“I’m his girlfriend,” Megan said brightly—chipper as a chipmunk, his homeroom teacher in seventh grade, Mrs. Abernathy, would have said. Jon couldn’t help but smile at his mom’s quizzical expression. He could read her like a book, and knew exactly the thought that was running through her mind: how could a girl like that be so damn cheerful about being Jon’s girlfriend? Okay, sure, she might be his girlfriend—but couldn’t she at least be a little embarrassed about it?
He guessed it should have irritated him more, but in a way it was just kind of sad—not only was Megan cheerful about being Jon’s girlfriend, she was cheerful about it, at least in part, because they were running away to Canada. Disappearing. Maybe forever. And he was going to miss his shallow, irritating, self-improving, bliss-following mother.
The thought that he’d be walking out on her, with nothing but a note, and leaving her with absolutely no idea where he was going or where he would be, just like Jackson Edmonds had fourteen years ago, didn’t sit well with him, either, he had to admit.
But then, there was Megan.
Anyway, he was going to do it different from Jackson in at least one respect—he was going to leave his mom some money. Jackson had cleaned out their small checking account before disappearing, when he had gone. Jon also had something beyond Megan that he was going for, he told himself. Jackson had left for no better reason than to escape the many pressures of sitting around the house and living off Doreen.
“So—uh—can I get you guys some Cokes or something? Richard, you want another beer?”
“No, a Coke would be fine with me, thanks,” Richard said. “I think I’ve had enough beer.”
Jon perked up. “We have Coke? Cool.” Having Doreen’s boyfriends or potential boyfriends come over, while not without drawbacks, often had a major benefit: good food and drink in the fridge.
“You, Megan?” Doreen asked.
“Beer’s good with me,” she replied, smiling broadly.
Doreen frowned. She glanced at Richard, and then back to Megan. “You’re underage. You can’t have a beer.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ll take a Diet Pepsi, then. Sorry.” Megan winked at Jon as Doreen went into the kitchen.
“So, you guys go to school together?” Richard asked, sitting back down in the chair. Megan and Jon sat down where his mom had been sitting when they came in, Megan sitting so close she was almost leaning into him.
“We do,” she said. “We’ve been friends for almost two years.”
Jon nodded. “Megan and Johnny Two—he’s a friend of ours and we’re both named Jon. Well, actually, he’s a John, with an ‘h’. I’m just J-O-N. You get used to it. Anyway, they were both in eighth grade when I was in seventh grade, but we all got put in detention at the same time—”
“We broke the statue,” Megan said cheerily. “Well, I did, and Johnny Two sort of helped—Jon was just there, but we all got in trouble for it.”
“And you’ve been friends ever since, huh?”
Megan put her arm around Jon’s shoulder and squeezed. “Pretty much.”
“You don’t mind if Megan hangs out during the interview, do you?” Jon asked. “I’ve been telling her about Dr. Bernhard ever since—you know, ever since I heard. Since Mom told me. So she wanted to listen to the whole interview thing—”
Megan nodded. “I’m nosy.”
“That’s up to you guys. You’re the ones doing me a favor.”
Doreen came up with two bottles of Coke and two Diet Pepsi’s on a TV tray. “Here you go.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Edmonds,” Megan said, then turned to Jon. “Your mom is the best.”
Jon had to stifle a laugh. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Yes, thank you,” Richard concurred as Doreen pulled up a kitchen chair and sat down. “So, did both of you know Dr. Donald Bernhard?”
“Megan didn’t, really,” Jon said. “It was all mostly science-talk and computer geek stuff and I never thought Megan or Johnny Two would be all that in to it.”
“Jon thinks I’m a doofus,” Megan interjected.
“I don’t think you’re a doofus, I just thought it would be too geeky for you guys. Anyway, I’m sure I would have gotten around to it. You know, if Dr. Bernhard hadn’t—if what happened hadn’t happened, I guess.”
“Did he tell you he was going anywhere? That he might be leaving?”
Not in so many words, Jon thought to himself. That would have been too straightforward. “No, nothing. As far as I knew, he was still planning on me coming over and mowing his yard this summer and help him out with his computers—then mom told me he had gotten killed. Or he had died.”
“He died at Four Corners mall, in L.A. The coroner’s report says it was a sudden, massive coronary. Did he have any heart problems, or take any heart medicine, anything like that? That you know of?”
Jon shook his head. “No. He was fine, far as I knew.”
“When did you first me meet him?”
He guessed it should have irritated him more, but in a way it was just kind of sad—not only was Megan cheerful about being Jon’s girlfriend, she was cheerful about it, at least in part, because they were running away to Canada. Disappearing. Maybe forever. And he was going to miss his shallow, irritating, self-improving, bliss-following mother.
The thought that he’d be walking out on her, with nothing but a note, and leaving her with absolutely no idea where he was going or where he would be, just like Jackson Edmonds had fourteen years ago, didn’t sit well with him, either, he had to admit.
But then, there was Megan.
Anyway, he was going to do it different from Jackson in at least one respect—he was going to leave his mom some money. Jackson had cleaned out their small checking account before disappearing, when he had gone. Jon also had something beyond Megan that he was going for, he told himself. Jackson had left for no better reason than to escape the many pressures of sitting around the house and living off Doreen.
