On Broken Wings (26 page)

"When you came in, I thought you were going to tell me you'd gotten married, and that Christine is your wife. I was braced for that. Congratulations, I can do. This is going to take more getting used to."

Louis cocked an eyebrow. "Do you remember how good I was, Dick?"

"I could hardly forget. Sure you don't want to come back, now?"

"Cut it out! I'm history. Get used to it. But do you think I can recognize talent on my own level?"

"Well, yeah. And I believe what you've told me, but there are company policies that will make a lot of noise shattering if I hire someone with no degrees and no relevant experience."

Louis grimaced. "Dick, when I turned in my resignation, you pitched a fit that probably landed in Canada. Said I was destroying the department by leaving. Said you could never replace me. Have you managed to?"

"No."

"Well, I have. Here she is. She wants seventy-five grand a year and all the bennies. One time offer, take it or leave it."

Orloff gasped. "Louis, you were only getting eighty when you left!"

Christine was staring at Louis as if he'd dropped his pants in public.

Louis smiled. "Not because I couldn't have made more, Dick. You know that. Chris could make more, too. We're being nice to you for old times' sake."

While his former boss tried to cope with his astonishment, Louis turned to Christine and said, "Dick's a Russian Orthodox. I'll have to take you to one of their churches some day. Everything's gilded. They pinch pennies about everything else to save up for that. Even when it isn't their own money."

"Louis!"

"Oh, hush, Dick, you know it's true. Look, I appreciate that Human Resources is going to put you through a wringer on this. That doesn't change anything else. Chris is going to get her price, here or somewhere else. She's the genuine article, you have my word on it. You're only getting first crack at her because I like you and she trusts me. If you still trust me, the only question remaining is whether you still care enough about the department to be willing to endure a storm from upstairs." He rose from his chair. Christine rose as well. "Take the rest of the day to think about it and call us at home this evening. Tomorrow we talk to Sentry Munitions."

They left Orloff's office as they had entered it, hand in hand and in silence. When they had seated themselves in Christine's little Chrysler, Louis gave way to raucous laughter.

"What was this all about, Louis?"

"A job for you. You are going to work, you know."

"Why didn't I get any warning about this?" Her face was severe.

"So you could work your way into one of your famous fits of paralyzed terror? You did fine, Chris. It's easier to impress by saying nothing than by talking a blue streak. He'll call tonight with an offer."

As they headed back to Foxwood, Louis continued to laugh. When Christine began looking over at him too often for safety, he quieted himself.

"You have no idea how much fun that was, Chris."

"Oh, I think I can guess." Her tone made it plain that she hadn't shared in his amusement.

"Forgive me?"

"Ask me tonight."

"I did give you a new car four hours ago."

"Oh? And what have you done for me lately?"

Louis shook his head and went back to laughing.

====

Chapter
25

The day was special. Christine knew it upon awakening. She and Louis clung to one another just a little longer than usual. The sunlight was just a little stronger than was normal for a Monday in late September. The air was just a little crisper than it ought to be in central New York at the start of autumn. It bore a feeling of portent.

She took special care with everything that morning. She bathed and groomed herself with more than her usual attention to detail, more than she had ever taken before. Picking a suit took her ten minutes. Even seating herself at the kitchen table seemed a complex affair that required close attention to a host of details. Louis looked up from his omelet and grinned.

"Relax. You're going to blow their socks off."

She nodded and dug into her breakfast. The flavors were more pronounced than usual. The cheese was sharper, the butter was richer, and the coffee was stronger. She found herself eating with appetite and relishing each bite.

If only I could feel the confidence in myself that he has in me.

"Chris?"

"Hm?" She looked up with a mouthful of eggs. Louis sounded as if he'd thought of something important.

"Just don't kick anybody. It's bad form on your first day."

She choked on her eggs and her sudden laughter.

"You bastard! What if I'd gotten food on myself?"

He shrugged. "You have plenty of suits, and they're all nice."

It would be really nice if I didn't have to be away from him to do this.

You know you have to. Now bear down and get through it.

Shut up, Nag. You used to be a lot more interesting, way back when.

And you used to be a lot more frightened.

She knew it was true. There was little for her to fear these days. She was about to start a prestigious job at a top-shelf employer that would pay her a salary so high it made her lightheaded to think of it. Louis had made her into a one-woman army. Though her heart and guts might never fully believe it, it appeared that the Butchers had been thoroughly dealt with. And there was Louis himself.

Stuff to be afraid of? I don't even have anything to complain about. If I didn't have a little straightening-out to do with Helen, I wouldn't have a care in the world.

I wonder if it would help if Louis and I were to drag her into bed with us.

She savored the thought of her petite friend sandwiched between her and Louis. It brought a smile to her lips that she couldn't suppress.

"Something you might share with me?"

She clamped down on a giggle before it could escape.

Maybe later, Thunder Stud.

"Nothing important, Louis. What will you do with your day?"

His brow furrowed. "Let's see. I don't have anyone to spar with, so the morning is free. And I don't have anyone to teach programming to, so the afternoon is free. I guess I'll go out, get roaring drunk, wreck the car and kill myself. Say, can I borrow yours?"

She laughed again, and the tiny tension that had been nestling in her chest dissolved in the warmth of her mirth.

