The Ranch

Friday, August 23rd, 2024, 11:45am

"Professor, can you explain how wormholes work?" asked a young man from the back of the auditorium.

Professor Eddy Daniels laughed from the front of the class, "I can go over the theoretical function of worm holes from a general relativistic perspective, but asking how they work implies that they're a real thing that's been observed in nature. Not the case," said Daniels approaching the white board with a black expo marker. He took a sip of coffee that rested on the table near his podium where he lectured from.

"Now, the first thing to note is that a theoretical wormhole is actually a pair of them: if one were to open, it must go somewhere," he drew a circle on the board, and then another circle some distance below the first, connected by a pair of lines that curved inward towards the midsection of the tunnel and expanded outward towards the opening of the holes.

"Einstein posits in relativity that space and time are really one in the same thing, hence his coinage of the term 'spacetime'. He also posits that spacetime curves itself around the mass of large objects. This observed curvature led scientists in the early twentieth century to uh... Play with the formulaic underpinnings of general relativity itself, which led to the development of a few different expressions," Daniels began writing out a series of mathematical formulas on the board, "that seem to indicate that the creation of this pair of wormholes could connect disparate places in spacetime. With a sufficiently advanced spacecraft, one could traverse through one opening, and pop out of the other without traveling the physical spacetime between those two points." Daniels turned around to his class: most were looking at their phones, some were typing in laptops and taking notes. At least some are paying attention, he thought, dismayed.

"Professor, there's been some interesting development as far as theoretical spacecraft are concerned. Could the Alcubierre Drive be a potential way to traverse these holes?" asked an older woman dressed in a black suit in the front of the class. She was fair-skinned with black hair and green eyes and paused in her writing to wait for Daniels's answer.

"Uh... Well, the Alcubierre Drive is more science fiction than anything... Even the redesigns submitted some years ago require enormous amounts of energy. More energy than humanity has ever produced ever... So... Not exactly worth discussing in my opinion," said Daniels bluntly.

The woman smirked, "In your opinion," she retorted.

Daniels grew slightly uncomfortable. He looked around the rest of the room and realized no one else was paying attention at this point. As he scanned the room, he stopped on a middle aged white man dressed in a black suit sitting in the back of the class: clean shaven, short gelled black hair. Daniels looked from the woman to the man, both wearing the same outfit seemingly.

"Well... It's not useful to spend class time discussing science fiction... So, yes in my opinion, not worth discussing," he stated dryly. Daniels was diagnosed with mild autism as a child: he had little patience for people wasting his time on fantasy.

"Isn't the state of the art often influenced by Science Fiction? Musk is launching and landing rockets for instance. That idea came from a science fiction author," the woman sat back with a smile and crossed her legs.

Daniels grew more uncomfortable, "In some ways, yes, I suppose." As Daniels finished answering, almost every student began packing up in unison. Daniels checked his watch, Fuck, we didn't get where I wanted to.

"Uh class! I'll send out review questions later today! Quiz on Monday!" He screamed, but most had already left the auditorium. The woman in the black suit kept sitting. The suited man walked down the auditorium stairs and sat on top of the front row of seats.

Daniels grew extremely flustered, "For future reference, I do explore some of these questions with students, but that's after hours in my office not during the lecture," he started packing up his things with frustration.

"Professor Eddy Daniels: inactive TS/SCI clearance, former Sat Engineer for Lockheed Martin," stated the man in black.

Eddy looked up towards the two: the man held out a CIA badge attached to his belt; the woman placed hers on the desk in front of her.

Eddy groaned, "Key word being former... What can I do for you two?" he asked, zipping up his brown leather bag.

"My name is Silvia Decard. This is Fred Seaford. Is there someplace private we can talk?" asked the woman. She put her badge in her coat pocket.

Eddy looked at his watch again, "I've got another lecture in an hour. We can go to my office I guess," he said reluctantly.

"Excellent, lead the way," said Fred.

"Sure," said Daniels, dismayed. He sulked out of the classroom with the two agents following closely behind.

The Ohio State University campus was nothing if not beautiful: the campus spanned a 1,600 acre area with campus buildings dotting the lush green park it rested on. Eddy's office was a short walk from the Department of Philosophy to the Department of Physics. The walk involved going from the outskirts of The Oval through the Journalism and Mathematics departments and lasted about six minutes at Eddy’s usual brisk pace. He had to walk slower because of the two agents that now trailed him, which annoyed him.