“So—uh—can I get you guys some Cokes or something? Richard, you want another beer?”
“No, a Coke would be fine with me, thanks,” Richard said. “I think I’ve had enough beer.”
Jon perked up. “We have Coke? Cool.” Having Doreen’s boyfriends or potential boyfriends come over, while not without drawbacks, often had a major benefit: good food and drink in the fridge.
“You, Megan?” Doreen asked.
“Beer’s good with me,” she replied, smiling broadly.
Doreen frowned. She glanced at Richard, and then back to Megan. “You’re underage. You can’t have a beer.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ll take a Diet Pepsi, then. Sorry.” Megan winked at Jon as Doreen went into the kitchen.
“So, you guys go to school together?” Richard asked, sitting back down in the chair. Megan and Jon sat down where his mom had been sitting when they came in, Megan sitting so close she was almost leaning into him.
“We do,” she said. “We’ve been friends for almost two years.”
Jon nodded. “Megan and Johnny Two—he’s a friend of ours and we’re both named Jon. Well, actually, he’s a John, with an ‘h’. I’m just J-O-N. You get used to it. Anyway, they were both in eighth grade when I was in seventh grade, but we all got put in detention at the same time—”
“We broke the statue,” Megan said cheerily. “Well, I did, and Johnny Two sort of helped—Jon was just there, but we all got in trouble for it.”
“And you’ve been friends ever since, huh?”
Megan put her arm around Jon’s shoulder and squeezed. “Pretty much.”
“You don’t mind if Megan hangs out during the interview, do you?” Jon asked. “I’ve been telling her about Dr. Bernhard ever since—you know, ever since I heard. Since Mom told me. So she wanted to listen to the whole interview thing—”
Megan nodded. “I’m nosy.”
“That’s up to you guys. You’re the ones doing me a favor.”
Doreen came up with two bottles of Coke and two Diet Pepsi’s on a TV tray. “Here you go.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Edmonds,” Megan said, then turned to Jon. “Your mom is the best.”
Jon had to stifle a laugh. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Yes, thank you,” Richard concurred as Doreen pulled up a kitchen chair and sat down. “So, did both of you know Dr. Donald Bernhard?”
“Megan didn’t, really,” Jon said. “It was all mostly science-talk and computer geek stuff and I never thought Megan or Johnny Two would be all that in to it.”
“Jon thinks I’m a doofus,” Megan interjected.
“I don’t think you’re a doofus, I just thought it would be too geeky for you guys. Anyway, I’m sure I would have gotten around to it. You know, if Dr. Bernhard hadn’t—if what happened hadn’t happened, I guess.”
“Did he tell you he was going anywhere? That he might be leaving?”
Not in so many words, Jon thought to himself. That would have been too straightforward. “No, nothing. As far as I knew, he was still planning on me coming over and mowing his yard this summer and help him out with his computers—then mom told me he had gotten killed. Or he had died.”
“He died at Four Corners mall, in L.A. The coroner’s report says it was a sudden, massive coronary. Did he have any heart problems, or take any heart medicine, anything like that? That you know of?”
Jon shook his head. “No. He was fine, far as I knew.”
“When did you first me meet him?”
“About a year ago. At the Superbee. I was Playing Crazy Kong and he came over and watched for a while, and I thought he might be like a pervert or something, but he wanted to challenge me to the next game and he paid, so I figured I’d play the game. We started talking about programming and math and computers and stuff—I don’t know how we got started. I think I was saying how I wanted to be able to make games like that, one day, and he said I needed to be good at math and I told him I was, and we started talking about algebra. Then algorithms, then programming in machine language instead of higher level languages, like BASIC or C—”
“Did he tell you anything about what he did?”
“Not then. I just talked, mostly, and he asked a lot of questions. I don’t know if he was humoring me or what but I think he was sort of testing me, maybe. To see if I would be able to work on his computers at home—although I didn’t end up doing that much.”
“What sort of things did you do? Did you do anything for him?”
“Cut the yard. Clean up messes. I worked on putting some of the computer parts and pieces together to see if we could get one working computer. I raked and cleaned his gutters last fall—”
“Jon,” Doreen interrupted. “You never told me you were going to clean that old man’s gutters. I never would have let you do that, that’s too dangerous—”
Jon shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d care, sorry,” he said. “It was ten bucks, and I thought it was pretty easy for ten bucks.”
“You said he didn’t tell you what he did when you met him. When did he?”
“I guess it was about a month or something. He just said he worked at Oak Ridge, doing research. On satellites. Power systems and that kind of stuff. Lots of people around here have something to do with Oak Ridge, so it’s not like that was weird or anything.”
“Sure, sure,” Richard said, writing down a few notes. “So when did you first go over to his house? You met him at the—“ He looked up at his pad. “—the SuperBee. And you talked, and he said he had some computers, right? When did you start doing work for him, or going over to his house?”
“He asked me that day. Said to ask my parents, and he wrote down his number for me and told me to call if they said it was okay.”
