‘Neither is your dick,’ Wild Bill explained.
If Daniel found such explanations baffling, he was even more bewildered by the five-minute daily segment that constituted his formal study. Wild Bill asked one question and Daniel had five minutes to answer. Wild Bill never indicated if an answer was right, wrong, faulty, inspired, weak, provocative, or ill-considered. And the questions were such that the answers couldn’t be checked.
‘Where did you set your fork when you finished your waffles this morning?’
‘That bird we saw in the orchard – what color was its throat?’
‘What did Tilly say about the cornbread recipe Owen claims he learned from his Grandma?’
‘When the wind shifted along Fern Creek this afternoon, which direction did it blow?’
During his dream meditation, supposedly emptying his mind, Daniel thought about the questions and his doubtful answers. Slowly he became aware of himself in the world, seeing what he saw, doing what he did: laying the posthole digger next to the picket maul; the shapes of clouds; the curved black plume of a cock valley quail on the fencepost; the phase of the moon.
But no matter how much he concentrated in the physical moment or focused through meditation, he kept hearing his mother scream, ‘Daniel! Run!’ And as his numbness gave way to grief, and grief to the buried rage of depression, the only question he really wanted answered was what had happened in that alley.
He told Wild Bill, ‘Volta said he would investigate my mother’s death and let me know what he learned – he gave me his word. And in ten months I’ve heard from him
‘Then take it up with him.’ Wild Bill shrugged. ‘But I’ll tell you this: If Volta gave you his word, I can stone guarantee two things – he’s working on it, and he’ll let you know. Volta may be the most honorable man I ever met. To a fault, perhaps. And besides, AMO has an extraordinary intelligence network. You won’t do any better on your own. And you do understand that if you just take off, Tilly and Owen might catch some shit. My suggestion is to talk to Volta. Give him a call in the morning. And sleep in if you want, since I guess we’re done with school.’
‘Let me talk to Volta first,’ Daniel said. ‘I would have before, but I don’t have a number for him.’
‘I got about twenty,’ Wild Bill said.
But Daniel didn’t need them. Volta arrived the next morning with a letter from Shamus. They went to Daniel’s cabin.
‘Before you read it,’ Volta said, ‘let me supply some context. Shamus is hiding. When the bomb exploded, it aborted the plutonium heist; therefore, there was no overt connection. But there were suspicions––’
‘I know,’ Daniel interrupted. ‘They asked me about him specifically. I couldn’t remember.’
‘It’s these damn computers. They probably pulled anybody who’d made a try, came up with him fleeing the Four Deuces with a woman and child – an idiot could see the connection. We’ve got to recruit more people with computer knowledge so we can either eliminate the information they want to retrieve or replace it with what we’d like them to have.’
Daniel said pointedly, ‘But
‘That’s correct.’ Volta smiled. ‘Forgive the digression on the skills the Alliance lacks. But while we didn’t know where he is, we did let it be known that we’d like to talk to him about the other people involved in the plutonium job.’
‘How did you do that? Let him know?’
‘We went looking for the others hard enough that the pressure was felt. Thus, the letter. It was sent from Topeka, Kansas, for what that’s worth.’ Daniel read the letter carefully.
Volta––
There were three people involved besides myself, Annalee, and Daniel (who was included at Annalee’s discretion, against my advice). Of the other three, two did not know about the diversionary bomb nor who would deliver it. The third, who constructed the bomb, did not know what it was for, when it would be used, or who would deliver it. It was evidently a faulty bomb, though the maker insists that given the nature of the device, accidental detonation was virtually impossible.
Leave it alone. I accept the blame. You have my word I will never make another attempt. Let me be.
S.M.
Daniel read it again. It looked like Shamus’s handwriting, but he wasn’t sure.
Volta said, ‘I want your permission to put out word that your mom yelled for you to run before the bomb exploded. Perhaps we can draw Shamus out – we need more information about those involved.’
‘Of course,’ Daniel agreed, then added with clear annoyance, ‘I figured you would have already done that. I mean, Shamus deserves to know. He’s blaming himself.’
‘He should,’ Volta said.
‘What do you mean? Do you think he messed with the bomb?’
‘No. I have no evidence he tampered with the bomb; none at all. I only meant that he was the agent for the occasion. He enlisted her help in a patently dangerous undertaking.’
‘She
‘Did you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
