The Stickmen Read Online Free Page A

government
conspiracy!”
    Garrett roused to take exception. “Come on,
honey. You remember when I found these…” He removed a small
cuff-link box from his desk. I’ll show her, he thought with
a sly smile. He flipped open the cheaply hinged,
patent-leather-covered box which once housed a set of dime-store
cufflink.
    Now it housed something that looked like
four tiny pinheads.
    “They’re pinheads, Harlan,” Jessica
insisted. “Are you too dim to remember? You’ve shown me that crock
of crap before.”
    “They’re not pinheads, baby. I had them
tested at the Harrison Lab at University of Maryland. They’re
quarter-wavelength 400-512 megahertz wireless audio sensors.
Discreet microphones by any other name.” Garrett nodded in
assurance, displaying the small box. “This is high-tech stuff. The
guy at U of M told me they look just like the latest CIA models
that cost thirty grand apiece. ”
    “They’re pinheads, and that’s what you’re becoming in this Big Brother fantasy
    land of yours!” she yelled looking for her
keys.
    “No, no, you don’t understand. They’re
bi-passive microphones, honey, planted in here to keep tabs on me.
Look how small they are! Can you imagine the advanced state of
technology?” Garrett, oblivious, went on to explain, “See, baby, a
VLF signal from a remote listening post is the actual power source
for the mikes. Then the signal produces what’s called a
carrier-current loop which cycles the voice transmissions back to
the eavesdroppers. See, once the mikes are no longer passive, an
oscillographic sensor detects the magnetic field in their pick-up
elements and—”
    “SHUT UP!” Jessica shouted, bug-eyed.
    Silence collapsed onto the room.
    “I’m through—get it?” Jessica railed. “I’ve
got no more time to invest in a relationship that hasn’t been going
anywhere since the first day it started!”
    Garrett forgot about the microphones.
“Honey, please. Look, I promise that from
    now on—”
    “Save it. I’m not buying that line of
bullshit ever again.” Jessica’s ample bosom rose and fell as she
caught her breath. “Read my lips, Harlan. It’s over. I’m out
of here—forever. Goodbye!”
    “Wait a minute, wait a minute, give me—”
    “Another chance?” A laugh blurted from her
lips. “I’ve been doing that for a year, and I’m sick of it! I’m
making a fool of myself thinking that we can ever have a
normal relationship. My time would be better spent ramming my head
into a brick wall. At least the goddamn brick wall would be more
receptive to my needs than you.”
    Am I paranoid, or is this not going
very well? Garrett posed to himself. One thing he did know,
however: he loved her. She was so beautiful, and…she washed
dishes. He stood bewildered, scratching his butt, a cigarette
dangling from his lips.
    “Because I’ve finally seen the light,” she
added, mockingly slapping her forehead. “After all this time, I’ve
finally been able to see the truth behind this farce of a
relationship.” Her gorgeous green eyes blazed, angry pinpoints of
green fire. “You know what you’re going to be doing five years from
now, ten? Huh, Harlan?”
    “Uh…”
    “The same damn thing you’re doing right now!
Standing in this rat-hole apartment with your hands in your shorts
scratching your ass!”
    At last, shoes on feet and purse in hand,
Jessica turned in a pissed-off blur, stormed out of the apartment,
and slammed the door behind her so hard, Garrett’s framed
autographed photo of renowned ufologist Kevin D. Randall popped off
its nail in the foyer and shattered.
    Garrett stared after her boisterous exit,
open-mouthed.
    “Ain’t love grand?” he said aloud.
    Eventually, in his shock, he turned around,
caught a glimpse of his boxer-short-clad self in the wall mirror,
scratching his butt. Great. He quickly pulled his hands out
from the back of his shorts, then distractedly wandered to the
window and looked out.
    “Harlan E. Garrett, take