David Dun - Overfall

Sam sat behind his desk, a position he hadn’t taken for months, hunched in front of a computer screen and talking off and on to Paul. Paul sat in a special soundproof room, from which he had been listening to Anna Wade’s ex-husband, Joshua Nash, speak. Evidently he and Anna were having wine and talking.

Paul was listening to live feed from a huge parabolic mike aimed at Josh’s window, along with the transmissions from Anna’s cell phone, when she chose to use it, and congratulating himself on the results. Sam and Paul felt guilty about the bug in the apartment’s sprinkler system and were trying not to use it. But the parabolic mike was iffy, and faded in critical parts of telephone conversations that were being used as tests, so they had to resort to the internal mike, thereby breaking the law in a more meaningful fashion.

The audio feed also fed Big Brain. Among other things, the computer was making voiceprints for future comparison and pairing the voiceprints with facial-recognition software, handwriting-recognition software, and signature-recognition software, routine procedure for every person identified in Big Brain’s memory banks.

“They’re getting onto the subject of Lane,” Paul alerted Sam.

“She’s working around to her brother. I can feel it.”

Sam minimized his screen on DuShane Chellis and joined Paul in the booth. He heard a male voice, the voice of Joshua Nash.

“How are things with Lane?” Josh asked.

“You wouldn’t ask if you thought they were good.” Anna’s response was fainter but clear.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you and Lane ever-”

“Josh, it was a symptom. Can’t we leave it at that?”

“Isn’t there some way you can find to forgive me?”

“For the adultery or for lying to my face about it?”

There was a barely audible sigh. “We didn’t actually-”

“Please, let’s be real. It’s been years. And we aren’t going to discuss the gynecologic details of something more than three years old. For God’s sake, I’ve had Lane for almost two years and you’ve had I don’t know how many girlfriends.”

A long silence followed. Sam and Paul watched the speaker.

“We gotta turn this off if they start… you know,” Paul said.

“I know,” Sam said. “I know.”

Anna wanted to abandon the topic, but Josh kept on.

“Word’s out that Lane is cranky. He wants a companion-wife kind of woman. You’re a megastar.”

Josh followed his remarks with a knowing but sad smile. She knew he desperately wanted sex. Before Lane, but after she and Josh had separated, three years ago almost to the day, she had given him that much, knowing that she shouldn’t, knowing it would feed his unbelievable optimism. It had been a moment of insanity that she wouldn’t repeat.

Instead she thought about Sam stirring his tofu spaghetti. She thought about the sound of his swimming behind her and recalled her utter certainty that he would follow. Then there was the shouting and name-calling, the competition, and suddenly she wondered why they had been fighting. Something stirred inside her, and whatever it was made her want to fight with Sam some more.

“Josh, I’m sorry, you really are a dear person to me, but I’d rather not talk about that.” She watched him, feeling his uncertainty. “Please.”

“Okay.” He forced the disappointment from his face. “Well, we’ve got a great dinner ahead of us. And I want a few dances.”

“As many as you like, Josh. As many as you like.” He carried her wine to the table and acted as though it were a dinner date with a New York cousin. He had his dignity and he wouldn’t bring it up again-this time.

She waited until the main course to bring up her brother and Sam. Being patient was killing her. Josh Nash had an armor-piercing mind. Nobody was beyond his reach when it came to information. He lived on information. If anyone could see through Sam’s veil, it would be Josh. Just as important, he knew Grace and he knew Chellis. Deep down she still didn’t know what they were capable of, and perhaps Josh did.

It took her twenty minutes to tell the story. Josh listened intently and waited until she finished before firing questions at her.

He asked about Sam’s speech, his yacht, the books on board, and whether she had seen any personal records. The questions were exhaustive and he took notes. She told him what she knew: Sam had a Ph. D., likely in computer science. His father, now deceased, had been in the military special forces, his mother was Native American and had been to college. With the last disclosure she began feeling lizardlike.

“How are you supposed to get hold of him?”

“I have an e-mail address.”

“What is it?”

“Firechief at bluehades dot com.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“That’s it.”

“Okay, I’ll trace that to a server some place.”

“I want to know about him but I don’t want to get caught looking. Above all else, you can’t get caught.”

“Are you sweet on this guy?”

“I don’t know what we would have in common. I know very little about him.”

“What’s your gut tell you? What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you think about him?”

“Fighting. Wanting to smack him upside the head.”

Josh laughed. “This Sam must have done something nasty.”

“He saved my life.”

She watched the corners of Josh’s mouth turn down.

“Come on, Josh, don’t worry. I’ll tell you when you need to look smitten. We aren’t there yet. And you’re too big a man to ever allow even a whisper of a whine to pass your lips. Besides, if you’re going to be jealous, be jealous of the right guy. Be jealous of Lane.”

“You know you are really good. You’d have me holding my head at my own execution and my decapitated face still smiling. I’ll try to find out about Sam. Boats are registered. This guy told you things but was very selective. No schools, no Indian tribe. People can’t hide. Nobody can. But this guy is sure trying.”

“I know. God, I feel like some lower life form doing this.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I promised not to talk and now I’m talking.”

“You didn’t mention that when you went through the list.”

“I know. I feel really guilty.”

“Listen, it’s sensible to know something about this guy before you trust your life to him. Why was he in the vicinity?”

“I know. I know.”

He looked at his notes. “The mother thing, if we knew the tribe or the school, could be the break we need.”

“But we don’t. And if you ask Peter Malkey, the only mutual friend that I seem to share with Sam, he’ll tell him and I’m cooked, so don’t make that mistake.”

“No hint of a real name?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. Unless you want to call Sam of the Silverwind a hint.”

“Just be careful.” He paused. “What else? There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“Jason gave me a CD-ROM at the lodge. I was going to catch a seaplane that I had called in after he gave it to me. He was so serious about it I wanted to get out of there. It’s the reason I was running. Jason is so mixed up by his paranoia sometimes, I can’t be sure why he gave it to me. I’m sure it’s full of his research. That means it’s valuable to Grace. I want to take it to a mathematician that I can totally trust. I want to deliver it myself.”

“With all the swimming did it get wet?”

“Not very. It was in a waterproof bag that leaked a little the first time I went in. After the first dunking I rinsed it out in fresh water and I put it in a waterproof Ziploc bag, then back inside the waterproof bag. After that I think it was dry.”

“It’s plastic. It should be fine. I can get you someone. Probably someone in academia. But you’re right about Grace. It’s their property. Trade secrets. No wonder they were after you.”