by Darrell Bain
“Okay, now that leaves you as the person most familiar with the Masterville Operation, or what's left of it. I'm going to promote you into Crafton's position if you think you can handle it. Can you?”
“Of course I can,” Shirley said automatically. Never refuse a promotion!
“Fine. I spoke to the President about you and assured him that you could handle the job. Now I want you to concentrate your energies on Masterville, and not on administration. You've got two AA's who are whizzes with the paperwork side of the position. Let them do the grunt work.”
“All right. What's next, then?”
“Fill yourself in on the job and go over the Op Reports on that clusterfuck in Masterville for the next day or two, then I'll get back with you. It may not be in person, but I'll pass some directives down the line to you. How you carry them out is up to you, but I do want them followed exactly enough so that the end result is what we intend for it to be, and I do want the big picture kept secret. So does the President. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Shirley said with quiet dignity, though she was still boiling with turmoil inside.
“Great. Congratulations, then. You'll have a budget to redecorate the office however you like, but don't spend a lot of your time on it. Hire someone. Like I said, Masterville is going to be your main concern for some time to come.”
Shirley took that as a dismissal, though Phillips did stand up and shake her hand and congratulate her again. She was in a daze as she took the elevator back down to the third floor and marched silently into Crafton's old office, now hers. The two Administrative Assistants rushed in behind her, ready and eager to get her off to the right start in her new role.
* * * *
Daniel was glad Lisa was behind the wheel of her pickup and not him. The road up the side of the valley to the site of Beamer Research was paved and well-maintained, but it curved back and forth in long switchbacks as it climbed upwards through thickly forested areas, broken up frequently by granite and slate outcroppings. Lisa apparently knew the route because she didn't hesitate along the way. Daniel kept conversation to a minimum while involuntarily flinching at some of the turns where the side of the mountain appeared to drop away into an eternity of darkness. At one point she pulled off onto a little roadside park and used her phone.
She spoke for a moment, then said, “Tyrone will be waiting for us.” She clicked off the phone and pulling back onto the road.
By the time they arrived, most of the lights had been turned off at the plant's labs and offices, leaving only security beacons lit. One picture window at ground level and near the front of the long rectangular building was still lit. There were few vehicles in the parking lot. Lisa pulled up near the entrance and killed the engine.
“This is it,” she said, superfluously.
Daniel got out and walked with her up to the covered entrance, noting that she didn't bother to lock her pickup. For that matter, he remembered that it had been unlocked when they raced to it from the burning building. The report he had gotten from Terrell days ago was correct. There appeared to be little crime in the valley. Days ago? It seemed almost like years ago, now.
He opened the door and held it for Lisa while she entered, drawing a smile of thanks from her. There was a short inside hallway which opened out on either side into railed, secretarial alcoves. Lisa pushed the gate to the one on the right aside, led Daniel past a large desk and several work stations to a door marked with a small, plain sign which read simply TYRONE BEAMER. It gave no title, as if anyone coming here should already know who he was.
Lisa knocked at the door just as it was pulled open.
“Hi,” Marybeth said, grinning at them, then suddenly sobering. “Close call, huh?”
The two women hugged and at last Lisa spilled some tears. “I thought you were over at Cheryl's place,” she said, wiping at her eyes with a forefinger.
“I was, but left early, then called Tyrone. He asked me to come up tomorrow-well, today, now-and I decided to leave a bit early. I'm glad I did now, or I would have been worried sick about you,” she said, including Daniel with her words and gaze.
“Where's Tyrone?”
“Back in his apartment getting dressed, I would wager. Let's go see.”
Marybeth led the way down a long hallway to an elevator which carried them up to the third floor, a smaller outgrowth sitting atop the rest of the building. He answered the door in a dressing robe.
“Hello Lisa. Glad to see you, Mister Stenning. I'm Tyrone Beamer.”
“Thanks. I feel fortunate that we're able to meet after what's gone on the last few days, and especially last night,” Daniel said, shaking hands, appreciating the firm grip of the older man and liking his honest face and confident bearing.
“Sorry you had to go through all that. If I had known you were one of us, I would have acted much sooner. Hey, let's not all stand here in the doorway. Come on in.” He led the way into his apartment, furnished well but simply in the front room that Daniel saw first. Books of all ages and sizes were the most prominent feature of the next room to the right that he led them into. It appeared to be a combination of den and office. One side contained wall to ceiling bookshelves, built around a large workstation and desk which jutted out on both sides of the alcove containing a comfortable looking chair, then there was another area that had chairs for visitors arranged around a low coffee table. The other part of the room contained a leather couch and chairs arranged around another coffee table. The walls there were hung with three paintings, all realistic renditions. Daniel glanced admiringly at them, having no use for modern art, stuff that he couldn't tell from kitchen floor patterns, and which to him made about as much sense.
“Have a seat. It's getting on toward morning. I can offer either coffee or drinks, whichever you like.”
“If you have some brandy, I could use a dollop or two in some coffee. It's been a rather trying night. Lisa?”
“You bet,” She said, seating herself on the couch and pulling Daniel down beside her as if he were her newest possession.
