Chapter 2:
Kansas: early February 2049
Standing on the icy ground surrounded by a muted crowd, Jeff Tracy never wondered where it all went wrong.
He could pinpoint the exact moment: a precise 15-minute period he'd brushed off as unimportant at the time.
As Gordon's gloved hand shifted in his grip, Jeff's mind wandered back to that foggy San Franciscan winter day just under a month ago.
He could see it so clearly. He remembered how the low clouds almost obscured the deep grey water of the Bay, misting rain hung in the air. Inside the boardroom was grey as well, but that came from uniforms and suits and the surrounding walls.
Lucy and the boys were arriving from Kansas that night for a break as they all struggled to get over this season's virulent strain of influenza. His normally strong and boisterous sons were still wheezing and coughing after the virus had laid them low over a month ago. Even Lucy had succumbed. Time spent in the fresh coastal air would do them all good, and give Jeff some precious time with his family that he desperately missed as he led TC to success beyond his wildest expectations. The initial risks he took with innovation were paying off. These days it seemed every government and defence force across the globe wanted TC technology and components.
Striding out of the first of the latest presentations for tenders to NASA's top research and development brass, Jeff breathed in deeply through his nose. He needed a few moments to centre himself before he travelled back to the office with his team, and they began dissecting the success of their proposed computer systempresentation and the reactions from the brass.
His ears were still ringing with congratulations on a great presentation and on being awarded the latest USAF contract to develop the next jet fighter to replace the FA 42 Condor, as well as the request to discuss potential partnership in NASA's new astrobiology program. Warm handshakes and back slaps were all around until he came to Laurence Courbet, head of procurement at Ames.
Grabbing Jeff's right hand and elbow with both hands, pumping just a little too vigorously, Courbet's smile was wide and somehow off.
"Well Jeff, we need to go to dinner to celebrate, just you and me. Hard to believe we started in this organisation on the same day all those years ago! You with all your flyboy qualifications and experience and me with my head full of finance and logistics. Who'd of thought, hey? Fifteen years later you're head honcho Tracy Corp, and here I am still in procurement at NASA. Yep, dinner and the best whiskey money can buy. Just two old friends talking about the pranks we used to get up to. Although let me know in advance so I leave the bike at home." He patted his waistline. "Gotta keep trim to compete with the newbie intake. Good thing it's only a mile cycling home and back."
Placing a too-familiar arm around Jeff's broad shoulders, Courbet led him towards the window overlooking the nearby USAF Moffett airfield. Jeff didn't want to say it, couldn't say it if he wanted any chance of securing the upcoming astrobiology contract, but he could barely recall meeting Courbet when he first joined NASA in the astronaut intake of '34.
"You know NASA was never the same after you left, far too dull and boring. Look at you now, Tracy: decorated ex fighter pilot and ex astronaut, international hero, a family man, gorgeous wife, five great boys and a successful businessman. You obviously know the right people."
Jeff bristled at the implication, but Courbet continued as if nothing was wrong.
"Yes, dinner and the best whiskey and a good chat. I'd love to see Tracy Corporation get more work from us here at Ames." Courbet looked Jeff straight in the eye. "I'm sure we will have lots of mutually beneficial topics to discuss." With a final slap on the back, he moved off to speak to the Base Commander.
Feeling somehow grubby, Jeff gave his excuses as soon as it was politically expedient to do so and left the grey boardroom.
Waving Dave Philips, his new head of security and long-time friend, and the rest of TC's senior presentation team towards the elevators, Jeff headed into the men's washroom across the hall. He almost pulled up short when he realised the joint CEOs of his biggest competitor Tresser Engineering were in there. Both men were tall, burly Texans. Both turned to look at him at the same time.
"Ah, TC have obviously finished their presentation! Almost time for Tresser to go in and show them how the professionals do it," Donald Tresser's thick Texan twang drawled. "But I'm being rude. I suppose congratulations are in order, Jeff. Although the good ol' USAF sure missed out when they didn't award Tresser that new fighter contract."
Jeff headed over to the basin to wash his hands.
