Back | Next
Contents

CHAPTER THREE

NATION BUILDING

Haskins looked around the room and whistled. “Man, you got a pension or something?”

“No, this is a perk that comes with a job offer. Have a seat, I’ll make some coffee. There’s not a lot to eat—” Saxon fished one of the rolls from Lefty’s out of his pocket. “But this is clean.”

“Good enough. Thanks. What kind of job?”

Saxon filled the kettle and put it on the stove. As he spooned out Taster’s Choice into cups he heard Haskins behind him.

“Scotch! Never mind the coffee.”

“I’m not opening it,” Saxon said, and Haskins frowned.

“That’s kind of mean. I saved your ass.”

“Yeah, and I’m grateful, but I’m not opening it.”

“Hmm. Okay, it’s your Scotch, you don’t want to share, that’s your business.”

“Not that at all. I’m not opening it because if I do I’ll drink it, and then I won’t get the job.” Saxon came to a sudden decision. “Tell you what, you can have it when you leave. The whole bottle. But take it with you. Once it’s open, I’ll drink it sure as hell.”

Haskins went back to the other room and sat at the table.

“Now that’s right generous,” he said. After a moment he stood and took his overcoat off. His old sweater underneath the coat was patched, and had dirt spots, but it wasn’t filthy. “Nice and warm in here,” Haskins said. “I axed you before, what kind of job? Must be something, you going to give away a whole bottle of Scotch.”

“Teaching,” Saxon said. “Some foreign country. Primitive place.”

“Well, well,” Haskins said. “I used to do that.”

Saxon poured boiling water into the cups and brought them into the other room. He set a cup in front of Haskins and sat down.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Haskins asked. There was amusement in his voice.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. Hell, I wouldn’t believe it myself. But I did.”

“What subjects did you teach?” Saxon asked.

“Not quite like that,” Haskins said. “I was a corporal, part of what the Army called a nation-building team. We taught things like village sanitation, personal hygiene, where to put the crapper.” He looked away. “I should have stayed with it.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Thought I didn’t like the Army,” Haskins said as he returned his gaze Saxon. “Thought it was better outside. Maybe it would have been, but I got strung out.”

“You have a habit?”

“Not anymore. Used to, big time.”

“How’d you kick it?”

“Glide sent me to rehab. The drug part took.” Haskins’ eyes fixed on the bottle of Scotch still unopened on the kitchen counter. “What you going to teach?”

“Science, I guess,” Saxon said. “It’s what I taught in high school before I—well, before. They tell me the place is really primitive, though, so I expect I’ll have to teach a lot of basics first.”

“Primitive. Africa?”

“Cal, they haven’t told me yet.”

“What did they tell you?”

“Not a lot.” Saxon explained what he knew.

“CIA,” Haskins said, when he finished.

“Huh?”

“Has to be, man. Think about it. They know who you are, all about you. They going to hire you, give you money to buy equipment, ship you out in three weeks? Has to be CIA. State Department, anything else, they’d be two years in red tape hiring somebody, another year in buying equipment. Military wouldn’t be recruiting people off the streets to begin with. Has to be the Company.” Haskins drained his cup. “We worked with them CIA boys in Zaire. Bet that’s where this is, Central Africa somewhere. Lots of primitive places there. Has to be Africa.”

“Well, it could be.”

“Wonder if they need anybody else,” Haskins mused.

“Hey—lay off. You’ll queer it for me.”

“How? They tell you to keep this a secret?”

“No—”

“Then they don’t give a shit,” Haskins said. “The Company likes things secret, but if they’re really worried about it they’ll tell you big time, probably watch you too.”

“So what are you planning on doing?” Saxon asked.

“Same as you, man. Wait here, leave that bottle sitting there on the counter, and talk to the man when he shows up.” Haskins voice dropped. “Prob’ly nothing comes of it, but can’t do no harm to ask him about it.”

“Ask about what?”

“Goin’ with you, man. They need you to teach science, you going to need somebody to teach scut work, else you going to spend all your time teaching about digging wells upstream from the crapper! Man, I been there, I know! Saxon you don’t know nothing about how bad it gets, some of those back-ass places, but I do. I’ve been there. You let me talk to that Dr. Lee.”

“Why do you want to do that?” Saxon asked, and Haskins shook his head.

“Saxon, that was the best time of my life! I was doing something. Not shooting people, not shooting up, doing something. Little kids following me around like I was a hero. I was tired as hell, all the time wore out, but I haven’t felt that good since. Come on, man, you got to give me a chance!”