Daniel chuckled inwardly as he sat down. He liked being possessed by her if that's what it was.
Tyrone disappeared for a few moments into the interior of the apartment and returned bearing a silver carafe. He went to a small, chest-high cabinet built into the wall behind the couch and drew forth a bottle of already opened brandy. He poured coffee from the carafe for all of them, then laced three of the mugs generously from the bottle.
Daniel recognized the brand name of the liquor; good, but potent; just what he and Lisa needed. He accepted the steaming mug gratefully and its warmth from the brandy even more so. He hadn't realized how tired he suddenly was, more from adrenalin overload than anything else.
Once he saw that everyone was settling down, Beamer spoke. “Daniel-may I call you Daniel? We're rather informal around here.”
“Sure. I prefer it like that.”
“Good. I'm Tyrone to just about everyone, including my employees. Now, why don't we catch each other up on events. Shall I go first or you?”
“I have a question first. What makes you think I'm one of you, whatever you are? Terrell, a friend at the agency, told me I match almost all of the characteristics which makes the people here stand out, but couldn't that be just chance?”
“I imagine it could be, but it's not. Marybeth suspected first and she suggested I run a genealogy search on you. Have you ever done that?”
“No, it didn't seem important. My parents died when I was very young and I was told later that I have no other relatives.”
“Well, you do, but they're more in the way of third cousins, that sort of thing. But it turns out that your grandmother was from here originally, and if our theory is right, she would have infected your mother and she in turn infected you.”
“Infected?”
“Yes, but let that wait. It's not like a sickness, believe me. I'll bring that subject up at the next council meeting, which I'm calling for this afterno
on. Will you and Lisa feel rested enough to attend?”
“With a little sleep, yes.”
Lisa simply nodded and slipped her hand into his.
“Good. Your friend, Mark Terrell is dead, by the way. He escaped after being arrested, then got picked up and crashed into a tree trying to take a curve too quickly while they were chasing him.”
“Damn. I hoped he would get clean away after he called me. He was a good man, even if he was spying for you.” Daniel lowered his head for a moment, regretting that he had been the proximate cause of Terrell's death. He was sorry now that he had ever gone to work for the NSA. The only saving factor was that if he hadn't, it was likely that he would never have met Lisa nor the other people here, apparently his own kind.
Tyrone saw the grief in Daniel's reaction and let him have his moment of silence before continuing gently. “He wasn't a spy in the normal sense of the word. All we ever wanted was a warning in case we were discovered. He provided that, bless his soul, and he understood the dangers.”
Daniel drank the last of his doctored coffee and suddenly his eyes began trying to close.
Beamer caught it and looked at his watch. “Why don't we all try to get a bit of sleep now? I'll show you to your rooms.” He got up and led Daniel and Lisa back into another part of his living quarters. He opened one door and said, “You can have this one, Daniel and-”
“We're staying together,” Lisa said promptly.
It didn't bother Beamer at all. “Great. Less work for the maid. Did either of you manage to bring any luggage?”
“Not a thing. We didn't have time.”
“I didn't think you would have, according to what the Chief told me.”
“Chief?”
“Police Chief. You'll meet him tomorrow-today, I mean. We're about the same size. I'll find enough from my closet for you to wear until we can send for replacements. Lisa, you can talk to Marybeth about what you need in the morning. Now let's all get some sleep.” Beamer shook Daniel's hand, gave Lisa a quick hug and was gone.
Inside, Daniel commented, “He does seem to get things done, doesn't he?”
“Yes he does. Go ahead, I'll give you the bathroom first while I finish my Cafe Royale.” She had carried her unfinished drink with them.
The bathroom had either been cleaned very recently or hadn't been used for a while. He suspected the latter, and was glad to find a new toothbrush and paste in the medicine cabinet. He brushed his teeth, used the facilities and came back into the bedroom.
Lisa was sitting in the little alcove the bedroom sported, enjoying the moon, now nearly out of sight. She looked up as he came out and began undressing then bumped his hip in passing as she went into the bathroom.
A bit later, Daniel watched her come out. She had undressed in there and was completely nude. She turned off the overhead light as she passed the switch, leaving the room lit only by a nightlight. Again, he marveled at how beautiful she was, even shadowed by the dim light as she was. He didn't even realize that she was merely pretty, not beautiful.
Lisa slid into the bed with him and they came together, not seeking sex now but just the comfort of their bodies close to each other. For a while they hugged, letting the tension and memories of the fire and gunfight drain out of them. Lisa kissed him then turned her back to him and snuggled up. He slipped an arm over her waist and cupped her breast. In a few minutes he was sound asleep. Lisa stayed awake a bit longer, enjoying the glow in her heart at finally finding someone who suited her so completely, right down to the way he held her breast as she snuggled, his hand cupping it firmly, but without any pressure. She lay there, enjoying the sensation for long moments and then she slept, too.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sometime in the morning, Daniel heard a soft tapping at the door through a fog of sleep. Lisa slipped out of bed and went to the door. He heard muffled voices, then was asleep again before Lisa came back. When he woke up again, he didn't have to wonder what the barely-remembered, early morning visit had been about. Laying on one of the bedroom chairs were clean clothes for both him and Lisa, including underwear and socks for him, though he didn't see anything other than jeans and a blouse for Lisa. She was already up. Sounds of a shower going came from the bathroom. He relaxed and waited, contemplating his good fortune. If not for luck and a woman willing to fight, he could very well be dead now, not enjoying the luxury of clean sheets on a queen-sized bed.
