“Take the money. I don’t want it here.”
He slipped it back into his pocket, eyeing Frazer as he did so. “Half of it can be yours.”
“I’ll let you know.”
After Jack Sergeant left Frazer fixed himself a sandwich and thought about the money.
Two things happened the following day to decide him.
The first was a phone call at work from Maggie’s lawyer. He’d thought the divorce settlement was final, with Maggie getting the house and a comfortable alimony check. Now the lawyer informed him that she was refusing to sign the final papers unless the alimony was increased by fifty percent. After all he’d been through during the divorce, Frazer only wanted to be rid of her. “Tell her I’ll agree,” he said reluctantly.
Perhaps he already knew then that he would accept Sergeant’s offer, but he said nothing when the man arrived at his desk shortly before noon. He went into the tiny conference room to report to Felix Method on his trip, then joked a bit with Frazer and Cynthia. Finally he went off to lunch alone.
When Method left for lunch, Frazer paused in the analysis report he was writing and turned his attention to Cynthia. “Did you have a good time last night?” he asked.
She smiled at him. “Before or after I left you?”
“Both. I was thinking of after.”
“It was dull. I should have taken you up on that dinner offer.”
“We can remedy that quickly enough. How about tonight?”
“Sure! Why not?”
He took her to one of the better restaurants near the office, and then suggested they return to his apartment for a nightcap. She didn’t object. They made love for several hours, until she finally said she had to go, sometime after one o’clock. Reluctantly he drove her back to her car.
Later, in bed, he reached his decision. He needed money for Cynthia Raymond. She was the sort who liked nice things, good food, fancy restaurants. And he needed money for Maggie’s alimony. There was no harm in playing along with Jack Sergeant for a month or so. He could always quit any time he wanted.
He told Sergeant the following day, and they had lunch together. After lunch he stopped at the bank to deposit nine thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills. “Keep it under ten grand,” Sergeant had cautioned him. “Banks have to report deposits of ten thousand or more to the government.”
Programming the Sky-Eye satellite to photograph the areas they needed was easy enough. Frazer had been gradually taking over more of the routine operations from Felix Method, and the older man seemed to welcome the help. He was busy with trips to Washington and meetings with his investors. In the week that followed his luncheon with Jack Sergeant, Frazer was able to supply two complete sets of photographs showing key areas of the Mediterranean, Israel, and the Persian Gulf. His only problem was in doctoring the records to explain why the satellite had been instructed to transmit the photos to the earth station at once, rather than waiting for the less-expensive regularly scheduled relay. He managed to explain it by charging the photos to several of their large-volume accounts like the Oceanographic Institute, then issuing credits to cancel the charges before they were billed. He knew Method scrutinized the charges with some care, but generally ignored routine credits. There was always an excuse for credits — clouds over the target area, electronic glitches in the transmission from the satellite, or simply a mistake in the order. Cynthia typed up the orders and credits, and he knew she would come to him with any questions before she would go to Method.
They slept together twice during that following week, enjoying it more each time. But Cynthia was unhappy with her job at Sky-Eye. “I’m nothing more than a secretary and billing clerk,” she grumbled. “Can’t you talk Method into letting me do a bit more photo analysis?”
Frazer rolled over in bed and chuckled. “You’ll have my job before long. Is that what you want?”
“I want something where I can use my brain.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised, though in his heart he knew he preferred her exactly where she was. If Method were to hire a new clerk-typist, she might find reason to question some of the recent charges and credits.
A week later, when Frazer had delivered two more sets of photographs to Jack Sergeant, Method called him into the conference room. “Shut the door, will you, Frazer? I want to speak to you in private about something.”
“What is it?” He sat down opposite Felix Method at the long oak table.
“The people at the Defense Department have been hearing disconcerting stories about certain foreign powers trying to buy high-resolution satellite photos. I gather their information is coming from the CIA. You understand the awkwardness of our position here. We operate with the blessing of the Defense Department, as does Landsat. One word from them and we could be effectively out of business on national security grounds. Have you seen or heard anything — anything at all — which might make you suspicious?”
“Suspicious of what?” Frazer asked, stalling for time as he tried to fathom what the man was after.
“Well, I was thinking specifically of Miss Raymond. She keeps wanting to get into photo analysis, and I’ve noticed you giving her some rudimentary instructions. Do you have any reason to believe she might have an ulterior motive?”
“Certainly not,” Frazer said with something like relief. “She’s simply an ambitious young woman trying to get ahead.”
“She’s never asked you any questions that seemed to go beyond the bounds of mere curiosity?”
“No.”
“She’s never indicated a connection with any foreign government?”
“Of course not! I think the Defense Department’s being unnecessarily edgy about this whole thing. After all, they did set you up in business. And you’re not doing anything the French aren’t doing with their SPOT satellite.”
“They can’t control the French, but they can control us. That’s the difference. You know the trouble they’ve had with the space shuttle and the Titan in recent months. At a time when America has only one spy satellite in a decent orbit over the Soviet Union, they hardly want foreign governments buying pictures at will from private companies.”
“I can assure you Miss Raymond has said or done nothing suspicious.”
“But you’ll keep an eye on her? Just between us?”
“Of course.”
Frazer returned to his desk, giving Cynthia a wink as he passed her. Later she managed to whisper in his ear while bending over the desk. “What’s with X and Z meeting?”
“Nothing that concerns Y,” he whispered back. He remembered telling her she had no designation for Jack Sergeant. It hadn’t seemed to matter then.
As the weeks passed, Sergeant grew increasingly nervous. “You know, Frazer,” he said one night, accepting the familiar large envelope of pictures, “I think Method may be right about foreign powers trying to buy pictures. There’s more than one of them out there. If I had the guts to do it, I’d start putting these pictures out for bids.”
“You’d better be content with what we’re getting. Isn’t it about time for that second twenty grand?”
“I’m meeting him tomorrow night. I’ll bring your share to your apartment.”
“I can use it.” He’d already had to draw out part of the nine thousand for the increased alimony payments.
Cynthia was busy that night, but they had dinner together the following evening. They didn’t meet at the Weather Vane any more, for fear that Felix Method might see them together. Instead they found a small cafe across town with good food and a nice sense of isolation.
Over coffee she asked, “Have you spoken to Method about getting me something more important to do?”