“Chance, sure, but—” The one thing you didn’t do on the streets was ask why someone was there. They might tell you—many were eager to tell you, or at least tell you a story—but you didn’t ask. Better to pick a man’s pocket than try to get into his head without invitation. Saxon wondered if he’d made up that phrase or one of the counselors at Glide had said it. But this time was different!

“You never had any other chances?”

Haskins looked at him hard.

“Oh, yeah, man, I had lots of chances. Blew every damn one of them. For a while I told myself the VA was going to put things right for me. Even got me a lawyer, he’s still working on it. Then the Glide. And Social Welfare. Always somebody owed me, always looking to collect what I was owed. Nothing worked.”

“Never got a break,” Saxon said, and Haskins’ face tightened.

“Yeah, that’s what I told myself, but hell, Bart, I got breaks. Breaks don’t do junkies no good. Glide did that much for me, I got rid of the goddam habit. And I knew I’d get a break once I kicked the habit. Well, this looks like it.”

* * *

The bedroom had probably been a closet at one time. The bed was far too small for two people, and the couch was way short for Haskins.

“I’m good on the floor,” Haskins said. He found an area near the steam radiator under the window in the main room. “Good right here. Warm.”

Saxon worried about that. What was to keep Haskins from taking the computer, anything else, while Saxon was asleep? And that’s stupid, Saxon thought. If he wanted to he could knock me in the head anytime. But what if Dr. Lee got angry, called off the whole deal because Saxon couldn’t keep his mouth shut, had to brag to a friend, not even a friend, a guy he’d met on the street?

But Cal wants the job more than I do! And if that blows it, well, I’m no worse off than I was this morning. Better, really. I’ve got a friend now. Sort of. Practically almost.

* * *

Haskins was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee when Saxon woke up. The bottle of Scotch was on the kitchen counter, still unopened. Haskins looked cleaner.

“Morning. I’d have got you a newspaper, but I don’t have the keys to get back in.”

“Newspaper?”

“Man going to interview you, he’s going to want to see if you take some interest in your surroundings,” Haskins said.

“Sounds reasonable, but how do you know?”

“Told you, I worked with the Company people before. They’re big on shrinks. Betcha anything this Dr. Lee is a shrink himself.”

“Well, he could be—”

“Lend me the front keys, and a couple of bucks. I’ll get the papers and something to eat. I’ll be back by the time you get cleaned up.”

Saxon hesitated for a moment then laughed at himself. If Haskins wanted to steal from him, he had only to take out that butterfly knife. Saxon took a five-dollar bill from the change he’d got at Lefty’s, and laid it and the keys on the table.

* * *

The headlines were about how Boris Yeltsin was able to get the backing of the Russian military and end the recent putsch against him. The article said that, and the withdrawal of Russian troops from Poland, officially signaled the end of the Russian Empire, which struck Bart as about damned time, given the fact that the Soviet Union had officially ended two years before. There was an article about China conducting a nuclear test, ending what was supposed to be a universal moratorium, and one about the boom in Silicon Valley and a program called Mosaic that allowed people to access some sort of web that connected computers together.

Bart was actually a little surprised how none of it was interesting to him, after so long on the street.

* * *

George Lee let himself in at two. He nodded greeting to Saxon, then frowned at Haskins.

“How much does he know?” he asked.

“Pretty well what I do,” Saxon said. “Something wrong with that?”

“Maybe not. Who are you?”

“Cal Haskins.”

“Mind giving me your prints?”

“Naw, I expected that,” Haskins said. “Where we have to go?”

“I can do it here.” Lee opened his briefcase and took out a small box that he plugged into a port on the desk computer. He lifted a folded down antenna. “Here, you know the drill.”

He rolled Haskins’ fingers one by one on the transparent plate of the scanner, then sat at the computer and typed rapidly.

“Calvin Haskins,” he read a moment later. “Former Corporal, Adjutant General Corps, US Army. Honorable discharge. No known profession. No visible means of support. Nine arrests, one conviction for breaking and entering, sentenced to time served and probation. Three arrests for possession, charges dropped when you entered rehab. Completed rehab four weeks ago.”

“That’s me,” Haskins said. He hesitated. “They left out a couple. I copped a plea to petty theft in Los Angeles, but I didn’t serve any time. They booted me, told me to get out of town and never come back. Same thing, sort of, happened in Bakersfield.”

“So what are you doing here?” Lee demanded.

“That thing tell you what I did in the Army?”

“Military government. I could probably find more, but why don’t you tell me?”

Haskins explained.

