The Dead Man's Brother Read Free Page A

smaller man on the aisle. So I fastened my seatbelt, folded my hands and sighed. Above me, the air jets hissed sympathetically.
    May you burn in hell, Carl Bernini! I thought. Then I chuckled as I recalled how much he had loved Dante.
    After a time we taxied, turned, waited, then raced through fogs along the runway, were airborne, flew.
     
     
     
    II.
     
     
    I tried to take a nap and was just about to succeed when we landed at Dulles. Smothering a yawn, I stood with the others and bumped my head on the overhead storage compartment as I always do. I followed my escorts out, and while I dislike Dulles less than many airports I was pleased when we had passed through it and were headed toward a parking lot.
    Same seating arrangement, private car, sticker on the windshield.
    We drove beneath clear skies, and the air through the open window felt clean and cool. The countryside was not unattractive and traffic was light. There was a pleasant smell to the air and I counted a few squirrels. I wished for a while that I had found something in the country rather than settling in New York. Wishes are always fun for condemned people, old people and accident victims.
    I hoped fervently, though, that word of what had occurred in New York had not gotten back to my sister Susan, now a happily married mother of three, who still sends me greeting cards and occasional notes. She would worry. Or my father. He would be mad as hell. Possibly even somewhat concerned. After all, he likes to spend all of his waking hours retranslating Classics, except when he is teaching other people how to do it, and my situation could be distracting. My mother never told me whether he talked in his sleep, but if he did I’ll bet it was Greek or Latin. As for my brother Jim, that smug academic, I couldn’t care less.
    The green persisted, even into Langley township, and we passed several signs directing us toward our destination. Having never seen the place before, I must admit that the sight was only partly what I had anticipated. The place was surrounded by trees and situated on a large piece of real estate. It did not look especially sinister. The architectural style was Mid-Twentieth Century Government, and massive. The first two floors formed a base from which rose five towers that appeared to be connected. They reached five stories higher to attain a circlet of dull glass. The finish was of that white quartz aggregate stuff which is supposed to look spiffy. Would have made a nice hospital.
    We passed through the gates and drove to a parking lot, where a reserved place waited. As we walked away from it, heading toward that gleaming pile of concrete and secrets, I wondered idly to which portion of it I was being taken. I never did learn, either. Perhaps if I’d had along a pretty girl and a ball of string…Well.
    There were armed guards on the inside, and my escorts presented identification, spoke rapidly and quietly to a guard, then filled out a form. I presume the form concerned me, because they exchanged it for a huge plastic pass they handed to me and told me not to lose. They picked up a couple for themselves and led me away, pausing long enough for me to buy some cigarettes at a concession stand.
    As we walked through long, depressing halls, rode higher and walked through more long, depressing halls, occasionally having our passes scrutinized, I noticed signs explaining how to prepare classified wastepaper for destruction and schedules explaining when it would be picked up. I heard the sounds of typewriters and telephones. I felt more and more uneasy, in direct ratio to my escorts’ apparent relaxation. They smiled, nodded, even exchanged a few words with some of the people we passed. I was glanced at and dismissed. I felt alien.
    We had to pass through several locked doors in order to reach the one opened one, our destination. They gestured me into what proved to be an empty office and I entered.
    The room was about forty feet by thirty, its floor