“I’m aware of that.” Hereford’s glance is very, very cold. “At this point I don’t have a whole lot of options left, do I? Your team has given me a program that could very easily do a Big Hacksaw on us. In fact I would bet now that that’s what will happen, no matter what I do. But I still have to take all the last twists I can. It’s possible that the ballistic missile defense problems that everyone else is having will camouflage us. You never know.”

“So what do I do with my team here?” Lemon demands.

“Fire them.” Calmly Hereford looks at him. “Lay off the production unit. Shift the best engineers somewhere else, if there’s room for them.”

“And the executive team?”

Hereford’s gaze never wavers. “Fire them. We’re clearing house, remember? We have to make sure the Air Force sees that we’re serious. Do the usual things, forced retirements, layoffs, whatever it takes. But do it.”

“All right. All right.” Lemon thinks fast. “McPherson’s gone—he’s been in charge of the technical side of Ball Lightning for the last few months, and anyway, after the Stormbee fiasco our Andrews friends will be happy to see him go, no doubt. But Dan Houston, now … Houston’s a useful fellow.…”

In the face of Hereford’s baleful stare Lemon can’t continue. He begins to understand how Hereford got so high so fast. There’s a ruthlessness there that Lemon has never even come close to.…

Finally Hereford says, “Houston too. All of them. And do it fast.”

And then, as he turns to go back to the waiting helicopter: “You’re lucky you aren’t going with them.”

Chapter 79

79

Early that afternoon Dennis McPherson finds out that he is forcibly retired. Dismissed. Fired. The news comes in a freshly printed and stiffly worded letter from Lemon. He’s given two months’ notice, of course, but given his accumulated vacation time and sick leave—and since there’s nothing left to work on, as someone else is overseeing the transfer of the Ball Lightning program to the Florida plant—which is a meaningless and in fact stupid maneuver, as far as McPherson can tell—well … Nothing to keep him here. Nothing at all.

He makes sure with a quick calculation of his vacation days on the desk calculator. Nope. In fact they owe him a few days. But after twenty-seven years of work here, what does it matter?