“Nice campus,” said Fred, admiring the buildings and landscape.

“Yeah... definitely one of the nicer campuses. Way better than Berkeley at least,” said Eddy with a hint of exasperation: he hated small talk.

“San Francisco is kinda a shithole, though. Not much of a competition” retorted Silvia quickly.

Eddy bursted out with a laughter that surprised him. He collected himself and kept walking, “Woo... sorry, that was uncalled for.”

Silvia smiled, “Went to USC... Got my fair share of the place.”

Eddy laughed again, “Yeah... definitely not the best of places.”

Fred chimed in, “Went to NYU myself... Perhaps the definition of shithole.”

Silvia chuckled and Eddy laughed again: Eddy was feeling a bit better about the situation all of a sudden.

“Hopefully I’m not the only reason you’re here. Definitely should get to know Columbus a bit,” said Eddy.

“You’re one of three reasons we’re here... But we should wait until we get inside to discuss things,” said Fred.

“Okay...” said Eddy. His initial annoyance flared back up again: the big reason he left Lockheed was the secrecy. It was impossible to get anything done when you couldn’t talk to other people freely.

A few minutes later, the three found themselves in Eddy's office. His office was the typical caricature of a college professor's workspace: papers of all sorts scattered on his desk, a dusty old windows PC, a black chalkboard with half erased formulae on it, and a half finished cup of coffee resting next to a printed out research paper. Books of all sorts rested behind the professor’s desk on his shelf: M-Theory, String Theory, Classical Mechanics and the like.

Eddy walked around to his chair, picked up some of the papers, tried stacking them neatly off to the side, and then set his bag on his desk. He pulled out his MacBook, set it on the desk and put the bag on the ground.

“You’ll have to excuse me for a moment, I need to send out this review material to my students,” he said, typing away an email. Fred didn’t hesitate to walk up to the professor while he was typing and close the laptop shut.

Eddy sighed, “Really?”

“Sorry, professor, we’re tight on time... This shouldn’t take too long,” he said. Silvia pulled out a chair and sat opposite Daniels; the man did the same.

“We’re here representing the Department of Defense, which is funding a few different Special Access Programs. Said programs are looking for someone of your stature to do some work for them,” she said.

“As I said before, I formerly worked for the DoD. That was a long time ago,” said Daniels, who lightly fumed over having his laptop forcefully shut.

Agent Decard didn't seem to care what Eddy just said and continued, "The Programs we're here to represent and recruit for may be of interest to you. We will be compensating you extremely well for your time," she said.

Eddy cocked an eyebrow and leaned back in his seat, "What do these Programs entail?" he asked suspiciously.

Agent Seaford chimed in, "People are read in on a Need To Know basis, and you don't need to know until you accept the opportunity."

Eddy laughed out loud, "You expect me to leave my tenured position here to be a spook without knowing anything about what I'm doing? I love my work, it’s important and I'm happy," he retorted.

Agent Decard feigned surprise, "Professor Naerd informed us that you were struggling to get funding. Is that not true?"

Eddy leaned forward, shocked. He was struggling to get funding, but he didn't think Gavin would just volunteer that information. He composed himself slightly, "So, Gavin sent you then?"

Agent Seaford leaned in and smiled, "He said you're the best person he could think of for this kind of work."

Eddy leaned back again and stared up into the ceiling, Why would Gavin divulge that? Why would he even recommend me? He knows I didn't like the Sat stuff.

Eddy leaned on the desk again, "What kind of compensation are we talking?"

Agent Decard pulled out the notebook she had been writing in before, scribbled something down in it and passed it to Eddy. Eddy picked up the notebook: $1,350,000 after taxes.

Eddy's jaw dropped, "What kinda government program pays this??" he asked with a shocked expression.

"Once again: Need To Know. Can't read ya in until you accept," replied Seaford. He opened his wallet, pulled out a small business card and handed it to Eddy, "Well be in town until tomorrow at 5pm. Should you be interested, just give us a ring before then and we'll take it from there." The two stood to leave simultaneously.

