But Ningal had told him to bring a spacesuit, so he needs to be kitted for EVA. Thankfully, Garrick Stamford’s connections had come in handy on that front. As a major shareholder and board member of United Aircraft Corporation — the company designing and building the PLSS units for NASA — Stamford arranged for the fast-track assembly of a special ‘test’ unit. And because corporate America knows how to keep a secret (especially when someone like Stamford demands it) the unit was built and delivered to them, no questions asked. It’s safe inside a packing crate in an Eastern Airlines freight hangar back at Washington Airport.
All that remains now is to put all the pieces together and make sure the darn thing is operational. His life might soon depend on it.
34
He’s leaving again, and all he can tell her is that it’s a special mission for the president. Susan takes the news in silence. Part of him wants her to scream and make a fuss. That would harden his resolve. As it is, he hears himself apologizing, and he almost tells her he wishes things were different. But that would be a lie.
She accepts his apology, and maybe even believes it when he says this time his life won’t be at risk. But he also sees the wheels turning behind her mournful eyes, and she knows something doesn’t quite add up. He’s an astronaut, a public figure known the world over. The space program has demanded a level of public scrutiny that had taken Susan a long way beyond her personal comfort zone. Now, just as she has started to accept that their lives are an open book, her husband slams the book shut in her face.
“What happened to retirement?”
“That’s still happening. Right after this mission.”
“And NASA is OK with this?”
He can’t help smiling at how quickly she finds a question that will get to the heart of the matter. “All NASA knows is I’m on special assignment for the Defense Department. They aren’t being told much about this either.”
Susan is far from satisfied by this. She looks more like she’s about ready to burst into tears. “Secret means dangerous.”
“Nah,” he says, hoping she doesn’t see through the hollow tone in his white lie. “I’ll be back safe and sound in a day or two. You have my personal guarantee of that. Not fifty-fifty… one hundred percent. You hear me? This is a special favor for President Nixon.”
He can hear Garrick Stamford’s mocking laughter ringing in his ears. Invoking the Commander-in-Chief in a top secret fib, and so forcefully does the liar plead to be taken at his word. There is nothing quite so galling as to finally have one’s own hypocrisy laid bare.
He hugs her close and feels her sobbing quietly on his shoulder. He doesn’t dare push it further, fearing the hole he has dug for himself is already way too close to caving in. “I’ll be home soon,” he assures her, and with this at least he thinks he is telling the truth.
“How many times are you going to break my heart, Frank?”
He lifts her face from his shoulder to look her in the eyes. “Never again.”
“You said you couldn’t marry me, remember? Don’t think I’ve forgotten. You said you didn’t have time for me. It was all about your career.”
“I was a kid. And a darn fool. I woke up to myself pretty quick.”
“Are you sure you’re OK with this? Why not talk to Deke, see if someone else can do it?”
Borman had come to believe NASA’s director of flight crew operations could do just about anything he set his mind to. It went without saying that Deke Slayton would go to bat for him if asked. Except as far as Deke is concerned, Borman is on secondment to Eastern Airlines technical chief Benny Schriever, for something that may or may not be defense-related. He’d also given Deke the strong impression this is something he wants to do.
“It’s above Deke’s pay grade. You’re the only person who knows I’m not doing what NASA thinks I’m doing.”
In this much at least, he speaks the truth. But hearing it only makes her frown. “You really won’t tell me?”
He really wants to tell her. The words are almost on his lips, but he finds he can’t say them aloud. Because he’s breaking his solemn promise — he’s going back into space. Even though it feels like an act of betrayal, lying to her by omission is better than telling her the truth. Better for her health. This much he believes, even as he suspects the truth will eat him up inside.
He says, “I convinced you to trust me. To marry me. It took a heck of a long time, but you came around. I’ll always love you for that, sweetheart. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Don’t you dare break my heart, Frank Borman.”
35
March 4
It’s a half-hour drive from the outskirts of Las Cruces through the desert to the White Sands Missile Testing Range. Time to talk. This time Borman has questions. And for once, Menzel is answering everything to the best of his ability. He’s convincing too. Like a good politician, he seems to genuinely believe his own answers. About the importance of secrecy, how people can’t handle the truth.
Borman is buying none of it.
Finally, the car comes to a halt alongside Launch Complex 33. The very place where Wernher von Braun first started working with the US military in reconfiguring German V-2 rockets. One of America’s many morally dubious decisions, and the beginning of their rivalry with the Soviets, who had wanted von Braun for themselves. He was far too valuable to be treated as a war criminal, so they put him to work instead.
The launch complex is deserted now. Lonely and quiet.
Menzel says, “I clued in the range commander to leave us alone.”
“You’re not worried somebody might track their arrival?”
Menzel laughs. “How do you track lightning?”
“Yeah…”
“Have you ever thought how strange it is Adolf Hitler had a hand in getting you to the Moon?”
Borman says, “Von Braun has a hunger for space. I don’t think we’d have made it this far without him.”
Menzel nods. “Sometimes you dance with the one who brung you.”
Borman strips down to his underwear to don the liquid cooling garment. The LCG is effectively a pair of space long johns that comes complete with a system of plastic tubes woven into it to keep the wearer cool inside his spacesuit.
He’s only halfway through getting dressed when Ningal’s ship lands right alongside von Braun’s gantry. He’s donned the suit often enough to know he can get it on in about five minutes, though admittedly he’s never had to do it in the desert leaning against the back of a car. “I hope they’re not on a tight schedule,” he says. “I haven’t got to the hard part yet.” It’s a whole new level of difficulty, trying to avoid filling the damn suit up with sand.
Menzel asks, “Do you have the disc?”
Borman nods and taps a pocket on the suit.
The moon boots are tough to fit over the suit. He needs Menzel’s help to don the life support system. The PLSS is damn heavy in Earth gravity. Before fitting his helmet, Menzel gives him one final order. “You need to remember everything you can this time, Frank. Not for Bermuda, forget those bastards. For me and Verus. We need to record it for science. And for posterity.”
Borman nods. With Menzel’s help, he locks his helmet into place and switches on the life support. He’s relieved to hear the hiss as the suit starts to fill up with oxygen. He pulls down the visor on his helmet and gives his companion a farewell wave. As he starts walking slowly toward the ship, he’s acutely aware of his breathing inside the suit. It’s a struggle to get one foot in front of the other and he feels his heart starting to beat rapidly. It feels more than a little ridiculous, like showing up for a dinner party dressed as a frogman.