Spoonbenders Page 4

  She was, as he’d guessed, a stay-at-home mom—or, given the size of some of the homes in Oak Brook, the suburb where she lived, a stay-at-mansion mom—whose primary duty was to arrange the lives of three school-age sons, including the problematic Julian. Her days were entirely set by their needs: travel soccer, math tutoring, tae kwon do.

  “Sounds stressful,” he said. “To do that alone.”

  “You get used to it,” she said, ignoring the obvious question. “I’m the rock.” She still had not mentioned her husband. “But why am I telling you all this? I must be boring you.”

  “I assure you, you’re the furthest thing from boring in months.”

  “Tell me about you,” she said decisively. “Where do you come from, Teddy? Do you live near here?”

  “Just up the road, my dear. In Elmhurst.”

  She asked him about his family, and he told her of his grown children, without mentioning grandchildren. “Only three, two boys and a girl. My wife was Irish Catholic. If she’d lived, we’d probably have had a dozen, easy.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Graciella said.

  “She was the love of my life. She passed when the kids were young, and I raised ’em on my own.”

  “That was probably unusual at the time,” she said.

  She made it sound like it was so long ago. And he supposed it was, though he didn’t want her to dwell on their age gap; where was the fun in that? “Difficult, sure, very difficult,” he said. “But you do what you have to do.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. He’d learned not to rush to fill the silence. He saw her notice the Rolex on his wrist, but instead of commenting on that, she said, “I like your hat.”

  He’d set it on the edge of the table. He’d been absentmindedly stroking the crown as they spoke. “It’s a Borsalino,” he said. “The finest maker of—”

  “Oh, I know Borsalino.”

  “Of course you do,” he said, with pleasure. “Of course you do.”

  “So,” she said. Finally getting to it. “Do something psychic.”

  “It’s not something that you can flip on like a switch,” he said. “Some days it comes easily for me, easy as pie. Other days…”

  She raised her eyebrow, egging him on again. She could do a lot with an eyebrow.

  He pursed his lips, then nodded as if coming to a decision. He plucked a napkin from the dispenser on the table and tore it into three pieces.

  “I want you to write three things you want for your family.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just two words, two words on each piece, something like ‘more money.’ Call them wishes.” He doubted she’d wish for money. That was clearly not her problem. She opened her purse to look for a pen and he handed her the one he kept in his jacket pocket. “Take your time, take your time. Write forcefully, in all caps—put some emotion into it. This is important.”

  Graciella bit her lip and stared at the first slip. He liked that she was taking it seriously. Taking him seriously. When she began to write, he turned in his seat and looked out across the empty plastic booths. It was afternoon, the dead zone.

  “Finished,” Graciella said.

  He told her to fold each slip in half, then fold it again. “Make sure there’s no way for me to read what you’ve written.” He turned over the Borsalino and she dropped in the slips.

  “The next part’s up to you, Graciella. You need to think hard about what you wrote. Picture each of the things on the paper—all three wishes.”

  She gazed up at the ceiling. “All right.”

  The front door opened behind him, and she was distracted for a moment. A man in a black coat took a seat at a table kitty-corner from them. He sat just behind Graciella’s left shoulder, facing away from them. Jesus Christ, Teddy thought.

  “Concentrate,” he told her—and himself. “Got all three?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.” He shook the three slips onto the table, then arranged them into a row. “Take the nearest one and put it in my hand. Don’t open it. Just cover it up with your hand.”

  They were palm to palm, with the paper between them.

  “Graciella,” he said. She looked into his eyes. She was excited, yes, but nervous. Scared by what she’d written. By what was going to be said aloud.

  “School,” he said. “New school.”

  A puff of surprise escaped her.

  “I guess that’s about Julian,” he said. “Turns out you’d decided after all, yes?”

  “That one’s too easy,” she said. “I told you all about him. You could have guessed that.”

  “It’s possible,” he said. “Quite possible. Still—” The man behind Graciella coughed. He was big, with a crew cut like a gray lawn that rolled over the folds in his neck fat. Teddy tried to ignore him. He opened the slip and read it. “ ‘New school.’ It’s a good wish.”

