She couldn’t help saying it. “Two hours too many for your wife, maybe.”

He threw the papers down on the desk. “Goddamn you, York, why do you have to be so abrasive?”

“I’m sorry, Joe.” She shook her head. “I guess I’m just—”

“Listen to me,” he said bluntly. “Who the hell knows what’s going to happen? You just keep on doing what you’re doing. Do whatever that bunch of assholes out there does, but do it twice as often, and twice as good. And offer me things they can’t; like your geology training. Keep yourself in the frame. Make yourself indispensable. Who knows where we’ll all be, by 1986?”

For that brief moment she felt oddly cheered — almost confident. He’s right. I’ve gotten this far; maybe I can get through the final barriers. I can do this.

But Muldoon’s eyes started straying to the heaps of papers on his desk.

York was shut out again: she was out in the dark, with her mission prospects — her career, her life — reduced once more to being a matter of little more than guesswork and hope. Her brief warm stab of self-confidence faded as quickly as it had come.

She got out of Muldoon’s office.

June 1981

HEADQUARTERS, COLUMBIA AVIATION, NEWPORT BEACH

When he got up in the morning Lee liked to hit the ground rolling. Jennine fixed him two cups of coffee, both heavily sugared, so the second one had time to cool and he could down it in a gulp, on the run to the black T-bird in the yard.

His first task was to find somewhere to work on the proposal. He spent a day roaming around the plant.

Columbia’s plant was a bunch of decrepit old factory buildings, with the big wind tunnel snaking through the complex. The site worked pretty well for the small-run experimental work that was the norm for CA’s workload. But it was already bursting at the seams.

What Lee needed was office space.

Finally his eye settled on the canteen; it was the only open space big enough to take a hundred people or more.

“This is it. Bella, I want you to get rid of the serving hatches and the goddamn trestle tables. I’ve got drafting tables and desks coming in here.” He squinted upward. “Not enough light. Get some skylights knocked through. And check the power; we’ll need a secured supply for the computers.”

“Yes, sir, JK. But—”

“What is it with you and these buts?”

“Where will we eat?”

Lee waved a hand. “The whole of the goddamn U.S. is full of McDonald’s. Nobody will starve.”

“Yes, sir, JK.”