“It’s pretty old. We can probably find something in the morning.”

“Ray—”

“George, this is old technology. But I’ll send somebody out. See if we can find something. In the meantime, how about we do the press release? Let’s just tell them we’re looking into it.” He took a deep breath. “Don’t know about you, but I’ve about had it for the night.”

39

The next night, Blackstone Enterprises threw a huge celebratory party in the Flat Plains hangar. Every member of the press showed up. (“Trust me,” Bucky told Jerry, “these guys would never miss a free meal.”) But they also had half a dozen congressmen, three senators, and two governors, a Medal of Honor winner, five all-pro football players and all-NBA basketball players, and the usual hey-take-my-photograph celebrity crowd.

“Airport must have been swamped,” remarked Bucky.

“You said it.” Gloria Marcos grinned. “They only have one runway and two gates. Your private airfield is every bit as big, and probably a lot more modern.”

“You know, I’ve been asked to run for the presidency by members of both parties,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to be George Cunningham tonight.”

“You don’t look that happy,” she remarked.

“He’s not an evil man,” responded Bucky. “I don’t know why he lied about it—hell, I don’t know why any of our presidents lied about it—but I’m sure he had his reasons.” He paused. “He didn’t try to stop me, you know.”

“Could he have?” asked Gloria.

“He could have made it a lot more difficult.” Bucky frowned. “I think I’ll try to make peace with him in a few weeks.”

“And not run against him?” she said with a smile.

“I’m an entrepreneur, not a president.”

“Isn’t that what almost every president is, too—in a way?” said Gloria.

“Stop right there.” Bucky spoke with mock severity. “You convince me of that, and you might spend the next few years dealing with all those jackasses in Congress.”

She turned and began walking away.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

“To get some tape to cover my mouth.”

“Good. I was afraid for a minute I’d said something to offend you.”

She laughed. “If that was a quitting offense, I’d have been gone two hours after you hired me.”

He winked at her and then went around the room chatting with everyone, endlessly explaining every aspect of the mission, taking an occasional sip of the Dom Pérignon and an occasional taste of the Beluga caviar his people had set out for the guests. After another hour, he was getting bored with the same questions, and tired of fighting off less-than-subtle inquiries about his politics and his willingness to run in next year’s election (for president, for the Senate or the House, or for the governor’s mansion once they could figure out where his legal residence was), and decided he needed a break. He knew that if he went to his own office, he’d be getting a visitor every two minutes once they noticed he was missing, so instead, he went to Jerry Culpepper’s much smaller office at the back of the hangar.

He opened the door, stepped through into the semidarkened room, closed the door behind him, and locked it—and suddenly the lights went on.

He turned, startled, to see Jerry sitting at his desk.

“What the hell are you doing here?” said Bucky.

“I work here,” replied Jerry with a smile.

“I mean, in your office.”

“It’s your party. I thought I’d let you bask in the glow and answer all the questions. Besides, I don’t like mob scenes.”

“Well, since it’s your office, I can hardly throw you out,” said Bucky easily. “I hope you don’t mind a little company. I’ve had it with those . . . those . . .” He searched for the right word.

“Sycophants?” suggested Jerry.

“Yes. Except for the ones that plan to stab me in the back—figuratively, of course—as soon as they can.”

Jerry indicated a chair. “Have a seat.”

“I don’t mind if I do,” replied Bucky with a smile. He sat down and took a deep breath. “It’s cooler in here.”

“You’re not sharing the air-conditioning with ninety other bodies,” noted Jerry.

“And quieter.”

The phone on Jerry’s desk rang.

“Well, it was quieter,” said Bucky.

Jerry frowned. “Who the hell would be calling me at ten o’clock at night on a Sunday?”

Bucky smiled. “Why don’t you pick it up and find out?”

“Okay,” said Jerry, returning the smile. “But given the day and the hour, I may charge you overtime for this.” He picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

Bucky could tell someone replied, but Jerry merely frowned.

“Who is this?”

Another pause while the man at the other end answered.

“I don’t care what you think you know, I won’t speak to someone who won’t identify himself,” said Jerry curtly. Then he paused. “NASA? What part of NASA?”

Bucky gesticulated wildly, and Jerry said, “Hang on. I’m going to put you on hold for just a minute.”

He hit a button on the phone and turned to Bucky. “What is it?”

“This is a guy from NASA?”

Jerry nodded. “Probably.”

“Probably?” repeated Bucky.

“He says he’s a friend of NASA.”

“There could be a lot of reasons he won’t identify himself,” said Bucky. “Put it on speaker, so I can hear it, too. I won’t interrupt, but let’s find out what he wants.”

“A job, probably,” said Jerry.

Bucky just stared at him.

“Okay, okay, you’re the boss.” He put the phone on speaker and took it off hold. “Sorry for the delay. Now, what can I do for you?”

“Nothing,” said the voice. “But maybe I can do something for you, Mr. Culpepper.”

“But you won’t tell me your name?”

“Hear me out, and you’ll know why. As I told you, I’m a friend of NASA. I think it’s terrible the way they’ve treated the Agency—the way they turned their backs on the Moon half a century ago and even gave up the shuttle. Just terrible!”

“You’ll get no disagreement from me,” said Jerry. “Is that what this call is about?”

“That’s the reason for it,” said the man. “It’s not the gist of it.”

“I don’t want to be rude, but it’s after ten o’clock, and I was up half of the last two nights. I’m tired, and I don’t even know who I’m talking to, so can we get to the point, please?”

“I’m coming to it, Mr. Culpepper. You know what they found on the Moon, right?”

“Of course I do,” said Jerry in bored tones. “It’s in the next room.”

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

Jerry frowned. “Yeah, it’s impressive. So?”

“So do you know what it is?”

“Part of some kind of dome, probably,” answered Jerry, starting to get annoyed. “You got any other questions?”

“Just one. Do you know what it really is, and why it’s been kept secret all these years?”

Suddenly, Bucky leaned forward, and Jerry tensed.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“That would be too easy for you and too dangerous for me,” said the voice. “But you can find the answer if you want it.”

“Of course I want it.”

“Good.”

“So where is it?” demanded Jerry.

“It’s well hidden,” said the voice.

“Okay, it’s well hidden,” said Jerry. “Where?”

“Just think about it, Mr. Culpepper. If you had something that valuable, where would you hide it?”

“In my safe-deposit box,” said Jerry.

“Don’t be a fool, Mr. Culpepper. This is a matter of worldwide importance. Just ask yourself—”

“I told you: I’d put it in a bank.”

“Let me finish,” said the voice. “Banks get robbed all the time.”

“Okay,” said Jerry. “What should I ask myself?”