"Sounds like a plan. Louis? Drive me to work?"

He went blank for a moment, then grinned. "Sure, why not? You might even say it's traditional."

"Traditional for what?"

He wiped his mouth and rose from the table. "Never mind."

***

Louis was walking Christine toward the security shack at Onteora Aviation's front gate when he heard, then saw, the commotion approaching from down the street.

A paunchy man with an angry red face in a blue terrycloth bathrobe was screaming, chasing an enormous, shaggy black dog, and swinging a golf club. Neither was moving very fast. The man's paunch and staggering, bowlegged run sufficed to explain his lack of speed. The dog was limping badly, perhaps from a blow already struck. It was barely keeping out of its pursuer's flailing range.

He shouted "Catch the dog and make nice" to Christine before running to intercept the club wielder. The man tried to move around him. Louis hooked one arm inside the man's club arm and yanked him backward onto the pavement. The impact was muffled, but the consequent profanities were not.

Louis held the man down until some color had drained and some rationality had returned to his face. It took awhile.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, asshole? Let me up!"

Louis shook his head.

"Peace, friend. What do you think
you're
doing?"

The man tried to rise. Louis held him down.

"That fucking mutt just drooled all over my only clean suit!"

Louis nodded. "I see. And this is how you normally go to the cleaners? On foot, in a bathrobe, with a -- say, that's one of those new titanium drivers, isn't it?"

Color surged back into the man's face. He started to gobble from rage. No recognizable words came out.

Louis plucked the golf club from the man's hand and stood up. He made a show of inspecting it, sighting along the length of the shaft.

"I've wanted one of these myself for quite a while now. I don't golf, but I understand they're ideal for beating a dog to death in public. Wasn't that what you were trying to do a moment ago?"

It registered on the man at that point that his troubles had escalated beyond a soiled garment. He stood up, wary eyes never leaving Louis's face.

Louis pretended not to notice. He took one end of the club in each hand and bent it double before handing it back with a pleasant smile. The man took it back open-mouthed.

"Good choice. The steel ones bend much too easily. We'll take it from here, friend. Go home and find something else to wear."

"But my dog -- !"

Louis shook his head again. "You don't have a dog. Or are you referring to
my
dog?"

The man paled. "But...but...I got him for my wife."

The spike of fury that passed through Louis made him bare his teeth in an animal rictus, the gesture that announces an imminent attack. The churl in the bathrobe stepped back.

You're testing my patience, idiot. If I were certain that dog was limping because of you, I'd straighten that club out again just to thrash you with it.

"Tell your wife whatever you like, friend. Maybe you could tell her that you did what you were trying to do. I'm sure she'd be impressed. Now go home and either get dressed or lose some weight before you put your nose past the end of your driveway again."

He turned and went to where Christine was holding the dog by its collar and stroking it.

Don't let me see your ugly face when I turn around again. I might not let you keep that either.

Damn, that felt good.

***

Richard Orloff strode silently through the labyrinthine corridors of Onteora Aviation's Engineering Center. Christine followed, trying hard to keep her composure.

The dog got to go with Louis, and I have to stay here. Shit!

They came at last to a large, plushly furnished corner office with glass block walls and a wide picture window that looked out over the OA campus. The office was a discordant note in the sea of industrial gray cubicles and sheet steel furniture. A large, broad shouldered man wearing a tan sports jacket and a forced looking smile sat at the desk therein.

"Got a present for you, Roger. Christine, I'd like you to meet Roger Morrison, OA's special projects director. You'll be one of his crew for the foreseeable future. Roger, this is Miss Christine D'Alessandro."

Morrison rose and extended his hand; Christine took it. It was warm and faintly damp. He pumped her hand once, let go, and was back in his seat before Christine and Orloff had seated themselves.

This guy's nervous about something. Me?

"Where is Chris from, Dick?"

Orloff pursed his lips. "Remember Louis Redmond?"

"As if I could forget!" Morrison chuckled.

"Louis trained her." Orloff paused. "Brought her to me personally, a few days ago. Says she's the best he's ever seen. Maybe better than he is. Got any use for someone like that?"

Morrison's eyes went wide. He panned from Orloff's face to Christine's as if his head were a television camera.

Why is he overdoing it like this?

"Young lady, if you're that good, not only do I have a use for you, I'll protect you as if you were my own daughter." He peered around his office in a caricature of paranoia. "You haven't met my daughter, have you?"

She mumbled, "No," just as the project manager broke into laughter at his own jibe. Orloff scowled.

These two don't get along too well.

"Can I leave her with you, Roger?"

"Oh, sure, I'll take it from here. Thanks again, Dick." The director rose and made his way out. Morrison leaned forward across his desk, and Christine suppressed an urge to back away.

"So what kinds of projects have you worked on most recently, Chris?"

She tried to relax, found it difficult. "A lot of access method stuff, pattern recognition and storage compression techniques, mostly."

He flashed the plastic smile again. "That's a good match for something we're doing. I'm thinking of you for the Automated Aircraft Recognition project. We study ways to identify planes from their radar signature, entirely in software. How does that sound to you?"

What does it matter how it sounds? You sign the checks. Tell me what you want done and I'll do it.