  He set the paper aside and told her to pick the next slip. Again she covered his palm. His fingers touched her wrist, and he could feel her pulse.

  “Hmm. This one’s more complicated,” he said.

  Her hand trembled. What was she so afraid of?

  “The first word is ‘no.’ ” He closed his eyes to concentrate. “No…rabbits?”

  She laughed. Relieved now. So he hadn’t hit the slip she was worried about.

  “You tell me,” she said.

  He looked at her. “I’m seeing ‘No rabbits.’ Are you writing in code? Wait.” His eyes widened in mock surprise. “Are you pregnant?”

  “What?” She was laughing.

  “Maybe you’re worried about the rabbit dying.”

  “No! I definitely want them to die. They’ve eaten my entire garden.”

  “This is about gardening?” He shook his head. “You need bigger wishes, my dear. Perhaps this last one. Put this one into my hatband. There you go. Don’t let me touch it.”

  She tucked it into the front of the band. “How are you doing this?” she asked. “Have you always been able to do this?”

  The man behind her snorted. He made a show of studying the plastic menu.

  “Let me concentrate,” Teddy said. He put on the Borsalino, but kept his fingers well away from the band. “Yes. This one’s definitely a big one.”

  The man laughed.

  “Jesus Christ!” Teddy said. “Would you mind?”

  The man turned around. Graciella glanced behind her, then said to Teddy, “Do you two know each other?”

  “Unfortunately,” Teddy said.

  “Destin Smalls,” the man said, offering her his hand.

  She refused to take it. “You’re a cop, aren’t you?”

  Ding! Teddy’s heart opened like a cracked safe.

  “I work for the government,” Smalls said.

  “Is this a setup?” Graciella asked. “Is this about Nick?”

  “Who’s Nick?” Smalls asked Teddy.

  “My husband,” said Graciella.

  “I have no idea why he just showed up,” Teddy said to Graciella. “I haven’t seen this guy in years.”

  “Don’t be taken in,” Smalls told her. “It’s called billet reading. An old trick, almost as old as he is.”

  That was hurtful, trying to embarrass him in front of a younger woman. But she didn’t seem to be listening to Smalls, thankfully. “I have to go,” Graciella said. “The boys are getting dropped off soon.”

  Teddy rose with her. “I apologize for my acquaintance here.”

  “It was a pleasure meeting you,” she said to Teddy. “I think.” She started for the door.

  Teddy scowled at Smalls, then said, “Graciella, just a second. One second.” She was kind enough to wait for him.

  “The last wish,” he said, his voice low to keep Smalls out of it. “Was that about you? Are you going to be okay?”

  “Of course I’ll be okay,” she said. “I’m the rock.”

  She marched across the parking lot. He had so many questions. The two word
s she’d written on the last slip were NOT GUILTY.

  —

  Destin Smalls, to Teddy’s annoyance, took Graciella’s seat.

  “Still running the Carnac routine, Teddy?”

  “You look like death’s doorman,” Teddy said. It had been four years since he’d seen the government agent, but he looked like he’d aged twice that. A bad patch. That’s the way it happened. A body could hold the line for a decade, one Christmas photo just like the ten previous, then bam, the years zoomed up and flattened you like a Mack truck. The last of the man’s football-hero good looks had been swallowed by age and carbohydrates. Now he was a blocky head on a big rectangular body, like a microwave atop a refrigerator.

  “You have to know you’ll never get past first base,” Smalls said. “You’re an old man. They talk to you because you’re safe.”

  “I’m serious, your color looks like hell. What is it, ball cancer? Liver damage? I always took you for a secret drinker.”

  The waitress reappeared. If she was surprised that an attractive suburbaness had been replaced by a seventy-year-old spook, she didn’t show it.

  “Coffee for my friend here,” Teddy said.

  “No thank you,” he said to her. “Water with lemon, please.”

  “I forgot, he’s Mormon,” Teddy told her. “Could you make sure the water’s decaffeinated?”

