For the other thousands upon thousands of employees who resided directly at SATP, and who were not part of the upper brass, there was the Emporium, a general store that carried everything anyone could possibly need. Anything they didn’t carry could be ordered. Everything from technology to baking flour and gardening gloves to vacation packages could be purchased in the store and delivered anywhere on campus. An enormous store, it took up four full floors in the building, and while it could get busy, Keegan liked visiting the brightly-lit Emporium. It reminded him of life before SATP, back in Brooklyn. Where the local market was not only the place to get your stuff for the week, but a meeting place. He liked that.
This was no regular trip to the Emporium, though, and Keegan didn’t have much time after Robert’s debriefing, especially having waited around to try to talk to Claire. She’d been stand-offish, which was not unexpected given the situation, but he knew now he could have used those five minutes back. To compensate, he moved through the store at a quick pace, almost running over a young woman coming out of one of the aisles.
After a few moments, he reached the liquor section of the store, which was not as popular a destination as one might think. The rules at SATP were clear about liquor on the premises – only allowed in certain areas, mostly restaurants. Personnel were forbidden from having liquor in their apartments, and the penalties were steep: three infractions meant you were gone from SATP. Now, Keegan knew that some of the leadership kept fully-stocked liquor cabinets in their places for entertaining, but for just about everyone else on campus, working at SATP was such a privilege that people didn’t screw around with breaking the rules. As a result, the liquor store’s wide array of product was generally used for gifts and special occasions.
Tonight, of course, was one of those special occasions, as the campus’ liquor rules were relaxed for post-mission celebrations. The party that followed every safe return from a mission was usually one that couldn’t be missed – a bunch of SATP personnel who rarely drank alcohol getting together to have a rules-free evening. While Keegan, who had naturally moonlighted during college as a bouncer, had seen parties that would make parents lock their kids in their bedrooms, he was certain that to many of the sheltered SATP folks, the raucous nature of these events was the stuff you only saw in movies. It was always a good time.
Walking past aisles of wine and liquor, Keegan made his way to the register, where an older man with thin, gray hair stood in front, facing away from him, adjusting bottles. “How’d we do?” he asked.
The man turned and smiled. “Keegan,” he said, greeting him. “You’re going to be pleased.”
Keegan considered himself a networker, and enjoyed getting to know people throughout the campus when he could. Don Gerard was one of his favorites. He’d been running the liquor store in the Emporium for as long as Keegan had been at SATP, and was from New York like he was, so they liked to talk about the Yankees and “real” pizza. As the unofficial “spirits coordinator” for the after-mission parties, Keegan had gotten to know Gerard over the past few years, and had learned that he also owned a distillery about a half-hour outside of Greensboro where he made his own whiskey that was exceptionally good. “What’d you find?” he asked.
Gerard finished straightening the last bottle and peeled himself away from his task, retreating behind the counter and pulling out a liquor bottle. He handed it to Keegan, who inspected it. “That’s an ’84,” he said. “Bourbon whiskey. Spotted Bass Distillery, just outside Louisville. Really good stuff, and hard to find.”
“I guess, huh?” Keegan said. He quickly counted in his head how old the bottle was. “He’ll love it. He mentioned this distillery at one point. I’m so glad you could find it.” Robert was originally from Cincinnati, and was not quiet about his affinity for Kentucky bourbon.
Gerard rested his hands on the counter. “Well, they’re still producing, but you’re not going to find anything this rare on the premises there.”
“Where’d you get it? Can I ask?”
The man laughed. “I don’t get my ten percent if my customers can get the stuff themselves, right?”
“No, I suppose not,” Keegan said. “I appreciate it. This will mean the world to him.”
“I hope so,” Gerard said. “He’s a good man. Glad he’s safe.”
Keegan set the bottle on the counter and pressed his thumb against the pay pad. He tried not to be blatant about looking at the price, but saw it was $400-something. The screen indicated that the transaction had gone through, so he picked up the bottle.
“You can’t just walk through the campus holding that bottle,” Gerard said. “Let me have it delivered.”
“No, I’m taking this personally,” he said.
“Well, let me at least wrap it up for you. You look like an alcoholic walking around like that.”
Keegan set the bottle back on the counter. “That would be great. Thanks.”
Gerard fumbled behind the counter for a bag, then stood. “Big guy like you, big tattoo on your face, walking around with a bottle of bourbon. You’d get some looks.”
“I get looks anyway,” he said with a shrug.
He finished bagging the bottle and handed it to him. “Have a great time tonight. I hear those parties can get out of control.”
“They’re not too bad,” he said, smiling. The unwritten rule among the team was that, while everyone seemed to know about the parties, they weren’t supposed to talk about them. “Just a little get-together to celebrate.”
“Yep,” Gerard said.
Keegan smiled, knowing that he wasn’t going to fool the guy who owned the local liquor store and knew exactly what had been shipped upstairs for the party. He left the Emporium and made his way back to his place to get ready.
CHAPTER 11
Robert leaned forward on his hands on his brown Formica kitchen countertop, his tablet laying face up two feet away. The tone from the device indicated the line was ringing, but there had been no answer yet.
