Bucky did as she instructed, and a tiny blue light went on above the camera lens, showing that it was operating.
“Hi, Jerry,” he said. “This is Bucky Blackstone. I’m not calling to offer you a job. That’ll come later if you’re interested.” Suddenly he smiled. “I’m calling to offer you a proposition.”
He paused for a moment to let that sink in. “One of the nice things about leaving this message rather than speaking face-to-face with you is that you don’t have to contradict me for form’s sake. I’ll just assume you’re issuing all the expected denials, okay?”
Bucky paused again, giving Jerry time to assimilate what he was saying.
“All right,” he said after a few seconds had passed. “You know and I know that Sidney Myshko landed on the Moon. What I don’t know is why, and I assume you don’t either. I also don’t know why the government and almost everyone connected with NASA feels obliged to lie about it, but that doesn’t matter. I’ve found some additional material in Aaron Walker’s diary, and one of my most brilliant and trusted assistants”—he frowned briefly, trying to remember her name—“Sabina Marinova, has interviewed Amos Bartlett. I’ve got a video of the complete interview.” Suddenly, he grinned. “I’ll bet you’d like to know what we’ve found in the diary. And I suspect you’ll be curious about the video. Admit it.”
One last pause to dangle the baited hook, and then it was time to reel him in. “Well, you can, Jerry. I may know a little more than you, but there’s a lot more both of us want to know. I’m busy overseeing all the preparations for our Moon flight, and I just haven’t got the time to follow up on it. Besides, everyone thinks I’m a billionaire crackpot, whereas you’re a straight arrow through and through. So how would you like to do all the digging that you either couldn’t do at all, or had to do when no one in authority was looking? No salary, I’m not hiring you, not until you’re ready to sign on for the long haul. But I’ll pay all your expenses, fly you anywhere you need to go, give you cash to slip to anyone who won’t talk for free but will sing like a bird for money. Not only that, but I will loan you Serena—make that Sabina—Marinova, and since she is my employee, all of her expenses are covered, too.”
Bucky looked at his watch. “Okay, Jerry. It’s nine fifteen in the morning. Get back to me by six o’clock tonight. After that, the offer’s no longer on the table.”
He deactivated the camera and microphone, leaned back, and allowed himself his first cigar of the day.
“You really mean it?”
“Why the hell not?” responded Bucky. “His sources have to be different from ours. And he’s got nothing to do for the next two or three weeks.”
“If you’re going to give him your most trusted superspy, you really ought to learn her name.”
“Maybe I’ll call her Lady X. That sounds properly mysterious, don’t you think?”
“Why not?” answered Gloria. “After all, she’s been a covert agent for, oh, maybe five minutes now.”
He chuckled. “She’s good, and since I didn’t know she existed until a couple of days ago, I’m sure we can spare her.”
“What if he doesn’t want a covert assistant?”
“Then he doesn’t have to have one,” said Bucky. He shot her a smile. “But I’m not paying him to find a bunch of answers, then not share them with us. She can be his covert assistant or mine, but he’s not working on his own until I know I can count on his loyalty.”
Jason Brent entered the office. “Hi, folks. Anyone try to kill the boss yet?”
“It’s early in the day,” said Bucky. “Have patience.”
“You sticking around here for a while?” asked Brent. “I thought I’d go down and grab something to eat.”
“Be my guest.”
“Until the cafeteria starts charging, that’s what we all are,” answered Brent. He walked back into the corridor and over to the elevator.
“Well,” said Bucky, “what’s on tap for today?”
“Nothing, really,” said Gloria. “You want to inspect the ship?”
“Good God, no! I wouldn’t begin to know what to look for. And I still have to learn the terminology. Can’t be calling a hatch a door.”
“Since you’ve announced that you’re flying to the Moon, don’t you think you should learn it?”
“There’s time,” said Bucky. “Right now, I’m more concerned with why someone stood on the Moon rather than what he called all the gizmos he used to get there.”
“Well, you can always talk to Amos Bartlett.”
He shook his head. “Once they figure out that Sabina’s not a granddaughter or some such, it will have taken them two hours, tops, to find out who she works for, and they’ll have Bartlett locked up tighter than a drum.” He grimaced. “Besides, he told her what he knew. I don’t think I could get any more out of him. Some people are too rich to bribe, some are too stupid, and some, like Bartlett, are too damned close to the grave to be able to use it. No, he’s not the answer.”
“The diary?”
“Been through it three times, all the way back to 1958. I guarantee there’s nothing else there.”
“Is there anyone who knows the truth, do you think?” asked Gloria.
“I know the truth,” Bucky shot back. “Sidney Myshko was the first man to walk on the Moon. I just don’t know why.”
“Who would?”
He shrugged. “If I knew that, I’d have this thing solved by dinnertime.” Suddenly he sat up erect. “All right. If I can’t solve it, maybe I can put some pressure on someone who can.”
“You mean Jerry?”
He shook his head. “I hope Jerry can help. He had to know some things we don’t know for him to walk away from his job.”
“Then who?”
He grinned. “Who’s the one guy who can get things done when he wants to?”
“President Cunningham?”
“You got it in one. Set up a face-to-face with him.”
“Oh, come on, Bucky,” said Gloria. “You can’t just call the White House and get through to the president. Only the presidents of China and Russia can do that.”
“He’ll talk to me,” said Bucky with total self-assurance.
“What makes you think so?”
Bucky grinned. “Tell him I’ve got a conversation with Amos Bartlett on video, and I’ll put it on the Internet in an hour if he won’t talk to me.”
“Would you?” she asked, frowning.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But the point is, Cunningham doesn’t know either. Believe me, he’ll talk.”
And sure enough, five minutes later, the president’s face appeared on Bucky’s screen.
“Good morning, Mr. Blackstone,” said Cunningham.
“Good morning, Mr. President. And you can call me Bucky.”
“All right, then—good morning, Bucky.” A humorless smile. “And you can call me Mr. President. Now what is so vital that our latest astronaut feels compelled to speak to me on such short notice?”
“I thought you might be ready to talk about the Myshko Moon landing.”
“You’ll want to speak to a science-fiction writer about that,” responded Cunningham. “The first man to walk on the Moon was Neil Armstrong. I could recommend any number of history books on the subject.”
“They would be the fiction books, sir,” said Bucky. “I just want to know if I would find them under science fiction, or perhaps espionage?”
“Just what are you suggesting, Bucky?” demanded Cunningham.
“Just this, Mr. President,” said Bucky. “You lost a good man at NASA because he couldn’t stand up there and lie to the public anymore.”
“Who are you referring to?”
“Jerry Culpepper.”
“I know nothing of that.”
“Of course you do,” said Bucky. “You’re a bright, competent man, and you run the country like I run Blackstone Enterprises. Little things—especially important little things—don’t escape your attention. Now, as I was saying, you lost a good man. And NASA and the White House can spin the story any way you like, but the truth is going to come out. I’m in possession of Aaron Walker’s diary, and at least twenty members of my staff plus a member of the press can testify as to what’s in it. Now I’m aware that the FBI can bust in here and try to find it—”