Free Final Disposition by Ken Goddard

containers that had begun to drip water down their warming sides, “are you planning on eating anything?”
          “Oh yeah,” he said, setting the j-Connector aside and reaching for one of the containers, “forgot I was hungry.  What is this?”
          “Try it.”
          Cellars took a tentative sip, blinked in surprise, pulled the straw out, quickly sucked the contents out, set it on the table, and proceeded to drink half the container in one long and steady gulp.
          “Find it edible?” she asked teasingly.
          “No, delicious,” Cellars corrected, and then quickly finished off the contents of the metal container in a second long gulp.  “What is it?”
          “Classic high-carb, high-protein energy drink: soy protein, vitamins, ice cream, couple of raw eggs, chocolate syrup, and milk.  My special recipe.”
          Cellars set the first container down and looked at the second one.
          “Are we sharing,” he asked, looking up at Marcini.
          “No, I’m going to make myself something more substantial — and far less fattening — for dinner.  But you’re going to want to drink the second one a little more slowly, so that your stomach doesn’t send it back up in protest, and I have to clean it all up.  Fair deal?”
          Cellars raised the second container up in agreement, and then began to drink at a slower pace.  Don’t know what you’re talking about, little voice , Cellars thought as he observed Marcini disappear behind a stainless steel door that apparently lead back into the kitchen, she sure looks real to me .
          Then, finishing off the second energy drink in one final satisfying gulp, he sat the container down, took in and released a deep contented breath, glanced wistfully back at the door that Marcini had disappeared through, and then calmly stood up and walked over to his watchdog’s corner table.
          MacGregor quickly rose to his feet.
          “Sergeant, I need to ask you a personal question.  Is there some place close by where we can talk privately?”
          MacGregor shrugged.  “Outside is about as private as it gets around here … but it’s kind of nippy this time of year.”
          “Looks to me like we’re both dressed for the occasion,” Cellars said, nodding at the heavy field jacket MacGregor had draped over the back of his chair.  “What do you say we go outside for a while?”
          “Fine by me,” MacGregor shrugged agreeably, and then held up a pausing hand as he reached for a portable radio strapped to his pistol belt.
          “This is Mac,” he spoke into the radio mike.  “I’m down in the cafeteria.  The package and I are going outside for a stroll.”
          Cellars heard a faint voice reply “ten-four” before clicking off
          “The package?” Cellars asked as he watched MacGregor return the radio to his belt and carefully re-snap the keeper in place.
          “MP terminology,” MacGregor said with another shrug.  “Nothing personal.  Just a way of keeping things straight.  We’re not supposed to get emotionally involved with our … uh … clients.”
          “As well you shouldn’t, sergeant,” Cellars said agreeably as he motioned with his head at the cafeteria door.  “After you.”

 
     
    CHAPTER 5
     
     
          Cellars followed MacGregor outside into the cold darkness, his breath condensing instantly into clouds of white vapor.  The muscular MP lead them over to a large trash bin located on an inset portion of the parking lot next to the clinic.
          “Okay, Major,” MacGregor said amiably as he turned around to face Cellars with his hands braced on his pistol belt, the fingertips of his now-gloved left hand casually tapping the grip of his holstered baton, “what’s this personal question you wanted to ask?”
          “Do you