Jon looked over to his mom, who was smiling nervously. She was really worried, he thought, that there was something more going on than just an old boyfriend showing up to ask questions about Dr. Bernhard. He couldn’t be sure, and perhaps he should have given Doreen more credit, but he thought that maybe she was putting two and two together in her sometimes mixed-up mind and was thinking that Megan declaring herself his girlfriend might have something to do with Dr. Bernhard. That maybe Dr. Bernhard had been selling secrets to the soviets, and Jon had been his accomplice. Then Jon had lavished his cut of the espionage payments on Megan to secure her romantic interest. Maybe she wasn’t that big of a paranoid freak, but Jon thought that, yeah, maybe she was. Well, at the least, she would get to feel vindicated, when he and Megan suddenly disappeared tomorrow.
Jon watched Doreen’s eyes dart to Megan then to Mr. Mathers then back to himself, and suddenly knew that something had not gone as his mom had planned with Richard Mathers. He wasn’t interested; he might have actually just gone ahead and said it to her. Some guys did. And then Megan had come in, making noises about being Jon’s girlfriend, making Doreen’s day that much worse. Not that Jon thought there was too much danger his mom could throw a serious wrench into the works, but he decided he ought to treat lightly around Doreen for the rest of the day. Maybe disappear for the rest of the day, come back to leave the note and some money, and let that be his goodbye.
“So,” Richard Mathers started, after the pause had gone on for quite a while. “You did eventually go over to his house?”
“Yeah,” Jon said, and decided to give Doreen a smile. “It took some begging, but she finally let me go over there.”
“Did you ever deliver anything for him? Go anywhere with him?”
Jon shook his head. “No, he didn’t have me delivering packages or anything like that. I’m not stupid, I would have thought something was wrong, if he was giving me boxes wrapped in plain brown wrappers to take to weird people downtown or something. Mostly I cleaned stuff and worked on the computers—which I don’t think he needed me to do, he was just being nice. And we talked about TV and movies and stuff. Sometimes it was like he just wanted to talk about that stuff.”
Richard nodded. “You think maybe he wanted a friend, maybe, more than somebody to do chores?”
Jon shrugged. “I dunno. I guess. He liked to talk a lot, I know that.”
“Did he ever mention anything about what he actually did at Oak Ridge? The sort of work he was doing?”
“Jeeze, he talked about so much stuff, I don’t know,” Jon said. “He used to be a teacher and he used to work on nuclear bombs at Los Alamos, I know he told me that.”
“Did he ever mention anything about satellites? Or SDI—or did he mention the Strategic Defense Initiative?”
“Did he tell you anything about what he did?”
“Not then. I just talked, mostly, and he asked a lot of questions. I don’t know if he was humoring me or what but I think he was sort of testing me, maybe. To see if I would be able to work on his computers at home—although I didn’t end up doing that much.”
“What sort of things did you do? Did you do anything for him?”
“Cut the yard. Clean up messes. I worked on putting some of the computer parts and pieces together to see if we could get one working computer. I raked and cleaned his gutters last fall—”
“Jon,” Doreen interrupted. “You never told me you were going to clean that old man’s gutters. I never would have let you do that, that’s too dangerous—”
Jon shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d care, sorry,” he said. “It was ten bucks, and I thought it was pretty easy for ten bucks.”
“You said he didn’t tell you what he did when you met him. When did he?”
“I guess it was about a month or something. He just said he worked at Oak Ridge, doing research. On satellites. Power systems and that kind of stuff. Lots of people around here have something to do with Oak Ridge, so it’s not like that was weird or anything.”
“Sure, sure,” Richard said, writing down a few notes. “So when did you first go over to his house? You met him at the—“ He looked up at his pad. “—the SuperBee. And you talked, and he said he had some computers, right? When did you start doing work for him, or going over to his house?”
“He asked me that day. Said to ask my parents, and he wrote down his number for me and told me to call if they said it was okay.”
Jon looked over to his mom, who was smiling nervously. She was really worried, he thought, that there was something more going on than just an old boyfriend showing up to ask questions about Dr. Bernhard. He couldn’t be sure, and perhaps he should have given Doreen more credit, but he thought that maybe she was putting two and two together in her sometimes mixed-up mind and was thinking that Megan declaring herself his girlfriend might have something to do with Dr. Bernhard. That maybe Dr. Bernhard had been selling secrets to the soviets, and Jon had been his accomplice. Then Jon had lavished his cut of the espionage payments on Megan to secure her romantic interest. Maybe she wasn’t that big of a paranoid freak, but Jon thought that, yeah, maybe she was. Well, at the least, she would get to feel vindicated, when he and Megan suddenly disappeared tomorrow.
Jon watched Doreen’s eyes dart to Megan then to Mr. Mathers then back to himself, and suddenly knew that something had not gone as his mom had planned with Richard Mathers. He wasn’t interested; he might have actually just gone ahead and said it to her. Some guys did. And then Megan had come in, making noises about being Jon’s girlfriend, making Doreen’s day that much worse. Not that Jon thought there was too much danger his mom could throw a serious wrench into the works, but he decided he ought to treat lightly around Doreen for the rest of the day. Maybe disappear for the rest of the day, come back to leave the note and some money, and let that be his goodbye.
“So,” Richard Mathers started, after the pause had gone on for quite a while. “You did eventually go over to his house?”
“Yeah,” Jon said, and decided to give Doreen a smile. “It took some begging, but she finally let me go over there.”
