“Good God, where have you been?” Over the past dozen years, I’d heard Peggy sound testy many times. But this was beyond testy—miles beyond it; light-years beyond it.
“San Diego, remember?” I was starting to feel some anxiety myself. “You don’t sound too happy to hear from me.”
“Three hours ago I would have been happy to hear from you,” she snapped. “Yesterday you told me you’d be in first thing this morning. I’ve been trying to call you for hours.”
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “There was a problem with my flight. And my phone died. I just got in. What’s wrong? Should I come up?”
“You mean to tell me you’re on campus?” It sounded more like an accusation than a question.
“Well, I am now,” I hedged. “My flight landed twenty minutes ago. I drove straight here. Came in the back door. Just now. Literally this minute. I’m down in my other office.”
“Would you please come to this office instead? Quickly?” The sarcasm would have dripped from her voice if the iciness of her tone hadn’t flash-frozen it first.
“You’ve got me feeling kinda gun-shy,” I said. “Want to tell me what this is about?”
“There is a television news crew here from Channel Four in Nashville. They have been camped in my office for the past three hours. Please come immediately. If not sooner.”
AS I WALKED IN THE DOOR OF THE DEPARTMENTAL office, Peggy glowered at me from behind her desk as an attractive young woman—of Italian ancestry? no, Greek, I guessed—stood up and turned toward me. I put on what I hoped would pass for a courteous smile. “Hello, I’m Dr. Bill Brockton,” I said. “What can I do for you?”
She held out her hand. “Dr. Brockton, I’m Athena Demopoulos, Eyewitness Four News.” Her handshake was firm—aggressively firm, as if she were trying to prove something. She nodded slightly toward a pale young man behind her; his frumpy clothes were a stark contrast to her chic, tailored suit. “This is Rick Walters, my cameraman.” His handshake, like his clothes, was much more relaxed than hers.
“Ms. Demopoulos, I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting,” I said. “My flight was delayed, and my phone was dead.” Pulling out my pocket calendar, I flipped it open and scanned the current day’s empty page. “Did we have an appointment that I failed to write down?”
“No, we didn’t. We’re investigating a news story that’s breaking now. It has come to our attention that you’re conducting experiments with human bodies.”
“We are indeed,” I said cheerily. “I’m not sure I’d call that ‘breaking news’—we’ve been doing it for more than a decade. I guess news travels slowly from here in the hinterlands.” I smiled again. “You might have gotten wind of my research a little sooner if the prevailing winds blew from east to west instead of west to east.” I winked to make sure she got the joke.
She frowned; I couldn’t tell whether she was confused or upset. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the story,” she said. “If you’ll let me finish, I can make it clear to you. It has come to our attention that you’re conducting experiments on the bodies of military veterans. Men who put their lives on the line to defend our American way of life. Do you deny that?”
Her question took me totally off guard. “No, I don’t deny it, but I can’t confirm it, either,” I said.
“Don’t be coy, Dr. Brockton.”
“I’m not being coy,” I said. “I’m being blindsided. I have zero information on this. If you’ve got any information at all, you’ve got more than I do. How about you start by telling me what you’ve heard, and where you heard it? How did the story come to you, and why?”
“I can’t reveal my sources,” she said, her voice a mixture of self-importance and smugness. “But they’re quite credible, I assure you. I have the names of at least four veterans whose bodies were sent to you.” She rattled off the names. “Are they here? Yes or no? If they are, please tell our viewers—and the families of these four men—what kind of experiments you’re doing on them, and why?”
Somehow a microphone had materialized in Athena Demopoulos’s hand and had positioned itself directly in front of my face. Meanwhile, the cameraman had hoisted a video camera to his shoulder, and the blinking red light above the lens led me to believe that he was filming. Filming me. I shrugged, shaking my head. “I don’t know if they’re here.”