On Broken Wings (25 page)

"She's fucking you, isn't she?"

The words were a cold shock. The tone was that of the sleaziest baby-kissing politician. Louis's whole body tensed for action. He restrained himself by the narrowest of margins.

I didn't think you'd try that, Malcolm, but you'll get nowhere with it.

"Why, yes, as a matter of fact. Every night and a lot of afternoons, and 'wonderful' doesn't nearly do it justice. Were you expecting me to upend the table and leap at you for saying so?" Loughlin's face turned hard. "That would be a nice way to cap off a request for a favor this large, wouldn't it?" Louis rose from the table and went to lean against the kitchen counter.

"Don't be too disappointed, Malcolm. It probably would have worked on anyone else. But I'm not allowing you any escape hatches. You'll just have to say yes or no, for whatever reasons you can conjure up all on your own. And then you'll have to live with the consequences."

"And what would those be?" Loughlin snarled.

"Ah, the crux of the matter!" Louis permitted himself a brief chuckle. "There's only one way to find out, Malcolm. Knowing how few things surprise you, I wouldn't want to deprive you of this one."

Loughlin rubbed at his forehead. The silence stretched.

"What do you want me to do?"

The words were distorted enough by Loughlin's posture that Louis was unsure he'd really heard them.

"Are you agreeing?"

"Yes, damn it to Hell! Yes! Now tell me what she needs!"

Louis returned to the table, sat across from his mentor, and reached for his hands. Loughlin, surprised by the gesture, did not resist.

Let's see how well the Schliemann Effect works on a really tough case.

"She needs someone to turn to when she has a question." He thought about the discussions of religious topics with Father Schliemann. "She needs someone to remind her not to believe what she's told too readily, just because it sounds good or she likes the source." He thought about Helen. "She needs someone to remind her that sometimes people and things really are what they seem, that unbridled hope and uncontrolled fear can both cloud the mind and distort the vision. And Malcolm," he paused, "this will be the hardest part."

"What?"

Louis squeezed Loughlin's hands between his own.

"She needs someone to care about her, the way you've cared about me. Will you do all that for me, old friend?"

A deep shudder ran through the immortal's body. Louis waited.

"Caring for you has nearly killed me," Loughlin whispered. "I have trained many young men. Some of them have whole sagas devoted to their exploits. None have come near to you. In you I saw a hope for the whole world, as foolish as that might have been."

Is this the man who told me to avoid great deeds like the plague?

"Louis, when you told me of your illness, I was beyond grief. I have never fathered a child, and quite likely I cannot, but perhaps that's just as well, for no child of my body could ever have been as dear to me as you are. If there were some way that my death could buy back your life, I would not hesitate for an instant to accept the bargain."

Awed and humbled into speechlessness, Louis released his mentor's hands. Loughlin grabbed back, maintaining the contact.

"I will care for her with all my powers. Just...don't send her here until you've gone. Please?"

Louis closed his eyes and tipped back his head.

"Of course, Malcolm. If you wish. Thank you."

====

Chapter
24

A flash of morning sun off a polished blue object caught Christine's eye and drew it to the driveway.

"Louis?"

"Hm?" He seemed absorbed in the morning newspaper, which he frequently disdained to read.

"Why is there a second car in our driveway?"

He looked up from the paper and peered out the window.

"Hm. Nice color. Well, there doesn't seem to be anyone in it. Perhaps we'd better have a look."

They went out to the driveway, where a small metallic blue Chrysler sedan glittered in the late summer sun, right behind Louis's old Dodge pickup truck. Christine watched as Louis went to the driver's side door and tried the latch. It opened at once.

"Looks new. Come have a gander, Chris."

She went to peer over his shoulder at the interior of the car. It did look new, and very handsome.

He moved aside and gestured at the driver's seat.

"Try it out. I've had a hankering for one of these for a while."

"Sit in someone else's car? What if he comes back?"

Louis made a show of peering up and down the street. "I don't see anyone. Don't worry, I don't think it's Tiny's. Go ahead, you never know when your next chance to sit in a new car will be. Besides which, it's in our driveway."

She slid into the driver's seat and addressed the controls. It was very nice indeed. The seats were soft leather, and gave off that wonderful aroma of a fine piece of leather upholstery unmatched by anything else. The wheel fit beautifully into her hands. Even the driver's seat position was perfect for her, without adjustment.

"Hey, he left the keys in it!"

"No!" Louis bent over her to look at the set of keys dangling from the ignition switch.

"Massively thoughtless. I'd almost say he deserves to have it stolen. We'd better find out whose this is and see to it that it gets back to him."

"How are we supposed to do that?"

Louis shrugged. "Some people leave their registrations in the glove compartment. Have a look."

She popped open the glove box to find a standard white envelope. It was unsealed. She extracted a few slivers of paper from it and began to shuffle through them. She came upon a title document immediately.

It was made out to
D'Alessandro, Christine M.

She swiveled to stare at Louis, who stood by the driver's door with an expression of pleasant interest.

"Any clues yet?"

She stuffed the wad of papers back into the envelope, returned it to the glove box, and rose from the car. He gave way to let her out. She stared at him for perhaps a minute before his deadpan started to disintegrate into his characteristic grin.

"When did you do this?"

He shrugged. "Yesterday evening, while you were at the computer. I didn't have anything else to do."

