Page 52 - My FlipBook

eight-hundred-euro scarf and placed it back like it was covered
in contagious germs. One thing he could not stand was to
waste money, even small amounts. The principle was so
ingrained that it was second-nature. He pretended to shop for

a gift for his wife and involved a young saleswoman who
excitedly tried to make a pile for him to purchase. He would
wince every time she would add an item to the pile and
mention the price. When he saw that Nanosh was done trying
on dresses and had made her choices known to her sales clerk,
he grabbed the scarf and just beat her to the checkout. He
paid and then asked for a gift box. He waited patiently for the
gift box as another cashier rang up Nanosh’s purchases. Then
without any effort of movement, his finger flicked something

the size of a grain of rice into her shopping bag. He then
greedily returned the scarf for his money back as she left the
establishment. It wasn't about the money, it was an expense
account, it was about the principle. It was a compulsion. He
could not help himself.

Commander Conrad Polk did not drink beer because he

considered himself "on call" 24/7/365. He was a balding, short
muscular man of forty-eight, had received word from his men
that the search of the research building in Virginia was
complete and the object, whatever it might be, was not there.
He was not surprised. Nothing in this assignment was normal.
After two decades on the job at the federal level, he had seen
about everything. This job, however, defied any sensible
interpretation. He was to look for something unspecified. He

42 BeerQuest