Their lunches came. Tom liked red meat, steaks preferably. Hutch tended to stay with fruit and veggies and sometimes grilled chicken, which of course in that era, like the steaks, wasn’t a product taken from live animals. Where health was concerned, it didn’t really make much difference what anyone ate. Just don’t eat too much.

“I don’t suppose,” Tom said, “that you could arrange for me to go with you?”

“I doubt they’d allow that, Tom.” Then she saw he was kidding.

“Yeah, I’d probably have a problem making my rounds.”

The conversation lightened. They talked about movies and TV shows. Tom told her about a couple of arrests he’d made. One guy had gotten upset about a restaurant bill and thrown a tantrum, as well as a dish of broccoli and potatoes across the room. “He did this while Angie and I were sitting at one of the tables.” Angie was his partner.

“Another guy got angry with his girlfriend and started breaking shop windows. We were parked across the street.”

“I never thought of policing,” said Hutch, “as a comical job.” Her commlink vibrated. It was Blanchard. “Let me take this, Tom. Just be a second.” She leaned down toward it. “Yes, Derek.”

“Hi, Priscilla. Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“I’m at lunch with a friend. Is everything okay?”

“I hope so. The project is getting more media attention than we’d like. There are a lot of people out there who are trying hard to shut us down. The media will probably want to talk to you. We just need you to be careful what you say. Okay?”

They got back to talking about some of the silly things people do while committing crimes, like waving at security cameras, leaving fingerprints on a counter at the bank, calling each other by names that allow detectives to trace them. “By the way,” Tom said, “I don’t know if I told you. I’m being promoted to detective.” A wave of false humility brightened his eyes.

Hutch got up, walked around the table, and kissed him. “Congratulations. I suspect you’ll be a natural.” Her commlink vibrated again. She checked it as she returned to her seat.

“More starship people?” Tom asked.

“No. WCSM.”

“Well, there’s another interview for you.”

She hesitated and decided finally not to answer. Minutes later there was another call, from the Arlington Courant. She shut it off.

“You know,” said Tom, “they’ll be waiting for you when you get home.”

“Yeah. Probably.”

“You can hide out at my place if you want.”

She trusted him implicitly, but it still wasn’t a good idea. “They’ll catch up with me eventually.”

•  •  •