at you." But Patrick kept looking at him, hoping he
would elaborate. That made him turn even redder.
"Hey, I've been busy he protested.
Jon, you don't owe me or anyone an explana-
tion," Patrick said. "If it's right for you, then it's the
right thing to do."
"You're darn right it's right," Masters said emphatically
. "When it's right for me, it'll be the time.
Not before. No matter what anyone says." But he
didn't succeed in convincing even himself. "Who
am I kidding? I'm a geek. Who'd want to go to bed
with a geek?"
"Jon, you're not a geek-you're a successful businessman
and scientist," Patrick said. "You're also
good-looking, funny, spontaneous, and easygoingnot
to mention stinking rich. All these years you've
been too busy-too driven-to think about it. But
when you're ready to be with someone, when you
feel you want to share what you've got with someone
else, they'll come flocking to you, believe me."
"They will?"
"Yep."
"How do they know when I'm ready?"
"They don't know," Patrick said. "The difference
is you, not them. They notice you all the time, but
you don't notice them. It's like when you have a
baby-all of a sudden, you see babies everywhere.
You know all those babies have been out there all
this time, but now you notice them all because
you're ready to notice them. It's the same with a
mate. When you're ready, you start to notice."
"And then?"
"And then you go about finding the right one."
"Well, how the heck do I do that? How do I know
which one is the right one?"
"You trust your instincts and you be yourself,
Jon," Patrick said after a moment's consideration.
"Like attracts like. if you stay true to yourself, the
ones most compatible with you will be drawn to
you. After that, you begin the process of discovery.
You learn more about them over time. You find
yourself thinking about them. You're comfortable
with them. You just know. They become more important
than anything-work, sleep, eating, everything
."
"I don't get it," Jon said. "How? There's gotta be
a way you really know
"There isn't, except you listen to what your head
and your heart tell you
"You mean sex, right?" Jon asked nervously.
"It's not just sex, Jon," Patrick said. He couldn't
believe he was having this discussion with Jon Masters
I his boss, for Christ's sake, here- on a hospital
maternity floor! With all that had happened in the
past three days, this was the last conversation Patrick
expected to be having. He felt as if he were
explaining the facts of life to a teenager-and then
he thought, Hey, this is good practice for when I'll
have this talk with Bradley a few years from now!
"Sex is great, of course, and it's a big part of the
picture, but most of the time, it's not the whole
thing. What most guys are looking for is a partner.
Someone to share stuff with. You know what I
mean?"
"No."
"I think you do, Jon. You have a lot, but what you
r
eall want to do is share it with others. You do it
11 y
a the time in your work: You invent stuff like
BERP or these prosthetic devices, but then you turn
around and you want to give it away. Well, it's the
same with your life. You want to share your life
with someone else-not because they asked for it,
or because they need it, but because you want to
share, and the other person has something to give
that you like and need as well. It's a two-way deal."
Jon nodded, and Patrick could tell that at least some
Of what he said seemed to be making sense. "It's
about Helen, isn't it, Jon?"
"Helen? What about Helen?"
"You like her, don't you, Jon?
"Helen is, like, maybe eight or ten years older
than I am!" Masters retorted. "What makes you
think I like her?"
said. "She's intelligent, she's independent, she's dynamic
, and she's cute. I see how you act around
her . . ."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"C'mon, Jon," Patrick said with a reassuring
smile. "You try to play the boss, the head guy, but
around Helen it's as if you're trying to impress her
with how big a boss you can be. You don't act the
same way around me or Wendy or the board of directors-you're
either someone's best friend, or you
ignore them. Except with Helen. You seem to want
to get her attention all the time, prove to her that
you're in control ' unafraid, confident, and even
cocky. If I didn't know better, I'd say you act like a
schoolkid trying to impress a girl he's got a crush
on.//
"Get outta town, Muck," Masters said. He
turned away from Patrick, scowling-but then his
scowl broke into a grin. "You think Helen's cute?"
"Of course," Patrick said. "She's kind of mysterious
. . .
"Yeah. Kinda exotic, forbidding, deep, dark, like
those women in the Kama-sutra drawings," Masters
said, staring out the window as if he were
studying her photograph. "You know she used to be
married?"
"I think I heard that somewhere."
"Yeah. Married a guy from England after she got
her doctorate from Oxford. They broke up after they
got to the States. No kids."
