds of millions were shown to be completely false or absolutely true? Or any established religion or political group or anyone for that matter? The consequences would be catastrophic. History is full of examples."
She listened with growing unease. "You think I shouldn't pursue this? It's too late. Global knows, NASA knows, and so does the FBI and the Catholic Church. Whoever destroyed my lab and stole the prototype and killed the guards knows." Oh no, what if... "Are you religious?"
"Me?" He shook his head. "No. I've never given it much thought, but agnostic fits." He paused. "Do you remember when the so-called Arab Spring revolutions were turning the Middle East upside down?"
