Sigma Division

Chapter 20

Spicer decided to stop thinking. He had to stay focused on the mission in play, that was how he’d survived so long in the field. Using his phone/flashlight he looked at the floor and noticed that the boxes Ned had said he’d brought down were gone. He closed the door behind him, turned on the light, and got working.

He went around the desk to the file cabinet, a model similar to the one he’d had in his office, and kneeled. There was no card slot for this keypad so he got a screwdriver from his bag and made quick work of removing the four screw on the pad.

Next, he produced alligator clips and pinched them between the wires after skinning them. The other end plugged into his device. He pushed a button and it took six seconds for the code to appear on the readout.

He punched in the code and opened the cabinet drawer. It was filled with the notebooks and drives he’d gotten from Harland Fry. He grabbed everything and stuffed them into his gym bag before doing the same with his tools once the keypad was screwed in again.

Getting back to his feet, he used the desk to keep his balance. But while he did so, his hand slipped and he knocked an object off the desk. He swiftly picked it up from the floor. It was a framed photograph and thankfully there was no damage.

But then he noticed the subject of the picture. It was his informant, Clara, and she was posing with an older man he’d seen on TV, a guy named Regis Ford.

“Fuck me,” he whispered.

Spicer carried his gym back into Esther’s apartment while glancing over his shoulder as if he was being followed. It could very well be the case, too. The gloves he’d worn at the CIA were only for form, out of habit. If — when — they noticed his intrusion, they would review the tapes and readily identify him. On the other hand, he counted on Sigma Division not wanting to draw too much attention.

Their first instinct would be to spirit him away, but the US intelligence community had gotten so bloated that you couldn’t do that without involving at least three different agencies. No, he decided. If what they were working on was as secret as he believed it was, they would want to keep this quiet.

“Thanks again for letting me stay here,” he said. “I really appreciate it.”

Esther was wearing a similar pajama as before. “It’s like a genie has granted my wish.”

“Be careful what you wish for, I’m moving in permanently.”

She smiled and locked the door behind him. Meanwhile, Spicer set his bag on the couch as he sat down next to it. He emptied all the material he’d stolen and then he changed his mind, carrying the notebooks to the kitchen table.

“You want a beer?”

“Sure.”

He sat down at the table while she went to fetch the beverages. He didn’t waste any time and opened the first notebook. All the notes were handwritten and he kept frowning as he bumped into hundred-dollar words. He ignored the beer Esther poured into a glass for him.

“Do you have a dictionary I can borrow?”

“Here,” she said as she got her laptop. “This is much faster.”

She put the computer on the table next to him and browsed to an online dictionary. This reminded him that he also had USB drives to go through. He plugged one in, prayed it wouldn’t be a virus that would destroy Esther’s computer, and began scrolling through the files. As it turned out, it was the same material which was in the notebooks, only cleaner.

And he started reading. For the next hour he went through dozens of files, all scientific formulas and theories which took twice as long to absorb due to his limited vocabulary. By the third notebook — because he still compared the books to the flash drives in case of discrepancies — he was almost asleep. Then he heard a voice coming from the television and he stood up.

He went to the living room where Esther was on the couch watching some cable news. There was coverage of a political speech and Regis Ford was outdoors in front of an adoring crowd, addressing his voters.

“The future is knocking on our door, asking to be let in. I say let it in!” The crowd went wild. “The future is a time when Washington will decide once and for all to solve the problems instead of shuffling them along. The future is for those back on the moral track. The future is a place where America stands alone on the world’s highest peak. I am the future!”

Spicer said, “And you really want to elect that wackjob, uh?”

“Well, I don’t agree with all his views but I sincerely believe he can put America back in first place.”

“It’s those assholes that get people like me killed. Besides, he’s just a baby-kisser.”

The picture on TV changed to Ford shaking some hands.

Esther rolled her eyes. “He’s not that cheesy.”

On TV, Ford held a baby in each arm and Spicer grinned.

“See?”

“Well, it’s a tried technique.”

“He’s a bit too radical for my taste,” Spicer spat.

“I’m sure he’ll mellow down once in power. It’s always like that, you pander to the base to get in power and then you work with both sides to really make changes people will get behind.”

Spicer still wasn’t buying it and she switched channels. Just knowing that he’d been played, that his mysterious informant Clara had been working for Sigma all along to trip him up and that she was an obvious fan of Regis Ford, it made his blood curdle.

Because that’s what had happened, Houseman and Michaels had wanted to get rid of him the moment he’d started asking questions. So they’d had one of their own feed him false information, giving him rope so he could hang himself. And he’d fallen for it.

He looked at the notebook he was still holding, ignored his desperate need for sleep, and continued flipping through the pages. He was about to give up when he noticed something was written faintly inside the back cover.

What the…

It was a free e-mail address containing the word Anchises.

“Bingo.”

“What’s that?”

“I need to send out an e-mail,” he said as he hurried back to the kitchen.

Intrigued, she got up and followed him to the computer. Spicer went to one of his throwaway Gmail accounts, not bothering to sit down, and started typing.

He wrote down his number, a burner phone he’d bought today, and hit the Send button. He felt out of breath by the time he was finished.

“I won’t get in trouble over this, right?” Esther asked. “My place, my computer…”

“I’d say less than 65 % chance of getting waterboarded.”

“Good odds, great.”

Kilmer was in his man cave playing pinball. He’d been playing this game since he was a boy. He’d gotten his first job as a paperboy strictly so we would have money to play at the arcade down the street. It had been worth getting read the riot act for coming home late and hanging out with the local juvenile delinquents. To this day, playing pinball helped to clear his mind.

His wife lumbered downstairs and leaned against the wall, watching him play.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, her voice hoarse from sleep.

“Yeah, I’ve been downstairs for a couple of hours. Sorry I woke you up.”

“Are you coming to bed?”

“In a little while, something at work got me wound up. I wanna relax a bit more.”

“Okay then, just don’t forget to set the alarm.”

She kissed him on the cheek and left.

He barely felt her presence as he continued to mash the flippers aggressively like it was the last time he would ever play. And that’s exactly what it was.