Going Nuclear. Stephen Hart

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      “Probably.”

      “Did you like growing up in the military?”

      “Not really. And I certainly don’t want any part of it now. Before I graduated, I had the typical job interviews with major corporations, but they reminded me too much of the Army. All the games, everyone trying to climb the ladder. I came here hoping to do research in an academic environment, without having to deal with all that crap.”

      “And oblivious to the war.”

      “No. I’ve actively opposed it. I can see how ridiculous it is. But it seems like the thing is going to go on forever, no matter what I do.”

      “We’d better go. Here comes that jock again,” Sandy whispered.

      “I thought you girls were going to leave,” the football player said, standing directly behind the girls with his arms folded. “Did you change your mind or something?”

      “They are leaving,” Arthur said, standing as he spoke. “With me.”

      “And who are you supposed to be?” the football player taunted. “The baby Jesus?”

      “I’m on the faculty,” Arthur replied, in the most authoritative voice he could muster. “And my understanding is that you gentlemen are to treat people with courtesy and respect if you expect to continue representing the University on the football field.”

      “If you’re on the faculty, what the hell are you doing here? This is a student bar.”

      “I stopped by for a drink with these two young ladies. But if that’s a problem for you, perhaps I should take it up with some of my friends in the Athletic Department. They seem to be a little more concerned about image than you apparently are.”

      “Talk to whoever you want. I could care less.” The football player turned back toward his table.

      “Right,” Arthur said to the back of the young man’s head. Turning to Donna and Sandy, he asked, “Are you ready to go?”

      In the parking lot, Arthur stopped at his Porsche.

      “Is this yours?” Donna asked.

      “Yes. Would you like to go for a ride?”

      “No. I have to be getting back.”

      “Well, at least give me your phone number. After all, I saved you from that overgrown Neanderthal in there.”

      “You’re lucky he didn’t pulverize you,” Donna said, smiling.

      “He’s lucky I didn’t pulverize him,” Arthur replied.

      Donna laughed and wrote her telephone number down on the back of one of the fliers. “You’d better take this before that jock decides to come out here. Oh, too late. There he is.”

      Arthur’s head jerked in the direction of the bar, but he saw no one.

      “My mistake,” teased Donna, laughing again. She pressed Arthur’s forearm briefly between her thumb and index finger. “See you,” she said, then turned away and began walking toward her car.

      Chapter Five

      At his apartment that evening, Arthur decided to retreat into his own space. He lit a joint, plugged his headphones into the stereo, and put on a favorite album. Sitting back in his easy chair, inhaling the sweetly scented smoke, drifting in and out of the seductive riffs of Carlos Santana’s guitar, he had just closed his eyes when the phone rang. Who could that be? he wondered. It rang again. Maybe, Donna? He took off the headphones, placed the joint on the edge of the coffee table, and picked up the phone.

      “Hello,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically mellow.

      “Hello,” answered an unfamiliar female voice with a southern accent, clearly not Donna. “Is this Arthur Weiss?”

      “Yes,” Arthur replied cautiously.

      “Well, my name is Billie Lee. You don’t know me, but I was a close friend of Joshua Taylor at Illinois. And I was wondering if we could get together and talk a little. I understand you were with Joshua a few days before he was killed.”

      “Yes. Yes, I was. But I didn’t know him very well or anything.” What’s going on? Arthur wondered.

      “That doesn’t matter. I’m just trying to gather any information I can. According to the authorities, his murder is still unsolved. So I’m doing what I can to get to the bottom of the thing. It would only take a few minutes.”

      “When do you want to meet?”

      “Tonight, if possible. How about Nicola’s on Highway 31?”

      At the agreed-upon hour, Arthur was sipping hot coffee at a back table when a terrific-looking girl with long blonde hair walked in. She wore boots, tight jeans, and a leather jacket. Hoping that she was Billie Lee, Arthur watched her look around before heading in his direction. She was tan and thin and moved like a cat.

      As she approached his table she asked,. “Are you Arthur Weiss? If you are, I’ve been trying to track you down for weeks.”

      Arthur stared at her for a moment before answering. “Yes,” he stammered, standing as he spoke. “Please, have a seat.”

      They sat down together, and a waitress appeared. Billie Lee ordered coffee, and Arthur pointed to his cup for a refill. “I’m so glad I found you,” Billie Lee sighed. “I’ve run into so many dead ends lately.”

      “So why the sudden interest in Joshua? He’s been dead for months now, hasn’t he?”

      “Yes, but before his murder, we were very close.” Billie Lee’s intense gaze made Arthur’s face turn red. “We weren’t lovers or anything like that, but we were into political things like SDS, big time. It got pretty heavy toward the end. That’s why I think the government killed him.”

      “You really believe that? I mean—”

      “They watched us all the time. They had files on everyone. And Joshua had some pretty extreme ideas. That’s why it’s important for me to keep going until I’ve done everything I can to find out what happened.”

      “And the authorities say they don’t know anything?”

      “Yeah. The FBI went through the motions, but they claim they came up with nothing, which is not that surprising. So I’ve been following every lead I can, which brings me to you. Apparently you were with him shortly before he was killed?”

      “Yes, I guess so. I knew him a little from the Chemistry Department and from an antiwar demonstration we were both at.”

      “The antiwar demonstration. The last one before he was shot.” Billie Lee nodded, apparently recalling the event. “I would have been there myself, but I had to see some people in Chicago. Was there anything unusual about that demonstration?”

      “Not really. Some cops showed up, and СКАЧАТЬ