"Thanks. We're pretty pleased with the result," Jeff responded politely.
"Hey Donald, I hear that Ames is interested in talking to groups about the new astrobiology project after they've finished this round of computing tenders. Large project, very lucrative." Nathaniel Tresser had the same Texan twang but packaged in a coarser body, all meaty hands and bull-chested thickness compared to his elder brother.
"Yes, so I hear, so I hear," the elder Tresser smiled, oily and insincere. "I'm sure NASA brass won't want to put all their eggs in one basket. You know, become too dependent on one company. It's important to, you know, really protect against any accidents. Don't you agree, Nathaniel?"
"Exactly Donald, need to ensure that they are safe." The larger brother barred the exit as Jeff turned towards it. "Say Jeff, I hear that beautiful wife of yours is having another exhibition of her pretty pictures soon. Might need to mosey along myself and see if some of her culture rubs off on me."
Jeff silently bit his tongue. He knew that they were deliberately trying to goad a reaction from him by talking about Lucy this way.
Donald laughed. "Must be good knowing Lucy and your boys will be in town tonight. It's been, what two months since you've seen them, what with all your work commitments? I hear Scott and John are doing well in their advanced level studies. Topping all their classes, must be looking to take after their Daddy, hey, and join the good ol' USAF?"
Moving closer to leer over Jeff's shoulder, Nathaniel chuckled. "Virgil looks so much like his mom, doesn't he? Sweet natured boy too. And Gordon, wow, talks and laughs a mile a minute and just loves that pool you put in last summer, doesn't he?"
Jeff reached over to grab a hand towel, moving himself away from Nathaniel's overbearing cologne.
Nathaniel chuckled softly as he continued, "Yeah. All of them at school now, and just the baby alone on the ranch with the beautiful Luc-"
Luckily for Jeff the door to the men's washroom opened abruptly. Dave Philips' broad shoulders blocked the doorway.
"Mr Tracy?" Dave scanned the bathroom, noting the other occupants. "Just reminding you of your 11am AVX conference call for Project 26. Would you like me to postpone it?"
"All good for the AVX Dave, I'm ready now."
Jeff left the room without a backward glance and followed Dave to the elevators, his head buzzing, breathing shallow as anger threatened to overtake him. Waiting in front of the burnished silver doors, Jeff knew his head of security was watching him out of the corner of his eye. But to anyone who didn't know the lanky ex-airforce officer, they'd think he was waiting placidly as a soft bell preceded the elevator doors opening, unworried at finding his boss barred from leaving a room by his closest competitors.
Pressing the down button, Jeff waited until the doors closed before taking deep, shaky breaths to calm himself down.
"Jeff?"
"Wankers."
"Jefferson!" Dave Philips could still do a mean impression of Sally Tracy admonishing her only son after hearing it one time during their Air Force Academy graduation. The imitation always made Jeff snort with laughter. Shaking his head, he turned to his friend.
"AVX conference call at 11am?"
"Yes indeed, Mr Tracy." Dave had also perfected dead pan delivery at the academy. He'd used it a number of times get them both out of trouble.
Calmer now, Jeff pushed the Tressers out of his mind and raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember that in my diary. Did Breanna schedule a new meeting?"
The doors opened onto the main foyer and the two men strode outside to the waiting limousine, hurrying against the cool drizzle.
"Cheng and the team have gone ahead to prepare for the debrief, Mr Tracy." Dave opened the front passenger side door for Jeff, and then strode around to the driver side door and got in himself, pressed the ignition button, and entered the destination. The driverless vehicle automatically locked the doors and then slowly pulled out into the main drive.
"Dave, 11am AVX conference call? Also, we don't have a Project 26, you know we never use numerical project names."
A small grin appeared on the Montanan's face.
"Weeeell, maybe I made that up."
Jeff twisted in his seat to look at the other man, raising an eyebrow as he did so. "Dave?"
"Well, the way I figure it, you didn't want to be stuck in a men's restroom with those two jerks. Not while you've got to be in and out of this debrief within an hour."
