by Justin Bell
CHAPTER FIVE
The sun was bright and hot, just rising from the Eastern horizon and already sending a stripe of heat up the back of Gary Irizarry's bald head. Leaning slightly left, he coaxed his motorcycle to the passing lane and buzzed by the slow moving Subaru, then eased back into the right hand lane, veering towards the large, square, green exit sign at the side of the road ahead. New Hampshire didn't have a helmet law and while the subject of his new job lived in Vermont, he was staying on the Eastern side of the border. Pulling his bike down onto the off ramp, he left the highway and turned left, gunning the engine and roaring through the normally quiet early morning air. In about an hour traffic would be backed up here, waiting in line to go to the neighborhood schools and jobs, many of which sat just over the New Hampshire border, but for now, the roads were quiet and empty, just how Irizarry liked it. As he began tilting down the long hill towards the connecting bridge, a pale blue police car emerged from a side street to the left and lazily turned right, heading up the hill he was cruising down. Already he could imagine the sideways glance he'd be getting from the driver, no doubt a redneck cop wondering about this unfamiliar black guy in his neighborhood. Especially an unfamiliar black guy with flame tattoos on each side of his head. Irizarry squinted behind his dark sunglasses, but continued looking forward, focusing on the road and beating the red light at the Vermont side of the bridge.
Behind the wheel of the police car, Louisa did in fact glance over, but she didn't wonder about the unfamiliar black guy, she just smirked and shook her head slowly, then continued up towards Norwood.
Irizarry navigated his bike over the connecting bridge then up the hill leading towards Hammond. It was a brisk early fall day and students littered the sidewalk, the hazards of a college town. None of them seemed especially eager to attempt crossing the street in front of the speeding motorcycle, but his eyes remained sharp and alert just the same. Cresting the top of the hill leading into the small downtown area, he leaned right and brought the bike to a stop in a surprisingly open parking spot right along Main Street. Moments later he approached the small independent coffee shop, stubbornly existing in the shadow of the recently opened Starbucks just a few blocks away, but filled, nearly to the max, with students in between classes. Irizarry glanced at the chalkboard coffee menu above the counter, but before he could attempt to order anything, he saw the man in the suit at a far corner of the coffee shop, sitting with his own cardboard cup on the table in front of him. He raised a single finger in recognition and Irizarry nodded his head in acknowledgement. A few minutes later he had his own cardboard cup of coffee and approached the table in long, even strides.
"Grace?" Irizarry asked, pulling the metal chair out, scraping it across the hard surface of the floor.
"Mr. Irizarry, I presume?"
The large man settled his broad frame into the metal chair, wrapping his thick hands around the cup, a thin tendril of steam snaking out of the gap in the cup lid.
"So?what can we do for you?" Irizarry asked, pulling his dark sunglasses from his face.
Grace took a sip of his coffee, then set the cup down and placed his palms down on the table. "Security and surveillance, Mr. Irizarry. That is your specialty, is it not?"
The large man nodded. "My team is on their way. They'll be here later today and ready for first shift surveillance tonight. Who are we watching?"
Grace's eyes shot to different corners of the large restaurant. He smirked. "Just a man. I'll give you the address."
Irizarry cocked his head. "Just a man? You ordered a pretty heavy team for 'just a man'."
Grace tipped back the coffee again, seeming to calculate his next phrasing. He set the cup down, still not speaking.
"So what are you not telling me?" Irizarry asked.
"I believe in full transparency," Grace said softly, his eyes narrowing and looking straight into the others'. "I'm sure Reggie already informed you?we lost two men a few days ago."
Irizarry didn't flinch. He'd known. But he wanted to hear it from Grace himself.
"We're not sure exactly what happened, but it appears to have been a wild animal attack."
Irizarry cocked an uncertain grin. "Nothing to do with the guy they're watching?"
Grace didn't appear to be quite sure how to answer this. But then he did. "We're not ruling anything out."
"You sure know how to make a guy feel good."
"Like I said, Mr. Irizarry. Full transparency."
The large man stifled a chuckle. "Mr. Grace, I know who you work for. I'm pretty sure transparency isn't in your job description."
Richard Grace did not look especially amused, but he did not admonish the man either. "Fair enough."
"Truth is, I really don't care. You're paying well, my guys are well trained. You can bet we won't be getting bit by any angry dogs up there."
Grace finally smiled at this one, though Irizarry couldn't tell if he was truly amused or if it was a sinister knowing smile scoffing at the other man's apparent ignorance. The large man with the tattooed head decided that perhaps he didn't want to know.
"Start the rotation tonight as planned," Grace said. "Ten-hour shift, eight to six."
Irizarry nodded. "Anything we should be looking out for?"
Grace sipped from his coffee cup. "You mean besides rabid bears?"
Now it was Irizarry's turn to not look amused. "I'm assuming if the NSA is looking after this guy it's because he's a threat to national security. My guys can handle themselves, but I'd like to at least let them know what they're up against."
"Understood," Grace replied, bending over to his right. His hand disappeared into a leather case at his feet that Irizarry had not noticed until now. It slipped free, clutching a zipped binder between clenched fingers, a thick zip tie pulled tight through the zipper, sealing the contents. Grace brought himself upright and set the zipped case down on the table, then slid it slowly forward towards the man sitting opposite. Large, thick hands wrapped around the canvas case and drew it into his body, slipping it into an unseen pouch in his jacket.
"Those documents are top secret, Mr. Irizarry. I advise you to read them and only share what you absolutely must to ensure your men are informed and protected."
"Understood." With that final word, Gary Irizarry pushed himself upright from the table, scooping his half full coffee cup in hand. "I need to get ready. My guys will be here in a couple of hours."
"If you check your email you'll see your reservations. It's not fancy, but it's a place for you and your men to rest your heads when you're not on duty. Everything's covered."
Irizarry nodded, turned, and strode from the coffee shop, patrons separating from the large man like the waves of the red sea before Moses. Agent Grace took another long pull from his coffee cup and considered what the next few days might bring. Those sealed documents should tell Irizarry what he absolutely had to know about William Strickland and Operation: Harvest, but there were certain crucial details that were not included. Certain crucial details that the man probably wouldn't have believed even if he had read them. Richard Grace wasn't even sure he believed them himself, and he had seen the early tests with his own blue eyes. Part of him suspected that Irizarry would find out everything he needed to know soon enough, and there would be no disputing the scientific veracity then. The only question was how soon?
