JANET

Booker and Dutch sat in the living room of the Chairman’s suite surrounded by stacks of plates and trays of room service. Plastic wrappings and dirty napkins were strewn around the coffee table, as well as a few candy wrappers and crushed soda cans. They were playing a card game called Peanuts. Dutch taught Booker to play and was now sharing stories from his time in the Air Force and CIA with remarkable candidness.

Shuffling through his cards and chomping down on a fresh cigar, Dutch was saying, “So we leave the bar and I take her to the airfield, right? Now, we’re in the middle of nowhere on this tiny little airstrip. No one’s around. We get aboard and take off, and once we’re up there, she’s saying, ‘Show me something, show me something. I thought you said you could fly!’ Shit like that. So I nose up-” He used his hand to show the nosing up motion of the aircraft, slowly pointing his fingers up to the ceiling, and then letting his hand turn over and veer back toward the floor. “Engines stall and back down we go. She’s screaming, and all the while the white, Marylin Monroe dress she’s wearing is flying up around her. God damn finest legs I’ve ever seen! My mouth is hangin’ open and for a second, I forgot I’m supposed to get the darn plane going again, so I’m fighting the controls-”

Booker roared with laughter and Dutch mimed wrestling the controls of his plane. Behind them the double doors opened, and Joanna walked in, holding a few bags in one hand and a pair of plastic-covered dresses over her shoulder.

“Hey, boys. Glad to see you two are getting along,” she said, walking over to them and standing behind the couch to look at the mess of food, trash, and playing cards. “Dutch, where’s my bag?”

Dutch patted the duffle bag resting on the floor beside him and said, “Right here. Where do you want it?”

She just laughed, and said, “With you. At all times. Don’t let it out of your sight. And don’t open it.”

Dutch’s brow furrowed and said, “You’re not saying that this is -”

“Coming with us? Yes, I am. And you’re carrying it.”

Dutch sighed in a resigned sort of way and said, “Where’s your man?”

“Funny you mention that,” said Joanna, draping the two dresses over the back of the couch. “I haven’t heard from him, but my good friend Carol Summer ran into him down at Lou’s Bar. Seems he is doing the rounds before joining us.”

“Well, he better hurry up,” said Dutch, checking his watch. “I’ve got about thirty minutes before I need to book it over to the airfield.”

“He’ll be here,” said Joanna, going through her bags and tossing a few things in Booker’s lap.

“What are these?” he said, unfolding a pair of khaki-colored pants and a dark blue shirt with soft fabric.

“All these are for you,” said Joanna, adding a shoe box to the pile. “The loafers you’re wearing are not going to work, and jeans are terrible for the desert. You’ll thank me later. Go change, and we’ll hopefully be able to get started.”

Booker changed in the powder room off the foyer. The pants and shirt were light and comfortable. As he emptied his pockets before changing, the postcard and the FBI business card fell to the floor. He picked them up and held them side by side.

‘Special Agent Carol Summer’ on the business card.

‘Leave after Summer’ on the postcard. ‘Summer’ with a capital ‘S.’

Could they be one and the same? But if the postcard was referring to Agent Summer, what exactly did it mean? Leave after Summer? How could they be sure when she would leave Las Vegas? He pondered these and many other thoughts as his eyes flicked back and forth from the postcard to the business card, until a sudden knock at the door brought him out of his contemplation.

He jumped as Joanna’s voice issued from the other side. “You okay in there, Wonderboy?”

He said he would be right out and continued changing. The postcard and business card slipped into the zipper pocket of his new slacks, then he reached for the shoe box. Joanna had bought him a pair of sleek white sneakers, as well as a fresh pair of socks.

As he kicked off his beach loafers for the athletic shoes, he heard voices from the room outside. It sounded like someone new had arrived. Checking himself in the mirror and rocking back and forth in the new shoes to test the fit and feel, it dawned on him just how well Joanna was able to guess his sizes. Shaking his head in wonder, he opened the bathroom door and joined the others.

Dutch was talking with a large, dark-skinned man wearing a Hawaiian shirt. Joanna turned and smiled as Booker approached and said, “Very handsome. Come here and meet my friend Tom.”

Booker shook hands with the large man, who said, “Hey, how ya’ doing? Call me Tom.”

“Booker,” he said, shaking hands.

“So, what’s your part in all this?” said Tom as Dutch used his huge arm to shove everything on the coffee table onto the floor.

Joanna shook her finger and said, “Ah, ah, ah. Don’t go asking questions you don’t want answered, Tom.”

Tom nudged Booker with his elbow and winked saying, “Bet it’s some of that secret agent stuff, am I right?”

