Who’d tipped Anderson off? What would happen to him now, and to his informant? Those were fascinating questions, weren’t they? So was another one that occurred to Jerry. What happens if they think I talked with Anderson? Whatever happened, it wouldn’t be good.

He wanted to get up and pull back the curtains so he could see if anybody was sneaking around outside. Being a rational man himself, he could see that that wouldn’t help, even if someone was. After a moment, he did it anyhow. Hadn’t he just reminded himself that rationality was overrated?

If an assassin was out there, Jerry gave him a perfect shot. He didn’t see anybody, and no one fired at him. Logic said nobody was there. How much you listened to logic …

He let the curtains fall back into place. Nothing would happen right this minute. Maybe nothing would happen at all. He could still hope nothing would. He could hope not, yeah, but he couldn’t make himself believe it anymore. The CIA might not murder someone for talking to a reporter about the K-129. For talking about Humpty Dumpty? That was a whole different business.

He hadn’t told Jack Anderson about Humpty Dumpty, of course. But, while he knew that, the CIA didn’t. Termination with extreme prejudice. He’d signed on the dotted line. If they condemned him, he had no appeal.

The condemned man went back to the table and finished grading finals. What were you supposed to do when the world came to pieces around you? You tried to make things as normal as you could.

Just this side of two in the morning, he put the last exam on the finished pile. He set down the red pen and rubbed his eyes. Then he got to his feet to go to the bathroom and brush his teeth before trying to sleep. He was tired. Sleepy? Sleepy was a different story.

Full of piss and catnip, the King of Siam intercepted him in the hallway. Why was the human up at such a funny time? Why else but to play with a Siamese? Jerry played a little, halfheartedly, then did what he needed to do.

Anna snored softly in the dark bedroom. Jerry slid into bed without waking her. That was good; she wouldn’t grumble in the morning. He lay on his back, staring up at the cottage-cheese ceiling he couldn’t really see. After a while, sleep ambushed him the way the imaginary hit man hadn’t.

“I thought you’d sleep late instead of getting up with me,” Anna said, as they ate breakfast together.

“Yeah, well…” He shrugged. “I’m awake. I’m moving. I’ll turn in my grades, then come home. If I need a nap, I’ll take a nap.”