Spencerville (22 page)

"No. It belongs to my parents."

"Will you inherit it?"

"I have a brother and sister, and we don't have primogeniture in this country, so we'll have to make a decision someday."

"In other words, if one of you wanted to farm the place, that person would buy out the other two."

"That's what sometimes happens. Used to happen. Now the heirs usually sell out to a big concern and take the money and run."

"Too bad. That's what's killing the family farms. Plus estate taxes."

"No estate taxes on farms if you keep it in the family."

"Really? Hey, that's something those assholes in Congress did right."

"Yeah, that's a short list."

They went into the cornfields and walked between the rows. Charlie said, "This is where my cornflakes come from."

"If you're a cow. This is called field corn. You feed it to cattle, they get fat, you kill them, and they become hamburgers."

"You mean I can't eat this?"

"People eat sweet corn. The farmers plant a little of that, but it's mostly harvested by hand around August."

"I'm really learning something. You planted all this?"

"No, Charlie, it was planted about May. I got here in August. You don't think corn would get this high in two months."

"I don't have a clue. So this isn't yours?"

"The land is mine. It's contracted. Rented."

"I got it. They pay you in corn or money?"

"Money." Keith made his way to the Indian burial mound, and they climbed atop it.

Charlie looked out over the fields. "This is the heartland, Keith. This is what we defended for all those years."

"From sea to shining sea."

"You miss the job?"

"No."

Charlie took a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket. "Can I smoke here?"

"Why not?"

He blew a stream of smoke into the air and pointed off in the distance. "What kind of corn is that?"

"That's soybean."

"Like in soy sauce?"

"Yup. There's a Japanese-owned processing plant not far from here."

"You mean to tell me there are Japanese here?"

"Why not? They can't ship a million acres of American farmland to Japan."

He thought a moment, then said, "That's... scary."

"Don't be xenophobic."

"Hey, comes with the job." He smoked for a while, then said, "Keith, they want you back."

Keith already knew that. He said, "Forget it."

"They sent me to bring you back."

"They told me to leave. So you go back and tell them I'm gone."

"Don't give me a hard time, Keith. I had a bumpy flight. They told me not to come back without you."

"Charlie, they can't just say you're out, then change their minds."

"They can say whatever they want. But they also want to extend an apology for any inconvenience this may have caused you. They acted hastily, without due consideration of the developing situation in the East. You remember where that is. Will you accept their apology?"

"Of course. Goodbye. When's your flight?"

"They offer a civilian contract for five years. You'll get your thirty in and full retirement pay."

"No."

"And a promotion. A military promotion. One-star general. How's that sound to you, Colonel?"

"Your timing's bad."

"This is a White House job, Keith. Very high visibility. You could be the next Alexander Haig. I mean, he thought he was president, but this job has such potential that you could actually run for president like people wanted Haig to do. The country is ready for a general as president again. I just read a secret poll about that. Think about it."

"Okay. Let me think a second. No."

"Everybody wants to be president."

"I want to be a farmer."

"That's the point. The public will love it. A tall, good-looking, honest man of the soil. You know the story of Cincinnatus?"

"I told you the story."

"Right. So your country needs you again. Time to step up to the plate and stop shoveling shit."

Keith wasn't sure about that mixed metaphor. He replied, "You know, if I were president, the first thing I'd do is fire you."

"That's very petty, Keith. Not very statesmanlike."

"Charlie, stop jerking me around. You wear thin."

"I'm not jerking you around. Forget president. After your White House job, you could come back here and run for Congress, then live in Washington. Best of both worlds. You could do something for your country and your community." Adair ground out his cigarette. "Come on, let's walk."

They walked between the rows of corn. Adair said, "Look, Keith, the president's got it in his mind that he'd like you to be on his staff. You owe him the courtesy of a personal reply. You got to do face time with this. So, even if you don't want the job, you have to tell him in person to fuck off."

"He told me to fuck off by letter."

"It wasn't him."