Eddy stood awkwardly, "Uh, well okay. Nice to meet ya..."

"See ya around, Professor," said Agent Decard winking at Eddy.

Eddy blushed and became flustered again, "Uh... Sure..." The two closed the door behind them and left as quickly as they came.

"God damnit," said Eddy, sitting down. He stared up into the ceiling with his hands clasped over the top of his head: he sat like that for an hour until his next lecture started...

----

The sun began to set that evening and Eddy found himself inside Seventh Son Brewing in Columbus Ohio. The Brewery was located to the south of the University a few miles away. The outside section was partially roofed and had a number of tables with umbrellas over them. He looked around quizzically for Gavin and was about to pull out his iPhone when he saw Gavin wave him over. Eddy nodded and headed to him.

Gavin stood up from the table and smiled warmly, "Eddy! Great to see ya," he wore a faded red flannel with jeans, and had a clean shaven red beard. He reached his hand out to Eddy.

Eddy smiled back and shook his hand, "Hey Gavin. Thanks for meeting me."

"Anytime! Sit down, I got some beer for us. You're an IPA guy if I remember correctly right?" He said sitting back down. He picked up one of the two beers on the table and placed it in front of Eddy. He then took his black square glasses off and cleaned them slightly.

"Yeah, the Scientist is what I usually get here. Surprised you remember," replied Eddy sitting down.

"Always remember what people drink! Cheers!" exclaimed Gavin, raising his glass.

"Cheers," said Eddy, clinking his glass against Gavin's.

Eddy became very serious as the two agents came to mind, "Gavin, I apologize for callin... But a couple CIA spooks showed up to my lecture today... They said you recommended me for some type of job?" he asked awkwardly.

"I'm doing great, Ed, thanks," said Gavin with a smile.

Eddy laughed lightly, "Shit... Sorry... Preoccupied today," said Eddy, embarrassed. Moron... where’s your manners?, he thought.

Gavin laughed, "It's fine, bustin your balls a bit. But yeah, those two came to me on Tuesday asking about a job of some kind," he said, sipping his beer.

"Did they tell you anything about what they're doing? Why did you recommend me out of all people? Battelle is right over there, there must be infinitely many other people who are more qualified," said Eddy with a bit of exasperation.

Gavin shrugged, "They needed someone with a physics background, good clearance standing and some field work experience. They also said someone who could do surface or submerged cave exploration would be nice to haves, and that was what really made me think of you. And nope, don't know a thing about what the job entails," said Gavin cheerily.

Eddy leaned forward and sighed sharply. He rubbed his face, took a sip of his beer and set the glass down, "I dive and spelunk and that makes me qualified for... Whatever this is?" asked Eddy once again frustrated.

Gavin shrugged again, "This may come as a surprise, but I don't really ask too many questions when the CIA comes knocking, Ed. Mostly just give them answers until they leave," said Gavin, also sipping his beer.

Eddy laughed, "How often does the CIA come knocking?"

Gavin laughed aloud again, "Not often, but it's not the first time."

Eddy chuckled, sipped his beer again and then looked at the sunset for a moment. He became a bit somber, "Why did you tell them I was struggling to get funding?"

Gavin sighed, took a long sip of beer and went quiet for a few moments. He looked sad more than surprised at the question, "I imagine they brought that up is why you're asking... I'm sorry about that Ed... But you are struggling to get funding..."

Eddy stared into his beer for a few seconds, "I mean yeah... But I sent that new proposal out last week, so I should be hearing back on that soon, right?" Eddy looked at Gavin hopefully.

Gavin sipped his beer again. He sighed and looked at the sunset for a few moments, "Ed, you're getting cut off... I found out Wednesday..."

Eddy's jaw dropped: he knew the department wasn't pleased with his past research proposal, but not so much so as to cut his funding. Eddy sighed sharply and finished his beer. Eddy waved to the waitress who was a table away. She cheerily came up to the table, "One more round please when you get a sec?" he asked.

"Sure thing! Be right back," she said making her way back to the bar.

Gavin finished his glass as well, "I'm sorry Ed... But they're taking long looks at funding in general and making changes. You got the ax," he said bluntly.

Eddy went quiet for a few moments. That's my life's work, he thought solemnly. "What does that mean for my tenure?" He asked with concern.