“Did you ever deliver anything for him? Go anywhere with him?”
Jon shook his head. “No, he didn’t have me delivering packages or anything like that. I’m not stupid, I would have thought something was wrong, if he was giving me boxes wrapped in plain brown wrappers to take to weird people downtown or something. Mostly I cleaned stuff and worked on the computers—which I don’t think he needed me to do, he was just being nice. And we talked about TV and movies and stuff. Sometimes it was like he just wanted to talk about that stuff.”
Richard nodded. “You think maybe he wanted a friend, maybe, more than somebody to do chores?”
Jon shrugged. “I dunno. I guess. He liked to talk a lot, I know that.”
“Did he ever mention anything about what he actually did at Oak Ridge? The sort of work he was doing?”
“Jeeze, he talked about so much stuff, I don’t know,” Jon said. “He used to be a teacher and he used to work on nuclear bombs at Los Alamos, I know he told me that.”
“Did he ever mention anything about satellites? Or SDI—or did he mention the Strategic Defense Initiative?”
Jon smiled a little bit. “I think so. Yeah—he said he worked on satellites. Or he was working on something about satellites. Satellites and lasers, that you could use them to find nuclear missiles or something. But he didn’t talk much about that.”
Richard nodded, looking at his yellow legal pad thoughtfully. “Was there anybody else over at his house, that you recall? Any visitors? Any phone calls, that you remember?”
“I think the lady next door came by once, but I think they just talked about how the guy across the street had all this trash in his yard and didn’t clean it up.”
“What about phone calls?”
“Yeah, sure, but—I don’t remember anything. He’d just talk for a while and then hang up. I remember once he said that was an old friend of his, from Berkley. But—”
“Did he mention a name?”
“Not that I remember. Just a friend of his. Then he said she was a Communist bitch.” Jon looked over to Doreen. “Sorry, mom.”
Doreen nodded absently. “Just tell him whatever happened.”
“You’re doing great, Jon. When was the last time you went over to his house? Or did any work for him?”
“I guess it was about a month ago. I was going to do more but—” He looked over at Megan, and she smiled back at him, wrapping her arms around his arm. She put her head on his shoulder. “I’ve been spending more time with Megan. She’s a lot cuter.”
Richard Mathers chuckled. “I don’t doubt that. What did you do, that day?”
Jon cut his eyes over to Doreen—it was just for effect, as he knew what he was going to say was innocuous. But it would help satisfy her for now that there had been nothing sinister going on, if he seemed to be worried what she would think about sitting around and watching TV with Dr. Bernhard, instead of doing chores. “Uh, we watched TV. And tried to stump each other with Star Trek trivia questions. And he was really good; he won.” He smiled sheepishly at Doreen, and he thought he saw a ease in her motherly concern, at least on her face. “And I know I said I was going over there to work on his computers and I thought I would, but we just started talking and it got late and it was time to go before we stopped.”
And, in fact, it was true. The last time he had been over there, they had done nothing but watch, and talk about, television. Nothing more or less than that. There hadn’t been anything going on with Dr. Bernhard—at least, not that Jon had known about—the entire time he had been going over to his house.
It wasn’t until Dr. Bernhard had disappeared that Jon found out there had been something very sinister indeed going on with Dr. Bernhard. That the stories and questions were tricks—clues and hints for the game he was playing. And that the good doctor had planned to stick him with the thing he had stolen from the government. Without warning him. Which still pissed him off. But then, without the book, would he and Megan ever spent so much time swapping spit? Would he ever have even gotten to kiss her at all? Somehow, he doubted it. Certainly, he wouldn’t be about to travel cross-country, staying alone in motels across the nation with her, without the book.
Richard nodded. “Did he pay you any money when you just talked about TV or watched TV? Or did he only pay you for work you did?”
“Just for actual work. I wouldn’t have let him pay me for just sitting around and watching TV. That would have been creepy.”
Mr. Mathers wrote for a moment on his legal pad, then looked back up at Jon. “Did he ever talk about his wife? His family? Did you see any pictures?”
“A few,” Jon said. “Pictures, I mean. His wife. I don’t think they ever had any children. His wife was killed in a car accident back when he used to live in New Mexico. But other than her—”
“What did he say about her? Anything?”
“Something like out of a Hallmark card,” Jon said, exchanging a quick smile with Megan. “That she had been his ‘rock’ and that he had loved her more than anything. And it was kind of creepy. I don’t remember how we started the conversation, but I remember him standing there, holding her picture, telling me that he was dead, too. That he had died when she died.”
Richard Mathers wrote on his legal pad, nodding thoughtfully. “Is that all that he said about her? That you remember?”
Jon thought, really trying to remember what else there had been. He didn’t see any harm in cooperating on anything that didn’t directly address the book, and from the questions so far, it didn’t sound like Richard Mathers had a clue as to what Dr. Bernhard had actually been working on up at Oak Ridge. And it was always possibly he might recall something that would be useful to him. “He said that he would have died or given up or something—I forgot just what he said he would have done, but it wasn’t that same day. He was asking me if I had a girlfriend, and I didn’t—” He glanced over at Megan, who scrunched up her nose and giggled, then resumed staring at him adoringly. Done for Doreen’s benefit, he knew, but he had to admit he liked it. “—then,” he finished.