"You didn't have anything else to do." He shrugged again. She threw her arms around him and kissed him before breaking into a fit of giggles, in which he immediately joined her.

"You crazy man! How much did this cost?"

He pushed her to arms' length and clucked at her in mock disapproval. "You know better than to ask the price of a gift. If I wanted you to know, I'd have left the price tag on it."

She kissed him again, more thoroughly this time, and held him tight against her.

"You're still a crazy man. But you're my crazy man. Thank you, Louis. Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome, Chris." His voice sounded a little unsteady. "Want to drive me to my morning appointment?"

"Sure! When and where?"

"Don't worry, it's not till ten. We have time to shower. And put on your best outfit, because it's your morning appointment too."

"What? What for? With who?"

"With whom." He leered. "I want you to meet a friend of mine."

"Thought I knew 'em all already."

"Not a chance."

***

Richard Orloff was a man with a problem. He was Director of Software Engineering for Onteora Aviation, and he was running out of software engineers.

It didn't matter how high the salaries rose anymore. It just caused the dwindling stock of competent people to churn among the employers. The universities were turning out a bare trickle of graduates who had the right stuff, a trickle inadequate even to replace the accelerating stream of retirees. Separating out the good ones from the pretenders was a costly job that only the employers could perform. There wasn't much visible difference between them until you saw them at work.

It had been the central problem of his life for four years, and would probably remain so until he retired himself, an event that would be a while in coming. For compensation, he had his own large salary, a luxurious office in OA's Engineering Center, and the most attractive, efficient, and persuasive secretary the company could find. He had ceased to notice any of those things. The recruitment problem was slowly driving him nuts.

I can have as many computers as I want. I just can't find the people to program them.

His tenure had seen the departure of more than half of the engineers in his department. Of the more than one hundred who had retired, jumped ship, or changed trades, he had been able to replace only two. Those that remained were spread out much too thinly for the health of the company or the security of the nation. That he knew the reason for the shortfall did nothing to reduce his distress.

The worst of it was losing Louis Redmond. The little bugger was worth his weight in gold.

Louis had carried the software directorate of Onteora Aviation on his shoulders, and had done it with grace and invulnerable good humor. His capacity had seemed boundless; the more was asked of him, the more he delivered. Project managers had often gotten into shouting matches in hallways over who would be next to get the use of Redmond's skills. Louis had never complained, had done all that was asked of him, on time and within budget, with a composure that nothing seemed to affect.

Orloff had offered to make Louis a project manager himself. The young engineer had declined with a shout of rage.

"How competent do I have to be," he had screamed, "not to get made into a paper shuffler?"

Then came the day, nigh on a year ago, that Louis announced his departure. Orloff had wanted to pass out from shock. He'd offered to let the young engineer set his own salary, define his own working conditions, choose his own projects. None of it had worked. Redmond had mentioned the National Technical Personnel Conscription Act, passed by Congress the day before.

"I will not be a national resource," he'd said. Orloff had tried to reassure him, but Louis had allowed no further discussion.

Since then, Orloff had struggled without hope. He still had some good people left -- Rolf Svenson and Terry Arkham were damned good, and unlikely to be leaving soon, thank God -- but he knew that his central mission, to rebuild the company's expertise base in software design, he would not fulfill. The best he could do was to act as a rationing agency, helping to make the decisions about which projects were to be strangled for lack of technical talent.

Yesterday's call had been quite a surprise. Louis wanted to talk to Orloff. He said he knew someone Orloff ought to meet. Orloff was slavering over the chance to talk Louis into taking back his old responsibilities.

The hours dragged slowly until ten AM.

***

Louis led Christine into Richard Orloff's office. The executive practically charged around his desk to greet them. He pumped Louis's hand hard enough to inflict pain.

"Christ, it's good to see you again, Louis! Want your old job back? I can ram the paperwork through in about five seconds."

Louis laughed. "Whoa, boy. At least finish your hellos first. Christine, this is Richard Orloff. He used to be my boss. Dick, this is Christine D'Alessandro, probably the hottest young software talent you're ever going to meet. Shake hands and come out negotiating, folks."

The statement surprised both Christine and Orloff. Orloff turned toward the young woman and looked at her speculatively; Christine turned to Louis with "why didn't you tell me?" written all over her face.

Orloff broke the silence. "Where did you find her?"

"I didn't find her. I trained her."

"Is she that good?"

"Mind your manners, Dick. The lady is here in front of you. Why not address her directly, the way your mother taught you?"

Orloff flushed. "I'm sorry, Christine...may I call you that?"

"Sure."

"And 'Dick' will do fine for me. Are you as good as my prodigal son over here says you are?"

"Well, if he says so."

The executive blinked. "Have you brought a resume with you, Christine?"

Louis broke in. "Chris didn't know I was bringing her here, Dick. She hasn't worked in the field before this. She doesn't have a college degree. In fact, she doesn't have a high school diploma."

Orloff's gaze returned to Louis. "What?"

"You heard me. She doesn't have any credentials of any kind. I trained her. And I'm telling you that she's as good as I ever was, maybe a little better. Now, do you still have a shortage in the department, or is OA going to stop doing digital avionics systems and open a bakery?"

The executive opened his mouth, then closed it again. He waved them at his guest chairs and resumed his seat at his desk.