Booker didn’t know what to say. As Dutch pulled out a roll of papers from a plastic cylinder container sitting beside his chair, Joanna said, “Don’t mind him, Booker. Tom is a truffle pig; always rooting around for bits and pieces of info he can share with his drinking buddies back home: Thinks it's fun to share government secrets from his projects. We try not to tell him too much.”

“Truffle pig? I prefer eagle eye!” said Tom, nudging Booker again. He held up his left hand over one eye, showing a tattoo of a large bird eye on the back of his hand, saying, “Bird’s eye don’t lie!” Booker didn’t know whether to laugh or not, as Tom chuckled and gave him a playful shove. “Hey, I’m just kidding. As long as I get paid, I don’t need to know.”

As Dutch smoothed out the papers on the coffee table, Booker could see that it was some kind of map. There was a runway, and small squares and rectangles that marked buildings around the airstrip. Tom pulled a pair of glasses out of his shirt pocket, put them on, and leaned down to examine the map.

“What have we got here?” said Tom, under his breath.

Dutch started pointing out different taxiways and naming the hangars and buildings on the map. “This one here is the one we need you to focus on,” said Dutch, indicating a large mountain on the outskirts of what looked like a little town.

“These plans have changed since the last time we talked,” said Tom, tracing the grids on the map to get an idea of the distance between points. “It doesn’t match the range I set up for practice.”

Dutch said, “Well, these are hard to come by. I did my best, and these are updated to be more accurate.”

“This is a mountain side?” said Tom, pointing to a circled section on the top of the map.

Joanna said, “Yes. There’s an opening cut into the rock face here - thirty feet high, maybe a hundred feet wide. That’s where I’ll make the drop.” Dutch flipped to the next page and showed a more detailed sketch of the mountain side. It showed a huge, curved opening in the side of the mountain. Whatever lay within the opening remained a mystery to Booker as he looked down at the sketch. Joanna pointed out a concrete railing around a balcony to one side of the opening and said, “There are planter boxes around the whole thing with some small flowers and plants. Can we drop it there?”

Tom shook his head, saying, “This is way higher up than we discussed. And you didn’t mention there would be plants around this whole thing.”

“Is that going to be a problem?” said Joanna.

Tom grimaced and rocked his hands up and down as if weighing the possibilities. “I don’t know. I didn’t prepare him for it. He’s got incredible eyesight, so he’ll see it for sure. The location and plants might confuse him though. I’d leave it on the railing where it’s easy to grab. He won’t go too far inside. Do this corner here on the south side,” he said, jabbing the left corner of the balcony with his finger. He pulled a small white envelope from his pocket and handed it to Joanna. “Don’t lose that. He’ll be looking for it.”

Joana flipped it open, and turned it over in her hands. “Can I fold it?”

“Sure,” said Tom. “Do whatever you want with it. But make sure whatever you want picked up is in that envelope.”

“Should I wave it around or anything?” she said, putting the envelope in her pocket.

“You don’t have to do anything. He’ll see you a mile away. Once you place it on the railing, he’ll pick it up and be out of there in less than a minute,” said Tom.

“And he knows where to bring it?” said Joanna.

“Of course,” said Tom. “I’ll let him out around four o’clock and he’ll have it dropped off by tomorrow morning.”

“Excellent,” said Joanna. “Dutch, is your man ready?”

Dutch pressed his cigar into an ashtray beside him and stood up with a grunt. “Ready or not, we’re coming for him.”

“Will he be ready?” she said again.

“He’ll be ready,” said Dutch. Kicking the duffle bag beside his chair, he said, “What am I supposed to do with this once we land?”

“Ah, yes. Let’s you and me have a private conversation about that once we get there.”

“Do I want to know what’s in there?” he said, looking down at the bag again.

“Probably not,” she said. “Just get it on the base and take it to the diner. Don’t let anyone open it.”

Dutch sighed, shaking his head, and said, “I guess we’re doing this.”

Booker cleared his throat and said, “What exactly is going on? What’s this map for?”

Joanna, Dutch, and Tom exchanged looks as Dutch crumpled up the maps on the table and started throwing them into the fireplace.

Tom said, “Well, I know it’s a map of the target. Me and my boys built our own village up in Montana to practice this little maneuver.”

Dutch used the gas controls on the side of the fireplace to get the flames going, and Booker watched the papers curling into black ash before his eyes. “Is that- I mean, was that a map of Area-51?” said Booker, pointing to the fireplace.

Before Joanna could answer, Tom said, “Area-51? Holy cow!” He let out a booming laugh of excitement and pointed at Joanna, saying, “I knew it! I had a funny feeling once you told me the distance. Man, oh man. Area-51, huh? What’s the target? Plans for an alien spaceship?”

