a dad.
Luke gives the agreed-upon response. “You’re really gross, you know that?”
“You’ve always had a sensitive stomach for such a big dude.”
Translation: Whatever’s happening at Kansas Command is suspicious but not major.
Luke says, “Still, can’t you ever come up with a joke that I could tell in, like, mixed company?”
This cues up the next code. If Bailey tells the joke about lawyers and dogs—What’s the difference between a dead dog in the road and a dead lawyer in the road? There are skid marks in front of the dog—that’s a signal there’s someone in the bunker he doesn’t recognize, someone who doesn’t seem to have a clear operational purpose.
If, on the other hand, Bailey tells his lawyer and God joke—What’s the difference between a lawyer and God? God doesn’t think he’s a lawyer—that’s a sign that while the bunker’s staffing seems ordinary, Cole’s planning something in Luke and Charlotte’s immediate field of play they didn’t agree to ahead of time.
Like deploying a strike team in their vicinity after Charley specifically asked him not to.
His brother is silent for a beat, then says, “Honestly, I’m a bigger fan of doctor jokes than lawyer jokes. But they’re all stupid. Know any good ones?”
“Doctors?”
“No, doctor jokes. Ones that are really funny, not just gross ones about ball doctors or butt doctors or headshrinkers.”
Headshrinkers. None of this is their code; Bailey’s improvising. By not giving their code responses, Bailey’s eliminating those possibilities. No strangers at the bunker, no unplanned field operations. Instead it’s a third option.
Involving doctors.
There’s a doctor at the bunker.
A doctor they’d all recognize—Noah Turlington.
Son of a bitch, Luke thinks, but he does his best not to say it, in case Cole is listening in.
“They’re just jokes, dude. Don’t freak out. Oh, by the way, it looks like she’s hooked Mattingly, so I’ll give you a warning when the movie starts to wind down.”
“Um, hi, that’s actually my job,” Shannon Tran cuts in.
“We’re a team, Shannon, remember?” Bailey responds. “That’s why we spent all last month doing trust falls and making pottery together.”
Luke’s pretty sure Bailey and Shannon have done nothing of the kind, and it’s no shock that his younger brother, one of the country’s most wanted fugitive hackers until Cole Graydon essentially made him disappear off law enforcement’s radar screens, is having trouble getting along with his new coworkers. Bailey would have trouble getting along with a Ragdoll cat.
“I’m Luke’s primary point of contact with Kansas Command, Bailey. I don’t care if you’re family.”
“Cole said we’re allowed to talk,” Bailey says.
“You’re allowed to chat during downtime, not direct his movements.”
“I have nothing to do with my brother’s bowels.”
Shannon says, “You’re being gross and inappropriate and you’re ignoring the chain of command.”
“Uh-huh. Does our chain of command allow you to keep eating my Nutella out of the break room?”
“Um, try the small army down the hall.”
“They know who ate it or they ate it?”
“Ask them,” Shannon says. “It should be fun for everyone.”
“Yeah, smooth move, pinning your compulsive eating on a room full of heavily armed trained mercenaries with nothing to do.”
“You bring up your Nutella every ten minutes and I’m the one who’s eating compulsively? And you have your own office with a door you can lock, so why are you so afraid of a bunch of Navy SEALs who could kill you with their bare hands?”
“Only a sadist would call what I have here an office.”
“When’s the first date, guys?” Luke asks.
“Never,” Shannon answers. “Bailey, I’m serious. Do not direct Luke’s movements.”
“I didn’t direct his movements. I told him how much of the movie was left. Also, just FYI, I’d rather drown in my urine than call this place Kansas Command. It sounds like a country-western bondage club.”
Before his brother can raise the topic of any other unpleasant bodily functions, Luke says, “So we’ve got a positive ID on Mattingly?”
“We do,” Shannon says. “Charley’s back in her seat, so now we sit and wait and see if he tails her out of the theater. In the meantime, how about we cool it with the dirty nun jokes?”
“It’s not dirty,” Bailey protests.
I gave you a chance, Shannon, Luke thinks, but there you go baiting him again.
In what sounds like her most derisive imitation of the world’s worst man, Shannon says, “How do you get a nun pregnant? Fuck her. Hu hu hu.”
“You didn’t have to use the f-word, Shannon. And the lawyer ones are better anyway.”
“I do not even want to know, so don’t bother. Just please . . .