The bathroom door opened and Lisa stepped out, wearing the missing underwear. Her panties and bra were pale green and resembled a minimal bikini more than anything else. He whistled.
Lisa posed for him, leaned over the bed to kiss his cheek, then pointed.
“Yep, you don't have to point. I know I can use a shower. Who brought the clothes?”
“Marybeth. Come on, lazybones, they're holding breakfast on us.”
“Rats. I was going to strip you and drag you into the shower with me.”
“Later. I'm hungry and I bet you are, too.”
Daniel suddenly realized there was a hollow place in his stomach that needed filling. He got up.
* * * *
As soon as he opened the bedroom door, the wonderful aroma of frying bacon and fresh bread coming from an oven assaulted his senses. Lisa was already gone but he didn't have to call for help in finding his way; he simply followed his nose to the source of those heavenly odors.
The two women were already seated. Tyrone Beamer was just removing a pan of biscuits from an oven across from the dining table.
“Hello, Dan. Have a seat. Did you sleep well?”
“Like I was dropped on my head. If that's biscuits I smell, I sure won't complain about the service here.”
“He just likes to show off for strangers,” Marybeth said. “We probably won't see another biscuit for months unless we cook them ourselves.” She smiled to take the bite out of the words.
“I'm usually too busy to cook, but I enjoy it when I have time.” He tipped the skillet and plopped the biscuits onto a plate and brought them to the table and sat down. “Dig in, folks. I cooked; I'm first on the butter.”
Daniel helped himself to scrambled eggs and bacon and buttered two biscuits to go with blackberry jam. No one mentioned a thing about saying grace, for which he was grateful. All his life he had felt like an alien on religious occasions such as prayer, though he hadn't made a point of it since he matured enough to realize nothing he said or did was going to change anyone's mind. He began eating.
* * * *
After breakfast, Beamer led them all into his office again. He waved his hand in the direction of the chairs. “Coffee's on the table and the morning paper is there. Sorry, only two copies so one of you will have to share. I've got a bit of work to do here, so don't mind me.” He turned his back on them and sat down at his desk, where his computer screen was already active and waiting.
Daniel picked up the Little Rock daily newspaper, the larger of the two. The story of Mark Terrell's death was halfway down the front page. He read it closely, thinking evil thoughts about his own government, that it could so distort facts in its own interest. Terrell was made out to be an “Agent of a Terrorist Group” caught spying. His escape and subsequent death was slanted toward glorifying the agents who tracked him down. Toward the end, there was a subtle hint that he might be connected to three “Government Employees” who had “gone missing” and that he had been in contact with unnamed persons in an unnamed city in Northern Arkansas.
He could understand the NSA not wanting to publicize its activities, but this was pure fiction, made up by disinformation specialists in the agency. Only his death was accurate and no mention was made of how he had been uncovered.
Further inside the body of the paper, another small headline caught his attention. A fundamentalist religious group was set to begin a survey of the United States east of the Mississippi, with the aim of identifying areas ripe for revivals and soul-saving. Just the way it was worded made him fairly certain that the Agency was probab
ly behind the survey, or at least prodding and providing laundered funds, disguised as donations from wealthy individuals. He knew that it was probably a preliminary setup, to lay the groundwork for declaring Masterville a “Godless Community” by a group other than the Agency. That way, they could claim it was brought to their attention, with never a mention that they had been spying on law-abiding American citizens all along.
He wondered if he should call the inside story to Tyrone's attention, then decided he probably already knew. Certainly the story of Terrell's death wasn't news, other than the way it was presented. If no one else mentioned these two stories, then he might say something. Right now he was ready to see who the “Council” consisted of. He put the paper down and became aware that Marybeth and Lisa both were watching him. He looked down at himself, saw nothing wrong.
“Do I have egg on my chin?”
The women laughed. Marybeth answered. “No, we were just comparing notes. Both of us agree; you're a hunk. Doesn't that make you feel good?”
Their scrutiny was more embarrassing to him than anything else. He had heard them whispering to each other while reading and wished now that he had paid more attention. The impasse was broken by Beamer spinning around in his chair.
“It's about time. The others are here now, including the Chief.”
Daniel felt a sense of relief. At last, he might find out just what he had fallen into, though if he could do it over again, he would; Lisa was worth any amount of stress.
The four of them left together, taking the elevator down to the ground floor then following the central hallway almost to the back of the building. From there, another elevator took them down.
At the sight of Daniel's raised brows, Tyrone said “I designed this conference room when the bugging and listening devices got so small and powerful. I hate to have the others come all the way up the mountain to meet, but at least I feel like our conversation will stay private if they do. Originally, I feared industrial espionage, not government spooks, but it's just as well; we're protected from both.”
