The Fold: A Novel Read Online Free

“Why would you get a book for someone who’s not a big reader?”
    “Because it was a
New York Times
bestseller that everyone was reading, and I had a chance to get you an autographed copy.”
    “Whatever.”
    “Cross is the head of the Albuquerque Door project,” Reggie said. “It’s in danger of being canceled, for a couple of reasons. I need you to evaluate it and show it’s safe and viable so I can get another year of funding for them.”
    “The Albuquerque Door?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, you’ve piqued my curiosity.”
    “Good.”
    “So what kind of project is it?”
    “I can’t tell you here.”
    “Oh, come on,” said Mike. “I took my phone apart and everything.”
    “Sorry. Come down to Washington next week.”
    “I can’t.”
    “Come down and sit in on a panel with me. No stress, no pressure. You can meet Arthur and his team and hear it straight from them.”
    “Why can’t I hear it straight from you?”
    “Because they can explain it better.”
    “I can’t just take off. I have a job.”
    “It’s the last day of school.”
    “I have a summer job. Do you know what teachers make?”
    “I do,” Reggie said. “I also know what you make fixing amusement park rides over the summer. And I know what I’m offering you is about five times as much for a third the time.”
    “If I take the job,” said Mike.
    “You’ll take it.”
    “I wouldn’t get down there and find out this is another battlesuit or invisibility cloak?”
    “It’s called optical camouflage. And no, it isn’t. Are you coming to Washington or not?”
    Mike’s finger tapped against the glass. “Maybe. Why me?”
    Reggie opened his mouth and snapped it shut as the waitress stopped by to check their drinks. She assured them their food was minutes away and flitted back to the bar.
    “What’s her name?” asked Reggie.
    “Who?”
    “The waitress.”
    “Siobhan. She introduced herself when she took our drink order.”
    “And?”
    “And what?”
    Reggie extended a finger, then swiveled it to point after the waitress. “What else?”
    “Why does it matter?”
    “I’m answering your question and turning your maybe into a yes. What else do you know about her?”
    Mike sighed. The ants were already loose in his mind. They carried memories of sights and sounds in their mandibles like pieces of colorful leaves. “Siobhan Emily Richmond,” he said. “Born December twenty-ninth, graduated in two thousand eleven. I had her in my class in two thousand nine to two thousand ten and she got a B+ because she messed up a test on early-twentieth-century authors. Didn’t like
Catcher in the Rye
at all. She had three boyfriends in high school, ended up back with the first one senior year. Went to UNH for a year and a half but had to drop out when her father, James, died in a car accident. She likes Katy Perry, the color green, was obsessed with
Supernatural,
and drives a two thousand seven Honda Civic—also green—that shebought from a woman down in Kittery. Her little sister, Saorise, should be in my class in two years. That enough for you?”
    “From anyone else that much information would be kind of creepy.”
    “It’s a small town.”
    Reggie tapped the table twice. “That’s why I need you out there.”
    “Because I live in a small town?”
    “Because you do things like that the way other people breathe.” He poked the tabletop with his finger. “Seriously, it’s like building the world’s greatest supercomputer and then using it to play Angry Birds. You’re wasted here.”
    “I’m happy here.”
    “Great. If you decide to come work for me for the summer, you can make a pile of money and be even happier here.”
    Mike looked at the parts of his phone. “Just a trip to Washington?”
    “Yes. On my dime. I’ll pay you a grand out of the consulting fees up front, just for coming down. I’ll put you up in a real hotel even though we both know how much you love my couch. It’ll be a paid