“I know.” Harry hesitated, wondering how Anson would react to being questioned, but worked up the courage to say, “Mr. Anson, is it all right if I ask you a question?”
“Certainly,” Anson replied grandly. Then, with a sly wink, he added, “I don’t guarantee that I’ll answer it, though.”
Harry forced a perfunctory laugh.
“So what’s your question, son?”
Trying not to let his nervousness show in his voice, Harry said, “When… when the accident happened and Pete Quintana died, I thought—we all thought, actually—that you’d pick Monk Delany to replace Pete as program engineer.”
Anson’s face went dour. For several long moments he said nothing while Harry berated himself for going too far.
At last Anson said slowly, “Not Delany. No, Harry, he wouldn’t do. Not serious enough. I needed a man who could get the job done. That man is you, Harry, and nobody else.”
Swallowing before he could speak again, Harry said, “Thank you, sir. I was . . . well, sort of surprised when you picked me.”
With a thin smile, Anson said, “That’s one of your good qualities, my boy. You don’t have a swelled head.”
Harry couldn’t think of a thing to say.
Anson went on. “I’ve talked General Scheib into giving us a go-ahead for flight tests as soon as we prove the rebuilt laser works.”
“Flight tests?”
“Yes. That’s where the real money is, Harry. Systems integration and then flight tests.”
“We’ll have to test the COIL on the ground first, make sure we’ve got all the bugs out.”
“Of course,” said Anson. “Of course. But I want to stress to you, Harry, how important this program is. I’ve sunk a lot of the company’s money into your COIL. I’m swinging for the fences with this one.”
Harry thought, It isn’t
Anson went on. “You see, Harry, I believe in this laser idea. The United States is under threat, you know. A grave threat. It’s bad enough that the Russians and the Chinese have whole fleets of ballistic missiles aimed at us —”
“I thought they agreed to retarget their missiles, just like we did,” Harry interrupted. “They signed an agreement, didn’t they? A treaty?”
Anson waved an impatient hand. “They could target them back on our cities in a matter of hours.”
Harry nodded.
“But it’s these other people who really threaten us. The Russians and Chinese know that if they try to hit us we’ll smash them back to the Stone Age with an overwhelming counterstrike. But what about terrorists? What about the crazies in North Korea and Iran?” A blue vein in Anson’s forehead began to throb. “They’re fanatics! They’re not worried about a counterstrike. All they want is to hurt us as deeply as they can! Blow up an American city! Cripple our economy! Bend us to their will!”
“So the airborne laser—”
“Will be our first line of defense. We’ve got to be able to stop their missiles as soon as they fire them at us. And they’ll be firing them at us, never doubt it.”
Harry picked up his glass and took a gulp of soda. “We’ve got a lot of work to do,” he said.
“We do indeed, Harry,” Anson said, nodding grimly. “And I’ll be perfectly frank with you, son: the company’s entire future is riding on that laser. If it fails, if we can’t make it work and we lose the contract, Anson Aerospace could go bankrupt.”
“The whole company?” Harry felt startled.
“The whole company,” Anson confirmed. “I’ve staked just about everything on this one program.”
“Wow.”
Anson took a sip of amontillado, then asked, “Do you know why you weren’t laid off after the accident?”
Harry’s guts clenched. One of the laser team’s technicians, Andy McMasters, had been fired. Harry had expected the ax to fall on his neck, but they had booted McMasters instead.
Without waiting for Harry to reply, Anson went on. “Levy suggested we let you go, you know. He wanted to find a scapegoat to blame for the accident.”
Harry nodded wordlessly.
“But I knew that the rest of your team looked up to you, Harry. I knew the accident wasn’t your fault. I knew we needed you to get the COIL back on track.”
“Me?”
Anson nodded wisely. “You.”
Dumbfounded, Harry mumbled, “Thank you, sir.”
Anson reached out and grasped Harry by the shoulder. “You’re important to us, son. Important to me.”
“But I’m just an engineer,” Harry protested, his back twinging. “Dr. Levy’s the one—”
Waving an impatient hand, Anson said, “Levy’s a scientist. He’s fine in the lab, of course, but what I need now is a man who can make that contraption really work. I don’t need equations and theories, I need performance. I need you, Harry. You’re my program engineer.”
Harry blinked at the man who owned the lab, owned the corporation, owned his future. “I’ll do my best, Mr. Anson.”
Gripping Harry’s shoulder tightly enough to make Harry wince, Anson said earnestly, “I know you will, son. That’s why I want you running the test team every step of the way. When the COIL is integrated into that jumbo jet, I want you to run the flight test program. Wherever that plane goes, you go.”
Harry felt his jaw drop open. “Me?”
“Make it work, Harry,” said Anson. “I’m counting on you. We’re all counting on you. The company’s ass is on the line.”
“I’ve never lost my temper without regretting it, Harry told himself as he tossed his garment bag on the motel room’s sagging bed. He cursed himself for being an idiot. You pop off at the wrong time and make a mess of everything.
He unzipped the bag and started pulling his rumpled shirts out of it. The room had a bureau and a wardrobe. One hand filled with the shirts, Harry yanked at the top bureau drawer. It stuck and the shirts spilled out of his hand onto the threadbare carpet.
Harry fought down an urge to kick the shirts all across the room. Instead he sat on the bed and buried his face in his hands.
You and your big mouth, he said to himself. You and your stupid temper. You hold it in and hold it in, and then when you let it go you ruin everything.
When Anson announced that Harry was now head of the laser team, Harry had expected Monk to be disappointed, maybe even angry. Instead Delany looked almost relieved.
“You deserve it, Harry,” he’d said. “Anson knows he can trust you.”
Harry thought that what Monk was really saying was that Anson knew he could make Harry jump through hoops. So what? Harry said to himself. Angel Reyes started calling Harry
Sylvia took the news calmly enough, except to ask, “Does a raise go with it? You’re going to be putting even more hours into the job, aren’t you? You ought to get a raise.”
Harry didn’t have the nerve to ask Anson, or even Jake Levy, if he should expect an increase in salary.
For nearly three months after the accident Harry had been working at Anson’s test facility out in the Mohave, sweating away feverishly to rebuild the COIL. Victor Anson himself had come out to the desert twice to inspect his
