* * *
After Barbara and Gordon left in a JPL shuttle bus to catch an overnight military flight heading east out of March AFB, Keene and Colby Greene sat in one of the labs, wearily contemplating the updates still coming in via JPL’s various connections to the world. The full magnitude of what was happening was at last becoming plain, leaving them numbed to the degree that they didn’t want to hear any more. There was no point.
“So what’s it with you, Colby?” Keene asked. “Don’t you have anyone there to rush back to as well? Never got married, eh?”
Greene pulled a face and regarded the papers lying around the desk in front of him indifferently. “Oh, I thought about it once or twice. I looked at the way it usually seems to go, and figured I’d do it the easy way—you know, without wasting all that time that most guys seem to go through.”
“Oh? And what’s the easy way?” Keene asked.
“Just pick a woman you don’t like very much and buy her a house—then you can forget about it and get on with your life. But I never could find the right one, somehow. I always ended up liking them. . . . How about you?”
“Aw, did it once. Crashed and burned. You won’t believe who she was.”
“Try me.”
“Her name’s Fey. She’s Herbert Voler’s wife now.”
“I don’t believe it. What happened? . . . If it’s any of my business.”
Keene really wasn’t in a mood to go into explanations. “If I just say that she found her perfect match at last, would that tell you?” he offered.
Greene nodded. “Pretty much.” He rubbed his nose with a knuckle. “So will she be involved in this showdown at Andrews?”
Keene hadn’t really given it much thought. “Yes, I guess she will,” he said. So much for the social set and the mansion in Connecticut.
Keene’s disquiet over the situation in Washington was increasing. It would be late into the evening there now, yet the latest news was that Hixson and the other man with him were still at the motel. The FBI had reported only a note delivered by messenger telling them to sit tight. If communications were a problem, it would be all the more reason to move them out sooner. Something felt wrong.
The door opened, and Charlie Hu stuck his head in. “I just wanted to let you guys know: Don’t be surprised to see Guard patrols with guns in the area if you go out. There’s been some trouble with looting. All kinds are coming through from the city, and we’ve got some pricey real estate just west of here around La Canada.”
“As if that’s going to matter for much longer,” Keene snorted.
Hu shrugged. “I guess the same people will be giving the orders for a while yet. But anyhow, be warned. The police chief advises that if you possess weapons it would be a good idea to carry them.” Colby said nothing but opened his jacket to reveal the butt of an automatic sitting in a shoulder holster. “How about you?” Hu asked Keene.
“I went to Washington to attend a meeting with the President, remember?”
“I’ll see if we can get you fixed up.”
* * *
Cavan called a little over thirty minutes later. There had still been no move to collect Hixson and his companion from the motel.
“It’s too quiet, Leo,” Keene said. “Things should be happening by now. Either they’re onto us, or there’s more going on than we think.”
“Exactly the sentiments I’ve been having,” Cavan informed him. “So I thought I’d try using some of these official resources that I find I have access to now. It’s really quite amazing. It occurred to me that whatever Voler is really up to, his charming wife won’t be far behind. Perhaps we could get a pointer to his movements and possible plans if we knew something of hers.”
“Fey? We were just talking about her here. So did you get anywhere?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. After I’d drawn several blanks elsewhere, I tried checking the airline reservation computers. And there she was, booked to LA. The original flight has been canceled, but she got transferred to an emergency service that left Boston earlier this evening. That must have taken a fair amount of string-pulling on the part of somebody, somewhere.”