Jack Chalker - A War of Shadows

He placed the can in his pocket, keeping a hand also in the pocket, and closed and latched the briefcase with his left hand. With that, he turned and walked out the nearest door. Nobody stopped him.

He walked wearily down the corridors, then down the stairs, and out the east entrance to a waiting car. Bob Hartman was driving, and seemed to come alive when he saw his boss.

Edelman got in, and they drove slowly off, out the gate, and down the mall, turning right and heading out over the 14th Street Bridge.

Jake Edelman stared at the muddy Potomac. “River level’s high,” he said. “Pull over to the side, Bob, and stop for a minute.”

Hartman, puzzled, did as instructed. Edelman pulled the can from his pocket and looked at it.

“You know, that was cheap spray paint Minnie got,” he said. Hartman looked at the can. Coming through the dried baby blue paint were the words Action Ant and Roach Killer and the picture of a dead roach, upside down. It was faint, but unmistakable.

Hartman whistled slowly. Edelman got out of the car, looked for a moment at the center of the river channel, and tossed the can into the water.

Slowly, looking very tired, he got back in and they started off once again. Hartman stared at him. “Do you think they’ll buy it?” he asked.

“I’m still here,” Edelman pointed out. “And so are you. They know there’s an organization, they won’t find any blue cylinders, and they won’t find any trace of the Wilderness Organism at NDCC except five dead traitors. Right?”

Hartman nodded.

“With the founders of the Institute, I think we might have lost,” he said. “But with their adopted children? Well, we’ll know for sure tomorrow.”

They drove on a while in silence, clearing two military checkpoints. Another seven kilometers and they were into the northern Virginia suburbs, and not long after that they were pulling into Jake Edelman’s driveway.

Edelman started to get out of the car.

“Jake?” Bob Hartman said.

Jake stopped, turned, and said, “Yes?”

“You’re a great man, Jake.”

Jake Edelman smiled, turned, got out of the car and slowly walked up to the front door. He fumbled for his keys, found them, and opened the front door.

Bob Hartman just watched him, a tiny little figure, ugly and unkempt, as he disappeared into his small brick house.