The Fold: A Novel Read Online Free Page A

vacation.”
    “And if I’m not interested, that’s it?”
    “You’re going to be interested.”
    “But if I’m not, that’s it.” Mike phrased it as a condition, not a question. “I get to come home with no guilt trips or tax audits or any other downsides.”
    Reggie’s chin went up and down. “If you can look me in the eye after the panel and tell me you’re not interested, I’ll fly you home first class. I’ll even throw in a hundred bucks for drinks in the airport.”
    Siobhan Emily Richmond appeared with a tray balanced on one hand. Mike swept the parts of his phone to the back of the table and she set down plates. She checked their drinks again, asked if they wanted more bread, and slipped away.
    Reggie placed a piece of steak on his tongue. He closed his eyes, chewed four times, and a blissful look passed across his face. He swallowed and looked at Mike. “So,” he said, “do I have you at last?”
    Mike used the edge of his fork to cut through a scallop. He speared it on the tines and sighed. “Maybe.”
    Reggie smiled. “When can you leave?”
    “I don’t know. A couple of days to finish up school stuff. What about the seventeenth?”
    “Perfect. We can meet up in Washington and you can sit in on the panel, and then I’ll ship you out to San Diego.”
    “If I decide to do it.”
    “You will.”
    “We’ll see.”

FOUR
    Eight days, three security checks, and one plane ride later, Mike was in Washington, D.C., wearing his best suit. It was still the cheapest one in the room. Reggie had loaned him a silk tie after seeing the two polyester ones he’d brought from home. He adjusted the knot against his throat, glad he’d decided on the full-Windsor over his usual half.
    The room was almost twice the size of Mike’s classroom back in South Berwick. There were no windows. Five people shifted and mumbled and found seats behind a row of tables at the front of the room, avoiding the collection of flags behind them. Ten feet away there was a mirroring row of tables, this one with two dozen chairs lined up behind it in four rows of six. Two other tables ran along the far side, facing the door. The walls were painted in warm colors, but the room felt stark.
    It struck Mike that the setup was very similar to a courtroom. Judges up front. Defense and prosecution across from them. Jury off to the side. He was sure it was deliberate.
    The five people at the front of the room—three men and two women—settled into their chairs. Mike glanced at each of them. A man in an Air Force uniform with silver eagles on his shoulders and seven rows of color on his chest. A younger man with dark hair and glasses. An older woman with a flag pin on her collar who the ants recognized as a senator. An Asian man with a white line on his finger where he normally wore a ring. A dark-eyed woman with long hair and an athlete’s body. Seven people sat back in the body of the room, scratching notes on identical pads with identical pens.
    Reggie guided them to the jury tables. Each one had two pristinelegal pads with a Department of Defense watermark stretching across the top of each sheet. A matching logo graced a pen placed precisely across the top of the notepad. A blue file folder lay next to each pad.
    “What is this?” asked Mike. He adjusted his coat to display more of the borrowed tie.
    “Budget review board,” murmured Reggie. He popped open his briefcase and pulled out a slim pad. “Standard stuff. It’s still DARPA territory, but a lot of departments have invested in the Albuquerque Door. All these folks have some say in what happens next. Some of them are tied to the agency, a few are from the DOD itself. The Air Force colonel over there? He loves this sort of stuff.”
    Mike glanced across the half-dozen board members to the broad, square-jawed man with bristle-brush hair. “Really?”
    “Oh, yeah. Forget anything you read in the papers about the Marines or the Army. The Air Force loves high tech more than