Free Final Vector by Allan Leverone Page A

17
    The doorbell rang, and Nick walked across his living room, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He had just finished washing and drying the few dishes generated by his solitary dinner--it would take a week to fill up the dishwasher all by himself, and washing the dishes by hand was a way to kill his loneliness and boredom for a few minutes. He glanced at the clock hanging in the living room as he approached the front door. Nine o'clock exactly. Right on time. He wasn't sure why, but Nick had expected the FBI agents to be late.
    He swung the door open wide and saw a man and a woman standing on the small stoop outside and almost laughed out loud.
    The two agents looked like polar opposites. The man was tall and wide like a football player, with thick dark hair and a serious look on his face. The woman was petite and slim, with auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail and a wide, disarming smile lighting up her delicate features. She reminded Nick of an Olympic gymnast he had seen on TV as a kid. Her name escaped him, but she had possessed a similar smile that the television cameras loved.
    They haven't even met me yet , he thought, and already they're doing the good-cop/bad-cop thing . He smiled politely and said, "Hi, I'm Nick Jensen, and you must be the FBI agents I was told to expect.
    The Merrimack Police said you would be coming at nine."
    "Yes, sir. I'm Special Agent Kristin Cunningham, and this is my partner, Special Agent Frank Delaney." They flashed their government IDs at exactly the same time in a move that had to have been choreographed. "We were advised by the Merrimack Police Department that you were in possession of valuable information possibly relating to national security. Is that true, Mr. Jensen?"
    "Not exactly," Nick answered. "Honestly, I'm not really sure what I have, if anything, but I assume the police must have called you for a reason. Anyway, thank you so much for stopping by.
    Please come in, and I'll let you determine for yourselves if what I've found is of any significance or not."
    After going back and forth on the matter for a couple of days, Nick had finally decided to call the police and tell them about the mysterious blue binder and its contents. What he had found was probably nothing, but for Lisa to have stashed away evidence relating to an ongoing investigation at the Pentagon was so unlike her that the discovery gave Nick serious concern.
    No sooner had he read the words Tucson , Bliss , and Stingers to the Merrimack cop on the telephone than the whole tone of the call had changed. The cop instantly dropped the casual, almost bored tone he had affected in the beginning and had asked a few more perfunctory questions before telling Nick that he could expect a call from the FBI regarding his unusual discovery. That call had come less than thirty minutes later, and tonight's meeting had been hastily planned.
    He showed the two agents into the small living room, where they sat side by side on the couch. Nick eased himself into a stuffed recliner Lisa had placed at an angle facing a wooden coffee table directly across from the couch. She had claimed that the setup of the furniture increased the "intimacy" of the room--feng shui or some such shit--and promoted good conversation. Nick supposed he was about to find out if that was true.
    "Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea? A glass of water?"
    "Thank you, but we're fine," Agent Cunningham said. She appeared to be the designated talker of the pair, which was okay with Nick because the guy didn't seem to have much personality at all.
    "Okay, then." He picked up the bright blue binder he had placed on the coffee table prior to the arrival of the agents. "I guess we should get right to it. My wife worked at the Pentagon as a civilian auditor prior to her death--"
    "We know," Agent Cunningham replied quietly. "We're very sorry for your loss."
    Nick sat back, surprised. "Thank you very much, but how do you know about my wife?"
    She smiled. "Oh,