Joanna rolled her eyes and said, “It’s nothing for you to know. Any of you.”

“I thought you said you needed my help?” said Booker. “I thought you said we are going to be helping my father. It sounds like you’re just trying to steal from Area-51? I can’t help you with that!”

Tom was still chuckling as he shook Dutch’s hand, saying they should all grab a beer when this was over. Booker ran a hand through his hair as Joanna approached him and put a hand on his shoulder, saying in a low voice, “I do need your help, and we are helping your father.”

“What is all this supposed to mean?” said Booker, gesturing to the smoldering sketches in the fireplace. Pointing at Tom’s back, he said, “What in the world is he talking about? Who is going to pick up that envelope? What’s going to be in the envelope?”

Joanna gave him a gentle squeeze and said, “I’ll explain everything in a minute. You’ll understand. Just stay calm and let me freshen up really quick.” She smiled, gave him a small wink and turned to the others. “I think that’s it, Tom. Have everything you need?”

“I do,” he said, giving her a quick hug. “Always a pleasure working with you, Joe.”

Joanna pulled a manilla envelope out of her back pocket and handed it to him, saying, “It’s all there.” Booker saw the flash of green cash when Tom checked the contents. He slipped the money into his back pocket and as he walked away, Joanna said, “Remember, Tom!” When he looked back, she used her fingers to zip her lips shut. He returned the gesture and waved, saying, “Nice meeting you Booker. Good luck!”

“Good luck with what?” said Booker, under his breath.

Behind him, Joanna was talking to Dutch in a low voice. “Did you get what I asked for?” she said. He nodded and said he left it in her bathroom. “Great,” she said. “And remember, don’t let anyone open that bag. Got it?”

“Jesus, I hope I don’t live to regret this,” he said. When Joanna gave him a look, he said, “I’ll make it work.”

She patted his arm and said, “I’m going to freshen up. Then, Booker, you and I need to chat. This will all make sense in a few minutes, I promise.” She disappeared into her bedroom and Booker sighed, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Don’t worry, kid,” said Dutch. “She’ll take care of you.”

“What’s this all about?” said Booker, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Dutch shrugged, packing up a rucksack with a few water bottles and snacks left over from their massive room service order. “I don’t have all the answers, kid.”

“Are you all planning to rob Area-51? That’s not what I signed up for!” said Booker.

“Look. I’ve been looking to retire, and this is my ticket to a beach in Mexico,” he said. “And I trust Joanna. She is one of the good ones. I wouldn’t do this kind of job for anyone. And my part in all this is pretty simple, so-” he shrugged as if to say, ‘that’s that.’

“What’s my part?” said Booker.

“Not a clue, kid,” said Dutch.

From the bedroom, Joanna called, “Booker, can you come in here for a minute? And Dutch, don’t leave just yet?”

Dutch checked his watch and called back, “You’ve got 15 minutes!” Looking at Booker, he said, “Go on, kid. She’ll tell you what you’ve got to do.”

Nervous, Booker walked over to the bedroom door and entered. Joanna had laid her dresses on the end of the bed. One was dark blue with hints of flowery patterns throughout. The other was a deep crimson. Booker was still taking in the room when Joanna walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a black bra and matching lace thong.

“Whoa,” he said, spinning away and blocking his eyes with one hand. “I’m sorry, I thought you told me to come in here. I’ll just-”

“Easy tiger, not so fast,” said Joanna. “Come here, I need you.” Booker had already made it outside the room, but he turned back, scratching his forehead and determinedly looking no higher than Joanna’s knees. “You can look,” said Joanna with a small laugh. Booker looked up, suddenly unsure of what to do with his arms. He compensated by folding them. Joanna leaned her shoulder against the wall, crossing her ankles. Her long, muscled legs and tanned skin made her look like a bikini model. She was looking at him from under freshly curled bangs, and, as though on cue, she ran her fingers through her hair and tossed it aside to give it a more natural look.

“Come closer,” she said, brandishing a syringe full of clear liquid in her free hand. Booker eyed the syringe and took a half step closer. Joanna rolled her eyes, and said, “I won’t bite. Come here.” Booker moved closer, still a few feet away, and leaned his shoulder against the wall, mirroring her pose. Joanna squeezed a spurt of liquid from the syringe and flicked the bottle a few times with a sharp red nail. “Booker, don’t make me ask you again. Come here,” she said, eyes still fixated on the syringe. Booked cleared his throat and glanced at the open door over his shoulder before shuffling just a bit closer still.