“So, he would have died or given up if—what? On what?”
“If his wife hadn’t been there for him, all the way, he would have just given up. Or been a teacher. Something like that. He told me about guys he worked with going nuts because their wives would, you know, go after them to stop working for the government. He said that nuclear protestors or—well, he said Communists, but that sounds kind of paranoid—would get to their wives and try and get them to turn on their husbands or the work they were doing, so they’d stop working on nuclear bombs. He told me they had tried to do it to his wife, and she told them to go to Hell and turned in somebody who had tried to get her to get Dr. Bernhard to stop doing what he was doing. I don’t remember it all but it was a pretty good story. But he was big on that—no matter what, his wife loved him and was on his side. Which he said was why he lasted as long as he did, and we he couldn’t do it anymore. I think he said he quit working in Los Alamos after his wife died.”
There was a long pause as Richard sat, staring at his legal pad. His eyes looked like they had glazed over. After the pause had become a little too awkward, Doreen nudged Mr. Mathers arm. “Richard, you all right?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, and then made a show of scribbling on his legal pad. “Just thinking. Hold on a second.” He stopped scribbling and flipped to the back of the pad, where he had several white sheets of copy paper, most of them typed or written on, folded and paper clipped. He took them out, and started flipping through them. “Karin Kraus-Bernhard. They were married twenty-seven years, and he was working at Los Alamos for just shy of nineteen of those. Before that, he was working at Fort Bragg in North Carolina—it says here as a ‘consultant’. I thought they just had soldiers stationed at Fort Bragg. They don’t do any research there, do they? I’ll have to check on that. Lessee. Before that, he was doing research at the Austrian Research Center in Seibersdorf, Austria. Where he apparently met his wife, though they didn’t get married until they moved to America. He was doing industrial telecommunications research, it says. Before that he was getting his doctorate in nuclear physics from Queen Mary college in London. I wonder why the jump from nuclear physics to ‘industrial telecommunications’ research. He had family in Austria, though, perhaps that’s why.”
Megan yawned, and Jon found himself following suit.
“Sorry, sorry, just thinking out loud,” Richard said. “You said he mentioned something about satellites—using lasers to find nuclear missiles, I think is what you said. Did he ever mention SDI, or the Strategic Defense Initiative—or maybe he called it ‘Star Wars’?”
“No, nothing like that. He just talked about how tough it was to get good data so far away. Which makes sense—geiger counters are great if you’re right up on something, but they were trying to figure out how to measure radioactivity from six-hundred miles up in space. And do spectrographic analysis of surface areas on the planet, which is really cool because normal spectrograms require that you photograph, like, the light source or gas or something where the light filters through and you get the spectrographic readings from which wavelengths of light are returned. But what he said they were doing was trying to use pinpoint lasers to light their sample area over microseconds and take their pictures bit by bit and assemble the spectrograph—”
“Wow, that’s something,” Richard said, writing vigorously on his legal pad. “He told you they were doing all that?”
Jon shrugged. “Well, he didn’t really say they were doing all that—just that that sort of stuff was being done. But he knew a lot about it. I mean, he told me more stuff than I remember, and he drew me a diagram that was supposed to show how it worked, but I didn’t quite get it.”
“Did he ever say if it was a developed technology? If he had worked on it, or if was working, or if he had tested it—”
“He said it worked great from a few hundred feet. I think I asked him if we had that sort of thing now, and that was what he said.”
Megan yawned again. “Don’t worry, not much more,” Richard promised. “I’ve got another interview in an hour, so I’ve got to wrap it up quick. But, if I have any more questions, mind if I ask them tonight?”
Jon shrugged. “That’s cool.”
“I did want to ask you,” Richard said. “Did Dr. Bernhard ever take you to work with him? Ever let you see inside Oak Ridge National Laboratory, or let you go there after hours with him or—drive by there with you? Anything like that?”
Jon shook his head. “No way. Mom would have gone crazy. I mean, I guess she would have. I would have kind of wanted to, but he never offered or anything and I didn’t ask. I figured it didn’t work like that.”
“So you never went anywhere with him, outside of his house?”
Richard nodded, looking at his yellow legal pad thoughtfully. “Was there anybody else over at his house, that you recall? Any visitors? Any phone calls, that you remember?”
“I think the lady next door came by once, but I think they just talked about how the guy across the street had all this trash in his yard and didn’t clean it up.”
“What about phone calls?”
“Yeah, sure, but—I don’t remember anything. He’d just talk for a while and then hang up. I remember once he said that was an old friend of his, from Berkley. But—”
“Did he mention a name?”
“Not that I remember. Just a friend of his. Then he said she was a Communist bitch.” Jon looked over to Doreen. “Sorry, mom.”
Doreen nodded absently. “Just tell him whatever happened.”
“You’re doing great, Jon. When was the last time you went over to his house? Or did any work for him?”
“I guess it was about a month ago. I was going to do more but—” He looked over at Megan, and she smiled back at him, wrapping her arms around his arm. She put her head on his shoulder. “I’ve been spending more time with Megan. She’s a lot cuter.”
Richard Mathers chuckled. “I don’t doubt that. What did you do, that day?”
