The old man had been staring at the curious email for a few minutes, trying to make some sense of it. He went over it one more time:
“Hey old man, how’re you doing? Listen, I’m writing because I remember you being involved with fantasy baseball and I just got an official message regarding some sort of investigation of a scam going on in those leagues. It seems there’s a person or a group of persons working in various leagues who get close to other players and lead them to join a new business venture where they are fleeced. A typical con job. Be careful and keep your eyes open. Don’t let them sell you a moonbeam. Give my regards to Carol, looking forward to seeing you both during next year’s 40th Anniversary ceremonies.”
It was from Michael Collins. He hadn’ seen him since their visit to George W. Bush’s White House for the Apollo 11 mission 35th anniversary in 2004, and he was sure he’d never shared his interest for fantasy baseball with his old colleague. But what intrigued him the most was that he was talking about something that eerily mirrored his contact with the Red Lions’ manager. Were those bastards monitoring his emails? He wondered.
Just in case, he decided to analyze the situation the old-fashioned way, without the computer. He took out an old notebook and a #2 pencil from the desk drawer and started going through the situation in his head. The email was obviously not from Michael Collins, but why choose him? He thought.
Did it have something to do with his missions? Michael’s missions included Gemini 10 which entailed a heavy load of experiments but was mostly about mastering orbital rendezvous. No connections there. Then came Apollo 8; he was grounded for that mission because of knee problems. Knees? Are they using Michael’s name to imply that if I talk they would hurt my knees Mafia-style? No, of course not. Keep thinking…
Michael was the one who came up with the idea for the Apollo 11 mission patch. The eagle landing with the olive branch symbolizing that we came in peace. Not much there either. What else? If he had stayed active he would have been back-up commander for Apollo 14 and mission commander of Apollo 17. Hmmm…
He drew three boxes in the notebook with the numbers 11, 14 and 17 inside them.
These mark the beginning, he thought as he circled the boxes with the 11 and the 14. And 17 is the end. Gene Cernan’s mission. The one with the moonbeam story.
He looked back at the email: “Don’t let them sell you a moonbeam.”
Ok, Michael is the only astronaut that can be linked to the two missions associated with the beginning of the moon landings and to the last one. But why say “Don’t let them sell you a moonbeam” in the email. It seems forced, like it was placed there for a reason… Oh my God… of course… Edwin Moon’s flying machine.
It’s them. They know I’ve been talking to the Red Lions manager and they have somehow sniffed my intentions. This is their way of letting me know that they are watching. Fuck. Time to go back to the drawing board.
His first task was to come up with a communications strategy that would allow him to maintain his contact with Mr. Lucas Aldrich without being monitored. No doubt he had received an email like mine to dissuade him from contacting me, he thought.
A ploy started to take shape in his mind, and the first step was to answer Michael Collins’ email.
“Thanks for the heads up Mike. I’ll keep my eyes open. Send our regards to Pat.”
Short, to the point and most importantly it read normal, like he didn’t suspect a thing, he thought as he pressed the Send button. He had just done so when his wife came in and caught him with a strange-looking smile on his face.
“What’s going on? You look like you’re up to something,” she said.
“Oh nothing, just emailing with Michael Collins,” he said as he scribbled something on the notebook for her to read. “It’s such a nice afternoon, why don’t we go out for a stroll?”
“What’s going on?” asked Carol once outside the house. “Why do I have to keep quiet and follow you outside? What do you mean they could be listening?”
“It seems my communication with the Red Lions’ manager has been monitored by people who want me to stay quiet. I don’t know for sure who they are, so for the moment we will assume our house is bugged. Although I’d like to think that’s unlikely. Anyway better safe than sorry. I have an idea on how to approach this and still carry on our original plan. It implies going low tech and I’m going to need your help.”
As the old man explained his idea, his wife understood that there was no turning back now.
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