He would have been more comfortable sitting, especially with his injury, but he was too restless. He still had a party he was obligated to get to, and knew that if he sat down, he wouldn’t want to get up. So, he played it safe by setting up the call on the countertop.
Still no answer, but he was determined to get through. Inside his apartment, safe from cameras and analysts and scanners, was the only place he had in his life that he could let down his guard and acknowledge that he was still a human being and things could still affect him. And no matter how good a relationship he had with Reilly or Keegan or any of the others, there was only one person he trusted with his innermost thoughts.
After what must have been thirty tones, a blue hologram of a woman’s face appeared, searched for a moment, and made eye contact. “You know I was ignoring the ring,” she said.
Laurie was as immediately pleasing to his eyes as she had ever been, though he was admittedly disappointed that she only allowed the image to show her face. She had a fantastic body. They’d been divorced for nearly fifteen years now, one hundred percent through fault of his own, and he’d never gotten over her. She was married for the last ten of those years, of course, and he hadn’t seen her in person in probably seven or eight years, as she lived in Oregon. He really had no business reaching out to her to be support for him anymore, but he couldn’t help himself. “This was a big day,” he said sheepishly, and silently chastising himself for his sallow demeanor.
“I know. I saw the press conference. I could tell something was wrong.”
He smiled. “Then why would you ignore my call?”
She started to say, “Because I can’t be that person for you anymore,” which she’d said many times before whenever the outside world was attacking him and he’d tried to lean on her. She stopped herself, instead just sighing and shaking her head. “I have about five minutes, and then I have to go pick up Jamie from soccer,” she said. “What’s the matter?”
“How is Jamie?” he asked.
&nb
sp; “That’s not what you called for,” she said. “What’s the problem?”
“It’s gotten to be too much,” he said, standing up but crouching slightly so that he was still in view of the camera on his device. “The program is out of control.”
“Well, aren’t you in a position to fix it?” she asked. “That’s what it was all about. Leadership. Right?”
Her comments stung, but they weren’t unreasonable. In fact, just by calling her, Robert knew he was probably opening the door to some well-deserved abuse. The demise of their marriage hadn’t been due to one of the traditional symptoms that seemed to plague those who choose that path. No infidelity or irreconcilable differences over finances. It had been Robert’s ambition that he had allowed to trump the vows he’d given her. Shortly after they’d met and fallen in love, Robert had joined the burgeoning SATP organization. At that point, he was simply Dr. Robert Mulvaney, American sociologist and historian – a renowned one, but not the globally-recognized hero of time travel. Soon, however, he began to rise quickly through the program, and became the most prolific time traveler at SATP, even ahead of Dipin Chopra, the unofficial team leader at the time. Laurie Phelps (at the time) had felt threatened by Robert’s rise. Not because of his position, but because she was increasingly and reasonably worried every time he went on a mission that the next time she heard from him would be in some letter that he wrote and buried in a cave for her to find hundreds of years later. Despite her hesitancy, when Robert asked her to marry him, she had agreed. But as he became more and more entrenched in the program, even though outside of SATP their relationship was working, eventually she couldn’t take it. They separated and divorced after about 18 months. Robert had known that Laurie was having trouble, but had been unaware of how deep the problem went. He’d told close friends at the time that he’d been “blindsided,” but that was a cover. And even though he was indeed happy with the direction his career had gone since, letting her slip away had always been the major regret of his life. He shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure who’s in charge right now,” he said. “There seems to be more than meets the eye.”
“Your life is politics now,” Laurie said. “Would you expect anything less?”
“No,” he said, “but there’s always hope. This mission was a bad idea.”
“Ah, now we get to it. What happened?”
“I was injured,” he said, realizing he sounded pathetic even though he was trying not to sound pathetic. Did he really call for sympathy? “Almost killed. I was attacked by a swarm of Egyptian soldiers. Well, actually, I don’t know if they were soldiers, but they had weapons. Maybe guards of some sort. I almost didn’t make it back.”
She sighed again. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Robert. That I feel bad for you? You know I think you’re playing with fire every time you go on a mission. Why you believe you’re invincible is beyond me. Always has been.”
He found that even though she was sticking it to him, he was feeling better just talking to her. As if, it didn’t really matter what she was saying, just that it was her saying it. He knew in the back of his mind that her husband, Dan, who seemed like a great person, wouldn’t be in favor of her still playing this role for him, but for some reason he allowed himself to be selfish in these instances. “Yes, I know,” he said.
She looked off-camera, then back again. “Look, I have to go.” She paused for a moment. “I’m sorry that you got hurt. I hope you feel better quickly. And whatever’s going on in your mind related to all this… You have to find someone to talk to. It can’t be me. I have a different life. I have a family, and they take my energy and attention. I don’t have energy and attention for you. I’m sorry.”
“I know,” he said. What she was saying was blunt, but to him it didn’t come across as hurtful, at all. It was the truth, he knew, and it was good for him to hear it to keep everything in perspective.
