“Spring training,” Jerry said when Tim picked him up. The Angels were working out in Palm Springs. The Dodgers, whom Tim liked more, got ready in Florida, the way they had since they played in Brooklyn.

“I wish!” Tim said. Jerry laughed ruefully. They were both klutzes; that was part of why they were friends. Alex made a better athlete than either of them. His glasses were even thicker than Jerry’s, though, so it didn’t matter much.

Nobody else was at the park when they got there. It didn’t seem to get used a whole lot. Jerry wondered why. It was a perfectly good park, with a couple of diamonds, basketball and handball courts, and a sandbox with a jungle gym. Whether anyone else was or not, he was glad it was there.

Any scout who watched the two of them work out would have gone off shaking his head, and probably toward the closest bar. Jerry had a good time throwing and hitting and running around anyway. He hated dropping balls, but he knew too well that that came with the territory for him. He admired the guys who made baseball look easy all the more because he knew too well it wasn’t.

“That was exciting,” he said, after they’d both had enough. “Not good, but exciting.”

“No shit.” Tim looked up at the sky.

Jerry’s gaze followed his friend’s. A gull glided by; they weren’t very far inland. It made Jerry think of the gooney birds he’d seen while he was on the Glomar Explorer: a smaller model, but the same basic design.

Then Tim said, “My security clearance came up for renewal this past week.”

“Yeah?” Jerry nodded. He was one of Tim’s references. A couple of years earlier, somebody’d phoned him and asked how long he’d known his friend and whether he was sure Tim was loyal to the United States.

“Yeah. At my interview, they were asking questions about you.”

“Were they?” Ice walked up Jerry’s back. “Like what?”

“Like how reliable I thought you were. That was what they said, reliable. Like whether you could be counted on to keep your commitments.”

“What did you tell them?”

“I said of course you were. You’re my buddy. What am I going to say to the spooks?” Tim Ishihara sounded offended he’d asked.

“Thanks, man.” A friend in need is a friend indeed ran through Jerry’s head. “Did they … ask about the envelope?”

“I don’t know what’s in it, so I can’t say for sure, but I think so.” Tim chuckled harshly. “Which is funny, ’cause when they were sitting there grilling me they were no more than ten feet from it. They wanted to know if you were a careful custodian of government property. Sounds pretty weird, doesn’t it?”

“Sounds like what happens when people who don’t know how to write do it anyway.”