"Well, I'd say you have a problem now, because
you made her leave the company and she sounds
pretty pissed off at you," Patrick pointed out. "If
you want to have a chance at telling her how you
feel, you'd better
"Tell her how I feel? You mean, tell her I like
her?" Jon asked incredulously. "Are you nuts
"What are you talking about, Jon? " Patrick asked
in surprise. "You have feelings for Helen, but you'd
just let her leAve without saying anything to her?
"What am I going to say to her? How can I tell
her anything now? She'll punch my lights out!
She'll strangle me!
'Jon, the worst defeat is never having tried to
win," Patrick said earnestly. "You have got to tell
her. Maybe she will punch you out. Maybe she'll
still leave. Or maybe she'll surprise you and stay,
and even love you back. Who the hell knows? But
you've got to try."
Jon's horror at the notion of even approaching
Helen Kaddiri was changing right before Patrick's
eyes. Patrick watched him as he thought of speaking
with her, of seeing her again. "Maybe you're
right. I should just go for it. Thanks."
"Anytime," Patrick said warmly, clapping him
on the shoulder.
Hey, Muck, you're pretty good at this. You and
Paul ever talk like this?"
It was then that Patrick realized that he hadn't
though
t of his brother for what seemed like a long
time, and the reminder brought Paul's awful, ugly
situation crashing back. His smile vanished. He
turned to look out the window.
"No," he said somberly. "He was a kid when I
was in college-he was doing,his thing, and I was
deep into mine. When he was in high school, I was a
new Air Force officer, working like crazy to be the
best; when he was in college, I was away at Dream-
land. Besides, he was always busy with outside activities--class
president, sports, parties, always on
the go. But it's funny-we hardly ever speak to each
other but we know each other pretty well. It's like
we're connected somehow."
"It must be cool to have a brother," Jon remarked
.
"If you ever need a brother, Jon, I volunteer," Patrick
said. "I was never a very good big brother with
Paul, but I do my best."
"Thanks, Muck. You as my brother-Brigadier
General Patrick S. McLanahan, my big brother.
Cool. That makes me little Brad's uncle, doesn't
it?I/
"It sure does."
"Very cool." Jon put his arm around Patrick's
shoulder, and they stood there for a while, trying to
reset their lives and shelter each other from the
chaos around them. Jon turned for the elevators. "I
gotta get going. I'll stop in and say good-bye to
Wendy and Bradley first . . ." I
"One sec, Jon," Patrick said. "I want to ask you
something."
"Sure.
"About the BERP demonstration. You actually
sat in the test fuselage when those explosives were
211
set off.
Jon rolled his eyes. "Not you too, Muck? Are you
going to chew me out too? You think I'm crazy
too? "
"No, no, it's not that," Patrick protested. Jon
looked at him, puzzled. Patrick turned away, obviously
wrestling with an important question. "I
wanted to know . . ."
"Know what, Patrick?"
Patrick hesitated for a long moment, then asked,
"Were you afraid, Jon? When those explosives went
off, were you afraid?"
Masters was surprised-not that the question itself
was unusual, but that it was coming from Patrick
McLanahan, whom he considered to be one of
the bravest and most heroic persons he had ever
known. "Umm . . . actually, Patrick, to tell the
truth, no, not at first. I guess I didn't even think
about it. I kriew BERP would work, and I knew it
would impress the FAA and the airline pukes if I
stayed inside the test article when we blew it up, to
show that BERP works. I thought it would be the
ultimate testimonial-1- was putting my ass on the
line to show that BERP worked."
He shook his head and his eyes grew wide as he
recalled the moment the explosives were set off:
"But I'll tell you, Muck, when that first charge went
off-whew, I nearly peed my pants. The second
blast, when BERP set off the explosives, was even
worse. The third blast-well, I thought I was going
to die, plain and simple. That deck rolled up under
me like a big carpeted steel bubble. When they say
thrown around like a rag doll, boy, I know what
they mean by that now!"
"But you weren't scared? You sat in that fuselage
with a hundred and fifty pounds of TNT under you,
enough to bring down a large building, and you
weren't afraid?"
"I know it sounds like BS, Muck-but no, I
wasn't afraid," Jon said. "I pressed that button with
no problem whatsoever. And you know what?"
"You'd do it again," Patrick interjected. "You'd
doit a hundred times again. You'd sit right on a case
of TNT to prove that your technology worked.'You
felt so strongly about yourself and what you had
made that you were ready to risk your neck to prove
"Right on. You understand. That's a relief-man,
I was beginning to think I was crazy. If you would
have told me how stupid I was for doing what I did,
I'd be hurt."
