“Oh, you can be sure of that,” Pete replied. “We’ve been summoned to Washington. There are some folks there who want to talk to us.”
“Oh, and who might they be?” I asked with mock surprise. “Are they the ones at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue again?”
“They’re the ones.”
“Say, I got a guy here who’d love to talk with his family. I don’t suppose you can help out with that, can you?”
“Funny you should ask. They’re right here. Wait one…”
With that, I handed my phone to Dave. I gave him a wink, and said, “Just make sure I get that phone back, okay?”
I put my good arm around Marti’s slender waist, looked down at her, and noted the longing in her eyes. It was as if a floodgate of emotions was suddenly opened and I felt myself melting in her arms.
I turned and nodded at the Old Man and Eric. With my arm around Marti, we headed out of the room.
“Anybody hungry?” I asked.
“You could say I’ve worked up an appetite, yes,” Marti said with a devious grin.
I smiled back at her. I hadn’t felt this good in a really long time.
EPILOGUE
Three days later, I was driving across the high desert of Arizona, heading for NeXus headquarters in Virginia, windows down, music on low. Marti was in the passenger side bucket seat, sandals off, and her bare feet are tucked up to one side, underneath her. The dry desert air was blowing her hair back and her dress up, both of which I was enjoying. We weren’t talking very much, just enjoying the moment.
Some time later we heard on the radio that “…the limo belonged to a Mr. Waxman of Waxman Industries. He was a giant in the world of trade negotiations with countries such as China. However, recent reports indicated he had previously undisclosed ties with the Chinese government that brought into question his impartiality. The Senate committee on Foreign Relations had convened a special meeting and issued subpoenas. Mr. Waxman and a close working associate were killed instantaneously. It’s believed the driver was drunk at the time and lost control of the car, steering into oncoming traffic. Mr. Waxman and an aide were killed instantly. This could set back trade negotiations with the Chinese for some time…”
I turned the radio off, looked over at Marti who appeared to be enjoying the drive, and smiled to myself.
Just then my phone rang. Marti shot me a questioning look. She knew my phone number was limited distribution and wasn’t sure we were even in range of a cell tower. She reached for the phone from the console tray it was sitting in. The phone showed only a number, but as an NRC inspector, she had reason to recognize the number. The White House was calling.
I took the phone and said, “Connor…”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book took exactly 18 years, three months, 12 days, and 17 hours to complete, and would never have been finished without persistent, yet gentle encouragement from my wife, Jeanne. She was also my first editor and biggest supporter. She helped me by reading the final revision out loud with me, so we could make the ‘final’ set of changes. Her support and understanding has been invaluable to me throughout this project. Thank you for helping me bring this ridiculous idea of writing a book, to fruition!
Editing the book was a joint effort by everyone who read the draft versions. My daughter Megan and my sister Paula helped me with ideas, corrections, and encouragement. Marilyn, who edits professional writing for a living, fixed all the syntax problems and eliminated all the superfluous commas. My son-in-law Mark added his ideas and drew the illustration.
The setting for this contemporary thriller is the highly controversial world of commercial nuclear power. Like all good tales, this book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of my imagination only, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is coincidental.
Thrillers By Mark Lemke
Red North!
Off The Grid
The Elephant’s Foot