Gavin sighed, "You'll go back to a full teaching load until you can get more funding. But realistically, that'll mean a year if not longer..."

Eddy grew deathly quiet. He knew what Gavin was really saying: you're getting sidelined, wrap your head around teaching and administration for good, or find something else.

The waitress came back around with the next round, "Cheers!" She said walking away.

Eddy cleared his throat and took another sip of beer, "That's my life's work, Gavin... I didn't get a PhD just to teach... I want to work on the cutting edge... Create the latest and greatest..."

Gavin laughed, sipped his beer and sighed, "Ed... We do not work on the cutting edge... We're at least five or six steps removed from that."

Ed cocked an eyebrow with confusion, "I mean I know private industry works on newer stuff, but it's never that far removed from academia..."

Gavin disappeared into a thought again, staring off into the distance. He sighed and sipped his beer, "Ed, the 'cutting edge' is little more than a bunch of grown children bumbling around with chemistry sets begging mom and dad to keep letting them play Scientist in the garage... Whatever they got squirreled away... Ain't anywhere near the same universe as our definition of the 'cutting edge'."

Eddy was taken aback, "You're a Nobel Laureate, Gavin... You help define the cutting edge, don't knock your work like that."

Gavin seemed to become sad, "The kind of work those spooks are offering you... Doesn't come often. You may actually see the cutting edge... My work in academia means very very little to me compared to what I did on those Special Access Programs... If they ever ask me to do it again, I'd give up my tenure in a heartbeat."

Eddy stared at Gavin for a little while silently and then sipped his beer again. He sighed and then raised a glass to Gavin. Gavin looked a bit confused but raised his glass nonetheless.

"To something new," said Eddy. Gavin smiled and clinked Eddy's glass.

"I take it you'll accept the job?" asked Gavin. The solemn demeanor faded, replaced by a surprised but happy tone.

Eddy laughed and then finished his beer, "Doesn't seem like I have much of a choice."

----

Saturday, August 24th, 2024, 7:35pm.

A light rain began to fall over Washington D.C as a thunderstorm began rolling over the area. The rain was much needed though: droughts were becoming more the norm than the exception, and the D.C area had received a nasty heatwave over the month of August. The smell of water hitting heated asphalt permeated through the air, something that Ryan Condon loved about the Northeastern part of the United States.

"Ryan, I gotta be honest, this is sounding more and more like a catfish the more you talk about it," said Barry Zapini. He wore a black jacket with thick black glasses and smoked a cigarette while leaning on his Toyota Camry. His curly black hair was horridly tangled and seemed unmanaged.

"Trust the process," said Ryan from the other side of the car. His Australian accent echoed strangely in the dimly lit parking lot they were in. His short blonde hair shined against the dull lights.

An older black Lincoln rolled up a minute or so later at the opposite end of the lot. It stayed still for thirty seconds and then flashed its lights twice. There's the signal, thought Ryan.

"You've gotta be kidding me..." said Barry. He threw his cigarette on the ground and stamped it out. Ryan began walking cautiously towards the car with Barry not far behind.

As they got closer, a tall man in a black suit with black sunglasses stepped out of the Lincoln and stood in front of the car holding a small metal box.

"Phones, notebooks, pens and recording devices go in here," said the man.

Ryan looked from the box, to Barry, to the man, "We were told we could record."

"Change of plans," he replied. He opened the lid and presented it to the two.

Ryan stared at the man for a few seconds and then obliged: he put his phone, a small black leather notebook and pen inside the box. He handed it to Barry who did the same after an initial groan.

The man closed the metal box and nodded, "Mmk, turn around, legs spread, hands to your head," he said, setting the box down on the hood of the old car.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," said Barry with annoyance.

Ryan stared at Barry with a look Barry had seen before: Barry, shut the fuck up, just do it. Barry groaned and obliged once more. Ryan turned around and assumed the wanted position.

The man came up to the two and gave Ryan and Barry a light pat down, took the box and stood about thirty feet away from the car, "Alright, one in the driver's seat, one in passenger."

Barry looked to Ryan with grave concern, are you sure about this??

Ryan walked to the driver's side and got in. Barry sighed heavily and got into the passenger side. All was quiet aside from the trio of breathing that emanated from within the car.

