“Really?”
“Really. And what kind of an idiot do you think I am, sleeping with an employee?”
She shrugged. “But the rumor is out there, Mr. Randolph. Maybe you should allow me to put it to rest.”
He shook his head. “I’m not going to dignify a piece of crap like that. No comment at all.”
Her expression turned impish. “Not even to deny it?”
Dan stared at her. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Righteous indignation always tickles me.”
“Son of a bitch,” Randolph muttered.
“You may have noticed,” Vicki said, “that I turned off the camera several moments ago.”
“So?”
“So I’m not here to smear you or Mrs. Aarons or anyone else. I’m merely trying to get a story.”
He planted his fists on his hips and told himself to calm down. Play her right or she’ll do a hatchet job on you.
Adair stuck his head out of the Citation’s cockpit window “Should I start crankin’ her up?” he called.
Dan gestured for him to wait without taking his eyes off Vicki Lee. “What kind of a story are you looking for?” he asked her.
She didn’t hesitate an eyeblink. “One that can get me off the damned financial desk. I’d really love to work for Aviation Week.”
“That’s setting your sights pretty high.”
“Why not? I’m worth it.”
“Really?”
“Really and truly, Mr. Randolph.”
Jabbing a thumb toward the plane, Dan said, “Okay. You want to fly back to Matagorda with us? We can talk without interruption for a couple of hours.”
She broke into a wide smile. “My bags are in the car. I’ve got to drop it off at the rental office.”
Dan started walking beside her toward the burgundy Corolla. “I’ll get somebody to drop off the car for you.”
“Can you?”
“Sure. No problem. Always happy to cooperate with the news media.” He laughed, wondering how cooperative she would be with him.
Countdown to Launch
Very, it turned out.
Once they landed at the company airstrip on Matagorda Island, instead of taking Vicki to his own one-room apartment halfway down the hangar catwalk from his office, Dan drove her to the Astro Motel, a few miles away from the airstrip.
“A Jaguar convertible,” Vicki said, impressed, as he tossed her luggage and his own battered travel bag into the trunk.
“Ten years old,” he gruffed as he slid in behind the steering wheel. “I spend more time under the chassis trying to keep it running than I do driving her.”
Vicki nodded as if she thought he was merely making an excuse for an extravagance.
The motel was legally owned by Astro Corporation, but operated quite independently by a local Calhoun County family who had gladly added the hospitality industry to their generations-long business of renting fishing boats and guiding tourist hunters through carefully stocked “safaris” across Matagorda Island. Despite being less than five years old the motel already had a slightly seedy, run-down look to it. The family who ran it was hardly ever there; they far preferred to take their profits to Las Vegas and hand them over to card dealers and slot machines.
Vicki didn’t seem to notice the motel’s slightly tacky décor. She didn’t demur when Dan registered her as a corporate guest and toted his own travel bag along with hers into the room. Two queen-sized beds, same as every room in the place. They ate dinner together in the motel’s restaurant; she hardly paid attention to the food as she pumped Dan for the story of his life. He thought that her indifference to the cooking was a good thing, considering its quality, while he spun out a carefully edited version of his days working in space for Yamagata and his goal of making the first working solar power satellite here in the United States of America.
She seemed to take it for granted that they would sleep together. Dan had no objections; in fact, he worried that if he didn’t have sex with her she’d get sore. Hell hath no fury, he reminded himself. Besides, it had been a long time since he’d had a sexual romp. Months. Seemed like years.
When Dan awoke the next morning, Vicki was still sleeping soundly beside him. He slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom, wondering if this little tumble in the hay would help silence the rumor about him and Hannah or make things worse. Every time you think with your gonads, he berated himself, you screw nobody but yourself.
As he looked back at Vicki’s fleshy naked body entangled in the sweaty sheets, he laughed inwardly. And damned well, too, he added.
Lifting his toiletries kit from the travel bag he’d left on the unoccupied bed, Dan closed the bathroom door softly and went through his morning shower, brushed his teeth, and started to shave. As he stared into the mirror at his lathered face, though, he thought of Jane.
Haven’t seen her in—what is it now, five years? No, damned near six. And you’re still thinking of her. Last night in bed with Vicki he had fantasized about Jane Thornton, the woman he had fallen in love with all those years ago, the woman who had moved out of his life and gone back to her native Oklahoma to be a United States senator.
He nicked himself. Damn! Love hurts, he thought.
When Dan came out of the bathroom Vicki was sitting up in bed, the sheet modestly tucked across her bosom, chattering into her cell phone. She smiled at him without missing a syllable.
Dan motioned for her to put the phone down. She did, covering the tiny mouthpiece with her free hand.
“I’ve got to get back to my office in Houston,” she said, “or else—”
“Don’t you want to see the rocket launch?”
“Rocket launch?”
Nodding, Dan said, “If the weather holds we’ll be launching an OTV around ten this morning.”
“What’s an OTV?”
“Orbital transfer vehicle. A little shuttle bus that can take crews from low Earth orbit up to geosynch, where the power satellite is.”
“Geosynchronous orbit,” Vicki said, as if answering a test question. “That’s the twenty-four-hour orbit. Twenty-two thousand miles above the equator.”
It’s twenty-two thousand and three hundred, Dan corrected silently. But what the hell, she’s got the basic idea.
“They want me back at the office as soon as I can get there,” she said.
“You want to get connected with Aviation Week? Cover this launch for them as a freelancer. Make an impression.”
He could see the wheels churning in her head. It took her all of three seconds to put the phone back to her ear and say, “I’m going to stay for Astro’s launch of a rocket… Yes, a rocket launch. They’re putting up an OTV. Orbital transfer vehicle. It’ll make great footage.”
By eight-forty-five they were back in the forest green Jaguar, speeding along the empty road the few miles to the Astro complex. Dan had the top down. It was cloudy and cool, with the wind whipping past. Hope there’s no problem with the weather, he said to himself.
Once in his office, Dan’s executive assistant brought them a breakfast of coffee and English muffins, an obvious frown on her face. Jealousy? Dan wondered. No, he decided. April was young and popular and so good-looking that even the rednecks forgot she was an African American. Could she be suspicious of this news reporter? April’s damned sharp, Dan said to himself. She’s got sensitive antennae.
When he led Vicki up to the roof of the hangar, the clouds were breaking up and the Sun was beginning to heat the morning. To his surprise, Dan saw a thin haze of fog over by the beach.
“Are all these buildings yours?” Vicki asked, turning a full circle.
“All my domain,” Dan replied. “As far as the eye can see, almost.”
“Wow.”
He pointed to the wall of live oaks and pines off to the right. “Those trees mark the end of Astro Corporation’s property and the edge of the state park.”