Эбби Луби - Nuclear Romance

It was just long enough for her to realize something was wrong. She touched David’s arm and said, “I’m sorry, David, but could you leave us for a minute?”

“Sure,” he said, hiding his disappointment.

“And Diana,” he quickly added, “even though this was just an introduction, it’s been wonderful. If you want to continue a little later, just say the word. I’ll be at the bar.”

As David pulled on his clothes and left the room, Lou had no compunction to stop him. He looked questioningly at Diana as she took his hand and led him back to the bed.

“Why don’t you just hold me a bit,” she said.

Larry Hines slipped the small digital camera out of his pocket and hid it in his locker. Things were quieting down at the plant, and repairs to the ruptured pipe were well under way. He walked over to the office building and took the elevator to the personnel office. He had an appointment to check out his benefits and retirement package, a visit he had put off too long, but now one that had a sense of urgency to it. He may just have to move out of the area.

When the elevator door opened, he was face to face with Bob Stalinsky.

“It’s the one and only Mr. Hines! What are you doing up here in the stratosphere?”

Larry stepped out of the elevator quickly, hoping Bob would jump in and be gone, but Bob held the door open with his hand.

“I’m here to see how you big guys live,” Larry chided. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll be sitting at your desk some day.”

“Always like seeing folks climb the ladder. Got a minute?”

Bob let the elevator door close.

“Sure. What’s up?” It would mean being late for his appointment but he had no choice. Bob led him to his office and Larry gazed out the large window at the two domes on either side of the transformer building that blended in with the steely grey Hudson River.

“Take a seat. I need to bend your ear, but what I’m going to say doesn’t go beyond this room, okay?”

“Okay.” Larry’s stomach did a flip-flop.

Bob’s oversized mahogany desk was like a football field between the two men. Larry noticed his seat was low, forcing him to look up to Bob.

“You know all the guys here pretty well, don’t you, Larry? I mean you’ve been here for as long as I can remember. Who do you think would want to rat on us? Any guesses?”

“Hmm. I’m drawing a blank, Bob. You got a pretty dedicated staff here, and frankly, I don’t think anyone here would chance losing their job. Maybe someone is infiltrating from the outside.”

Bob stared at Larry, an aggressive silence.

Finally Larry said, “I’ll keep on my radar, okay?”

Bob suddenly clenched his fists on the desk as if he were a child ready to throw a tantrum.

“Look—we have a whistle-blower here, Larry. A spy. Broadcasting in-house memos to the press, taking classified pictures. Do you know what that means? He’s giving the public something to panic about. We got to get him. Soon. Or we’ll all be out of a job.”

Larry nodded and visualized the office door open, beckoning his exit.

“I hear you, Bob. I’ll check around with people I trust to see if they know anything.”

He stood up, now looking down at Bob. “We’ll catch him, don’t worry.”

Bob’s face was hard and he glared at Larry, waiting. Larry quickly looked away and headed for the door.

“Larry?”

“Yeah?”

He turned and looked over his shoulder, his hand on the doorknob.

“We find this squealer, his life is over. He’s breaking every rule in the book. He’ll end up in jail. Got that?”

Dear Diana,

I’m not sure what happened at the sex house. Maybe the whole idea was silly. If you were disappointed, you didn’t show it. You are wonderful, understanding, and very hot. Someone whose body, mind, and spirit I still want to explore. I dream about your sweet, moist skin, your heat, your face in ecstasy….

By the way, Larry Hines agreed to talk to me about stuff at the plant. Will keep you posted.

Dear Lou,

What happened in that bedroom was an experiment. We don’t have to figure it out. It certainly was stimulating and different. But what’s important is that we still want to be with each other. Some fantasies are better off staying in your head.

You may want to ask Hines about the overworked security guards who get exhausted, how they protect the plant.

Dear Diana,

You haven’t been sending me your horti-erotica. I love it and need more. More! Please? When I read it, I think of you naked, in bed, waiting for me.

Oh—and thanks for the tip for the Hines interview. We’re meeting Friday night at some out-of-the-way diner. You home after that?

Dear Lou,

Yes. Please come over after the Hines interview. I want to hear all about it. I’ve heard security guards are hired and fired too quickly. Also too many quit and leave knowing classified information about the plant. Oh yes. Horti-erotica is on its way.

“We need more sports stories, Lou,” Owen yelled out from his office. “I want you off this nuke thing for a while. It’s game one of minor league baseball. Get over there and cover it, will ya?”

“I’m not a goddamn yo-yo!” Lou shot back. “Why don’t you throw a bone to our young intern and let him cover the game? He’s been dying to play sportswriter.”

Lou was hooked on the plant and had a list of potential stories waiting to be written. It had been almost a month since the accident and evacuation, and Lou decided to contact Larry Hines for a second time, to see if he’d heard anything new. That first interview was difficult at first, but Lou was able to gain the man’s trust by promising anonymity.

Larry agreed to a second interview on plant safety. Lou found the nervous plant worker in a back booth of a diner, miles outside White Plains. Larry wore dark sunglasses and a hat. The interview would be quick. It was an earful.

ALLPower had skimped on their training program and lowered their standards. The firing ranges they set up for practice were a joke: a kid could hit the target with a slingshot. Guards were overweight, out of shape. They could barely chase down a beach ball. Guards would fumble for guns and other weapons that were crammed into lockers that were too small. Yes, the turnover was high, and yes, guards left knowing classified information about the plant.

Minutes after the clandestine interview with Larry, Lou raced over to Diana’s house to share the scary stories. Plant news became part of the couple’s daily discourse, each offering a new fact they had heard or read. The horti-erotica e-mails were slowly being replaced with complex information about the industry. After the night at the sex house, he pondered how he—not she—got cold feet. How he didn’t want to share her with anyone, even if it was just for fun. It scared him and challenged him: Was he less allergic to monogamy?

Owen came out of his office and sidled over to Lou.

“You’re getting way too comfy with your new beat. Don’t you miss making those basketball coaches miserable?”

Owen laughed at his own joke and glanced over at Lou’s computer, something already in progress.

“Working another story? Let me guess.”

“This is hot, Owen. Anonymous whistle-blower is spilling his guts, and we’ve got an exclusive. Let me work on this and send the kid to the game, okay?”

“We’ve run enough nuke stories. Let’s give it a rest.”

“Just this one. I promise it will be the last story. At least for a while.”

“You’re too hooked, too emotionally involved. I smell trouble. Get your ass to the game.”