"Whoever it was, it doesn't matter. If someone screwed up, it's not my problem. You know I'm right."

"It's dangerous to be right when the government is wrong."

Keith stopped walking. "Is that a threat?"

"No. Just good advice, my friend."

They resumed their walk. Charlie said, "Will you like it here this time next year?"

"If I don't, I'll move on."

"Look, Keith, maybe you could rusticate out here and maybe be happy, and you could have stayed pissed off at those guys. But now that I brought you sincere apologies and an offer, you're not going to be at peace with yourself. So I fucked up your day and your retirement. Now you have to deal with the new situation."

"This is the new situation. Here. Back there is the old situation. You know, I was pissed off, but I'm not anymore. You guys did me a favor. You can't make me go back, so stop the bullshit."

"Well... you know, you're still in the military. You haven't worn a uniform in about fifteen years, but you're still a reserve colonel, and the president is commander in chief."

"Speak to my lawyer."

"The president may call on you from time to time to discharge the duties of your office, and so forth. The time has come, buddy."

"Don't try that with me."

"Okay, let me try this. Save my ass. Come to Washington with me and tell them Adair gave it his best shot, but you're there to tell them personally to fuck off. Okay? I know you want to do it that way. You don't owe them anything except a face-to-face fuck-off. But you owe me a few favors, and all I'm asking to square our account is that you come to D.C. with me. Then I'm off the hook, and you can say what's on your mind. Fair? You bet."

"I... I can't go with you..."

"You owe me, Keith. I'm here to collect, not to beg, threaten, or cajole. To collect."

"Charlie, look..."

"Bucharest. Not to mention the messiness in Damascus."

"Look, Charlie... there's a woman..."

"There's always a woman. That's how you almost got us beheaded in Damascus."

"There's a woman here..."

"Here? Christ, buddy, you haven't even been here two months."

"From long ago. You know, high school and college. I may have mentioned her in a maudlin moment."

"Oh... yes. Yes, you did. I see." He thought a moment and asked, "Husband?"

Keith nodded.

"Well, we can't help you with that." He winked. "But we can work something out."

"I've already worked it out, thank you."

They came back into the farmyard, and Charlie sat on the small garden tractor. "Can I smoke on this thing?"

"Yeah. It's just a tractor. It doesn't fly."

"Right." He lit another cigarette and seemed to be thinking. He said, "I don't see the complication."

"She's married. How would it look if a presidential aide was living with a married woman?"

"We'll get her a divorce."

"That could take years."

"We can pull a few strings."

"No, you can't. You can't do whatever you want to do. You think you can, but you can't. There are laws that govern this."

"Right. Well, did you intend to live with her anytime soon?"

"Yeah. Real soon."

"So we get her a separate apartment in Washington. Why are you making such a big deal of this?"

"Charlie, this is not what she and I had in mind. I am not that important to global peace. The world will do fine without my advice. The danger has passed. I did my duty. My life is important to me now."

"That's good. It never was, but I hear you. You know, you can have a life and a career. Done all the time."

"Not that career."

"It won't be as crazy this time. Sure, the hours are still long, and you might have to fly here or there now and then, but you don't have to go behind the Iron Curtain anymore. It blew away."

"Yeah, I was there."

"Right." He studied the controls on the tractor and asked, "You know how to run this?"

"That's how it got out of the barn."

"I thought these things were bigger."

"This is a garden tractor. Sort of a utility vehicle for around the yard."

"No kidding? Where's the big one?"

"My father sold it." Keith said, "So thanks for stopping by. Say hello to everyone. What time is your flight?"

Charlie looked at his watch. "Return from Toledo at two-fifteen. How long will it take me to get to the airport from here?"

"Maybe an hour or more with traffic. You may want to leave now to play it safe."

"No. I have time for a beer."

"Come on inside."

Charlie got off the tractor, and they went into the house through the kitchen door. Keith said, "I'm out of beer."

"It's a little early anyway. I'm just thirsty."