"Ion, you were stupid," Patrick said. "But sometimes
we know we have to do something dangerous
like that to prove a point. It only seems stupid to
others."
Masters nodded, glad to hear those words from
Patrick. But there was obviously something more.
"What is it, Muck?" he asked. "Why are you asking
? Why are we talking about this?"
Patrick hesitated, then shook his head. "Just
some stupid ideas I have of my own," he said. "It's
nuts."
"Nuts? You? Hardly. You're the most levelheaded
, intelligent, calculating, no-nonsense, pragmatic
guy I've ever known. What do you have in
mind?"
"Nothing. Forget about it."
decided to drop it. "When I spoke with Hal
Jon
Briggs and Chris Wohl when they came by after the
demo," he said, "they said ISA is very interested in
some of the BERP applications you've been drawing
up-the Ultimate Soldier ideas. They want to see a
demonstration as soon as possible. I've spoken to
the board, and they approved a developmentfunding
package. You've got your green light."
"Great!" Patrick exclaimed. "It'll probably mean
BERP goes black, Jon. I know we had other ideas for
BERP, much more altruistic ones . . -." I
"Hal convinced me there's plenty of time to deploy
BERP in the civil markets," Jon said. "But the
money he's talking about was too difficult to ignore
"But BERP going black will create a security
nightmare since we've already demoed the process
for the airlines and the FAA," Patrick pointed out.
"Hal promised help there too," Jon responded.
"His team has got to lay low because of what they
did getting the EB-52 Megafortress out of Guambeating
up on those Navy security guys apparently
ruffled a lot of feathers. Hal figured having Madcap
Magician provide security for us while we put together
an Ultimate Soldier prototype will work out
well for everyone concerned-we get top-quality security
, and they hang out in an out-of-the-way place
until the heat blows over."
"Great," Patrick said, finding himself enthusiastic
for the first time in several days. "I can get
started right away, while I help Wendy with the
baby and watch over Paul as he recuperates. I might
need a little more personal time, but I don't think
I'll need paternity leave . . ."
"Take all the time you need, Patrick. Hell, after
all that's happened lately, I'd approve a year's leave
if you asked for it."
"I don't need that much--only some leeway if I
think Wendy, Paul, or Bradley needs me," Patrick
said. "But thank you. It means a lot. We might consider
moving the program office to McClellan Air
Force Base or to our facility at Mather . . . 11
"Way ahead of you, Patrick," Masters said. "I've
already got that approved. We take over the old alert
facility at Mather this week. The Ultimate Soldier
program office will be set up there, with full security
. " Then he hesitated. He could see that Patrick's
mind was elsewhere again, some kind of scenario or
plan being developed, analyzed, changed, and tested
in his head at warp speed. "You're going to start
something, aren't you, Patrick? You're going to go
out looking for some ass to kick."
Patrick looked at Jon with his cold steel-blue
eyes and said, "I want to destroy those bastards who
killed those cops and hurt Paul, Jon. I don't want to
arrest them or defeat them or punish them. I want
to annihilate them. I know we have the weapons
and the technology to crush them, and I want to do
it. Tomorrow. Right now."
Jon felt as if Patrick had been screaming at him,
although his voice had been no more than a deep,
dangerous-sounding whisper. "Jeez, Muck, this
doesn't sound like you. Usually you're the one who
wants to hold back, look at the situation, formulate
a strategy, you know, all that 'Plan the flight then
fly the plan' shit you always say."
"Not this time," Patrick said. "I want to find the
men who did this to my brother, to my police force,
to my city-to my damned home-and I want to
crush them like insects. I'm going to use every bit
of technology and firepower I can gather to do it.
I'm going to do it whether or not I cooperate with
the police or the city or the FBI or whoever else is
involved."
Jon looked at his friend, stunned. He had never
seen Patrick so angry, so determined, so . . .
bloodthirsty. He had seen him after crises that had
ended in tragedy, yet he had never come unglued.
Now, he seemed possessed.
"What do you want me to do?" Masters asked.
"What do you want from me?"
"Everything," Patrick said. "Access to everything
. All your reconnaissance and surveillance
gear. All your computers, your networks, your communications
systems, your aircraft, your satellites.
All of your weapons, your sensors, your prototypes,
your manufacturing facilities. Most of all, access to
you. These bastards who attacked in the city were
soldiers, not ordinary robbers. I'm going to need ev-
ery bit of modem weapons technology I can get to