Spoonbenders

That was hurtful, trying to embarrass him in front of a younger woman. But she didn’t seem to be listening to Smalls, thankfully. “I have to go,” Graciella said. “The boys are getting dropped off soon.”

Teddy rose with her. “I apologize for my acquaintance here.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” she said to Teddy. “I think.” She started for the door.

Teddy scowled at Smalls, then said, “Graciella, just a second. One second.” She was kind enough to wait for him.

“The last wish,” he said, his voice low to keep Smalls out of it. “Was that about you? Are you going to be okay?”

“Of course I’ll be okay,” she said. “I’m the rock.”

She marched across the parking lot. He had so many questions. The two words she’d written on the last slip were NOT GUILTY.

—

Destin Smalls, to Teddy’s annoyance, took Graciella’s seat.

“Still running the Carnac routine, Teddy?”

“You look like death’s doorman,” Teddy said. It had been four years since he’d seen the government agent, but he looked like he’d aged twice that. A bad patch. That’s the way it happened. A body could hold the line for a decade, one Christmas photo just like the ten previous, then bam, the years zoomed up and flattened you like a Mack truck. The last of the man’s football-hero good looks had been swallowed by age and carbohydrates. Now he was a blocky head on a big rectangular body, like a microwave atop a refrigerator.

“You have to know you’ll never get past first base,” Smalls said. “You’re an old man. They talk to you because you’re safe.”

“I’m serious, your color looks like hell. What is it, ball cancer? Liver damage? I always took you for a secret drinker.”

The waitress reappeared. If she was surprised that an attractive suburbaness had been replaced by a seventy-year-old spook, she didn’t show it.

“Coffee for my friend here,” Teddy said.

“No thank you,” he said to her. “Water with lemon, please.”

“I forgot, he’s Mormon,” Teddy told her. “Could you make sure the water’s decaffeinated?”

She stared at him for a moment, then left without a word.

“I take it back, you can still charm them,” Smalls said. “So how are the hands?”

“Good days and bad days,” Teddy said.

“Good enough for the billet trick,” Smalls said.

Teddy ignored that. “So what are you doing in Chicago? D.C. too hot for you?”

“They’re trying to force me out,” Smalls said. “They’re closing Star Gate. They cut my funding to nothing.”

“Star Gate’s still running?” Teddy shook his head. “I can’t believe they hadn’t already chased you all out of the temple.”

“Congress is shutting down every project in the SG umbrella. Too much media blowback.”

“You mean media, period.” Teddy leaned back, relaxing into it now, the old banter. “You guys never liked it that any honest report had to mention your complete lack of results.”

“You know as well as I do that—”

Teddy held up a hand. “Excepting Maureen. But without her, you had nothing.”

The waitress returned with the water and the coffeepot. She refilled Teddy’s cup and vanished again.

“Here’s to Maureen,” Smalls said, and lifted his glass. “Forever ageless.”

“Maureen.”

After a while, Teddy said, “Too bad about the job. Nobody likes to be the last one to turn out the lights.”

“It’s a crime,” Smalls said. “A strategic mistake. You think the Russians shut down the SCST?”

“Why not? They just shut down their whole country.”

“Ex-KGB are still running the place. Not five years ago, we had intelligence that the Ministry of Agriculture was ahead of us on developing a micro-lepton gun.”

“Jesus, are you still trying to build one of those? How much government dough have you spent on that?”

“That’s classified.”

“But somebody in Congress knows, don’t they? No wonder they’re shutting you down. Nobody but you believes in remote viewers and psychokinetics.”

“Speaking of which, is Frankie staying out of casinos?”

“Leave Frankie out of it.”

Smalls raised a hand in surrender. “How is he, then? And Buddy and Irene?”

“They’re fine,” Teddy lied. Frankie kept borrowing his money, Irene was depressed, and Buddy—Jesus, Buddy got worse every year. A mute and a recluse. Then a few months ago he started taking apart the house like a man who knew only half a magic trick. Observe, ladies and gentlemen, while I smash this watch! Okay, now I’ll, damn it…what was it? “Buddy’s turned into quite the handyman,” Teddy said.

“You don’t say. And the grandchildren? You have how many now?”

“Three and a half,” Teddy said.

“Half?” Smalls looked surprised. “Is Irene pregnant again?”

“God I hope not. No. I mean Loretta’s girl, Mary Alice.”

“You shouldn’t do that. Categorize like that. There’s no such thing as a step-grandchild.”

“You didn’t come all the way to Chicago to ask me about my grandkids,” Teddy said. “Strike that. That’s exactly why you came out here, isn’t it?”

Smalls shrugged. “Are any of them…showing signs?”

“I thought they were shutting down your program, Agent Smalls.”

“It’s not dead yet.”