Zero-G (18 page)

Myra had arranged to spend the after-school hours with Penny. With the “men” gone, she thought they deserved some girl time. Shopping, a pedicure, and something involving chocolate was on the docket.

“We have about forty minutes before we get our little tootsies done. You want to hit a Starbucks for something sweet, chocolatey, and certain to make us feel guilty?” Myra steered the SUV away from the curb in front of the middle school and into the slow line of cars coagulated in the road.

“Tootsies? You said ‘tootsies.' ”

“Yes, it's true. My vocabulary is awe-inspiring.”

“Um, yeah . . . awe-inspiring . . . And yes to the Starbucks.”

“I've been looking forward to this.”

“Me too, Mom. I have to admit, I was a little envious that Gary got to skip school and fly to California.”

“You and me both. They get to go off on an adventure and I got to go to the office and you to school.”

Myra slowed quickly to avoid bumping the car in front of her. Traffic around the school demanded constant attention. “I can't believe the cars. It seems like things get worse as the year progresses.”

“Don't get us killed until after the pedicure. That way the coroner can put the toe tag around our newly painted . . . tootsies.”

“You have a sick mind, girl.”

“I got half my genes from you, you know.”

“I contributed sweetness and light; your twisted humor comes from your father.”

“Can't argue with that.”

“I'm thinking a mocha latte,” Myra said. “Heavy on the mocha. What about you?”

“Sounds good.”

The road widened to two lanes as they moved into the business district. Myra pulled the car around a slower-moving sedan. . . .

“Where's the boy?” Anthony Verducci showed no signs of being upset, just curious. Still, it made Mark Ganzi nervous.

“I don't know.” Ganzi let another vehicle pass him before pulling the car into the same lane as his mark. “He's only a grade behind his sister. She should have picked both children up.”

“But she didn't.”

“Maybe he has an after-school activity and she's going to pick him up later.”

“Too many maybes. Plans fail because contingencies haven't been considered.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Verducci, keeping track of a busy family of four is impossible for one man. If you allow me to form a team — ”

“No one else. Just us. We're the team. The more you add, the greater the chance for error and betrayal — and the more you have to divide your fee.”

“I agree, but that scenario comes with limitations.”

“Limitations are for limited minds.”

“If you say so.” Ganzi had more to say but kept it to himself.

“I say so. Not too close. No need to tip our hand.” Verducci spoke like a man on the verge of a nap. He showed no emotion, no sense of concern about discovery.

“I've tailed people before, including this woman. I know what I'm doing.”

“Which is why you're making more money for this work than you've ever made before. Not too close.”

Ganzi eased off the accelerator and bit his tongue.

SEVENTEEN

T
ed Roos stood at the window in his office and watched the Cessna Citation begin its taxi. From behind him came the sound of his office door opening then closing.

“I was taught to knock before entering a room,” Roos said, never moving his eyes from the window.

“You made a mistake bringing him here.” The voice belonged to Lance Campbell, one-time NASA astronaut.

“You're the one harboring a grudge against Tucker, not me.” Roos didn't need to see to know that Campbell had moved closer.

“You don't need him. There are many good pilots out there that can do the job as well, no, better than Tucker.”

Roos shook his head. “I doubt that. I agree there are many good pilots to choose from, but none have the currency he does. The world sees the man as a hero. His name can open doors for us.”

“He's no hero. He lost his whole crew.” Bile laced the words.

“You know that wasn't his fault. Everyone knows that. NASA cleared him of any wrongdoing. It's not his fault he lived or that his crew died.”

“I can walk.”

“You're free to do so, but I remind you of our agreement. You will be held to the nondisclosure contract, and that little loan I gave you will be due the week you leave. That was our agreement. You leave before our first successful commercial launch and the monies come due. Do you have half a mill to pay it back?”

“You know I don't.”

“Then I'd say that things are going to continue on just as I planned them.” Roos watched the jet take to the air. He turned to face Campbell. The man's black face looked as if it had permanently hardened into a scowl, and a fine mist of perspiration gave his bald head a sheen. Square across the shoulders, he looked as fit as any man Roos had seen. Campbell stood two inches short of six feet, and his dark eyes glistened with intelligence and anger.

“I'm telling you, Tucker doesn't deserve this opportunity. Even NASA has written him off.”

“So you've told me and I appreciate that bit of info. Their loss is my gain.”

“If they don't trust Tucker, then why should we?”

“We? We?”

“I'm the one strapping myself in next to him, not you.”

“Lance, this has nothing to do with the
Atlantis
tragedy. I've done my research. I know you and Tuck have had a thing against each other since Annapolis. He always finished better than you, right?”

“That has nothing to do with it.”

“He graduated top of his class and you were what? Second? He outscored you in flight school, didn't he? I believe he also went to Top Gun school and you weren't invited? Let it go, Lance, let it go. I asked you to be part of this team because I believe in you. A smart guy like you should notice that I asked you first. You are my go-to guy.” He gave the shoulder a pat. “Now show me what you've been working on.”. . .

