He looked to his right where he could see the river through the patches of cleared fields. Beyond that he made out, just barely, the shiny chain link fencing topped by razor wire surrounding the land just across the York River.

“Camp Peary?” he asked, pointing.

“CIA spook land. Call it the Farm.”

“I’d forgotten it was down here.” Sean knew perfectly well it was there, but he was pretending ignorance in the hopes of getting some local intelligence.

“People who live around here never have trouble remembering.”

“Small animals and children disappearing in the night?” Sean asked with a smile.

“No, but that plane you came in on? You can bet that a surface-to-air missile from the Farm was trained on your ass until you touched down. If the plane had wandered into restricted airspace, you would’ve come down out of the skies a lot faster than you would’ve wanted to.”

“I’m sure. But I guess they bring a lot of jobs to the area.”

“Yeah, but they also took stuff.”

“What do you mean?” Sean asked.

“The Navy ran it first. When they came here they kicked everybody out.”

“Everybody out?” Sean looked confused.

“Yeah, there were two towns over there: Magruder and Bigler’s Mill. My grandparents lived in Magruder. During the war they got moved to James City County. Then the Navy vacated the place after the war but came back in the early Fifties. It’s been off-limits ever since.”

“Interesting.”

“Yeah, wasn’t so interesting for my grandparents. But the military does whatever the hell it wants.”

“Well, you should take comfort in the fact that now it’s just your neighborly CIA over there watching you through binoculars.”

The man chuckled and Sean changed the subject. “Did you know Monk Turing?”

The man nodded. “Yeah.”

“And?”

“And he was like everybody else at Babbage Town. Too much brains. We didn’t exactly speak the same language.”

“How long have you worked there?”

“Two years.”

“Why does this place need security?”

“Important stuff they’re working on.”

“Like what?”

“Asking the wrong person. Has to do with numbers and computers. They’ll probably tell you, if you ask them.” He smiled. “Oh, yeah, they’ll tell you in a way that you’ll never understand, but there you are.” The driver pointed up ahead. “Welcome to Babbage Town.” He added with a grin, “Hope you enjoy your stay with us.”

CHAPTER 12

WHILE SEAN WAS WORKING on his investigation, Michelle was intent on beginning one of her own. In the cafeteria she took her tray and made her way over to the table where the woman in the wheelchair was having lunch. Michelle sat down beside her and opened her bottle of water. She glanced over at the lady.

“I’m Michelle.”

“Sandy,” the woman said. “What are you in for?”

“I’m apparently suicidal,” Michelle said bluntly.

The woman brightened. “So was I, for years, but you get over it. I mean I guess you do, unless you actually manage to kill yourself.”

Michelle ran her gaze over the woman. She was in her late forties, long bottle blond hair meticulously styled, fine cheekbones, a pair of vibrant hazel eyes, and an ample bosom. Her makeup and fingernails were immaculate. Even though she was only wearing plain khaki pants, tennis shoes and a purple V-neck sweater, she carried it off with the confident air of a woman used to far more expensive things in life. Her voice had a Deep South foundation to it.

“So what are you in for?” Michelle asked.

“Depression, what else? My shrink says everybody’s depressed. But I don’t believe him. If everybody felt the way I did, well, I just don’t believe him, is all.”

“You seem okay to me.”

“I think I have a chemical imbalance. I mean that’s what everybody blames it on these days. But then like a snap, I just run out of energy. You seem okay too. Sure you’re not in here goldbricking?”

“I’ve heard of goldbricking when you’ve been physically injured.”

“People in lawsuits claiming emotional distress or mental trauma can help their case if they wind up in a place like this. You get a bed, three squares a day and all the meds you want. For some, that’s nirvana. Then their shrink testifies how they’ll never reach orgasm again or can’t leave their homes without fainting and, bam, they get a big, fat settlement.”

“Quite a scam.”

Sandy added, “Oh, I’m not saying lots of people aren’t legitimately screwed up, I happen to be one of them.”

Michelle glanced at the woman’s legs. “Accident?”

“I was shot in the spine by a nine-millimeter bullet fired from a Glock,” she said matter-of-factly. “Instant and irreversible paralysis and in a split second outgoing, athletic Sandy became a poor crip.”

“My God,” Michelle exclaimed. “How’d that happen?”

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Is that why you were suicidal? Because you were paralyzed?”

“The paralysis I could deal with. It was other crap that was hard to take,” she added mysteriously.

“What other crap?” Michelle asked.

“Not going there. You think you’re getting better?”

Michelle shrugged. “I think it’s too early to say. Physically I feel okay.”

“Well, you’re young and pretty, so once the bruises heal you’ll be fine to take control of your life.”

“Take control of it how?”

“Get yourself a man with money, and let him take care of you. Use your looks, honey, that’s why God gave them to you. And just remember this, title everything as joint tenants with right of survivorship. Don’t swallow the line that his money is his money bullshit.”

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

Sandy gave a shudder. “God I wish they let you smoke in here, but they say nicotine is an addictive substance. I say give me my cigs and get out of my damn face.”

“But you want to be here, right?” Michelle asked.

“Oh, we all want to be here, honey.” She smiled and slid two pieces of asparagus neatly into her mouth.

Barry passed by, assisting a young man.

Michelle nodded at him. “You know that attendant, Barry?”

Sandy studied him for a moment. “I don’t know him, but it’s easy to tell that book by its cover.”

“Where’s home for you?”

“Definitely not where the heart is, sweetie. Now I’ve gotta go, I feel a migraine coming on and I don’t like people to see me that way. You might change your high opinion of old Sandy.”

She quickly wheeled herself away, leaving Michelle staring at her food.

After lunch, Michelle took a stroll that carried her by Sandy’s room. As she slowly walked by she glanced in the square cut of Plexiglas in the middle of the woman’s door. Sandy was lying asleep in her private room. Michelle continued on down the hall until she stopped at the locked door to the pharmacy. She glanced through the barred window and saw a short, balding man in a white coat dispensing a prescription. When he looked up and saw her she smiled. He turned his back to her and continued his work.

“Okay, you’re off my Christmas card list,” Michelle said to herself.

“Wandering again?” the voice said.

Michelle turned quickly to see Barry staring at her.

“What else is there to do?” she said.

“I can think of a few things. Your face looks better. Getting those killer cheekbones back.”

“Thanks,” she said curtly.

“I saw you talking to Sandy at lunch today,” he remarked.

“Nice lady.”

“I’d watch out for her.”

“Oh, you know her well?”

“Let’s just say I know people like her. They can be trouble. You don’t want to get into trouble, right?”

“I never go looking for trouble,” she lied.

“Good girl,” he said condescendingly. “Look, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Anything like what?”

He seemed both surprised and amused by her question.