Paul Gillebaard - USSR Hoax

An unexpected poke in Tom’s back caused him to jump. He swiveled around to see David towering over him empty handed, not ready to leave. He had a peculiar smirk.

“What are you doing, Tom?”

Tom tried to keep his cool. “Nothing.”

David gave the impression he was trying to peer over Tom’s shoulder into the drawer. “Did you see anything in there?”

That was an odd question from his suddenly nosy friend. Did David see the canister earlier? Nervously, Tom pushed in the drawer behind him. “In where? The drawer? No, why?”

“Then what are you doing?”

Why the twenty questions? Something was up. Tom answered with a logical response. “I’m looking for my keys so I can get you to the tire shop by 5:30.”

David continued to search around Tom’s desk.

Tom cocked an eyebrow. “What are you looking for?”

A sudden upset expression appeared on David’s face. He said, in an uncharacteristic grumble, “Nothing. I need to get something off my desk before we leave. I’ll meet you at your car.” Then he stormed off.

Rubbing his chin, Tom was convinced David’s strange behavior probably involved the canister.

Of the handful of desks near Tom, only a few were occupied. After a final unsuccessful search of his drawer, he quickly scrambled around asking those astronauts close by if they had seen anyone around his desk. They all answered “no,” but one said it with a sly grin. Something was going down, and Tom hoped it was just an innocent joke. Regardless, he had to come up with a plausible story of why he was in possession of a sealed LRL canister. He noted the time was 5:25. David was probably his best source for answers. He quickly snagged his keys and hurried to his car. If David didn’t have any insight, Tom was in trouble.

Tom hustled over the hot asphalt parking lot in the early evening heat toward his blue Stingray. David was already standing by the car, looking restless, rocking on the balls of his feet. Tom observed a cardboard box on the ground next to David.

Impatiently, David called out, “Tom we’ve got to get going. It’s already 5:30.”

With the magnitude of what was going on, getting his friend to the tire shop was the least of Tom’s concerns. “I’ll have you there in five minutes. I’m sure you’ll still be able to get your car.”

Sweating bullets within his flight suit, Tom jumped in and immediately started up the engine. He attributed the perspiration to his frayed nerves as he cranked on the air conditioner full blast. David entered and set the medium-sized box on his lap.

Tom noticed cut holes along the sides of the cardboard container. He rolled down his window. “What’s that?”

“It’s my son’s pet snake.”

Maybe this was part of some practical joke and why the canister is missing. Tom arched an eyebrow. “What the hell are you doing with a snake?”

“It was supposed to scare the shit out of you. I wanted to get you back for building that damn brick wall at my front door.”

Right away Tom had a good inkling where the reptile’s ultimate destination was to have been. He kept his cool as he checked his rearview mirror and backed up the car. “Where were you going to put it?”

“In your desk drawer. I’ve been planning this for weeks. But Dusty screwed it up.”

Tom’s hunch was right, and hopefully Dusty had the canister. He pushed in the clutch and jammed the stick shift into first gear and headed out of the parking lot. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. At the last minute, Dusty got called away from his desk. He asked Chris to deliver the snake while I escorted you out. But for some reason, the idiot didn’t do it.”

Hearing Riddick could have the lunar material caused Tom to tighten his grip on the steering wheel. He did his best to stay calm. “Did Chris go to my desk?”

“No, he gave me some lame excuse why he forgot. I think he’s full of shit. I don’t know why he didn’t do it, but it was a major challenge to get this snake out of the house. My son begged me not to take it. Joan even complained. So I pretty much blew my one opportunity.”

Tom was now certain Chris had the canister and probably didn’t put the snake in his desk so as to avoid leaving any evidence someone had opened the drawer. Tom couldn’t come across as being upset. He casually rolled up his window once cool air from the vents hit him in the face. He cracked a smile. “That would have definitely shocked the hell out of me. Too bad it didn’t work. I hate snakes.”

“I know.” David looked out his window. “Chris is an idiot.”

The Corvette’s engine roared as Tom pressed the pedal to the floor, racing across NASA 1 toward the tire shop. He had to get back to the office before Chris smuggled the material off the grounds.

When Tom returned to Building 4, he quickly vaulted up the stairs two at a time to the third floor level, where the astronauts’ offices were. He first stopped off at his desk to pick up his briefcase, ensuring he had a way to sneak the container from Chris’s office if he in fact had it. With his case in hand, Tom rushed down the corridor. A silhouette burst around the corner holding a briefcase. Once the man entered the brightly lit hallway, Tom could see it was Chris. Tom’s heart skipped a beat knowing he had almost missed the man.

Chris approached, a composed expression on his face. “Hey, Tom.”

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Tom tried to keep his emotions in check. “Chris, I need to talk to you for a moment.”

Not stopping, Chris said, in a quiet, yet frank tone, “Sorry, buddy, I’m late for an appointment. Can it wait until tomorrow?”

Tom grabbed Riddick’s arm and wrapped his fingers tightly around it as he passed, halting him dead in his tracks. “This can’t wait.”

Chris sighed. “Okay, but please make it quick.”

Seeing an empty conference room across the hall, Tom shoved Chris in that direction. “Let’s go in there.”

Chris reluctantly entered the room. Tom closed the door behind them and placed his briefcase on the conference table.

Chris looked unnerved. “What’s this all about?”

Riddick’s relaxed body language had Tom guessing whether the ass actually had the valuable treasure. Either he doesn’t have it or he’s one cool customer. Tom was blunt, saying in a strong and direct tone, “Do you have something of mine?”

The smug look on Chris’s face disappeared. Suddenly he came across as a kid who just got his hand caught in the cookie jar. “What are you talking about?”

The abrupt change in demeanor convinced Tom this was his man. “Did you take something out of my desk?”

Appearing to toy with Tom, Chris tried to cleverly turn the tables on the space veteran. “Why? What are you missing?”

Not biting, Tom assumed the material was in Chris’s briefcase. He took a calculated gamble. “I was told you went to my desk to put a snake in the top drawer, but instead you took something out. I want it back.”

Sticking out his chest arrogantly, Chris started moving toward the door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I need to get going.”

Tom thrust out his hand, blocking the man’s path. Tom wanted proof. “You aren’t going anywhere until you open your briefcase.”

Jerking the hand down, Chris challenged Tom’s authority. “Who are you to search my briefcase? I don’t have to answer to you.”

By sheer force of will, Tom kept himself from snapping. He took in a deep and calming breath as he folded his arms across his body. “You’re right. I don’t have the authority, but I can still alert security and insist they check it.”

Chris stepped back. “You’re bluffing.”