"Ryan Condon, Barry Zapini, pleasure to meet your acquaintance," said an older male voice from the back seat. His voice sounded a bit crotchety, like he was a former smoker.

Both Barry and Ryan reactively tried turning around, "Eyes forward when you're in this car," responded the older voice from the back.

Barry returned his gaze to the parking lot, "Fucking Christ, what is this, All the Presidents Men?"

"Something like that... You call me Gray and nothing else," responded the man.

"Fucking hell..." replied Barry pinching the top of his nose.

"Perhaps a bit on the nose, don't you think?" asked Ryan with a slight grin.

"Deepthroat is a bit too crass for my liking, and I'm not terribly creative. You'll have to live with it," the old man responded with a chuckle.

"So Gray... Why are we here?" asked Barry, trying to portray some air of respect.

"How this works is simple: you tell me where you're at, what you know and maybe I'll have a response," he stated matter of factly.

"Jesus fuck this is All the Presidents Men," said Barry sarcastically.

"Gray," started Ryan, "We currently have leads on a few different project codes: GADAP, MAAP and AIP. No full names. Freedom of Information Access requests have been denied. We're attempting to audit part of the DoD to try to track down funding, but -"

"I remember some of the first stories I heard about this subject. I found it mostly ludicrous: technologically advanced craft, crashing in the desert? Buncha loons if you’d have asked me. But then I heard other stories of Air Force Personnel lugging something big to EAB. And shipping something big to Wright Patterson. I remember hearing about others auditing in the past, with the solutions being to squirrel things away over in private aerospace: Your Lockheeds, Raytheons and the like. Auditors never did get very far from what I was told some time ago..." said the man. He went completely silent.

"Right..." said Ryan nodding his head: that was another rumor they'd come across in the past few months as well. You make it sound as if they got nothing out of it... Why are we making progress? It's not like we're empty handed... he thought.

"Private aerospace would be nearly impossible to get any information out of..." said Barry, apparently now paying attention and lost in thought. Least the gears are turning, thought Ryan.

"We were able to get some public university hits on our audit. Ohio State University, Stanford, MIT..." said Ryan quickly. His mind was spinning with questions, trying to play this guy's game was making Ryan's brain run circles around itself.

"Ya know, this younger man and I became friends some years ago... Smart fellow, developed some kind of new electron beam isotope reader... What was his name? ... Nersk? Naerk? Shit... My minds goin more and more lately. Wanna say he was OSU? Can't remember for sure... Where was I going with that... Oh! His isotope reader... He had looked at some interesting things under the microscope, I think some of his recent public research stems from his time in the DoD... Been a while since we've spoken though..." the man said in a droning voice. He went quiet once more.

"The redactions made it seem like there was something to hide," said Barry to Ryan.

Ryan nodded lightly, "Right... Without program codes or actual program names though, there's no way to follow up on that... FOIAs will get denied immediately..."

An old, veiny white hand reached from the backseat and placed a small folded piece of paper on the center console.

"It's getting late, definitely inching towards bed time..." said the old crotchety voice.

Ryan and Barry looked at one another and then nodded. Ryan picked up the small piece of paper and put it in his pocket.

"Well, Gray... Nice to meet your acquaintance," said Ryan, motioning to leave.

"We'll be in touch..." the man replied.

As Ryan and Barry left the car, the man in black approached again with the box containing their belongings.

"Thanks mate," said Ryan cheerily. The man didn't respond and got back in the Lincoln and started it. The car drove off a moment later.

"What's it say?" asked Barry excitedly.

Ryan chuckled, "Awfully perky for a bloke who couldn't give a damn a half an hour ago."

Barry grunted, "Yeah, that was before Deepthroat showed up in a Lincoln, now what's it say?"

Ryan took the piece of paper out from his pocket and unfolded it: GADAP-5797-SCI, EDAP-8906-SAP, AIP-7665-TS-SCI, MAAP-4598-SAP.

"Holy shit, those are full program codes, classification statuses and everything," said Barry with pent up excitement.

Ryan looked over the note carefully, memorizing every detail, "What in the fuck is EDAP?" he asked aloud.

Barry looked closely at the card, "The codes are numbered ascendingly... The most recent project, maybe?"

