“You won’t even look at it?” persisted Jerry.

“Why bother?”

—

Ten minutes later, Jerry was on the phone to Bucky Blackstone.

“That job you mentioned a couple of weeks ago,” said Jerry. “Is it still open?”

Five minutes later, he stopped by Egan’s office to hand in his resignation.

21

Gloria checked her computer and turned to Bucky. “He’s on his way up.”

“Culpepper? Good.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, we’re going to leave. I want to show him around—especially the plant where we’re working on the ship.”

“Then why not meet him there?” she asked.

“Because he’s been working in a place that’s being starved for funding, and I want to impress the hell out of him by having him come up and take a look at the offices where he’ll be working.”

She stared at him. “You always have a reason for what you do, but I sure don’t know why you want to impress him. I mean, hell, we’ve already got him.”

“He’s going to take over from Ed Camden as the spokesman for the Moon shot,” said Bucky.

“Ed’s not going to like that.”

“We’ll find lots of things for Ed to do, but Jerry has to be our public face for this project.”

“Why?”

“Because he quit NASA as a matter of conscience rather than continue lying to the public, and that makes him the most trusted and believable spokesman we could have.”

“Most people don’t know why he quit.”

Bucky smiled. “They will,” he assured her.

“Okay.” She didn’t always love the way Bucky’s mind worked, but she admired its efficiency.

“And if we find what I expect to find, I need a spokesman whose veracity and integrity are above reproach.”

She checked her screen. “He’s here now.”

“Let him in.”

Gloria got to her feet, walked to the door, and escorted Jerry inside. Bucky found himself facing the man he’d seen so often on television: an inch or two under six feet, brown hair beginning to recede at the temples, intense gray eyes, a slender man just starting to add a little poundage with age.

“Welcome aboard, Jerry!” said Bucky, walking forward and extending his hand. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you on the team.”

“Thanks.” Jerry shook his hand. “Sorry I couldn’t get you any more information, but that publishing house took everything I had.” He paused and made a face. “One more day there, and I’d sure as hell have killed someone.”

“Anyone in particular?”

“About six in particular.” Jerry smiled ruefully. “Maybe seven.”

“Well, if you’re going to work in an industry where the practitioners tell you up front that they’re lying, you can expect that,” replied Bucky.

“I’m just about ready to agree with you.”

Bucky nodded. “Well, let me give you a little orientation tour. We’ll start right here. This is my office . . .”

“I know that.”

“And this”—he indicated Gloria—“is my executive secretary, Gloria Marcos, who’s been with me longer than anyone else. If you need to contact me, she’ll always know where I am, and if I’ve given orders that I’m not to be disturbed, she’ll know how to circumvent them because I am always available to you.”

Jerry nodded pleasantly to her. “We’ve met online.”

“You know Ed Camden,” Bucky continued. “There’s a burly guy who pretty much leaves me alone in here but is my shadow everywhere else. You’ll meet him soon enough. He’s Jason Brent, my number one bodyguard.”

“You have more than one?” asked Jerry curiously.

“I have eight.”

“I knew you had a few enemies, but I didn’t think that many people hated you,” said Jerry with an attempt at levity.

“For every one who hates me, there are a dozen who’d like to kidnap me and hold me for ransom,” answered Bucky.

“Of course. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“As I told you, if you need to dig up any information, especially information that someone doesn’t want you to have, we’ve got a young woman named Sabina Marinova who’s pretty good at ferreting it out. She’s the one who was the first to have a face-to-face with Amos Bartlett.” Bucky paused. “There’ll be a few more people I want you to get acquainted with, but let’s take a tour first.”

“What did Bartlett say? Did he admit to anything?”

“You can draw your own conclusions, Jerry.” He turned to Gloria. “See that he gets access to the video.”

“Will do.”

“Now, Jerry, let’s go take a look at our transportation.”

“The spacecraft?”

“Of course.”

“Good! I’m anxious to see it.”

“Let me show you where you’ll be doing your most important work first,” said Bucky, leading Jerry out of the office to his private elevator.

“My office?” asked Jerry, as they descended to the third floor.

“Your office is a minor part of it,” answered Bucky.

The elevator came to a stop, and they got off. “That’s yours to the left.” Bucky indicated a large office filled with up-to-the-minute electronic equipment. “The one on the right belongs to Ed Camden. He may be a little upset for a few days, since you’re replacing him as our spaceflight spokesman.”

“I can do some other job . . .” began Jerry.

“Do you think you’re the best at what you do?” demanded Bucky. “Tell me the truth.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then—no false modesty. You’re our spaceflight spokesman, and that’s that.” He walked to a very solid door and opened it.

“My God, that’s impressive!” said Jerry as he walked into a state-of-the-art video studio.

“It should have everything you need,” said Bucky, indicating a number of digital cameras including 3-D, acoustical microphones, teleprompters, and lights, plus half a dozen video and audio recording and dubbing devices. “Our technicians can be ready to work on a moment’s notice. We can broadcast you all the hell over the world on television, radio, the Internet, you name it. We can also transfer images from the ship, and from the Moon itself, and send them out from here. We have experts who can put together any kind of presentation you need on almost no notice.”

“This is a far cry from where I was working at NASA,” said Jerry, looking around.

“If there’s anything else you think you’ll need here, just ask for it. My priorities are different from NASA’s”—he smiled—“or at least from those of NASA’s boss over on Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“I can’t imagine that this studio needs anything.”

“It needs the right spokesman,” said Bucky. “And now it’s got him.” He paused. “You want to look around a bit?”

“I can do it later,” answered Jerry.

“Okay, let’s go look at my new toy.”

They reentered the elevator and, to Jerry’s surprise, descended past the ground floor and even the basement level, to the subbasement.

“What the hell’s down here?” asked Jerry, as they emerged into a dimly lit area of concrete floors, walls, and ceilings.

“Transportation system,” answered Bucky, leading him to a small vehicle that looked like a souped-up golf cart. It was parked next to a dozen identical vehicles.

“But why? I mean, all your buildings are on the same piece of property, right? I read that you own about two square miles.”

“A mile and a half,” said Bucky. “This is Jason Brent’s idea. If they don’t know where I am, it’s hard to set a trap for me—or shoot me, for that matter.”

“Why do they want to shoot you?”

Bucky shrugged. “Why did anyone want to shoot John Lennon? There are crazy people out there, and if you make the news, and I do, you’re automatically a target.”

“I guess you are at that.”