Shadow Watch

“It isn’t just that. The children are both in school—”

“Gordian’s offered to arrange for them to attend the best private school on the coast and pay their full tuition indefinitely. He will also take care of any day care and tutorial needs that may arise from the transition.”

“Sir—” She paused, overwhelmed. “I appreciate your offer. And Mr. Gordian’s generosity. But I need to think about this.”

“I understand.” He gulped down some coffee. “Take half an hour.”

She looked at him, speechless, wondering for a stunned moment if he might have been joking. The unchanged sobriety of his expression told her he wasn’t.

“I’d been hoping for somewhat more time,” she said. “A day or two—”

“And you ought to have at least that long. Unfortunately, though, the media leeches have turned up the rheostat. You know the atmosphere they’ve created. People expect everything from civil wars to natural disasters to be paced like hour dramas, their storylines concluded in time for the eleven o’clock news, and when reality conflicts with that expectation, sentiments can turn ugly. I promise that you won’t be pressured into rushing the investigation, but we need to demonstrate that we’re moving quickly to get the ball rolling. The Kazakhstan launch can’t be held up.”

Annie shook her head a little. “I’m not quite sure I see the connection. Apart from coordinating our schedules, the Russian mission was intentionally planned to be independent of Orion, and ought not be affected.”

“I know that, and you know that, but they’ve gotten cold feet before. Citing technical problems for every delay, when all it’s ever boiled down to is their unwillingness — or inability, I want to be fair — to pay for their own ticket to the show. As Gordian reminded me, they are quite capable of bumping their launch if they get jittery about the United States backing away from its financial commitments.”

Even before Dorset was finished talking, Annie had realized she couldn’t argue that with him on that count. He was right. Absolutely right.

She had nodded in agreement and risen from her seat.

“I’ll be in my office,” she had said.

“And get back to me in thirty?”

“In thirty,” she’d assured him.

And here she was, here she was, the clock ticking down, leaving her with less than five minutes to give him her answer.

Her fingers drummed the desk. Why was she having such trouble making a decision? Dorset’s offer should have been irresistible. The kids would love Florida, especially knowing they would return home to their regular gaggle of friends once the investigation was concluded. With Orlando and all its razzle-dazzle tourist attractions less than an hour’s drive away, she could arrange her schedule so that every weekend would be a visit to paradise for them. And for her it would mean the chance to make certain no effort was spared in determining what had made Orion go up in flames, why Jim Rowland had died in such a horrible way… and to see that no other astronaut was ever threatened by a similar malfunction.

Annie probed her mind for the basis of her hesitation. Could it be she was afraid of failing to discover the cause of the fire, and thus failing Jim as well? Or was there some other underlying reason she was holding back, a failure of a different sort that had kept her chained and manacled in a dungeon of self-reproach since the night Mark died. Maybe, just maybe, she was like a prisoner acclimated to captivity who shrinks from her cell door as it is opened in an offer of release, looking directly out into freedom, and feeling a sudden terror that she no longer knows how to live with it.

Unconsciously at first, then with growing awareness, she studied the picture of Mark and herself in Scotland again, two people exulting in the moment, and welcoming a future that was by its very definition uncertain. Studied the picture, and all at once knew what her response to Dorset would be.

What it had to be.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for the telephone and punched in Dorset’s extension.

His receptionist put her through to him immediately.

“Yes?” he said, taut anticipation in his voice.

“Sir, I’d like to thank you for your offer,” she said. “And also ask if I may have Roger Gordian’s phone number, so I can express my appreciation for his support. And personally inform him of my acceptance.”

An instant after reading Gordian’s number off the display of his pocket computer, Dorset congratulated Annie Caulfield on her decision, hung up the phone, then rose from behind his desk and went over to the coffee machine on its small stand across the office. This would be his fourth — or was it his fifth? — mug of the morning and he’d only gotten in a bit over an hour ago. But what the hell, who was counting — he had enough to occupy his mind without keeping a tally.

He lifted the pot from its warming plate, filled his mug almost to the brim, and took a drink of the strong black brew while still standing at the machine. He began to feel calmer right away. How was it he always needed to be sipping a beverage loaded with caffeine, a stimulant, to relax? Though one could, of course, ask the same thing about chain smokers, nicotine being another notorious hyper-upper. Perhaps it was simply an oral fixation, as with overeaters. After all, what inherent calmative properties might there be in a sausage pizza, a Subway sandwich, or a cheeseburger with a side of batter-fried onion rings?

Dorset sipped the coffee down to a level where he could carry it without spilling any on his hand, then returned to his desk and sat. The affirmative answer from Caulfield was excellent news, especially in light of her initial reluctance to take on the job. An understandable reluctance too. She’d been through a lot in the past year. Her husband’s cancer, and then her not making it to his bedside the night he’d passed on. That part of the tragedy — not being there at the end — had devastated her, and for a time afterward Dorset had privately braced for her resignation.

Yet she had rebounded somehow. The woman kicked ass, no two ways about it. Dorset presumed the demands of getting a crew trained and ready for the Orion mission must have helped keep her going. But now, to have lost Jim Rowland, who had been like a brother to her… ass-kicker or not, there was only so much weight a person could carry. She had every reason to want to distance herself from the investigation, never mind refuse its leadership responsibilities. Which was a major reason he hadn’t seriously considered her for the position until Roger Gordian’s phone call.

Dorset raised the steaming mug to his lips and drank. Annie’s acceptance had given him a lift, but he wondered why it hadn’t proven greater than it was. He had no reservations about her being able to tackle the job, and indeed, felt her talents could not be overestimated. Maybe, then, the flatness of his mood had to do with Gordian exercising his clout. Not that he’d been heavy-handed. On the contrary, if there was a gentle way to remind someone you were holding him by the balls, Gordian had the touch. But from the moment he had suggested that Annie Caulfield head the Orion task force, Gordian had made it crystal clear his wishes were to supersede any other considerations Dorset might have about making the appointment. And also that, barring an outright refusal from Annie, he wouldn’t take “no” for an answer.

Yes, Dorset thought with a swallow of coffee, it was largely his resentment over Gordian’s intervention that had robbed some of the moment’s luster. But that wasn’t all of it. Not if he wanted to be honest with himself. There was also the troubling news about Brazil, and his deliberately having kept it from Annie when he ought to have done the opposite. The attack on the base might very well turn out to be unrelated to Orion. He was certainly hoping and praying it would — why assume the worst? But she’d had a right to know about it. To know what she was getting into prior to making her choice. Because once word of the incident leaked to the press, she would be barraged with a shitstorm of wild speculation, and any misstatement from her, however innocent, would be enough to raise suspicions of a cover-up from some of her questioners. Annie needed to be informed, to be prepared, and he would do it within the next hour… but he had withheld the information earlier so that she couldn’t factor it into her decision, wanting to stack the deck in favor of a positive response.

Wanting to make sure Roger Gordian was accommodated, Dorset thought with a mixture of irritation and guilt. And who’s going to butter my goddamned bun?

He sighed. Orion, Brazil, the Kazakhstan launch… he had the sense that events were moving too fast, getting too far ahead of him. It was as if he was Charlie Chaplin or Buster Keaton in an old silent comedy film, working the pump of a handcar while clownishly trying to catch up with a chugging, whistle- blowing locomotive. Funny. Hysterical even. If you happened to be in the audience, and not sweating it on the