Ryan folded up the piece of paper and stuck it in his wallet, "Best not lose this."

Barry seemed to have a second wind of sorts, "Coffee?"

Ryan sighed and checked his watch: 8:15pm, "Long black does sound quite nice actually," he said.

Barry patted Ryan's back with both hands, "Let's get after it."

Ryan laughed, "You're about as perky as a prom queen right about now."

"We got CODES! I'm like a kid on Christmas, if my life was super depressing and dull," Barry replied with a cackle.

Ryan smiled, "That is your life."

Barry laughed aloud again, "Hence the prom queen excitement!"

----

The thunder finally rolled in bringing a seeming monsoon with it. Rain poured from the skies as Ryan and Barry strolled into a café not far from Gray's meetup spot. They placed their orders and grabbed some seats near the windows. The waiter came around with two cups after a few minutes and set them down, "Long black?"

Ryan beckoned the waiter, "Thanks."

The waitress set Barry's drink in front of him, "Enjoy," she said walking away.

The two sipped their coffees and sat in silence for a moment before Barry pulled out his e-cigarette and took a long drag of it.

Ryan laughed, "Ya know, hittin the piff stick inside is just as rude as a cig."

Barry exhaled his berry-laced smoke and waved it away, "Oh come on, it dissipates in half a second."

"If I wanted a gust of Berry-whatever-the-fuck in my face, I'd go to an incense shop," replied Ryan with a chuckle.

Barry grunted and then disappeared into his thoughts for a moment, "Who do you think that guy is?" he asked, sipping his coffee.

Ryan stared off into the distance and didn't seem fully present, "Has to be high brass. Don't think many in the MIC food chain can get actual codes," he said.

"If they're real," said Barry.

"If they're real, yes" replied Ryan, still lost.

Barry stared into his coffee for a little while, "What's the angle? Why help us?" he asked absentmindedly.

Ryan shrugged, "The good of humanity, hopefully."

Barry grunted, looked out the window and then back to Ryan, "It's been almost eighty years... What's so pressing that he feels the need to disclose now?"

Ryan drifted into his thoughts again, "Climate change. Cusp of new wars. Energy crisis... Could be any number of things, really."

Barry sipped his coffee, "Why us?"

"Perhaps he's taken with my accent," said Ryan chuckling.

Barry laughed, "Aussies are hard to ignore."

"What do you think EDAP means?" asked Ryan after finishing his drink.

"Evangelical Dicks Ascertaining the Phenomenon," said Barry smiling.

Ryan smiled, "Given that we've seen a lot of Application Programs, I'd have to wager that's the AP."

"Fair... Experimental Doodads and Applications Program then," said Barry with a chuckle.

Ryan laughed and then went silent.

A moment later and a bell above the café door rang loudly.

"Hey, evening folks, how can I-" the cashier was cut off by two large men in full black suits. Both men pulled out badges of some kind. The cashier nervously looked at them, and then quickly made her way towards the kitchen. The café went quiet.

A moment later a tanned woman dressed in a similar suit with brown hair entered the café carrying a black briefcase.

Ryan snapped to attention and noted the two men standing by the door, and the woman approaching them. Ryan lightly nodded his head, "Suits approaching..." Barry nodded and went quiet: his prior goofy persona replaced by a hardened investigator who was about to be shaken down.

The woman grabbed a chair from a nearby table and set it down at the head of Ryan's and Barry's. She sat down gingerly and crossed her legs.

"Ryan Condon, Barry Zapini. My name is Liv Elezararras, I work for the Department of Defense on Classified Projects," she pulled a badge from her coat: a CIA spook.

"Evening, ma'am," said Ryan. He turned slightly to face her.

"Kinda late for you to be out isn't it?" asked Barry with a hint of patronization.

"For pencil pushers and desk jockeys, perhaps. Although that could easily describe both of you as well, so I'd ask the same," she said with a grin.

"Burnin' the midnight oil. Needed a cup of Joe. Not much mystery to it," said Ryan crossing his arms.

"Following up on some sex scandals regarding our honourable elected officials," said Barry turning his chair to face the woman.

"I'm sure... I'm sure..." she said, ignoring the comment altogether.

