“So she returned when she assumed it was safe to do so, and even though the flybot was badly damaged, it responded to radio frequency signals sent by the data gloves?” I turn off the iPad and hand it to him.
“I think she just saw it on the ground, think it was shiny in the flashlight and she found it that way. Lucy says the bug is DOA. Squashed.”
“Do we know exactly what it does or was supposed to do?”
Marino shrugs, towering over me again, still in his parka, which he hasn’t bothered to unbutton, as if he didn’t intend to stay long. “This isn’t my area of expertise, you know. I didn’t understand half of what they were talking about, Lucy and the general. I just know the potential for whatever this thing is supposed to do is something to be concerned about, and DoD intends to do some sort of inspection of Otwahl to see what the hell is really going on over there. But I’m not sure we don’t already know exactly what the hell is going on over there.”
“Meaning what?”
He returns the iPad to its case and says, “Meaning I worry there’s R-and-D going on that the government damn well knows about but just doesn’t want anyone else to know, and then you get kids out of control and the shit hits the fan. I think you get my drift. When are you coming back to work?”
“Probably not today,” I tell him.
“Well, we got a shitload of things to do and undo,” he says.
“Thanks for the warning.”
“Buzz me if you need something. I’ll call the hospital and let you know how the psycho’s doing.”
“Thanks for stopping by.”
I wait until the sound of his heavy footsteps stops at the front door, and then the door shuts again, and then a pause, and Benton resets the alarm. I hear his footsteps, which are much lighter than Marino’s, as he walks past the stairs, toward the back of the house where he has his office.
“Come on, let’s get up,” I say to Sock, and he opens his eyes and looks at me and yawns. “Do you know what bye-bye means? I guess not. They didn’t teach you that at the prison. You just want to sleep, don’t you? Well, I’ve got things to do, so come on. You’re really quite lazy, you know. Are you sure you ever won a race or even ran in one? I don’t think I believe it.”
I move his head and put my feet on the floor, deciding there must be a pet shop around here that has everything a skinny, lazy old greyhound might need for this kind of weather.
“Let’s go for a ride.” I talk to Sock as I find my slippers and a robe. “Let’s see what Secret Agent Wesley is doing. He’s probably in his office on the phone again, what do you bet? I know, he’s always on the phone, and I agree, it’s quite annoying.
“Maybe he’ll take us shopping, and then I’m going to make a very nice pasta, homemade pappardelle with a hearty Bolognese sauce, ground veal, red wine, and lots of mushrooms and garlic.
“I need to explain up front that you only get canine cuisine; that’s the rule of the house. I’m thinking quinoa and cod for you today.” I continue talking as we go down the stairs. “That will be a nice change after all that chicken and rice from the Greek diner.”
Patricia Cornwell, Port Mortuary
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