The Planck Factor

een instructed to play this, but my memory failed me. I’d just have to play it by ear.

“Nothing. I don’t know about any plans.”

“How do you know Selby?”

I opened my mouth, but realized it was a trick question. This man wanted me to admit I knew Selby, but I didn’t really.

“Who?”

“That guy who was talking to you at the Navy Memorial. What did he say?”

“Oh, him. Jeez! Thanks to you, he keeled over before he could say anything.”

The man rose and moved around me, inspecting me from all angles.

“What makes you think we did that?” His voice taunted me.

Who else? I wanted to say.

“We know you’ve met Selby before,” the man said, sounding impatient.

I froze. How long have these people been watching me?

“Your friend, Fred, introduced you. Am I right?”

Stunned, I nodded.

“What do you know about Selby? Anything at all?”

I had to say something here to appease the man.

“I . . . I know he’s a geologist.”

The man squatted beside me again and grabbed my arm. Wrong answer. I felt panic pour through me. “Are you sure that’s all you know?” the man said, his voice raspy, his eyes probing me like X-rays.

“It’s no use, Lucius.” Cynthia spoke up.

Lucius gave her a blank look, then rose to his full height, leaving me staring at his crotch. “I think he needs to talk to her.” Lucius emphasized the word “he” as if the “h” should be capitalized.

Lucius ambled out the door. Cynthia and I said nothing. My eyes searched her out, but she averted her gaze.

A tall dark-haired man in his forties, rangy with leathery tan skin, entered and strode up to me. I assumed this must be the “he” that Lucius referred to—probably their leader. His eyes were smoldering, black coals with a look of some internal madness or obsession embedded in a hard, pitted face. He began pacing, keeping his eyes on me. “What will we do with you, young lady?”

He seemed amused.

“Just don’t hurt me, please,” I said, my lines coming back to me. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but believe me, I’m not your enemy.”

The man stopped and peered at me.

“Honest.” I gulped. “The Feds are after me, but I don’t want any part of it. They think I’m on their side, but I’m not. I’m just a writer. I’m on no one’s side but my own.”

Cynthia started to say something, but the dark-haired man held up a hand to silence her.

“Why are you pretending to help the Feds?” he asked.

“I told you. They’ve been after me, and I’m just playing along, so they’ll leave me alone.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.”