“Nation building, they called it,” he said when he was done. “I liked doing it, Dr. Lee, I surely did.”

Lee eyed him suspiciously.

“Sure you want this? Did Bart tell you he’ll be going to a primitive place?”

“No more primitive than parts of the Tenderloin,” Haskins said. “What the hell good am I doing now?”

“Good question,” Lee said. He gestured towards the fat San Francisco newspaper on the table. “Lot of jobs in there.”

“Not so many for me,” Haskins said. “Maybe I can be a fry cook. Done that. Done a lot of things. Wash dishes. Done that. Gardening? I liked gardening, but it’s harder to find work. Too many Chicanos, Japs, everyone knows about them. How’s a Black man gonna find that kind of work around here? Used to work in a nursery. Done a little farm work. None of that around here either.” He shrugged. “One of these days maybe I’ll go back to Texas. Better chance there. Show me in there something for a Black man down on his luck in San Francisco.”

“You tell the tale well,” Lee said, and Haskins grinned.

“You know I do. Mostly I don’t got a job because I don’t want one.” Haskins’ grin faded, his eyes widened and his nostrils flared. “But I can’t stay here. If I stay too long I’ll be hooked again. Somebody’ll find me dead with a needle in my arm. Them shrinks at the Glide say the only way I’m gonna stay clean is to care about something, something bigger’n myself. The Army gave that to me, I was just too bull headed to see it.”

“Do you understand that if you accept this job you cannot leave until we allow it, and that might be a long time?”

“Sure, I figured that.”

Lee frowned, then nodded.

“All right. We can use some help, and we don’t get many volunteers. One thing. Don’t sign on with the notion of ripping us off. We’d really resent that, and it’s not worth it. Work with us, help us get all the gear assembled, and if you decide at the last minute not to go, I’ll pay you more than you’re likely to get for anything you can steal—and you won’t have to look over your shoulder for the next year, either.”

“Year.”

“Or more. Unless you run a long way from here,” Lee said. “And we won’t ever forget, even if we’re not actively looking. You turn up on our screens, we’ll squash you.”

Haskins grinned knowingly.

“I guess I worked with you guys before,” he said. “I know better’n to cross you.”

“Who do you think we are?”

“You’re the Company,” Haskins said.

Lee didn’t say anything.

“So just what does this job pay?” Saxon asked.

“Why do you care?” Lee demanded.

“Good point. Maybe I just want to keep score.” He hesitated. “Mostly because my ex-wife is entitled to half. For child support.”

“You’re not going to be anywhere subject to the jurisdiction of US courts,” Lee said dryly.

“Maybe not, but I still have obligations to my kid.”

“Commendable. Well, your salary would be seventy thousand dollars a year,” Lee said. “If we were paying you directly in the United States. We won’t be.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “We’ll send half that to Mrs. Anderson. The other half will be paid into an offshore bank account you can draw on. Needless to say, you won’t be subject to US taxes. We’ll also pay you the equivalent of thirty thousand in locally acceptable currency. That’s the equivalent of a fortune there.”

“And me?” Haskins asked.

“Hadn’t thought about it,” Lee said.

“Half what he’s getting?”

Lee laughed.

“Well, what, then?”

“Thirty thousand local,” Lee said. “Still a small fortune, there. I may as well be blunt, there’s a certain degree of difficulty in setting up bank accounts. We thought Mr. Saxon might want some means of sending money to his child, so we already took steps to accomplish that. We hadn’t counted on you.”

“And I ain’t in much of a bargaining position,” Haskins said. “Okay, thirty grand and saving’s up to me. But no taxes.”

“That’s the deal.”

“Done,” Haskins said. “Walking around money here? For outfitting?”

“We’ll outfit both of you. All right?” Lee looked from Haskins to Saxon and back, and nodded satisfaction. “That’s settled. Let’s go, then.”

“Go?” Saxon asked.

“Go. As I told you, there’s a lot of gear to buy. You would be far too conspicuous bringing expensive computer equipment here, not to mention the security problems. You’ll work out of Silicon Valley.” Lee chuckled. “Where everyone buys computer equipment. If anyone pays attention to you at all, they’ll think you’re another startup company. Ready to go?”

Saxon and Haskins exchanged glances.

“Sure,” Saxon said. “We haven’t lost anything here.”

“We’ll take the computer,” Lee said. “The van’s downstairs. Get anything else you want. We won’t be coming back here.”

They took a bottle of milk from the refrigerator, but left the bottle of Scotch on the kitchen counter. If Lee noticed that he didn’t say anything.


Back | Next
Framed