Bucky summoned all three of them to his suite. Well, to the huge living room of the presidential suite. Jason would never agree to stay down the corridor with a locked door between them, and slept in the adjoining bedroom.

“What’s up?” asked Camden.

“You heard the news?” said Bucky.

“Yeah,” replied Camden. “I wonder what the guy was smoking.”

Bucky turned to Gloria. “You think anyone’ll believe it?”

“Why not?” she answered. “Hell, a third of the public doesn’t believe we ever landed. Why shouldn’t another third believe we landed more often than we said?”

“I’m going in front of fifty million people tomorrow night,” said Bucky. “I’d like to think I’m not about to make a total fool of myself.”

Jason Brent looked puzzled. “I don’t see a problem, Boss. I assume you’re going to give your version about why Kirby wouldn’t accept that award.”

“He accepted it the next day,” noted Camden.

“Even so, something’s going on, and the Boss is going to give his version. Thing is, whatever it is, they’ve kept it a secret for fifty years, and that’s if anything happened at all. So what if he’s wrong? Who will know? Or put it this way: If something did happen, and he’s wrong about what it is, the only guys who can contradict him and prove he’s wrong are the same guys who have been lying about it for fifty years. He’s not NASA’s enemy, so why would they reverse course just to embarrass him?”

Camden considered what Brent had said and finally turned to Bucky. “He’s got a point, you know.”

“Look,” said Bucky. “We’re going to the Moon. If I wind up looking like a buffoon over this, every single thing we find, everything we learn, everything we announce to the public when we return, will be suspect because I’ll have proven how easily I can be bamboozled.”

“Then why not just ignore it, cancel your airtime, and pretend it never happened?” said Camden.

“Because something happened,” said Bucky decisively. “I don’t know what, though I’ve got a pretty good idea. And if I’m right about what it was, it’s essential that NASA come clean before we actually launch our Moon mission.” He paused, looking from one to another. “Doesn’t it bother any of you that they’ve been lying to the public for half a century? And that it’s got to be about something major, something important. If it’s minor, there’s no need to still be keeping it secret. If it was just some stupid glitch that could embarrass or humiliate them, hell, 80 percent of the public wasn’t even alive then, and just about anyone who could be embarrassed is dead by now.”

“That’s an assumption, Bucky,” said Gloria. “A logical one, but still an assumption. You know the government: It lies about something, usually something trivial, every five minutes. “

“I just explained why it’s not trivial,” said Bucky.

She shook her head. “You just explained why you think it’s not trivial, and it was a logical answer—but what has logic got to do with the government? You say everyone’s dead, so why not reveal whatever it was if it was trivial? I say there have been so many lies and cover-ups, why go to the trouble of exposing this one if everyone involved is dead and most of the public can’t even remember the Apollo missions?”

“Okay,” said Bucky, “I’ve listened patiently. I haven’t heard anything to make me change my mind. Now we’re going to spend the next day and a half trying to find out what the hell happened. Clearly, Ralph D’Angelo has either gotten possession of the diary, or he’s made a photocopy of it.”

“Why?” asked Brent.

“Because he’s an hour from Washington, and he had to be under a lot of pressure to keep quiet about this,” explained Bucky patiently. “So he had to protect his ass, and that means either the diary or a photocopy, with some expert already authenticating Aaron Walker’s handwriting.” He paused. “We need a copy of whatever he’s got.”

“Don’t look at me, Boss,” said Brent. “I don’t leave your side, not for anything.”

Bucky turned to Camden. “Okay, Ed. Get on the next flight down there, and don’t come back without it.”

“And if he doesn’t want to part with it?” asked Camden. “I can’t bust down doors the way Jason can.”

Bucky sighed deeply. “We’re not criminals, Ed. I don’t want you to beat it out of him.”

“Then what?”

Bucky stared at him. “You’re working for a billionaire. What do you think I’m going to suggest?”

“How high can I go?”

“Gloria, D’Angelo’s not syndicated, right? He just works for The Baltimore Sun?”

“That’s right.”

“What’s the most he could be making?”

“Week, month, or year?”

“Per year.”

“Without being syndicated? No more than $130,000, probably a little less.”

Bucky turned back to Camden. “A quarter million ought to do it.”

“And if he wants more?”

“Tell him you have to see it to decide if it’s worth more.”

“And then?”

“Then decide.”

Camden walked to the door. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

Then he was gone. Bucky lit a Havana, took a couple of puffs, and walked back and forth in front of his desk, thinking. Finally, he sat down.

“I need to talk to Jerry Culpepper,” he announced.

“Culpepper?” repeated Gloria. “Even if he knows what happened, which I, for one, doubt, he’ll never tell you.”

“We’re on the same side,” replied Bucky. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“What makes you think so?” asked Brent.

“His job is disseminating information.” Gloria and Brent just stared at him, puzzled. “Don’t you see?” he continued. “Everything he’s built in his career depends upon his credibility. If they’re lying to him or feeding him false information, they’re destroying the one thing he trades on: his veracity. If he knew he was lying, that would be different, it’d be his choice—but my reading of him is that he’s an honorable man. Hell, you saw what precipitated that brouhaha with Kirby: He wanted to know what happened.” Another pause. “He’s on our side. One of these days, he’ll figure it out. In the meantime, I need to talk to him.”

“If he’s lying or ignorant, why?” asked Brent.

“So he’ll know he’s got a home here if they ever kick him out,” answered Bucky. “Sooner or later, the truth will come out, and they’re going to need a fall guy—and as Humphrey Bogart would say, he’s made to order for the part.”

Brent shrugged. “You’re the boss.”

“If we’re all agreed on that, set up a face-to-face for me.”

Gloria went to her much smaller desk, and a moment later Jerry Culpepper’s image appeared on Bucky’s computer screen.

“Hi, Jerry. Did I catch you at a busy time?”

“These days, those are the only times I’ve got.” Jerry smiled. “What can I do for you, Mr. Bucky?”

“Bucky,” Bucky corrected him.

“Bucky,” said Jerry. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Be my guest.”

“Your given name is Morgan. Why Bucky? The press has dubbed you ‘The Cowboy Millionaire,’ but unlike all the Texas oilmen I’ve met you don’t wear a Stetson and boots, so why . . . ?”

“You really want to know?” asked Bucky with a smile.

“That’s why I asked.”

“It’s for Buck Rogers. I always wanted to be an astronaut.”

Jerry smiled. “Really?”

“Is it so hard to believe?” asked Bucky.

“Not at all. There were days that I was John Carter of Mars or the Gray Lensman. Earth was never big enough for me.”

Bucky chuckled. “I knew we had a lot in common.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Jerry. “Your pin money could eat my life savings for breakfast.”

“Come to work for me, and we’ll do something about that.”

Jerry smiled and shook his head. “I’ve got a contract, Bucky.”

“I have the best lawyers in the country, and I’ll pay court costs if NASA sues.”

“I appreciate the offer, truly I do,” said Jerry. “But I have to honor my commitment. What would you think of me if I broke it?”