  She stared at him for a moment, then left without a word.

  “I take it back, you can still charm them,” Smalls said. “So how are the hands?”

  “Good days and bad days,” Teddy said.

  “Good enough for the billet trick,” Smalls said.

  Teddy ignored that. “So what are you doing in Chicago? D.C. too hot for you?”

  “They’re trying to force me out,” Smalls said. “They’re closing Star Gate. They cut my funding to nothing.”

  “Star Gate’s still running?” Teddy shook his head. “I can’t believe they hadn’t already chased you all out of the temple.”

  “Congress is shutting down every project in the SG umbrella. Too much media blowback.”

  “You mean media, period.” Teddy leaned back, relaxing into it now, the old banter. “You guys never liked it that any honest report had to mention your complete lack of results.”

  “You know as well as I do that—”

  Teddy held up a hand. “Excepting Maureen. But without her, you had nothing.”

  The waitress returned with the water and the coffeepot. She refilled Teddy’s cup and vanished again.

  “Here’s to Maureen,” Smalls said, and lifted his glass. “Forever ageless.”

  “Maureen.”

  After a while, Teddy said, “Too bad about the job. Nobody likes to be the last one to turn out the lights.”

  “It’s a crime,” Smalls said. “A strategic mistake. You think the Russians shut down the SCST?”

  “Why not? They just shut down their whole country.”

  “Ex-KGB are still running the place. Not five years ago, we had intelligence that the Ministry of Agriculture was ahead of us on developing a micro-lepton gun.”

  “Jesus, are you still trying to build one of those? How much government dough have you spent on that?”

  “That’s classified.”

  “But somebody in Congress knows, don’t they? No wonder they’re shutting you down. Nobody but you believes in remote viewers and psychokinetics.”

  “Speaking of which, is Frankie staying out of casinos?”

  “Leave Frankie out of it.”

  Smalls raised a hand in surrender. “How is he, then? And Buddy and Irene?”

  “They’re fine,” Teddy lied. Frankie kept borrowing his money, Irene was depressed, and Buddy—Jesus, Buddy got worse every year. A mute and a recluse. Then a few months ago he started taking apart the house like a man who knew only half a magic trick. Observe, ladies and gentlemen, while I smash this watch! Okay, now I’ll, damn it…what was it? “Buddy’s turned into quite the handyman,” Teddy said.

  “You don’t say. And the grandchildren? You have how many now?”

  “Three and a half,” Teddy said.

  “Half?” Smalls looked surprised. “Is Irene pregnant again?”

  “God I hope not. No. I mean Loretta’s girl, Mary Alice.”

  “You shouldn’t do that. Categorize like that. There’s no such thing as a step-grandchild.”

  “You didn’t come all the way to Chicago to ask me about my grandkids,” Teddy said. “Strike that. That’s exactly why you came out here, isn’t it?”

  Smalls shrugged. “Are any of them…showing signs?”

  “I thought they were shutting down your program, Agent Smalls.”

  “It’s not dead yet.”

  “Well, until it’s dead or alive, keep the kids out of it. That was the deal you made with Maureen and me. That goes double for our grandchildren.”

  “There are two ends to that deal,” Smalls said. “You’re supposed to keep them out of trouble.”

  “You mean, keep them from using their great and terrible powers for evil.”

  “Or at all.”

  “Jesus, Smalls. Those grandkids, none of them can do so much as read a menu unless it’s in front of them. Besides, the Cold War’s over.”

  “Yet the world’s more dangerous than ever. I need—we need—Star Gate and people like Maureen.”

  Teddy wasn’t used to Smalls sounding desperate. But a desperate government agent, even one barely in the game, was a useful thing. “Fine,” Teddy said. “Give me your number.”

  The abrupt capitulation surprised Smalls. He took a moment to pull a business card from his wallet. The face of it was blank except for Smalls’s name, and a number. D.C. area code.

  “They paid for you to fly all the way out here just to talk to me for ten minutes? I thought they cut your funding.”

  “Maybe I thought it was worth doing.”

