Paul had sobered. "All right, Frank. I'll look into it. You might have to help me break loose some data the government considers classified."
"Thanks, Paul, for taking this seriously. How long do you think it will take?"
Paul considered. "Give me a month. I have to catch up on the current state of the art in the European Union and Russia. But I'll give it a fair look, Frank, I promise."
"Good enough." Frank's tone was satisfied. "If you need me to break any logjams, just call me on the regular number."
Some three weeks passed before Frank's personal cell phone went off at 3AM. He picked it up to hear a jubilant voice. "Ha! I did it! I finally managed to do it to you!"
Frank chuckled. "This has got to be Paul!"
"Right on the first guess," Paul replied. "Please tell me it's 3AM there!"
By now, Frank was smiling. "It's 3AM here, Paul. Let me grab my notebook." He reached over and took the note pad off the bedside table. He wanted to be ready in case he needed to make notes. "Okay, Paul," he resumed. "What did you find out?"
Paul's voice sobered. "Okay. I can't speak for the financial side of it, but if it can be done, it will cost billions. That's billions with a 'b'.
"From the scientific standpoint, I have to say it's barely possible, if you can find a good passenger launch vehicle. But I don't think you can. All of NASA's old shuttles are in museums or have been scrapped, and there's nothing else that big flying.
"As for everything else, money is so tight you might be able to get just about anything you need. The Russians are selling tickets on their rockets, and they'll sell you just about anything else they've got, except nukes, of course. The European Space Agency has been seeing a lot of their funding go to CERN since the American recession of 2009-12. ESA isn't as willing to sell technology as the Russians, but they may be willing to deal information, and they'll send just about anything you want into space. They also have state-of-the-art electronics and guidance systems. The Americans are, as usual, a crap shoot. With your contacts, you can probably get most of the information you'd need, but they keep throwing the word 'classified' around, even while they're selling the same stuff for scrap. You'd definitely have to worry about the technology transfer laws. But they're doing some interesting stuff with robotics and control systems. Of course, if NASA gets wind of your plans, and thinks you might show them up, they'll set all the alphabet agencies from the CIA to the SEC on you.
"To summarize what my 36-page report is going to show, it appears technologically feasible, but you might go broke trying. And don't even think about trying to do it in the U.S. And finally, I want in."
"What?"
"I want in," Paul repeated. "I think you're crazy as my old maid aunt, but you're just crazy enough and stubborn enough to make it happen. And I won't miss a chance to be in on the biggest event of the century – even if it's the biggest failure."
"Paul," Frank said uncomfortably, "I can't guarantee you'll go."
Paul laughed. "Hell, I don't want to go. I'm no hero. But I want to be a part of it."
Frank grinned into his phone. "Great! I appreciate it, Paul, because I don't have the vaguest idea where to go from here."
"Well, I'd say you should start assembling some teams. Several of them. And find somewhere for them to work. For a while, you can probably get by with putting them in the U.S. somewhere. Most of your people will probably be from the U.S. and Europe at first."
Frank was quiet for long enough to cause Paul to suspect the call had been dropped. "Hello?" he said uncertainly.
"Sorry, Paul," Frank replied. "I was thinking. No, I don't think it's time yet to build teams. As you said, the first and most obvious problem is getting a spacecraft." He paused again, but was back in a few seconds. "I want you to get on to Colonel David Tarrant, at the Pentagon. This whole thing was his idea. I want you two to get busy finding me a space ship, or figuring out how to build one cheap."
"Ha!" Paul laughed. "That isn't even a word in the language of manned spaceflight!"
Frank grinned into the phone. "So, add it to the dictionary. That's why I pay you the big bucks." He gave Paul David's number in D.C., and after a few more pleasantries, they signed off.
Frank knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, so he started thinking and making notes. Thoroughly engrossed, he only roused when he smelled the coffee Maria, his maid, was brewing. He got up, hurried through a shower and shave, and headed for the kitchen. Maria didn't live in; she lived about a quarter mile up the road. She worked for him from 7:00 AM to 7:00 PM. Her broad grin greeted him. "Bangus Meester Frank?" she asked with a mischievous expression.
Frank shuddered theatrically, as she expected. Frank would never get used to people eating fish and rice for breakfast. "You eat it," he replied. "I'll just have coffee and eggs."
Her laughter rang out. She never tired of her "joke" of offering Meester Frank fish in the morning.
Today, though, Frank had a lot on his mind, and a lot to do.
First on the agenda was finding a personal assistant. The first stage of the project would be nearly all planning and brainstorming. So his first call was to Susan Andrews. She had been his secretary – uh, "administrative assistant" – for ten years before the board fired him. She still worked for the company, but she also received a small retainer from Frank, who called on her occasionally when he needed her skills. He had been told that she had a huge crush on him, but he couldn't see it. This time he'd remembered to consider the time difference; it was 6 PM in Dallas, so he called her cel number.
She answered on the third ring. "Hi, Susie," he said with a smile. He was the only one who ever called her "Susie," a nickname she hated. He used it to tease her.
"Mr. Weath – uh, Frank! It's been over a month!" There was genuine pleasure in her tone. "You almost missed my retirement!" she said. "I couldn't take Mr. Wakely anymore, so next Friday is my last day."
Excitement flared. "That's great!" he gushed. Then he said in a wary tone, "Uh, I guess it's great. Are you really looking forward to retirement?"
"Oh, lord, no," she replied. "I don't know what I'm going to do with myself. I've brushed up my resume; I guess I'll look for some part time work. But it was either retire or slap Mr. Wakely and get fired!"
"How would you like to come to work for me again?" Frank was surprised at the nervousness he felt as he asked the question.
"I'd love to!" she replied enthusiastically. But then there was a hesitation. "Uh, Mr. uh, Frank, where are you? Would I have to move halfway around the world?"
"You'd probably be travelling all over it, at least for awhile. After six months to a year, though, we will be settling down outside of the U.S. for a year or two. Of course," he added reluctantly, "You wouldn't have to move, if you didn't want to. We could set you up with a small office, or you could work from home. It'd be a lot more convenient, though, for you to travel with me." He wanted to kick himself. He sounded like some teenager asking for a first date!
"Oh, Frank! It's so good to hear you planning again! I'd love to become a world traveler. Is there anything I can do while I'm still at the office?"
"Not really," he replied. "Just relax and enjoy your last few days there. And I'm glad to hear you call me 'Frank'. We'll be working very closely for awhile, and every time you call me 'Mr. Weatherly' I start to look around for my dad. I had to put up with that crap from my secretary, but I won't take it from my Personal Assistant."