Sigma Division

Chapter 13

It was late and Spicer was again on a quest to find something good on TV aside from election coverage. The Chinese takeout he’d had for dinner was also keeping him awake. Game show. Sitcom. Talk show. Some old movie he had once vowed to never watch again.

And now his phone was ringing.

Finding something worth watching was becoming an obsession and before he even reached for his phone he continued flipping through channels. Hockey game. Basketball game. Naked girls. He lifted his eyebrows with curiosity and appreciation and muted the sound as he finally answered the phone.

“What is it?” he spoke while keeping his eyes on the screen. It was some sort of Cinemax show and although it looked stupid he wouldn’t have minded being on the set for this scene.

“Gene Spicer?” It was a woman’s voice.

“Yeah, who’re you?”

“I hear you were looking for me in Biloxi today.”

She had his undivided attention now. He straightened up and turned the TV off.

“You’re Stellar Oceans Corporation?”

“Yes.”

He looked at his phone’s display and it showed as a blocked number.

“You paid for the ad in the New York Express-Ledger?”

“Yes. I want to meet to you.”

“How do you know I won’t arrest you? That’s my job.”

The woman sounded as if she was about to laugh. “You’ve been around, at the other universities. I know you’ve been asking questions. You’re curious now, you want to know what I know. You want to know how your boss is screwing you.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. When?”

“Now.”

Spicer was taking deep breaths as he turned off the ignition of his Chevrolet. He couldn’t believe how he had missed this feeling, his heart beating fast with the prospect of something happening beyond boredom and suburban quietness.

He reached for his little red gym bag on the passenger seat and from it pulled out his pistol. It was fully loaded and he chambered a round.

A few minutes later he was walking through the Korean War Veterans Memorial. South of the Reflecting Pool on the National Mall, the Memorial was in the shape of a triangle with thick granite walls which contained photographs from the conflict. More impressive was a series of huge stainless steel statues of US military personnel in combat gear.

Had it been left up to him, Spicer would have chosen to meet the woman at a McDonald’s, but she had insisted on this place. She said it was appropriate for what they had to talk about. Lingering in the back of his mind was the possibility that he was being lured here so he could be murdered. That’s certainly a way he would have done it.

He strolled through the sculptures and the place was otherwise deserted. Out of the blue, he heard a noise behind him, rock against concrete. He spun in a flash, reaching inside his leather jacket, getting ready to leap for cover.

“We’re alone,” the same woman’s voice said.

He scanned the darkness and a woman came out from behind a Navy corpsman statue. She was in her late 20s, her dark hair cascading past her shoulders. She was tall, he would say athletic, and that gave her a self-assured, independent demeanor. She walked toward him, keeping her head up high.

“How do you know we’re alone?”

“I checked.”

He took his hand out of his coat as they both walked toward each other.

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” he asked. “Even a little bit?”

“If you were here to take me in I’d already be in some undisclosed location, some place where cries of pain can’t be heard, right?”

Once she was next to him, she started walking again and he tagged along. Just a couple of tourists.

“Why don’t we start with the specifics? What’s your name?”

“You can call me Clara.”

“At what university do you work?”

“To say so would jeopardize my situation even further and I’m not ready for that just yet.”

Spicer nodded. “Fair enough. Why did you write the article?”

“I was scared, okay?”

“Of what?”

She stopped walking and turned to face him. “Of the project! What else?”

“What was your research about?”

“I said I won’t divulge anything.”

“Well, you gotta give me something. You obviously didn’t come here to talk about your views on spring fashion trends.”

They resumed their stroll. Spicer glanced at the mural and spotted the inscription Freedom Is Not Free. How fitting, he thought.

“While doing my research,” she began. “I came upon a 1972 study sponsored by the Department of Defense and the CIA. It advanced theories which would definitely make thought-reading possible. I can’t tell you how this is related to my research but it scared the living shit out of me.”

Thought-reading? That was far-fetched and he wasn't sure if he believed her. However, it was obvious she herself believed it and that was the creepiest part.

“What scared you so much?”

“Look, it used to be surveillance cameras on freeways, then spy satellites. Now it’s drones and NSA reading your emails. Then what? What’s the next logical step? Don’t you see? Thought-reading, the ultimate invasion of privacy.”

“Jesus,” Spicer whispered although he again had trouble believing she was even being serious. The world was filled with nut jobs who saw conspiracy theories in everything from chemtrails to TV lineups.

Clara said, “I know you’ve been snooping around. What did you find out?”

“Not much, just bits and pieces about what the Project is researching. Psychology, dictatorships throughout history, signal emissions, nothing conclusive.”

She looked at him and she seemed like she was softening up.

“But it scares you too, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Spicer admitted.

“Tell me, why didn’t you take me in?”

Before he knew it, Spicer was speaking his mind. “I want to know. I need to know that I’m not doing anything illegal. I’ve turned over a new leaf and damned if I’m not gonna change.”

Traces of a smile appeared on her face.

“I’m glad to finally have an ally.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll contact you again soon.”

She touched his arm gently, keeping eye contact with him for a pregnant second. And she hurried away.