  “Like you could convince them to—” Teddy stopped. The frown on Smalls’s face told him he’d hit the mark. Teddy laughed. “You’re robbing your own piggy bank for this? Jesus, you need to save for retirement. What’s Brenda have to say about that?”

  Smalls rubbed a thumb across his water glass.

  “Oh Christ,” Teddy said. “I’m sorry. She was a good woman.”

  “Yes. Well.” He stood up, and pocketed the slip of paper. “You and I both married better than we deserved.”

  If nothing had happened after the day he first saw Maureen McKinnon—if Dr. Eldon hadn’t seen his cartoon and flagged his application for inclusion in the study; if he hadn’t also chosen Maureen; if he hadn’t found himself side by side with her a few weeks later—well, her spell might have worn off.

  First, though, had been his solo audition for Dr. Eldon. Two weeks after the initial survey, Teddy had been invited back on campus to discuss “his gift” and found himself in the doctor’s weirdly shaped office, a bent L intruded upon by support beams, ductwork, and plumbing.

  “I just see things,” Teddy said. Not making too big a deal of it. “Especially on paper—there’s something about the way people concentrate when they’re writing or drawing that lets me see it more clearly.”

  Dr. Eldon nodded and scribbled in his notepad. Eldon was at least ten years older and fifty pounds heavier than his already unflattering picture in the faculty directory. “Do you think you could, ah, demonstrate something for me?” the doctor asked. His voice was soft and earnest, almost wheedling.

  “Okay, sure,” Teddy said. “I think I’m feeling strong enough to try. Do you have a piece of paper?” Of course he did. “Just make three drawings that are simple to visualize. Something famous, or a simple cartoon figure, or geometric shapes, whatever you like.”

  Teddy got up from his chair, walked a few feet away, and turned his back to him. “I’ll cover my eyes,” he said. “Just tell me when you’re finished.”

  Dr. Eldon frowned in concentration, then drew his first figure. Teddy couldn’t believe how well this was going. H
e’d been sure Eldon would insist on doing his tests, under all kinds of laboratory controls, but instead he was letting Teddy run the show. This was easier than bar work, where the marks were always looking up his sleeves—or into his cupped palm, where he currently held a tiny mirror that allowed him to watch the academic. It never crossed Eldon’s mind to wonder why a guy with his back to him also needed to cover his eyes.

  When the professor was done, Teddy slipped the mirror back into his pocket and told him to fold the papers into squares.

  “I’m not going to do these in order,” Teddy said. “I’m just going to sort through the images as I get them, and you’ll tell me if I’m in the ballpark.”

  Teddy pressed the first square to the front of his hat. Pretended to concentrate. Then he put that square down and picked up the next one, then the next, squinting and wincing his way through each one.

  “I’m receiving images,” Teddy said. The first thing Dr. Eldon had drawn was a Mickey Mouse face. Typical. Tell somebody to draw “a simple cartoon figure” and that was the first thing that came to mind. The other drawings were straightforward enough. The second one was a pyramid. And the third was an airplane.

  “So many things,” he said. “I’m getting a bird flying over a mountain. No, it’s a triangle. A triangle mountain? And a big circle, maybe the moon? No, there’s more than one circle. They’re kind of stacked up around each other, and the bird…” He shook his head as if confused. “The bird is…metal? Oh!” He all but snapped his fingers. “It’s a plane. A triangle and a plane. But what’s with the circles?” He tapped his forehead. “There are two of them behind one middle circle. Like the Olympic rings, but not as many, you know? It seems so familiar, so…”

  Teddy slumped in his chair, looking defeated. Dr. Eldon stared at him, his face stiff with the effort of hiding his delight.

  “I’m sorry, Doc,” Teddy said. “That’s all I got.”

  “It’s quite all right,” the professor said softly. Then: “You did very well.”

  “Did I?”

  Dr. Eldon passed him the pages, and Teddy pretended to be as amazed as the academic felt. “Mickey Mouse! Of course!”

  Dr. Eldon grinned in satisfaction. “So would you be willing to participate further?”