Close Up the Sky

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Authors: James L. Ferrell
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held the answers to all his questions. He had a
straight, narrow nose that divided his face almost perfectly between prominent
cheekbones. His eyes were pale blue and gleamed with intelligence, but dark
circles marred the skin beneath them. The eyebrows were almost as white as his
hair, and from the age spots on the backs of his hands, Leahy guessed him to be
in his late sixties. He wore the standard lab coat, but it did little to hide
the thinness of his body. It was the appearance of a man who had too much
responsibility and got too little sleep. He dipped his spoon into a steaming
bowl of soup and sipped it gingerly. Except for a cup of black coffee, the rest
of the food tray was bare.
    We gave Matt the
grand tour before landing,” Taylor said. Her elbows were propped on the table,
chin resting on folded hands. She gazed at Durant affectionately, the way a
daughter might look at her father.
    “Good,” Durant
answered, as he continued eating the soup. “I’m sure it added considerably to
his list of questions." He cut his eyes up at Leahy and smiled.
    "Taylor's
done a good job of keeping me in the dark so far," Leahy responded,
attempting to be amicable.
    "I know she
has ....... oh, do you mind if I call you Matt?"
    "I wish you
would."
    "We really
appreciate you taking everything on faith up to this point, Matt, but I believe
you'll agree with our methods once you've been given a complete explanation.
Everyone felt it would be better if I explained the situation in person, here
at the facility. Anyway, I seriously doubt you would believe it under other
circumstances." He pushed the food tray away, the
soup almost untouched, and removed a well-used pipe from inside his coat. He looked
at it longingly, and stuck it into his mouth.
    "Trying to
give up smoking," he said, "but it's a powerful habit. Somehow I just
can't seem to bring myself to part with this pipe. Sort of a security blanket I
suppose."
    Leahy had broken
the nicotine addiction five years before, and sympathized with Durant. There
were still times when he felt as though he could smoke a cigarette ten inches
long; like now.
    They all remained
quiet for a few seconds, then Durant said, "I saw
from your FBI file that you have no family other than your brother." He
said it matter-of-factly. It was a true statement, but it made Matt feel
uncomfortable. It was the kind of thing someone might say to a man who was not
expected to live much longer. It prompted his response to be more aggressive
than he intended.
    "Dr. Durant,
I know the FBI did a background investigation on me at some point in the recent
past, and after seeing what I've seen in the last couple of hours, I don't
doubt you probably know as much about me as I do. In fact, everyone I've met
since early this morning seems to be well acquainted with my personal life. Please
don't misunderstand me sir, but I think it's time for leveling. What is this
place, who are you, and what do you want with me?" He was trying hard not
to be disrespectful or rude, but his patience was wearing thin. He had had
enough small talk.
    "You're
absolutely right, Matt," Durant responded. "Let's go to my office and
I'll give you the whole story."
    Durant's office
was somewhere in the maze of tunnels on the same level as the cafeteria. They
took the golf cart through a series of short turns and parked it near a set of
double doors marked FACILITY DIRECTOR.
    Matt attempted to
mentally retrace their route, but could not. All the tunnels they had gone
through appeared to be identical and were not color-coded. Viewed from the
helicopter the building had seemed large, but judging from the elevator ride
and the use of electric carts, he knew the underground area had to be immense
compared with the surface structures.
    The doors opened
into a reception area, but there was no one behind the receptionist’s desk. Durant
ushered them across the room and into his private office. Matt was pleasantly
surprised at the decor. The room was nothing

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