“You know who they are,” Helen said, rolling her eyes with mock exasperation. “Conan David Duffield is the retired founder of SumaTek, the largest very-high-speed integrated-circuit design company in the world and the pioneer of nanotechnology. We have used SumaTek chips in our designs for ten years. He’s in his late forties, degrees from Rutgers and Cornell, he’s into French and Napa Valley wine, humane treatment of animals, and private schools, including providing scholarships to good students who otherwise couldn?t afford a private-school education. His new acquisition company is called Sierra Vistas Partners. He’s the money guy—he buys, rehabilitates, grows, and sells distressed high-tech companies.”

“Hey, this company is not ‘distressed.’ ”

“I’m not saying it is, Jon,” Helen said quickly. But they both knew better—the combination of a downtuming stock market, a glut of fairly modem Russian and Chinese weapons on the global arms market, and vastly lower defense spending had depressed stock values and affected thousands of defense-related companies all over the world, including Sky Masters Inc.

“His wife is Dr. Kelsey D. Duffield, Ph.D.,” Helen went on. “I don’t have that much info on her—she keeps more to herself. I hear she’s much younger than he is. She’s the front person: she investigates and evaluates companies, then reports to him.”

“What’s her degree in?”

“Which one? She has six or seven of them, including two Ph.D.s—electrical engineering, math, physics, computer-language design, chemistry, and a couple others. Speaks seven languages, plays concert-quality piano, writes music, and is an expert-level downhill skier and chess player. They have one child—I don’t know her name.”

“Sheesh, is this the definition of a dysfunctional family, or what?” Jon quipped. Helen scowled at him. “I’m only kidding. Sounds like a perfectly wonderful, albeit super- overachieving family unit. Wonder what the little girl’s going to grow up like?” Helen looked at him with a knowing smile—she was looking at him. “Don’t answer that.”

“Can we go now?”

“All right, all right, let’s meet the whiz family. But after this, no more meetings until our guys are safe.”

“Deal.”

“And we are not selling them the company,” Jon added. Helen said nothing. The answer to that question, at least for the time being, was not up to them. “Let’s go.”

They walked out of Jon’s office, and Suzanne escorted them to the conference room. The folks waiting for them stood politely when they entered. Kelsey Duffield was a pretty woman in her mid-thirties, her reddish-blond hair tied back behind her neck. She wore a simple silk business suit and carried a thin briefcase, and she had a good, strong handshake and a confident, pleasing smile.

“Very pleased to meet you, Dr. Duffield,” Jon said as he stepped quickly into the room, extending a hand and shaking hers enthusiastically. “I’ve heard a great deal about you.”