The Distance Beacons Read Online Free Page A

here," Cowens replied. "That's why we maintain files. I went and checked the files we keep in the basement on these sorts of organizations, and there they were."
    "But wait a minute, I checked those files too—right after I received the message. I didn't see anything for The Second American Revolution."
    "Where did you look?" Cowens asked.
    Bolton considered. "Well, I looked under 'Second.' And also under 'TS,' for 'TSAR.'"
    Cowens nodded. "It was filed under 'The.'" He didn't look especially impressed by Bolton's investigative prowess. Bolton's scar throbbed again.
    "What was in the file?" I asked.
    Cowens stared at me as if I were being impertinent. Finally he deigned to answer. "It was empty," he said.
    "Empty? Did someone remove whatever was in there? Who has access to these files?"
    The general's stare turned colder, if that was possible. "You insist on assuming that someone in the government is involved in threatening the president," he said. "This seems to me to be utterly absurd. In fact, there is no reason to assume that anything was ever in there in the first place."
    "Then why was a file started?"
    "Someone hears a name or a rumor and decides to start a file. If no more information is forthcoming, nothing gets placed in the file."
    "Do you have a record of who started the file, or when, or why?" I asked.
    Cowens shook his head.
    "This doesn't seem like a particularly efficient system, Bob," Bolton said. He seemed glad to have the attention shifted from his own mistake.
    The general's stare was approaching absolute zero. For all his deference to Bolton, it didn't look as if he was particularly fond of the governor. "There are limitations on manpower and other resources," he said in his softest, frostiest voice. "We do the best we can with what is available to us."
    "I'd like to take a look at your files," I said.
    Cowens glanced at me. Another impertinence from the local. "Out of the question," he replied.
    "Show him the files, Bob," Bolton said. "Show him whatever he wants to see."
    "Those files are highly confidential," Cowens pointed out. "This man is—"
    "This man has been hired to help us. And it looks to me like we need help. Understood?"
    Cowens assumed the blank expression of a military man following orders. "Yes, sir."
    Suddenly I was impressed with Bolton. He certainly didn't seem to have any problem handling the legend sitting across from him. Bolton stood up. "Good. Thank you both for coming, then. Sands, I expect a report before the president arrives—or as soon as you find out anything. If you have any problems getting people to cooperate, just let me know."
    I stood up too. "Yes, sir."
    General Cowens got slowly to his feet. He headed out of Bolton's office without glancing at either of us. I followed him, assuming he was going to carry out Bolton's order. I smiled at Lisa as we walked through the reception area; she ignored me. The guard at the door saluted as Cowens passed by.
    We waited silently for the elevator to come. Cowens wasn't the sort of guy I felt like starting a casual conversation with. When the elevator arrived, he pressed B, and we headed down to the basement. Cowens then led the way down a long, gray-tiled corridor. At the end of the corridor was a barred door; beyond the door a uniformed man sat at a desk reading a newspaper. Above the door was a hand-lettered sign that said "Records."
    The soldier jumped to his feet when he saw Cowens approaching. He unlocked the door and let us in.
    We stood in a large open area half-filled with battered green file cabinets. There were no windows, and the electric lighting was poor; the place felt damp and musty, like some abandoned cellars where I have spent the night in my time.
    "Sergeant Hennessey," Cowens said. "Governor Bolton has given this man permission to study the files related to dissident organizations and individuals. He is not, however, to remove anything. Understood?"
    "Yes, sir," Sergeant Hennessey said. He was a tall, hairless