Jon cut his eyes over to Doreen—it was just for effect, as he knew what he was going to say was innocuous. But it would help satisfy her for now that there had been nothing sinister going on, if he seemed to be worried what she would think about sitting around and watching TV with Dr. Bernhard, instead of doing chores. “Uh, we watched TV. And tried to stump each other with Star Trek trivia questions. And he was really good; he won.” He smiled sheepishly at Doreen, and he thought he saw a ease in her motherly concern, at least on her face. “And I know I said I was going over there to work on his computers and I thought I would, but we just started talking and it got late and it was time to go before we stopped.”
And, in fact, it was true. The last time he had been over there, they had done nothing but watch, and talk about, television. Nothing more or less than that. There hadn’t been anything going on with Dr. Bernhard—at least, not that Jon had known about—the entire time he had been going over to his house.
It wasn’t until Dr. Bernhard had disappeared that Jon found out there had been something very sinister indeed going on with Dr. Bernhard. That the stories and questions were tricks—clues and hints for the game he was playing. And that the good doctor had planned to stick him with the thing he had stolen from the government. Without warning him. Which still pissed him off. But then, without the book, would he and Megan ever spent so much time swapping spit? Would he ever have even gotten to kiss her at all? Somehow, he doubted it. Certainly, he wouldn’t be about to travel cross-country, staying alone in motels across the nation with her, without the book.
Richard nodded. “Did he pay you any money when you just talked about TV or watched TV? Or did he only pay you for work you did?”
“Just for actual work. I wouldn’t have let him pay me for just sitting around and watching TV. That would have been creepy.”
Mr. Mathers wrote for a moment on his legal pad, then looked back up at Jon. “Did he ever talk about his wife? His family? Did you see any pictures?”
“A few,” Jon said. “Pictures, I mean. His wife. I don’t think they ever had any children. His wife was killed in a car accident back when he used to live in New Mexico. But other than her—”
“What did he say about her? Anything?”
“Something like out of a Hallmark card,” Jon said, exchanging a quick smile with Megan. “That she had been his ‘rock’ and that he had loved her more than anything. And it was kind of creepy. I don’t remember how we started the conversation, but I remember him standing there, holding her picture, telling me that he was dead, too. That he had died when she died.”
Richard Mathers wrote on his legal pad, nodding thoughtfully. “Is that all that he said about her? That you remember?”
Jon thought, really trying to remember what else there had been. He didn’t see any harm in cooperating on anything that didn’t directly address the book, and from the questions so far, it didn’t sound like Richard Mathers had a clue as to what Dr. Bernhard had actually been working on up at Oak Ridge. And it was always possibly he might recall something that would be useful to him. “He said that he would have died or given up or something—I forgot just what he said he would have done, but it wasn’t that same day. He was asking me if I had a girlfriend, and I didn’t—” He glanced over at Megan, who scrunched up her nose and giggled, then resumed staring at him adoringly. Done for Doreen’s benefit, he knew, but he had to admit he liked it. “—then,” he finished.
“So, he would have died or given up if—what? On what?”
“If his wife hadn’t been there for him, all the way, he would have just given up. Or been a teacher. Something like that. He told me about guys he worked with going nuts because their wives would, you know, go after them to stop working for the government. He said that nuclear protestors or—well, he said Communists, but that sounds kind of paranoid—would get to their wives and try and get them to turn on their husbands or the work they were doing, so they’d stop working on nuclear bombs. He told me they had tried to do it to his wife, and she told them to go to Hell and turned in somebody who had tried to get her to get Dr. Bernhard to stop doing what he was doing. I don’t remember it all but it was a pretty good story. But he was big on that—no matter what, his wife loved him and was on his side. Which he said was why he lasted as long as he did, and we he couldn’t do it anymore. I think he said he quit working in Los Alamos after his wife died.”
There was a long pause as Richard sat, staring at his legal pad. His eyes looked like they had glazed over. After the pause had become a little too awkward, Doreen nudged Mr. Mathers arm. “Richard, you all right?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, and then made a show of scribbling on his legal pad. “Just thinking. Hold on a second.” He stopped scribbling and flipped to the back of the pad, where he had several white sheets of copy paper, most of them typed or written on, folded and paper clipped. He took them out, and started flipping through them. “Karin Kraus-Bernhard. They were married twenty-seven years, and he was working at Los Alamos for just shy of nineteen of those. Before that, he was working at Fort Bragg in North Carolina—it says here as a ‘consultant’. I thought they just had soldiers stationed at Fort Bragg. They don’t do any research there, do they? I’ll have to check on that. Lessee. Before that, he was doing research at the Austrian Research Center in Seibersdorf, Austria. Where he apparently met his wife, though they didn’t get married until they moved to America. He was doing industrial telecommunications research, it says. Before that he was getting his doctorate in nuclear physics from Queen Mary college in London. I wonder why the jump from nuclear physics to ‘industrial telecommunications’ research. He had family in Austria, though, perhaps that’s why.”
Megan yawned, and Jon found himself following suit.
“Sorry, sorry, just thinking out loud,” Richard said. “You said he mentioned something about satellites—using lasers to find nuclear missiles, I think is what you said. Did he ever mention SDI, or the Strategic Defense Initiative—or maybe he called it ‘Star Wars’?”
