Page 11 of Identity Unknown
If the Others wanted to hurt us, we’re no match for them,” Shannon says as I’m reminded of how quickly rumors can cause an uproar. “Imagine if they did to us what we do to everything else. What could be more hideous? But I don’t believe they would.”
“It’s people we should fear. They’re who bring death to our door.” I rummage in the snack drawer near the coffeemaker.
“In my opinion, that’s why the Others are here. To help before it’s too late.”
“Well, if they have any remedies, I’d be most grateful.” I carry granola bars and small bags of peanuts to my conference table.
“When I was growing up in Galway, I used to see strange lights dancing at night over the river Corrib and the ocean.” Shannon says this wistfully with a far-off stare. “My father referred to them as the Star People checking on us. He’d tell me that we were wondrously made by beings from another galaxy, which I thought was grand.”
“What you’re alluding to is a scientific theory that life here might have been started by beings from outer space.” I place the snacks in my briefcase. “The Others, as you call them.”
“One of my earliest memories is a starship landing on our neighbor’s farm when I was just a wee thing.” Shannon launches into one of her tales. “He said it looked like a gigantic upside-down spinning top with blue lights under it, and I saw for myself the burned circle left in the grass—”
“Shannon…?” I gently interrupt.
“And the neighbor told us about these childlike beings who floated off the ground. I remember he described them as grayish with huge dark eyes, all of them looking exactly alike with thumbless hands that were a bit like claws. They were curious about him but not the least bit harmful. And certainly, they could have been…”
“What we don’t need are wild tales and hypotheticals.” I open a cabinet, retrieving my jump-out bag prepacked with clothing and other necessities. “Marino and I are meeting Lucy at the airport, and I don’t know when we’ll be back. The Secret Service is in charge, and I’ll update you as best I can when able. In the meantime, I need you to cancel everything for the rest of the day.”
“That would be your one o’clock with theTelegraph,and let’s see what else.” Fishing a pair of glasses out of a pocket, Shannon opens her datebook. “After that it’s theBoston Globeand theWashington Postagain.”
I collect my satellite phone as I think of the many times I encouraged Sal to carry one when visiting the observatory in West Virginia. It’s in the heart of the National Radio Quiet Zone where there are no cell towers, all wireless devices prohibited and rendered unusable.
A satellite phone is all that would work in the Quiet Zone. But he refused to use anything that might interfere with GreenBank’s massive radio telescope or those at the nearby National Security Agency top-secret Sugar Grove Station.
“What else?” I’m asking Shannon.
“Your monthly chat with the governor at five o’clock, of course.”
“That will have to be rescheduled too,” I reply.
“She’ll be most disappointed.” What Shannon means is that the governor will be pissed. “No doubt she’ll be keen to discuss the Luna Briley case, for obvious reasons. Since the father is her enemy.”
“Not that I can discuss it anyway, but let her know I’ve been called out of town. Please give her my apologies,” I reply while glancing at a text from my sister.
Le Refuge tonight? 7:30 reservation? Will tell you ALL about my award-winning jackpot of a fab weekend! I could use a quiet evening with family and fine dining…,Dorothy writes.
“When people ask where you are, what shall I tell them?” Shannon continues surfing through her datebook, her zany pink reading glasses parked on the tip of her nose.
“You can say that I’m traveling to an area where there’s limited cell phone service,” I reply while answering Dorothy’s text.
I let her know that dinner can’t happen tonight. Marino and I are headed out of town on a case. She should know that already. But it’s clear he’s not informed her. They’re married and yet he expects me to pass along the message. What this tells me is they’re having a problem.
“You should be aware that Bug Off is here today at long last because of the problem we’ve been having in the vehicle bay.” Shannon continues to brief me.
“Bug Off?” The name isn’t familiar.
“One of the pest control companies on state contract.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It was recently added to the list of vendors. Meaning, it’s not the usual young fellow with strange eyes and poor posture who can’t get away from us fast enough when he bothers to show up. They sent a woman this time. She showed up without any notice and is scaring the bejesus out of me.” Shannon nods at live video on the security monitors.
The exterminator is in protective clothing, her head and face covered, a tank of pesticide strapped to her back. I notice right away that she’s not clipped to a safety tether. She must be forty feet off the ground, hanging on to a rung with one gloved hand, the other holding the spray gun. Then she’s fogging the nest, clouds of poison billowing up, the hornets frantic.
“It looks awfully dangerous, and I hope she doesn’t hurtle to her death in front of all of us.” Shannon’s brow is knitted into a worried frown as she watches. “Fancy having a job like that.”
“Tell her we’d really appreciate it if she takes care of the mosquito mitigation while she’s at it,” I suggest. “Someone should have sprayed for them weeks ago.”