Joanna placed a hand on his chest, pulled him forward, and pressed the tip of the syringe against his neck. Booker yelled in surprise and pulled away, but she held him tight and said, “Easy, Booker. No sudden moves now. Stay calm.”

“What the hell is that?” he said. His whole body pulled away in a vain attempt to get the needle as far away from his skin as possible.

“That’s a question you should have asked before now, don’t you think?” she said.

“I didn’t think you’d use it on me!” he said in a hoarse voice.

“Shh,” said Joanna, calm as ever. “I’m right here, you don’t need to raise your voice. Who do you think it was for, if not you? There’s no one else in here with us, is there?”

“I don’t know,” said Booker. “Get that thing away from me!” He pulled away again, but felt the pressure of the needle increase against his skin and froze.

“Stay calm, Booker. The more you fidget, the more reason I have to jab this through your neck and end this,” said Joanna. He breathed heavily for a moment before she said, “Are you calm?” He took a deep breath and nodded, trying to move his head as little as possible. “Good,” she said. “Now, tell me, do you find me attractive?”

“What kind of question is that?” he said. His palms were sweating and he could feel his heart racing. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the needle at his throat or the fact that Joanna was holding him so close in nothing but her underwear.

“Do you. Find me. Attractive?” said Joanna.

“I guess,” said Booker. “Who cares?”

“How attractive?” she said.

Booker scoffed and said, “This is ridiculous! Are you going to let me go?”

She moved her lips close to his ear and whispered, “Do you think I’m sexy?”

Booker didn’t know what to say. His head shook minutely as he struggled to think of what to say. Joanna continued. “I know you do. I know because of this. right. here.” She said, tapping the syringe with her finger in time with the last three words. “It didn’t even occur to you to ask what’s in this or what it’s for. Were you too preoccupied with trying not to look at me in my underwear? A sexy girl can make a man do just about anything.”

Booker was lost for words. She let him struggle for a moment longer before saying, “You don’t have to answer. Just listen, and pay close attention. You don’t know me, Booker. But you came with me anyway. Why? Because that’s what I wanted. I was waving this syringe in front of your face, but you ignored it and let me get close to you without putting up a hint of a fight because that’s what I wanted. It might feel like you’re making decisions on your own, but you’re not. You’re too trusting, you’re easy to manipulate, and I have complete control over you. But only because you’re giving it to me. Understand?” Their faces were so close together he could see the tiny flecks of yellow and green in her amber eyes. “The moral of the story is; don’t trust a woman in her underwear, especially when she’s carrying a syringe.”

The needle pierced through his skin, and Booker felt the liquid gushing into his neck. He swore loudly and pushed her away, but not before she was able to get most of the contents out of the syringe. “What the hell is that?” said Booker, finally able to detach himself from her. She tossed the nearly empty syringe onto the bed as he rubbed the spot on his neck where she had injected him.

“It’s a sedative,” said Joanna, whipping her hands together and beckoning him forward. “Come here.” When he tried backing away from her, she rolled her eyes and grabbed his wrist to stop him leaving. “Let me look. If you hadn’t struggled so much, it wouldn’t have hurt so bad.”

“What’s it for?” he said. It might have been his mind playing tricks on him, but Booker already thought he felt woozy. Joanna was holding his head steady and examining his neck. “Just a little blood,” she said, licking her thumb and rubbing the spot on his neck. Booker winced and she let him go.

“I can’t believe you did that,” he said slowly, rubbing his head. The room was spinning now. “Why did you do that?” He was barely aware of the fact that Joanna was holding him up and guiding him to the bed.

“Everything’s okay. You’re going to have a nice lie down. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. Just relax.” Her voice washed over him in warm waves as he was engulfed in the softest pillows and sheets he had ever felt.

“Why did you do that? Why did you - Why did -” he mumbled. He wasn’t even sure if the words were coming from him anymore.

She gently shushed him and brushed his hair. The feeling of her fingers scratching his scalp sent goosebumps down his entire body. “Listen to me, Booker. When you wake up, people are going to have a lot of questions for you. They’re going to ask about the sphere. It’s very important that you tell them you don’t know anything about the sphere. Understand me? The sphere is gone and you don’t know anything.” Booker could only mumble. Her face was swimming above him like a kaleidoscope. “Stay with me for just one more second, Wonderboy. These people will kill you, understand? They don’t care if you're just a kid. Just play along and wait for me to come and get you.”

“You stuck me,” said Booker, remembering that Joanna had jabbed him with a syringe. When had she done that? It felt like a long time ago. “You stuck me!” he said again, giggling. “That wasn’t nice.” Joanna laughed and the sound echoed in Booker’s head.

“Sleep tight, Wonderboy,” she said.