Page 8 of Broken Wheels

“Do I smell?” he demanded.

Dixon’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Do I stink? Be honest with me, please.”

He blinked, then leaned in and sniffed. “You smell of soap and deodorant.” Dixon straightened. “Why do you ask? Was there a particular reason why you might be particularly… fragrant today?”

The word tickled him. Then relief surged through him. So he had showered. He’d been so intent on delving into what he’d acquired, however, that he couldn’t remember what else he had or hadn’t done, and that included eating.

His stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly, and there was his answer.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I love the apple fritters they serve in the cafeteria. I wish I had some butter to?—”

Dixon put down six pats of butter, and Josh’s stomach fluttered, though he was certain it had nothing to do with hunger. Maybe he was getting sick. “Thank you.”

That earned him another smile. Josh had the feeling Dixon didn’t smile a whole lot. His features were hard, craggy even, and as for his eyes? Almost emotionless was the best way Josh could describe them. And nothing like the man who’d just brought him an apple fritter.

“No problem, Doc. Listen, I have to oversee some tests Michael is having done with your new drones. Is there anything you need before I go?”

Drones?

Then he remembered. He’d given those to Gary and Michael the previous week. Well, to Michael—Gary was still working from home. Eight state-of-the-art drones, with four ARRI ALEXA 35 Production cameras mounted onto a lightweight fiberglass frame, capable of attaining speeds no other drone could match. They weren’t as small as Josh had hoped, but that was down to the cameras, which took up quite a bit of space in the chassis. Michael had asked for the devices so they could be used to check an area before agents went in. They would need at least another thirty, but Michael had mentioned wanting to know how well they’d perform.

“Hm? Oh, no. Thank you for asking, but I don’t need anything.” He paused a second. “You could let me know how the drones do, though. Especially if there are any problems. I mean, there shouldn’t be, but just in case, I want to be aware if any issues arise.”

“Of course, Doc. Happy to do that.” He headed for the door, but paused before opening it. “If you ever need me for anything, my extension is one-three-five-one.”

“Oh? All right. I can’t imagine I’d need you, but thank you for letting me know.”

Dixon blinked. “You’re welcome. See you later.”

And then he was gone.

Josh went back to his perusal of the fragments, but for some reason, he couldn’t focus. Something tugged at his consciousness. On impulse, he turned to where his pad sat in its charger.

“Pad?”

“Yes, Josh?” The programmed voice was deep and masculine.

“Please add a note to my personal file that Dixon’s extension is 1351.”

“Dixon’s extension is 1351. Note made, Josh.”

Josh had no reason to call Dixon. None. Yet, he added it to the list of things he really wanted to remember.

He just didn’t know why.

It wasn’t until two in the afternoon that Josh remembered to check his email. He’d made a note to do that at some unearthly hour of the morning. For some reason, Cliff Tanner had been on his mind lately, probably because of that mysterious email Josh had received a while back, asking if they could meet. Josh had been surprised to receive it, but he’d replied, telling Cliff to send details of time and location.

That was the last he’d heard from Cliff.

Maybe he changed his mind.

Maybe he found help from someone else.

Whatever the reason, the lack of a response had irritated Josh at first, and he’d fired back a terse email he regretted writing the minute he pressed Send. But when he heard nothing more, something began to gnaw away at the back of his mind. In the wee small hours, he’d opened that first email, and one glance told him why he couldn’t get Cliff out of his mind.

One line, actually.

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