Alan Craik 01.Nighttrap by Gordon Kent

Author:Gordon Kent [Gordon Kent]
Language: eng
Format: epub

“Don’t try to distract me.”

“It was no good, Bea. I tried it and it was no good.

Anyway, you hate what you’re doing.”

“So it’s going to be my fault?” She did hate what she was doing, teaching in an elementary school while he supposedly finished this degree that he had been working on for years.

“I can stand it, Bernie.”

“I already put my name in for a job at FBI.”

“You’re sure? I don’t want to hear about this for the next forty years, there you’ll be in the senior citizens’ center, bitching about how I kept you from getting your Ph.D.

I don’t want to be the Wicked Witch of the—stop that!”

“Why?”

“Bernie—” She giggled and hoisted herself on top of him, and they were soon lost in another of the activities of good marriage.

FEBRUARY 20, 1992. NEAR NORFOLK, VIRGINIA.

“I love to dance with you.”

“I’d be better in top hat and tails.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

The room was dark. The glow from the nearby strip mall lighted the ceiling, but they had blocked out most of it with the curtains and a blanket. Neither of them wore a stitch.

“I’ve got something to tell you,” she said as they moved slowly around the little room to a dead composer’s love song.

“Shall I guess?”

“The stick turned pink.”

He chuckled.

“We didn’t lose much time.” They danced until the song ended and then stood together, wrapped around each other, waiting for the next cut. When it started and he began to move, she said, “You know what I think two people could do while they danced?”

“You think?”

“Mmmm.”

“You’re a flaming pr evert “

She was right. Two people can do that while they dance. 16

FEBRUARY MARCH 1992. NORFOLK.

They lived like that for another month. Rose coming down on weekends so they could be together in a ratty apartment he rented in the great sprawl of exploitation that surrounds all naval facilities. His one consolation was that he was renting by the month and could get out as soon as Rose got an assignment to the area.

He had learned to live with his new role as in-house whiz kid. the one assigned to him by his boss and the other analysts. Commander Reicher had referred to him in a meeting as the Genius, and the name, not necessarily well intended, had stuck, along with the idea that he was too smart for his own good. He was not, he thought; what they look for-insight was only a willingness to rethink their received wisdom, but Somalia had done exactly as he had said it would, and he was proven more correct than a young j.g.

should be. It did not help that he had a friend in a high place—Shreed, with whom he had made up his ingratitude—who now got him placed on a committee that nobody but Commander Reicher had even heard of. “I’ve been told to assign you to Ad Hoc,” Reicher said one day when they were discussing some business.

“Where’s that?” It sounded like Southeast Asia.

“It’s not a where, it’s a what. The Ad Hoc Committee.

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