She opened the black briefcase she brought with her and pulled out a manilla folder about an inch thick full of documents. She placed the folder on the table in front of her, closed the briefcase, set it down next to her and crossed her legs again. She clasped her hands in her lap.

Ryan and Barry exchanged a glance. Barry crossed his arms as well, "Police reports relating to drunk congressmen and hookers I imagine?"

If Liv was annoyed with the two of them, she didn't show it. She opened the front flap of the folder and lightly pushed it to the center of the table. Ryan and Barry stole a glance at what was clearly the front page of a project debrief. The cover read "Aerial Identification Program, Debrief 04".

Ryan and Barry exchanged glances once more. Ryan leaned forward and spoke a bit quieter, "Ms. Elezararras, it's illegal to hold classified documents without clearance, as I'm sure you're aware."

"Espionage Act and all," stated Barry bluntly.

She ignored their comments once more, "As you can see," she said pointing a finger at the top right hand corner of the cover page, "this report was issued this past Monday."

What is this? thought Ryan. Does she know about our meeting with Gray?

"Ms. Elezararras, I apologize for sounding rude, but we're winding down our night. A classified report on aircraft identification isn't exactly something we are interested in seeing. Especially if we can go to jail for it," said Ryan leaning back in his chair.

"Especially if we can go to jail for it. And despite how we look, my colleague and I here aren't exactly engineers. Why would we want reports of Russian or Chinese drone incursions and specifications? Others have already covered it ad nauseum, and we're not equipped to examine the stuff anyway" said Barry.

Ryan was internally relieved and impressed, Barry sure knows how to wind people up, he thought. Other outlets were covering the so-called "Drone Operations" taking place over San Diego and the Baja Coast perpetrated by China, allegedly. Lots of intelligence leaks were targeting that activity. Maybe the DoD is roping us in on it, thought Ryan. But he rejected the idea outright: the timing was too strange. Why tonight, right after the meeting with Gray?, he asked himself. He stole another glance at the cover of the debrief lying before them, AIP: Aerial Identification Program, thought Ryan with a sense of curious dread.

"Not drones... Not Russian or Chinese ones at least," said Liv standing up. She returned the chair she got to its rightful table. She returned back to Ryan's and Barry's table and closed the folder.

"Enjoy your coffee, gentlemen," she said, picking up her briefcase. Her and the other two suits exited the café a moment later.

Both Barry and Ryan glanced at each other and then stared at the folder sitting in front of them. Barry looked around uneasily and then leaned forward, "Best we hit the road."

Ryan nodded, grabbed the folder and held it inside a flap of his jacket. Barry and Ryan stood and exited the café.

The cashier that was spying on them through the kitchen door came out and yelled, "Have a nice night!" Both Barry and Ryan ignored her: perhaps before entering the café, but certainly not now.

They entered Barry's Camry and sat in silence. Ryan set the folder on his lap and tried to open it, but Barry laid his hand on top before he could. Ryan turned to Barry, who held a finger to his pursed lips and shook his head, Not here. Ryan nodded and looked out the window briefly.

Barry began lighting a cigarette. Ryan nodded towards Barry, "Bum one?"

Barry looked momentarily surprised, "Thought you didn't smoke?" Barry offered the pack he had to Ryan who took one quickly.

Ryan used Barry's lighter, lit the cig and dragged, "Not usually, no."

Barry smiled, "Took not one, but two conspiracies for Mr. Condon to break. Impressive."

Ryan cracked the window slightly and flicked the cigarette, "I'm tired of this movie already," he said with a smirk.

Barry looked in his rear view mirror and saw a pitch black Lexus with blacked out windows turn on a few blocks behind them. It was on, but idling by the curb.

Barry’s lighthearted mood faded instantly. He flicked his cigarette out the window and started up the car, "Think we got a tail," said Barry pulling away from the café curb. As they pulled away, the Lexus followed.

Ryan glanced over his shoulder quickly and dragged long once again, "A movie that's just getting started apparently... Ever outrun a tail?" he asked with concern.

"Believe it or not, yeah... But there's nowhere to run in DC... Assume we're being watched, recorded and videoed at this point," he said with a certain steel in his voice that caused Ryan to worry.

"You think we're being investigated?" asked Ryan nervously.

"I know we are," said Barry.

----

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