Jeff glanced at his watch. "It's only 10am, Dave. I don't have to be anywhere after the debrief until Lucy and the boys arrive at San Francisco airport at 5pm."
"Midday actually."
"Say what?"
"Breanna worked her magic and got Lucy and the boys on an earlier flight. They are arriving at midday."
A warm feeling grew in Jeff's chest knowing he'd see his wife and sons earlier than expected. It was quickly followed by a cold slice of panic.
"Shit, I've been so focused on today's presentation, I haven't organised any food for the house, or to have the beds made or firewood stocked-"
"Jeff, please. How long have Breanna and I been working for you? Give us some credit."
The car pulled up to the security garage of TC's Moffett Field offices. Passing through the state of the art security system, Dave directed the car to the reserved parking spot, switching off the ignition.
"So, the 11am AVX was to cover for Lucy and the boys arriving early?"
"No." Dave's grin broadened slightly as he got out of the car.
"No?"
"No."
The two men walked to the secure elevator.
"Dave?" Jeff was starting to get a little frustrated with his friend's stone-walling. He moved into the elevator first, raising an eyebrow at the other man.
"Look at it this way, Jeff. Those two Tresser turkeys now think you have an important AVX conference about the mysterious Project 26 at 11am, and they will be wondering what it's all about."
"Well if they are smart-" Jeff started, only to be interrupted by a snort from Dave.
"Jeff, Jeff, Jeff. You need to start thinking like a sneaky bastard to understand those two."
"Okay Dave, I'll bite. How do sneaky bastards think?"
The elevator door opened straight into Jeff's spartan sixth floor office, the smell of fresh brewed coffee wafting over from the sideboard.
Nodding acceptance as Jeff offered him a mug, Dave struck an overly thoughtful pose.
"About now, even though those turkeys are in the middle of presenting to the big brass at NASA they'll be distracted, wondering what the hell Project 26 is. They're all over the tenders we are working, so they'll assume it can't be any of those. Eventually they'll start to assume you're hiding something in plain sight by using a code name so innocuous that it must really be something very big. It will drive them crazy."
"And I suppose you'll help that along?"
"Sure, why not? I'll drop subtle hints when I'd out getting coffee at the local brew-up about something stupid and they'll lap it up."
"Such as?"
"Don't know. I might wing it on the fly or, I know, start babbling on about ironing and getting clothes ironed and the like.
"Ironing." Jeff raised an eyebrow. "So you want them to think we're branching out into the world of mass laundry?"
"I told you, you've got to think sneaky. What does ironing and 26 have in common?"
"Apart from my head of security whose sanity I'm starting to doubt?"
"Jeff, I've seen your test results at the academy. I know you've got a brain in there, so use it as opposed to hiding behind the 'me NASA hero and handsome hunk' thing you have going on in public."
"I do not do that!" Pausing, Jeff reflected on the dinner last night with the NASA brass and their wives. "Do I?"
"Man, if I didn't know how besotted with Lucy you are, or how she'd have your balls if you ever did anything…" seeing his friend's mortified look Dave relented. "Nah, you don't do it deliberately. You just haven't gotten rid of the USAF fighter pilot swagger that was drilled into you all those years ago. The groundies used to joke about us flyboys behind our backs all the time. Me? I had it knocked out of me when I started flying aid."
"Huh, I didn't know I still –"
"Focus Jeff, we've got five minutes before the debrief. Iron? 26?"
"Uh, iron, iron…26…. Periodic table!"
"Exactly. They'll figure out that 26 is iron and dismiss any link to actual iron, the most common element on earth and start to branch out from there, which could lead them anywhere."
"Such as?"
"How do I know? Maybe that Brazil historically had the largest iron mines in the world at the start of the century, so you might be doing something with the Brazilian government. Or that you might be working on something the opposite of 26 on the periodic table – maybe it's actually 62 not 26."
"Samarium is 62."
"So maybe you've found out a way to reverse oxidation of the compound. Perhaps it's 2 plus 6 which is 8 and you are doing something with -"
"Oxygen."
"Or how 'bout-"
"Okay, stop Dave, you are doing my head in with all these theories."
