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Back The Desert of Glass Save as PDF
Chapters (84)
  1. BY MICHAEL C. GRUMLEY
  2. Prologue
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. 60
  63. 61
  64. 62
  65. 63
  66. 64
  67. 65
  68. 66
  69. 67
  70. 68
  71. 69
  72. 70
  73. 71
  74. 72
  75. 73
  76. 74
  77. 75
  78. 76
  79. 77
  80. 78
  81. EPILOGUE
  82. II
  83. III
  84. IV

Townsend shook his head.  “I’m on my lunch break.  My next class isn’t until 1:00.”

“Good.” Angela exhaled.  “Mr. Townsend, we’re here because Mike Morton requested that we find you.”

“He did?”

“Sort of,” replied Joe.

Townsend’s eyes moved to Rickards.  “He sort of told you to find me, or he told you to sort of find me?”

Angela grinned and continued.  “The former.  You see, we knew Mike briefly before he died.”

“Were you with him?”

“Sort of.”

Again, Townsend looked at Rickards.  “You seem to be in a perpetual state of uncertainty.”

Glancing sarcastically at Angela, Rickards nodded.  “You have no idea.”

“Mr. Townsend, we met Mike largely by accident while traveling in South America.”

The professor’s brow rose.  “South America?”

“That’s right.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Several months.”

“When did he die?”

Angela cleared her throat.  “Shortly afterward.  Just a few days later.”

“From?”

“A heart attack, we think.”

Townsend slowly nodded his head.  “I’m very sorry to hear that.  So, why did he want you to find me, sort of?”

“Mike was retired and was in South America after his wife had passed.  He was looking for something.”

“Like what?”

“Before we get to that, can you tell us in what capacity you and Mike worked together?”

Townsend shrugged and leaned farther back in his chair.  “We worked together a lot, actually.”

As he spoke, Rickards glanced around the office, noting the waist-high bookcases filled with textbooks, a large blackboard half-covered in scribbled equations, a window and several black-and-white posters of old but smart-looking men and women.  Then he turned his gaze back to the large wooden desk beneath a short stack of books and the man’s laptop in the middle.

“We joined NASA about the same time,” continued Townsend.  “The first two black mathematicians to join the rocket and propulsion team.”  He grinned.  “It was a different world back then.”

Angela’s mouth fell open, unsure what to say.

“Relax.” Townsend’s grin widened.  “That was a long time ago.  And truth be told, those men weren’t really bigots.  We eventually won them over.”

“H-how?”

Townsend’s lips suddenly grew into a wider grin.  “Hubris.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hubris,” he repeated.

She glanced at Joe.  “I don’t–”

“Ever hear of John Houbolt?”

“No.”

Townsend looked to Rickards, who shook his head.

“How about Wernher von Braun?”

They both shook their heads again.

Townsend rolled his eyes.  “Have you ever heard of the Apollo Mission?”

“As in the moon?”

“Yes.  The moon.  Neil Armstrong?”

“Of course, we’ve heard of Neil Armstrong.”

“Well,” said Townsend, “it was the Apollo Mission that got him there.  And Wernher von Braun and John Houbolt were a large part of it.”

“Von Braun,” he continued, “was a famous German rocket scientist during World War II.”

“A Nazi?”