CHAPTER 09
The only thing that Norm could think to say on the matter was, “is this really a problem?” He listened to his phone a little longer and then finally had to tell Calvin, “well go wake his ass up.” Norm had to wait for another round of thunder before he could hear again. Then he made it clear to Calvin, “I don't care. Did you find Patsy?” The answer surprised him, “what do you mean she's at Garcia's house? What the fuck is she... oh. Hell no I ain't changing no old folks diapers!”
It was enough for Norm. Calvin was just being an ass because he was stuck at the station with Harvey, who was doing what Norm remembered him most famous for and, that being, sleeping up in ops when he should have been answering the phones. It was not like there were a lot of calls to answer back then but, times were most certainly changing and, the only thing Norm could think to say about it was, “I'm going to kick Barbara's ass for leaving me with all this rinky dink shit.”
Enrique had patiently waited and watched the rain from under the breezeway. Norm noted that, since the time that he left the city, the guy had certainly learned a few new virtues, the most prominent of which seemed to be patience. As far as Norm was concerned, he had little use for patience. It took too long. He put his phone away and then tried to force a smile.
This caused the Jewish Monk to laugh, “your life has certainly become far more, what should I say, eventful? As of late? It's almost like you were back with the city.”
“Na,” Norm tried to waive it off, “this is a slow day Enrique. Nobody's tried to kill me and Hyrum 'Fucking' Kingsley ain't even on the island right now. I count today as a win. Now if I could just get Hal to go join the bastard, I'd know where to aim my grenade launcher, good and proper.”
Enrique reached under his robes and checked his phone, “I didn't realize it was already the 16th. I take it he's with his mistress again. You would think Hyrum is getting a little too old for that sort of thing.”
“He is,” Norm agreed, “just nobody around him got the guts to tell him. Speaking of which...”
“Yes,” Enrique said as he began walking down the breezeway again. Norm causally followed as Enrique went on, “I have been meaning to ask you about that Norm. You say one of his men gave this thumb drive to you? I find that very peculiar.”
“Yeah,” Norm nodded, “it was this guy named Baxter. He's been Hyrum's main body guard for the past few years.”
Enrique was now very curious, “how long exactly?”
“I don't know,” Norm shrugged it off, “he wasn't there in the old days, I know that much. I'm not even sure the guy is even a Texan. He kind of comes off as a mercenary. Sure handles himself like one.” That caused Norm to step in front of Enrique and stop him. Then Norm asked, “why? You said that file was about Jake Barton. If Baxter gave me that file then it had to come from Hyrum. Why would Baxter care? He's just hired muscle.”
Enrique acted as if he did not want to answer. Norm knew what that meant, “you found something else on that drive besides stuff about Jake, didn't you?”
“Not exactly,” Enrique replied.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Norm shot back.
Enrique began walking again and Norm followed. As they strolled down the breezeway of the Monestary, Enrique composed his thoughts. Finally, he explained, “the reason it is taking so long is because the drive is encrypted.”
“You told me that already,” Norm was less than impressed. “You also know I don't know what all that crap means so, speak English Enrique.”
“Norm,” Enrique sounded very serious, “there are a few of my fellow monks who are not so keen on that drive being here. It's not the drive itself, it's not even the information on it. To be honest, the little bit of information we've been able to unravel about your, associate, has been mostly droll and useless.”
“I thought you said,” Norm had to stop and think, “you had his sealed files and all that jazz.”
“Oh we do,” Enrique nodded in agreement, “only we already had all of that information. It's secret, yes, but it's not exactly critical. You have to understand, a giant bureaucracy, like the United States Government in this case, habitually classifies everything. That is even when it is not important and, even though we have only just scratched the surface of that drive, I believe that there is nothing on it of any real worth.”
“To you maybe,” Norm added. “Some of what you told me sounded pretty important on my end.” Then, Norm thought about it some more and had to ask, “if it's like you say, worthless, then why the hell is your folks getting so jumpy about it?”
“I don't have to remind you that we are playing a very complicated game here, Norman,” Enrique told him in all earnestness. “I don't believe the message is the information on the drive. I believe the message is the drive itself.” When it was clear Norm still did not understand, Enrique found he had no choice but to tell his old friend what he had been trying to avoid saying, “the drive is encrypted in a cipher that is only used by one organization, the US State Department. It's an older code and, hence, why we've been able to get at some of it but, that does not change the problem here.”
Norm was not exactly sure what kind of problems that was causing for Enrique and his monk buddies but, he did understand the problem it gave him, “how the fuck did Hyrum get his hands on something like that?”
Again, Enrique found he had no choice but say it, “I don't believe he did.” Enrique paused again and it took a nasty look from Norm for him to continue, “There is also one other problem that you have yet to learn about. We have already gotten word but, it might be some time before it becomes general knowledge in the colony. It makes me question even what little information that I have given you. It also puts this entire situation in another light.”
“Goddamn it Enrique,” Norm quipped, “just spill it already.”
“You know who Jake Barton's father is,” Enrique asked.
Norm only shrugged, “I know he's somebody important back on Earth. I can't keep up with who is what way the hell back there. I don't even know why anybody here would even care. We got our own problems.”
“In this case,” Enrique replied, “it might. It would seem that US Senator, Joseph Morgan Barton the third, has announced his candidacy for President of the United States. I don't remember all the specifics of their elections, I would have to look it but, given the delay in communications, it's possible he may already be their leader.”
Norm thought about that and then risked a stupid question, “is that important?”
“Norman,” Enrique became very humble, “the Treaty of Beta Canaan is not working out very well for Germany or the United States. Neither side likes it or wants it. Even if neither side fires a shot, such a situation could make conditions out here, intolerable at best, at least for the people living here and, as I understand it, no one back in the core much cares. Barton's father is a hawk. His election could very well mean another conflict. If this comes to blows, they're not going to fight the war on Earth. They'll burn the colonies to the ground before they let the other side have them.”
“If that happens Enrique,” Norm told him with a shrug, “don't sound to me like anything we doing here much matters, no how.”
“Everything matters Norm. I know that, in many cases our actions may seem small but, in our collective weight, they are felt. Even if we are all truly doomed, there is no way we can ever know this for certain. For that reason alone, we can never give up hope,” Enrique stated.
Norm snorted in contempt, “spare me the goddamn religion Enrique. I don't mean to step on your beliefs but, you damn well know I don't have any.”
Enrique smiled warmly and said, “why Normal Scoggins. It was not God who taught me this most worldly of lessons. It was you, old friend. I think very highly of you Norman but, not so much as I can mistake you for the all mighty. Besides,” He had Norm's attention so, the monk let it be known, “the point is far more practical than philosophical. I am merely stating that you have been looking at your associate as some kind of agent provocateur when, in reality, it is very possible that he is the target.”
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Decant
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