“And, last but not least, Egypt has Susan Bailey Salaam—they’re calling her the reincarnation of Cleopatra,” Hal Briggs added. “She was elected in a landslide and cheered in eight different African and Middle East capitals the night of her election. It’s pretty amazing to watch. Less than a month ago she had almost gotten herself blown up and was on the run, being hunted down by assassins—now, she’s not only president, but being considered the up-and- coming leader of the whole freakin’ Arab world.”

“And naturally, the Central African Petroleum Partners are not happy with this arrangement—right?”

“You got it,” Luger said. “Egypt is the majority partner, and Salaam has been allowing more Arab and African workers in to work at Salimah, displacing the Asians and Europeans.”

“And with the price of oil hitting new highs, all those folks are getting mighty rich,” Briggs added.

“Speaking of which.” David Luger held out three envelopes. “Wire-transfer receipts: our payment from the Central African Petroleum Partners. Paul made you executor of his estate.”

Patrick looked at the receipts in the envelopes, closed his eyes, then dropped them on a table. “It’s a lot of money,” he said softly. “But was it worth it, guys?” he asked.

“It’s never worth it when you take losses, man,” Briggs said. “But we all volunteered. We’re all doin’ what we want to be doin’.” He looked carefully at Patrick; then: “Aren’t we?”

Patrick did not—could not—answer.

SKY MASTERS INC. TEST FACILITY,
 TONOPAH TEST RANGE, NEVADA
 THE NEXT MORNING

Jon Masters found Kelsey Duffield at a computer workstation in the research library, sound asleep, with a blanket thrown over her shoulders. Her mother, Cheryl, was asleep in a chair in a comer of the room, but awoke immediately when Jon entered—and she did not look happy.

“I’ve been looking for you guys. Your phones are off,” Jon whispered.

“Kelsey has been working all night—she refused to leave,” Cheryl said. “She’s been on the phone to scientists and laboratories all over the world. I finally had to shut it off—we had no chance of getting any rest otherwise.” She awakened her daughter and told her to go to the bathroom. Kelsey walked out, rubbing her eyes and shuffling along like kids who just woke up do.

“Poor kid. She’s a trouper, that’s for sure.”

“ ‘Trouper’? She’s being overworked—and I’d say this verges on abuse,” Cheryl said angrily. “Keeping her locked up in this place ... spending days on end on that computer or in the lab. It’s ridiculous. You can’t expect her to keep on working like this.”

“Cheryl, I’m not expecting her to do any of this,” Jon said. “Kelsey is the one who walked into library and hasn’t come out.”