“No, nothing like that. He just talked about how tough it was to get good data so far away. Which makes sense—geiger counters are great if you’re right up on something, but they were trying to figure out how to measure radioactivity from six-hundred miles up in space. And do spectrographic analysis of surface areas on the planet, which is really cool because normal spectrograms require that you photograph, like, the light source or gas or something where the light filters through and you get the spectrographic readings from which wavelengths of light are returned. But what he said they were doing was trying to use pinpoint lasers to light their sample area over microseconds and take their pictures bit by bit and assemble the spectrograph—”
“Wow, that’s something,” Richard said, writing vigorously on his legal pad. “He told you they were doing all that?”
Jon shrugged. “Well, he didn’t really say they were doing all that—just that that sort of stuff was being done. But he knew a lot about it. I mean, he told me more stuff than I remember, and he drew me a diagram that was supposed to show how it worked, but I didn’t quite get it.”
“Did he ever say if it was a developed technology? If he had worked on it, or if was working, or if he had tested it—”
“He said it worked great from a few hundred feet. I think I asked him if we had that sort of thing now, and that was what he said.”
Megan yawned again. “Don’t worry, not much more,” Richard promised. “I’ve got another interview in an hour, so I’ve got to wrap it up quick. But, if I have any more questions, mind if I ask them tonight?”
Jon shrugged. “That’s cool.”
“I did want to ask you,” Richard said. “Did Dr. Bernhard ever take you to work with him? Ever let you see inside Oak Ridge National Laboratory, or let you go there after hours with him or—drive by there with you? Anything like that?”
Jon shook his head. “No way. Mom would have gone crazy. I mean, I guess she would have. I would have kind of wanted to, but he never offered or anything and I didn’t ask. I figured it didn’t work like that.”
“So you never went anywhere with him, outside of his house?”
“We walked down to the SuperBee to play Crazy Kong a couple of times. Walked around the block once or twice—he liked to go walking when the weather was nice. But we never went up to his work or anything.”
Richard wrote some more. “Just a few more questions, and I’ll let you go,” he said, as Megan yawned and so did Doreen.
“I’ll get some fresh drinks,” Doreen said, and stood up, and the rest of the questions were short and sweet. But there were a lot more than a few. He never asked you to mail anything? Did he ever mention his sister? Did he ever talk about student groups called “Students for Democratic Society” or “Progressive Reform Party”? Did he ever say anything about Communism, Russia, the Soviet Embassy, Ronald Reagan, George Bush, Casper Weinberger, Ed Meese, William Webster, Leonid Brezhnev, Yuri Andropov? After a while, Jon really did grow tired of trying to recall something about every last name or issue, and started answering all the questions with one word: “No.” After a few minutes, Richard Mathers took the hint.
“Damn, it’s getting late,” he said. “Thank you for letting me take up so much of your time. I really do appreciate it—you’ve been a big help. And a real easy interview.”
“No problem,” Jon said. “Hey, mom, can I go hang out at Megan’s house?”
“Uh—um—sure,” Doreen agreed. “Just don’t stay too late, is all. Be home by nine, okay?”
Jon nodded, as he and Megan got up. Megan yawned and then stretched in an impressively feline way that Jon saw even Mr. Mathers took notice of. Wasn’t he, like, old enough to be her dad or something? Well, it didn’t really matter. By tomorrow, Megan and Jon were going to be on the road. To Canada.
Richard wrote some more. “Just a few more questions, and I’ll let you go,” he said, as Megan yawned and so did Doreen.
“I’ll get some fresh drinks,” Doreen said, and stood up, and the rest of the questions were short and sweet. But there were a lot more than a few. He never asked you to mail anything? Did he ever mention his sister? Did he ever talk about student groups called “Students for Democratic Society” or “Progressive Reform Party”? Did he ever say anything about Communism, Russia, the Soviet Embassy, Ronald Reagan, George Bush, Casper Weinberger, Ed Meese, William Webster, Leonid Brezhnev, Yuri Andropov? After a while, Jon really did grow tired of trying to recall something about every last name or issue, and started answering all the questions with one word: “No.” After a few minutes, Richard Mathers took the hint.
“Damn, it’s getting late,” he said. “Thank you for letting me take up so much of your time. I really do appreciate it—you’ve been a big help. And a real easy interview.”
“No problem,” Jon said. “Hey, mom, can I go hang out at Megan’s house?”
“Uh—um—sure,” Doreen agreed. “Just don’t stay too late, is all. Be home by nine, okay?”
Jon nodded, as he and Megan got up. Megan yawned and then stretched in an impressively feline way that Jon saw even Mr. Mathers took notice of. Wasn’t he, like, old enough to be her dad or something? Well, it didn’t really matter. By tomorrow, Megan and Jon were going to be on the road. To Canada.
“Thanks, Doreen,” Richard was saying, standing up and putting away his pencil and legal pad in a threadbare attaché case. “I appreciate your help and hospitality. And all the food! I mean, wow, it’s really great. How about I stop somewhere and bring back some Chinese for dinner—I guess just for us?” The last part was a question, directed at Jon as he headed for the door.
“Uh, you guys go ahead. I’ll just grab a bite to eat at Megan’s. We’re cool. Thanks, though.”
