Jerry could not entirely contain a smug sense of satisfaction. Cole was performing up to expectations.

Kirby’s manner stiffened, and the smile faded. “I guess I should remind you that I wasn’t in the capsule. I had no way of knowing why one person was on the microphone and not somebody else. It’s not something I would have given any thought to.”

He went back to the young woman.

“Which,” she asked, “gives you a bigger sense of satisfaction, Mr. Kirby, riding a rocket, or helping a disabled kid?”

“That one’s easy,” he said. “You get a lot of satisfaction from giving a hand to a child. Riding a rocket has always scared me. And I don’t want to speak for anyone else, but I’d be surprised if there’s anyone who ever sat up on the nose cone of a Saturn V who wouldn’t tell you the same thing. No, I’ll play ball with the kid anytime.”

—

When it was over, Kirby and his family and Harry Eastman were given a tour of the Hall of Fame. They saw a LEM and a model of the Space Station, made it onto a mock-up bridge of the command capsule, watched a 3-D film documentary explaining where NASA hoped to go during the next decade and why humans had to establish an off-world presence.

Jerry strolled over to where Kirby was talking with a couple of NASA people. When they wandered off, Jerry said how impressed he was with Kirby’s charity work. “When the foundation first indicated it wanted to give an award,” he said, “we had no idea what you’d been doing. It’s an incredible story.”

The wheelchair was powered, and they moved closer to a wall filled with three-dimensional photos of astronauts hopping across lunar turf, Saturn rockets soaring through sunlit skies, and shuttles docking at the Space Station. “So how,” Kirby asked, “did you come up with my name?”

“We went online. Ran every name we could think of.” Jerry shook his head. “You have a pretty good record, Frank.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you. It didn’t seem like all that much to me. I was just trying to help. I mean, you know what they say, if you retire and head for the couch, they bury you the following year.”

He liked Kirby. The explanation he’d given Cole had been reasonable enough. Still, it wasn’t the only issue. He glanced up at an image of a command capsule coming over the rim of the Moon. “By the way, Frank—”

“Yes?”

They stopped in front of the picture. “I wanted to apologize for the newsman. He’s from the Associated Press, and he tends to be a bit pushy sometimes.”

“It’s okay,” Kirby said. “No big deal.”

“I have to admit, though, he’s got me curious. Was Peters really the only guy you were talking to during that fifty hours?”

“I don’t know, Jerry. This is something that happened a half century ago. I was talking to whoever I was talking to. What difference does it make?”

They exchanged stares. “Frank, a Navy pilot who was present when they were bringing the astronauts on board the carrier at the end of the flight said one of them was carrying rocks.”

Kirby’s features hardened. “What is this, Jerry?” he asked. “A setup of some kind? You bring me all the way down here to put me through this?”

“No, of course not, Frank. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

He’d given the plaque to his son, Frank, Jr. Now he looked around, saw him, and waved him over. When he arrived, Kirby took the plaque from him. “Here, Jerry, you can have it back. And if we weren’t in polite company, I’d tell you what you could do with it.”

“Frank—”

“And I’ll tell you something else.” Everybody was staring at them now, mouths open. “Just back off this thing, okay? Do yourself a favor. Back off.”

—

Fortunately, Mary didn’t see it happen. But a few minutes later, Jerry was called to her office. “What the hell happened?” she said.

He tried not to look guilty. “I’m not sure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Damn it, Jerry, I told you not to embarrass us. Did you know the whole thing got recorded? It’s out there now.” She waved in the general direction of her computer. “I wouldn’t have believed you could be so dumb.”

“Listen, Mary—”

“What?”

Her eyes sliced into him. “Look, doesn’t it suggest anything to you that he got so upset?”

“It suggests he didn’t want to discuss it.” Her mouth tightened. “It suggests he thought it was silly. Did you set that reporter on him?”

Jerry was having a problem breathing. He’d never seen her so angry. “Not—”

“—Exactly,” she said. “Well, that’s really good. What the hell is this business about rocks?”

“I got a call from a retired helicopter pilot. He says one of the Myshko astronauts dropped some rocks on the carrier deck.”

“Rocks?”

“That’s what he said.”

“As in Moon rocks?”

“No way to know, Mary. Not sure what else—”

She took a deep breath. “Where’s the plaque?”

“In my office.”

“All right, Jerry. Fix the problem.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Find a way. And be grateful you still have your job.”

—

Jerry didn’t think it would be a good idea to call Kirby’s cell, so he tried the hotel. But they’d apparently checked out before coming to the luncheon. Maybe it was just as well. Let him cool off on the ride back to Orlando.

Mary was right, though: The incident was all over the Internet, the public-relations director for NASA being hammered by Kirby, who was being described by everybody as a person who was very popular and gracious and a champion of the downtrodden.

But why was he so upset? If it was really nothing, just some sort of lame joke between himself and Myshko, wouldn’t he simply have laughed it off?

Barb’s voice came through the fog: “Jerry, you have a call from Bill Godwin. He says he’s the producer of Koestler Country.”

That couldn’t be good. NASA’s public-relations director never got invitations to appear on cable TV. Even astronauts didn’t get invitations. “Put him through, Barb.”

Godwin appeared on-screen. He was a long, angular guy with a polished scalp and a white beard. “Jerry,” he said, “how are you?” On the few occasions Jerry had seen him, he had radiated serenity. A nuclear war could have broken out, and Godwin would have remained perfectly relaxed. He smiled and somehow managed to suggest that he and Jerry were old friends. “We wanted to invite you to appear on the show.”

“Bill, I’m seriously tied up.”

“Come on, Jerry. You can make time for us. I mean, that’s your job, isn’t it?”

Damn. He didn’t have an easy way out. “When did you have in mind?”

“Well—” Godwin delivered a smile. “How about tonight?”

“You normally restrict the show to political guests, Bill. What would we be talking about?” He wasn’t sure why he bothered to ask.

“What the future looks like from NASA’s point of view. And, of course, we’d be interested in knowing what the dustup was between you and Frank Kirby today.”

“The show originates in New York, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“There’s no way I could get there.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have to, Jerry. We have people in Florida. They could come in and set you up, and you’d do the show from your office. Or even your home, if you like. Your call.”

“I think I better pass. I’m seriously on the run at the moment.”

“Okay. Sure. Whatever you want. But I have to tell you that we’d have no choice but to make an announcement that you declined an invitation to appear.”

“Come on, Bill. You’re not really going to make an issue of this, are you?”

“Jerry, the guy gets a community service award, then gives it back before he’s even out of the building. It’s a human-interest story. And I know you want to explain your side of this.”

“Have you invited Mr. Kirby?”

“We have. But he won’t be able to make it.”

“Are you going to make an announcement about that?”

“No need to. Look, we’d like to have him. But you’re really the guy we want. You’re at the center of this.”