The Curiosity Killers by K W Taylor Page B

She held her hands up and gave her boss a little shrug. “So what we got for this afternoon, huh?”
    Ben wandered to the window, lifted the lacy, sheer curtain, and gazed out. Somewhere, a man roamed the city streets with dangerous knowledge. “An FBI agent wants to know what happened to D.B. Cooper,” he murmured, sounding distracted.
    “Do you think that’s for the best, Benoy?” Vere asked.
    Ben let his hand drift off the lace edge of the curtain. “Probably not, Eddy.” He gave the doctor a weak smile. “Probably not.”

    Friday, August 6, 2100, Avon, Vermont, NBE
    Violet Lessep smoothed her skirt before ringing the bell. The building was unassuming and quaint, and that comforted her. She was already outlaying a lot of cash for this trip; to also be visiting some creepy underground lair or big shiny evil-looking glass-enclosed corporation would have just made her more self-conscious than she already was.
    When she’d secured the last few hundred she’d needed for the down payment, her father was skeptical. “Kiddo, you already run around the world for the sake of truth, justice, and the Empiricist way. Can’t you be happy with your FBI work? Why you gotta have adventures in your personal life, too, huh?”
    “Oh, Pop, you’re too damn practical.” Violet kissed his bald head and scampered out in a manner undignified for her age. But Violet never felt her age, and even with a fancy, important job with a fancy, important government agency, she was prone to whimsy and ebullience. And even if her down-to-earth dad disagreed with the expense of her vacation, he still loaned her the last bit of cash.
    Such a softie .
    A girl much Violet’s same height and build, though a decade younger, swung the door open. Eyes the color of Violet’s name greeted her, big ones fringed with thick black lashes and eyeliner that gave them a cat-like look. “Hey, you must be Agent Lessep,” the girl said. She took a step backward and held the door wider. “I’m Kris. Mister Jonson is expecting you.”
    “Thank you.”
    On her quick spin through the front parlor into a back conference room, Violet saw only a blur of knick-knacks and polished wood and brass. This area was more traditionally appointed in a business motif, all laminate plastic tables and uncomfortable, institutional chairs. The walls were a bland shade of off-white and there was the subtlest scent of ozone in the air, as if it were pumped in artificially.
    Kris plopped down in a chair opposite Violet and put a thick binder on the table. “So, you want to find out what happened to D.B. Cooper,” Kris said. She paged through the first few sections of the binder. A scratching sounded at the door behind Kris. She sighed and rose to admit a cat, who proceeded to leap up on the conference table.
    “Ignore him,” Kris said. “You’re not allergic, are you?”
    “Hmm? No, no,” Violet replied.
    “You were saying, about Cooper, you wanted to know what happened to him?” Kris asked.
    “Well, no, not precisely,” Violet said. “It’s not so much the what as who .”
    Kris nodded. “That’ll make a difference when we send you,” she said.
    “Not where?” Violet asked.
    “Did you not…” Kris’s voice trailed off and she laughed. “Oh, wait, wait. What…we thought you’d gotten a referral here.”
    Violet squared her shoulders. “I did. One of my supervisors used your service.”
    “Oh, but if they’ve already been here, no wonder you don’t know exactly…” Kris whistled. “Hoo-boy, you’re in for some interesting news, lady.” She flipped the binder shut and patted it. “You’ll want to start reading this, cover to cover. There’s more training after you’ve read that. We leave clients with an urge to refer inquisitive friends here, so you must know someone who had a great trip he can’t remember.”
    “But wait, training? For a conference on profiling?”
    Kris shook her head. “No,” she replied. “Training for time