“Sure,” Richard nodded, turning back to Doreen. “Just you and me, huh? Well, great. You can tell me more about ALCOA. And that church you go to—what did you say the name was?”
“Oak Ridge Unitarian. It’s a universalist church.”
“Sounds interesting,” Richard said. “I’d like to hear more, over some Chinese food. This shouldn’t take long, maybe three hours. I should be back by—I don’t know, by eight o’clock, eight-thirty maybe? Is that too late?”
“No, no, that’s fine,” Doreen was saying, and Jon and Megan slipped out the door.
“Bye!” Jon shouted as they left.
“Thanks for the beer,” Megan called cheerily, and then they both dashed out the door before Doreen could respond.
They hit the sidewalk at a swift jog until they got around the corner, and pretty well out of range of any attempts to call them back. Megan was still giggling.
“Jeeze,” she said. “I wonder if your mom could be any more obvious. She looked like she wanted to lick him.”
Jon shrugged. “Yeah, she’s like that with most of the guys she meets. It’s kind of embarrassing. She’s got—this is terrible, but she’s got all this gross sex stuff that she keeps under her bed. And she’ll put it out in the bathroom when she’s got guys coming over, so they can—I don’t know, so they can see it and know she’s a big whore or something. It’s embarrassing. Embarrassing and gross.”
“Ew!” Megan said. Then, with her eyebrow arched high: “Gross sex stuff, huh? What kind of gross sex stuff?”
“Stuff that it’s too gross to think about your mom having, okay? I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay. Mom and Larry have some embarrassing gross sex stuff. Not to mention drug paraphernalia. You want to see that?”
“Ugh! No! Like, the only thing marginally grosser than my mom having gross sex stuff is your parents having gross sex stuff. Yuck.”
They walked for a while, Megan touching his shoulder and then holding his hand. Then she looked up at him, smiling that sly smile again, and asked: “Do we have enough money to buy a house in Canada?”
Jon laughed.
“No, I’m serious, lets buy a house in Canada. And buy cats and dogs and we’ll all live together happily ever after. It’ll be great. Come on.”
Jon laughed again, shaking is head, as they drew near to Megan’s house. “We’ll see, we’ll see. Let’s just see if we can get there, first.”
“Spoil-sport,” she pouted. “You’re no fun.”
“Sorry,” he apologized, and then they were at Megan’s doorstep.
“Oh, joy,” she said. “Larry and Jackie are home. And Carla, too. You’ll get the whole household today.”
“I’m up for anything.”
Megan smiled broadly, opening the door. “That’s what you think.”
“Uh, you guys go ahead. I’ll just grab a bite to eat at Megan’s. We’re cool. Thanks, though.”
“Sure,” Richard nodded, turning back to Doreen. “Just you and me, huh? Well, great. You can tell me more about ALCOA. And that church you go to—what did you say the name was?”
“Oak Ridge Unitarian. It’s a universalist church.”
“Sounds interesting,” Richard said. “I’d like to hear more, over some Chinese food. This shouldn’t take long, maybe three hours. I should be back by—I don’t know, by eight o’clock, eight-thirty maybe? Is that too late?”
“No, no, that’s fine,” Doreen was saying, and Jon and Megan slipped out the door.
“Bye!” Jon shouted as they left.
“Thanks for the beer,” Megan called cheerily, and then they both dashed out the door before Doreen could respond.
They hit the sidewalk at a swift jog until they got around the corner, and pretty well out of range of any attempts to call them back. Megan was still giggling.
“Jeeze,” she said. “I wonder if your mom could be any more obvious. She looked like she wanted to lick him.”
Jon shrugged. “Yeah, she’s like that with most of the guys she meets. It’s kind of embarrassing. She’s got—this is terrible, but she’s got all this gross sex stuff that she keeps under her bed. And she’ll put it out in the bathroom when she’s got guys coming over, so they can—I don’t know, so they can see it and know she’s a big whore or something. It’s embarrassing. Embarrassing and gross.”
“Ew!” Megan said. Then, with her eyebrow arched high: “Gross sex stuff, huh? What kind of gross sex stuff?”
“Stuff that it’s too gross to think about your mom having, okay? I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay. Mom and Larry have some embarrassing gross sex stuff. Not to mention drug paraphernalia. You want to see that?”
“Ugh! No! Like, the only thing marginally grosser than my mom having gross sex stuff is your parents having gross sex stuff. Yuck.”
They walked for a while, Megan touching his shoulder and then holding his hand. Then she looked up at him, smiling that sly smile again, and asked: “Do we have enough money to buy a house in Canada?”
Jon laughed.
“No, I’m serious, lets buy a house in Canada. And buy cats and dogs and we’ll all live together happily ever after. It’ll be great. Come on.”
Jon laughed again, shaking is head, as they drew near to Megan’s house. “We’ll see, we’ll see. Let’s just see if we can get there, first.”
“Spoil-sport,” she pouted. “You’re no fun.”
“Sorry,” he apologized, and then they were at Megan’s doorstep.
“Oh, joy,” she said. “Larry and Jackie are home. And Carla, too. You’ll get the whole household today.”
“I’m up for anything.”
Megan smiled broadly, opening the door. “That’s what you think.”
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