"Yes, but just imagine just how crazy it's going to be driving the Tressers too."
Dave stood by the desk looking very pleased with himself. Jeff burst out laughing.
"You, my friend, are a truly evil man. I'm glad you're on my side. Ok, debrief time. "
"I'll have the estate wagon downstairs at 11.15am, ready for you to pick the tribe up from the airport."
Jeff clapped the man on the shoulder and strode into his private conference room not giving the recent encounter with the Tressers a second thought.
Now a fortnight later standing in the pale Kansas winter sun, almost blinded by glare off the snow, his boys dressed in deepest black, united in bewilderment and grief in front of their mother's open grave, Jeff's heart was as frozen as the ground.
Standing deferentially to the side of the service were neighbours and families from the town. He knew Lucy was popular in the local community, just as his boys were popular at their schools and various clubs. Jeff had embraced those genuine, earthy people who he'd known for all of his life, people who didn't treat him any differently now he was rich and famous to the way they'd treated him all his life. Honest, open friends, so different to the isolation he felt when he was away from Kansas. They'd come that first morning with casseroles, fresh baked bread and hot tea and coffee, arrived unasked for to tend horses, shovel snow, fix tractors and fences.
Key members of TC stood behind the family. Breanna Ryan, his long-time executive assistant crying as her beloved Lucy was laid to rest – sharing a common love for adventure and the arts, the two of them had been a menace when Lucy wanted to drag Jeff along to some piano recital, art gallery or, even worse, an opera. Standing further back were TC senior managers as well as some of the employees who had been with the company since Jeff first started the business up. Just behind Jeff's right shoulder ready to support as always, Dave Philips surveyed the gathering with his usual vigilance, occasionally placing a hand on Jeff's back.
Opposite Jeff and his boys, right in front of the open grave, a cluster of people who were to be tolerated even if they were not wanted here. Resplendent in their expensive suits and shiny uniforms were the government and military people he did business with, and his competitors. There were a few in this group, men and women like Lee Taylor and Catherine Casey with whom Jeff had served years ago in the Air Force, who were welcome. But the majority of them were there to be seen: false sincerity and sorrow on display.
Worst of all over on the icy road, being kept off the church grounds by TC security: the press. Photographers, reporters, TV crews all jostling for position and trying to catch images of the family in their grief.
Scott and John were at either end of the family group with the younger boys and Jeff between them. Both stood tall and straight, wide eyes glistening with unshed tears, devastated but hiding it behind stoic masks. Soon to be four years old Alan snuggled in Scott's arms, sucking his thumb and peering out beneath blond bangs, confused by the crowds, the absence of his mommy and the solemn atmosphere.
Virgil clutched John's hand desperately, looking like the very ground under his feet had crumbled apart. Gordon held his dad's hand, looking between his older brothers and father, not understanding why everyone was watching the big ornate box that was being lowered into the ground despite Jeff and Scott's best attempts to explain what had happened to Mommy. Knowing people were sad, Gordon tried to keep his own tears at bay, until he looked at Virgil's watery eyes and promptly started to cry softly himself. Gordon wrapped his free arm around Virgil's trembling body in order to pull him closer.
The whir and clatter of cameras taking multiple high-speed photos, the murmur of reporters 'respectfully' telling the world how upset his sons were…
Jeff's eyes came to rest on Laurence Courbet, who'd fussed over Jeff's sons earlier as if he knew them all their lives and not just met them a few weeks ago, giving them miniature NASA rockets to play with and tousling Gordon and Alan's hair. He was still watching them, even as the coffin was lowered into the ground.
Further back in the crowd Jeff spotted Donald and Nathaniel Tresser, both watching him closely.
The official police report had said that Lucy lost control going too fast around a foggy hairpin bend on her way back from dropping Jeff off at Ames that morning, but Jeff knew that wasn't the case. His wife was an excellent driver; she and Jeff had met at a rally car event in the Rockies where Lucy was lead driver for one of the teams.
No, looking into the malicious glint in the shark-like eyes of his nearest competitors, Jeff Tracy never wondered where it all went wrong, nor who was to blame.