The business jet taxied down the runway, gaining speed, and then smoothly made the transition between ground and air. Before long, the craft was cruising at its designed altitude. Tuck looked at his watch and realized it would be dark by the time they landed in Houston. A late dinner then bed sounded good to him.

Gary sat in the seat opposite him. The boy stared out the window. “Well, any regrets about skipping school?”

“Like that could happen.”

“What did you think of Mr. Roos?”

“I liked him. He was great. A little weird, but great. I thought he'd be younger.”

“You think he's old?”

“Not old like you, but older than I thought.”

Tuck raised an eyebrow and watched Gary struggle to stifle a laugh. “I think I'll tell the pilot to let you off at the next corner. You can walk home.”

“Mom would kill you.”

“Your sister would come to my defense. I imagine she's already a little put out that she had to go to school and you didn't.”

“If I'm lucky.” Gary's words came with no animosity. He and his sister seldom fought, although he knew a dozen ways to irritate her. “Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Will we have to move?”

“Move? Move where?”

“To the desert. The spacecraft was cool and everything, but I didn't like the desert.”

“What makes you think we'd move there?”

Gary's gaze rose to meet Tuck's. “He has a spacecraft and you're an astronaut. It makes sense.”

“I'm an astronaut with NASA.”

“You said NASA wasn't going to let you fly anymore.”

Tuck blew a silent stream of air through his lips and struggled to find the right words.

“You don't have to talk about it, Dad. I know I'm just a kid.”

The words made Tuck's heart stutter. “You're more than that, Gary. You're my son and my pal. You always have been and you always will be.” Tuck gave a nervous tug on his ear.

“Mom will be happy for you.”

“And you?”

“I dunno. I worry when you're up there, but I know you love it.” He looked out the window again. “So will we have to move?”

“No. I haven't decided to take the job. Even if I did, there's no need to move unless the family wants to.”

“But then you'll be gone all the time.”

“No more than I am now, but I would be traveling a lot.”

“You'll take the job.”

“How can you be so sure? I've told him no.”

Gary met Tuck's eyes again. “Because I saw the way you looked at the
Legacy
. You wouldn't come all the way out here if you knew you'd be turning Mr. Roos down.”

Tuck had to smile. “When did you get so smart, kid?”

He shrugged. “Just part of my genius. What will Mom say?”

“Don't jump the gun, pal. I haven't decided anything, and I wouldn't without talking to your mother first.”

“She's been praying for you a lot. We all have.”

The world lowered on Tuck's shoulders. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“Do you still pray, Dad?”

Tuck's throat dried in a second. “I still believe in prayer.”

“But do you pray? Will I still pray when I get older?”

The question gutted him. “Yes, Gary, you will. For me . . .” He stared at his son. Gary had been a constant source of pride. No man could have asked for a better son.

Tuck leaned forward. “It's been difficult, Son.”

“Did you pray up there when . . . you know, when
it
happened?”

Tuck nodded. “My mind was muddled with the drug that caused the problem, but I can remember praying. I remember thinking of you and Penny and your mom.” Moisture filled his eyes. “Yeah, I prayed. I prayed when we landed and I was trying to save . . . Well, I prayed a lot.”

“But not since then?”

“Not much.”

“Are you mad at God?”

“I don't know. Maybe. I don't think about it.”

Gary nodded as if he were a psychoanalyst. “I would be mad at God if you died up there. I don't think I would be able to pray anymore either.”

A great ache bored through Tuck's chest.

EIGHTEEN

G
anzi checked his watch as the red Chevy Avalanche truck pulled into the driveway of the Tucker family home — 7:30. He lowered his hand slowly, not wanting to make any movement that might draw the attention of someone with a sharp eye, and raised a small directional, shotgun microphone. He aimed the rodlike mike at the car. The earbuds delivered the collected sounds with crisp clarity.

He waited, expecting Tucker to pull the car into the garage, but he didn't. Tuck, tall and lanky, slipped from the driver's seat as the passenger door opened and disgorged a young boy who held several items in his hands. Tucker moved faster than the lad and elbowed his way in front then stopped, suddenly blocking the boy's progress. The boy pushed by him but Tucker grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back. The two tussled and Ganzi could hear their laughter.

The sound brought sadness. He thought of his own mostly missing father and the fact that he was a father to no one. For him it had always been work. No time for a family. What wife would put up with the odd hours he kept? Private detective work was nothing like that seen on television.

As he watched, Tuck took a quick step toward the door, but the boy hung on his belt, hindering his advance. In a quick movement, the boy let go and shot around his father, the items he carried now tucked under one arm.

“Hey, you little rat.”

“Takes one to know one.”

More laughter — the kind of laughter only love could grow.

A soft, golden light washed over them as the front door opened. Tucker and his son came to a halt, the elder thrusting his hands in his pockets and looking at the sky as if studying the stars. The younger followed suit with his free hand and began to whistle.