the options in the world, but in her heart of hearts, she was certain he would eventually side with Sam.
Sam began to pummel them with facts and figures. Mitch grabbed one of Angela's scratch pads and took copious notes, filling up one page and then quickly flipping to the next.
Susannah listened and said nothing.
Eventually her silence grew oppressive to Sam. He planted the flat of his hand on the table and leaned down. 'We've already seen what happens when we splinter, Susannah. For chrissake, we have to work together on this as partners. We have to speak with one single voice.'
'And I'll bet you think that voice should be yours,' she snapped.
'That's crap, Susannah. Why don't you stop taking potshots for a while and start acting like a team player?'
'All right.' She stood up and walked over to the kitchen counter. 'All right, I'll be a team player. I'll reduce all this discussion to one simple question-the only question. Are we going to tell Databeck about the bug or not?'
Mitch looked down at his notepad and drew the outlines of a box. He traced the border over and over again with his pen.
As always, Sam declared a spade a spade. 'Databeck would snatch that offer back in a second if they knew about these machines. Unless we keep quiet, there isn't any offer.'
'Then that makes our decision simple, doesn't it? Are we liars or aren't we?'
Mitch slammed down his pen. 'Susannah, I have to tell you that I resent your condescending tone. You don't have any special pipeline to heaven.'
'We had a mission,' she said, her voice catching on the last word. 'We set out on an adventure together, and we've always been true to it. We didn't lie. We didn't cheat or steal or take shortcuts. And we made money beyond our wildest dreams. But making money was never what the adventure was about. It was only part of it. The adventure was about pushing ourselves and finding our own excellence.'
Mitch stood up. 'Those are wonderful words, but we're trying to decide the future of thousands of people here.'
'They're not just words!' she exclaimed, her heart pumping in her chest, as she tried desperately to make them understand. 'We've been put to the test.'
Mitch made a dismissive sound and scowled.
'People are put to the test everyday,' she declared. 'Just not as dramatically as it's happened to us. A clerk puts too much change in your hands. Do you give it back? A friend tells a racist joke. Do you laugh? Are you going to cheat on your taxes? Water down the liquor? When does a person take a stand? When do we say, 'Stop! That's enough! This is what I believe in, and I'll stand by it until I die.''
The corners of Sam's mouth twisted sardonically. 'Don't you love this? Listen to the rich girl talk. Only someone who has never been poor could be so morally pure.'
The muscles in the back of her neck ached with tension and her palms were damp as she pleaded with them to understand. 'Don't you see? We've slammed right up against the morality of our own lives.'
'This is business,' Mitch said. 'We're merely discussing a business deal.'
'No,' she retorted. 'It's a lot more than that.'
He gazed at her with a combination of pain and wonder. 'You want us to hang on even if those beliefs are going to take us on a death ride?'
'Yes. Yes, I do.' She walked closer to him, until only the corner of the table separated them. 'Ever since I was born, people have been telling me what the rules of life are. My grandmother, my father.' She gazed over at the man who was still her husband. 'And you, Sam. You, most of all. But none of those definitions ever seemed quite right to me. Now-today-right at this moment-I know exactly who I am. I know what I believe in. And I believe in our mission. I've always believed in it. Our mission statement isn't just what SysVal is about. It's what life is about. Quality, excellence, honesty, taking pride in what we do no matter what that might be, and standing by it. That's what makes life good.'
Sam's face had grown rigid and Mitch looked shaken. She turned toward Yank so she could judge his reaction, and saw that his expression was as blank as a sheet of white paper. While she had been spilling out her soul, he had been in a world of his own, not paying the slightest bit of attention.
Sick at heart, she moved away. The edge of the counter dug into the top of her hip as she sagged against it. They were going to end the adventure. She could sense it. Their brave and daring adventure was going to be transformed into something loathsome and unclean. She wanted to hurt them for what they were doing, and the only way she could hurt them was to make them speak the truth aloud about themselves.
'I'm calling for a vote.' Her voice was hollow. 'Are we going to tell Databeck the truth or not?'
'A vote between the four of us means nothing,' Mitch said. 'It's obvious that we're going to be splintered.'
'No! I want a vote. I'm putting all of us to the test. Right now. Right this moment. We've slammed against the wall, and each one of us has to take a stand. We have to declare what we believe in.'
Mitch reached out toward her. The gesture was awkward, almost as if he thought he could stop her flow of words with his hand. She moved past his reach, determined to see this through to the end.
'Yank, how do you vote? Do we tell Databeck the truth about the machines or not?'
Yank blinked and looked faintly befuddled. 'Well, of course we tell them. It would be dishonest not to.'
She stared at him and absorbed his absolute certainty. At that moment, comprehension swept over her, an awareness so new and yet so old she couldn't believe that she hadn't understood it long go. The vision of excellence and integrity that Sam carried like an evangelist into the world had come from Yank. Sam had merely found the words to define everything that Yank believed in.
She gave Yank a shaky smile and looked at her husband.
As she stared into his eyes, one part of her still yearned to reach out to him, but she understood with absolute certainty that was no longer possible. 'Sam? Please, Sam.'
'Sometimes the end justifies the means,' he muttered.
'What about our mission? Please,' she begged him. 'Think about our mission. Think about what it means.'
'Too many people depend on us,' he said flatly. 'Too much money is involved. I vote no.'
Some precious spark of optimism, a naive belief in the invincibility of the human spirit, died within her. Her throat felt tight and swollen as she turned to Mitch and uttered his name.
His face was pale, his words clipped. 'This is ridiculous, Susannah. Completely meaningless. There are complexities here, subtleties that need to be examined and discussed.'
All the confused emotions she felt for him were choking her. 'I'm putting you to the test, Mitch,' she whispered. 'Do we tell them or not?'
He dropped his head. Stared down at the floor. As she saw the stoop to those broad shoulders she had so often leaned upon, she was overcome with a sense of her own arrogance. Who was she to hold Mitch up to judgment? He was a good man. She had no right to do this to him.
He spoke, his voice low-pitched and sad. 'Yes. Yes, we tell them the truth.'
A rush went through her-hot and cold at the same time, the birth of something new and strange.
Sam slumped against the wall. His shoulders hunched forward, his head sagged. Everything about him spoke defeat. She walked over to him, her sneakers making soft little squeaks on the floor, and this time she touched him, the lightest brush of her fingers against his hand. 'We have a few months,' she whispered. 'Help us make a miracle.'
'No,' he said belligerently. 'No, there aren't going to be any miracles.'
She laced her fingers through his and squeezed them, trying to pass her strength to him as he had once passed it to her. 'You can find one if you want to. You can do anything. I believe it, Sam. I've always believed it.'
'You're a fool. A stupid, self-destructive fool.' He dropped her hand and gazed at her with bleak angry eyes. 'You'll have my letter of resignation on your desk Monday morning.'
A murmur of protest slipped through her lips.
'I'm quitting,' he said. 'The terms of our partnership agreement give the three of you sixty days to buy me out. I'm going to hold you to it.'
She wanted to be angry with him, but instead she experienced a splintering sensation of separation. Lifting her hand, she cupped the cheek of the man she had once loved so well and so unwisely. 'Don't do it, Sam. Don't walk