"I don't doubt it. You've been blowing steam for the last half hour." Keith opened the refrigerator and got a jug of water. He poured two glasses. "This is genuine spring water."

Charlie drained off half the glass. "It's good."

"There's mostly limestone under the soil. This was a prehistoric sea. You know, a billion years of little sea creatures compressed into layers of limestone."

Charlie looked at the glass suspiciously. "Is that a fact?"

"I'm going to bottle it. Sell it to the yuppie swine in D.C."

"Good idea. Let's sit a minute." They sat at the big table, and Charlie stayed silent for a while, which Keith didn't like. Charlie said, "Did you intend to stay here with her?"

"No."

"Where were you planning to go?"

Keith didn't like the past tense of that sentence. He replied, "I don't know where we are going."

"You'd have to let us know. It's the law."

"I'll let you know so you can send my checks."

Charlie nodded absently. He said, "You know, something funny happened on my way here."

Keith didn't reply.

Charlie said, "When I stopped at the police station, this guy, the desk sergeant, named Blake, I think... I asked him if he knew where you lived, and he got sort of weird. Started questioning me. I mean, I'm asking the questions. Right? He wants to know what my business is with you. Can you believe that shit? I thought I was back in East Germany or something. Can I smoke in here?"

"Sure."

Charlie lit a cigarette and tapped the ash into his glass. "So I get to thinking. I mean, I'm a spy. Right? Used to be anyway. I'm thinking that maybe someone is bothering you here, and the police are being protective. Or maybe you contacted them when you got here, identified yourself as an ex-spook, and asked them to notify you if anyone was looking for you. Like someone named Igor with a Russian accent. But that didn't make sense, and when I got here, you looked surprised, so I know they didn't call to tip you off."

"Charlie, you've been in this business too long."

"I know. That's what I decided. But then I go outside, and this other cop follows me out to my car. Heavyset guy, said he was chief of police. Name's Baxter. He asks me what my business is out at the Landry farm. I'm too clever to tell him to fuck off because I want to draw him out. By this time, I'm thinking you're in trouble with the law. So I flash my official-looking ID and tell him it's official government business."

"You have to learn how to mind your own business, Charlie."

"No, I don't. Anyway, I'm concerned about you now. I mean, these guys were weird. Like in some grade B horror flick, you know, where that whole small town is taken over by aliens? You remember that one? Anyway, now this guy Baxter is a little less ballsy and asks me if he can be of any help. I say maybe. Mr. Landry has been pensioned off by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service." Both Charlie and Keith smiled at the old joke. "Anyway, Mr. Landry has applied for part-time work with the local office of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, and I'm here to do a background check on him and see if he's of fine moral character and an accepted member of his community. That was pretty quick, wasn't it?"

"How are the mighty fallen. Is that what you've been reduced to?"

"Give me a break. I haven't done fieldwork in fifteen years, and I miss it. Anyway, Chief of Police Baxter informs me that Mr. Landry has had several scrapes with the law — in the park right across the street — drunk and disorderly. Trespassing on school property. Interfering with police officers in the performance of their duty in some parking lot. Menacing, harassment... what else? I think that's it. He said he talked with you about your antisocial tendencies, but you gave him a lot of lip. He recommended you not be hired. He also said someone should see if you deserved a government pension at all. I don't think he likes you."

"We were high school rivals."

"Really? Something else. He said he tried to run your D.C. plates through the Bureau of Motor Vehicles, but you don't exist. At that point, I got interested in Mr. Baxter." He dropped his cigarette in the glass. "What's happening, Keith? We did high school rivals already."

"Yeah. Well, then, cherchez la femme, wise guy."

"Ah."

"I'll take one of those cigarettes."

"Sure." Charlie handed him the pack and the lighter. Charlie asked, "You're not fucking the police chief's daughter, are you?"

Keith lit the cigarette and exhaled. "No. His wife."

"Right. The woman. I thought you came here to relax."