He also knew, though, that it wouldn’t stop him from calling her again next time.
“Or, Robert,” she said, cutting off the slight smile he was affording himself due to his shenanigans, “maybe it’s time to find something else to do. Something not quite so… dangerous. I don’t know.”
“Hmmm,” he said, looking at her face. He didn’t have an answer to that. Probably because he didn’t want to come up with one.
“I have to go,” she said. “Take care of yourself.”
He started to reply, but the hologram disappeared, and he was alone in his apartment again. He wasn’t sure if he felt better or worse than when he’d initiated the call, but it didn’t matter. Putting on a façade was the norm for him, and there was no better place to put one on than an after-mission party.
After taking a moment to nod his head in the direction of the call that had just ended, he retreated to his bedroom to get ready for the party.
CHAPTER 12
“If you and I disagree on a topic, we’ll debate it until we have nothing left to say, but it will do nothing to change either of our opinions,” Amy said, for everyone around the ping-pong table temporarily set up in Reilly’s lavish apartment to hear. “For that very reason, standard scientific debates are a complete waste of time. This makes it more interesting, adding the strength of each opponent’s concentration, perception, athleticism and resilience to the contest. Anybody can recite memorized arguments, but can they enunciate and stand behind those arguments when their focus is interrupted? The true measure of a debater is tested at this table.”
“Whatever you say,” Keegan answered, humoring her. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard the spiel. Nor was it the first time he’d found himself down to one cup against Amy Cheng in this bizarre twist on Beer Pong that someone at SATP had created sometime in the history of the organization. Keegan could nerd out with the best, but this absurd game set the bar high. He bounced a ball on the table, and it fell helplessly past the other end near Amy’s feet. He looked up and she was shaking her head in pity.
“You used to be better at this,” she said.
“So did you.” It was the only thing he could think of to say. For some reason, this 5-foot, 100-pound woman could not only hold her liquor, but was a crack shot with a ping-pong ball. In all the years Keegan had known her, he’d never seen her lose a game. He, himself, had probably lost to her more than 25 times, he estimated, but kept coming back for more. They’d debated everything from capitalism vs. socialism to the best brand of peanut butter on the market. She’d won every single contest.
Tonight, it was renewable energy vs. fossil fuels. Well, technically, it was a dissertation on renewable energy, since Keegan, representing fossil fuels, had hardly had the chance to weigh in. And he confirmed it wasn’t going to happen when Amy’s last ball splashed in his lone cup. He picked it up and started drinking.
As he took his first sip, she went into her argument: “The cost of wind energy has declined from 13 cents per kilowatt-hour to less than two cents. The cost of electricity from the sun through photovoltaic panels has dropped from more than four cents per kilowatt-hour today…”
Fortunately for Keegan, because he didn’t want to hear any more, he could down a cup of beer in no time. He set his empty cup on the table and smiled at her. “One of these days,” he said.
She pumped her fist in victory, then shook her head. “But not today.” She looked around the table. “Alright, who’s next?”
“You’re not done?”
Amy was grinning. “I’m feeling it tonight,” she said. “And I only had to drink three cups that game.”
Well, that stung. “More power to you,” Keegan said. He glanced around the table at the crowd that had gathered, and noticed Landon, clearly interested in the game, but also clearly trying to avoid eye contact. “How about the new guy?” he said.
“No, I-”
“Yeah, perfect,” Amy said. “It’s a rite of passage. You have to.”
Which wasn’t entirely true, Keegan thought. To this day, Claire had never played the game, and
had made it clear to everyone that they weren’t to even try to goad her into playing. For Landon, though, this was important. It was a test on many levels as to how he’d acclimate himself to the team. A few of them had schemed together ahead of time to make sure he found his way to the table. “It’ll be good,” Keegan said, encouraging him. “Don’t worry – it’ll be over quickly.” Everyone in earshot laughed.
Including Landon, who tried to avoid the challenge by shaking his head, but then finally dropped his guard. “I would need someone to go over the rules for me,” he said, relenting. Keegan smiled to himself. Too easy.
As Amy detailed how to play, Keegan noticed that Robert had made his way to the table, as well, and was watching. They exchanged a glance. “Have you ever played Beer Pong?” she asked Landon, who nodded. “Well, the rules are the same, except for every ball that you get into your opponent’s cup, you get to add a statement onto the debate. You can comment for as long as it takes your opponent to empty the cup. Once they place their cup on the table, your turn is over. Got it?”
Landon nodded, and started to move toward the other end of the table as one of the guys from the engineering team poured a new round of beers. Keegan vacated his position for him, and set up to Landon’s right. After settling in, Landon looked up again. “I didn’t see the beginning of the last game,” he said. “How do you decide the topic for the debate?”
Amy shrugged. “It’s really just a random topic. Unless there’s something you’re passionate about. I’m game to take the opposition position.” Landon shrugged and shook his head, so Amy looked around the table. Keegan watched her settle on Robert. “Let’s let our fearless leader choose. Got anything?”
“I do,” he said. “Let’s do Creationism vs. Evolution.”
The Garden Page 6
