The Tin Man (17 page)

“It sounds as if their organization is interested in pursuing some of your ideas for additional applications for BERP.”

“Great,” Patrick said. “But I still agree with you: This technology belongs on the world’s airliners. We can sell it to the government or the military later.” Jon looked a bit uncomfortable, but said nothing.

“Where’s Helen?” Wendy asked. “Is she still meeting with the FAA and the airline reps, or is she back in San Diego?” Jon hesitated again. Patrick and Wendy looked at each other quizzically. “Jon? …”

“She … she resigned,” Masters said sheepishly.

“She
what?”

“She resigned. She’s going to take her stock and go form her own company again.”

“What happened? Did you have ah argument?” “No!”

“Then what, for God’s sake?”

“Oh, she was a little upset because I didn’t play kiss-ass with the FAA and didn’t show them the proper amount of subservience,” Masters said, a touch of his childish whininess showing in his voice. But he could see that neither Patrick nor Wendy was buying this, so he added, his voice almost a whisper, “She might have been a little upset
at
me
because I stayed on board the test fuselage during the BERP demo.”

“You
what?”
Wendy exclaimed. She looked at her husband, but to her surprise, he didn’t seem angry. His expression was more like wonder, like curiosity.

But the baby seemed to register her tension, and started to squawk. She cradled him in her arms. “I don’t believe it!” she said. “Jon, you could have gotten yourself killed. No wonder Helen was upset! And you televised the whole thing for the folks in Washington—my God, do you realize you could have forced them to watch your death if-something had gone wrong? No wonder there’s no word from the FAA or the airlines. They probably think we’re all a bunch of crazies or scam artists.”

Wendy glanced at Patrick again. He was wearing his one-thousand-yard stare, the look he got when his mind was far away. “Patrick?”

“I’ll talk to Helen, ask her to stay on,” Patrick said, shaking himself from his abstraction. “Jon, you’ve got to talk to the board and tell them what happened, then convince all the members to talk to Helen. Not only would we be losing our most valuable designer and engineer, but the information she could take with her might cost the company billions.”

Wendy was disappointed in Patrick’s lack of outrage, but she decided to ignore it—he certainly had enough on his mind right now. Besides, Jon seemed genuinely sad and sorry at the prospect of Helen Kaddiri’s leaving the company. It had always seemed to Wendy that Jon took delight in tormenting Helen, but perhaps that was just a facade.

Bradley was getting restless; it was time to feed him. Wendy pulled her hospital gown off her shoulders. Jon’s mouth dropped open as the baby latched
on and hungrily began to nurse. Wendy made no effort to cover herself. “Whoa,” Jon said, snapping to his feet and looking embarrassed. “I think that’s my cue to exit.”

“It’s okay, Jon …” But he was out the door in a flash.

Wendy smiled as she cuddled her son against her breast. “Maybe you should go talk to him, Patrick,” she said. “He seems pretty confused right now.”

“Good idea. He might have to apologize to Helen in front of the board, and we all know how good Jon is about apologizing—not.”

“Thanks,” Wendy said.

Jon Masters was standing in front of the window at the end of the hallway, looking lost. Patrick walked over to him, a slight smile on his face. “You really didn’t have to leave, Jon,” he said. “She’s only feeding the baby.”

“I know.”

Patrick’s grin broadened. “It’s not a striptease, Jon.”

“I know, Patrick,” Jon insisted. “It’s just … well, I … I’ve never …”

“What? Never seen a woman breast-feed a baby before? Women breast-feed in public all the time nowadays.”

“Not that I’ve noticed.”

“There’s nothing to be uncomfortable or embarrassed about. Sheesh, you sound like a prude or a virgin or something.” As soon as the words were out, Patrick regretted it—Jon’s face turned beet-red. “Ah, shit, Jon, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to poke fun 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 explanation,”
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 easygoing—not 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, 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 really want to do is share it with others. You do it all 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?”

“Age doesn’t matter, and you know it,” Patrick 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,
hit
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 thought 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 Dreamland.
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?”

“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 …”

“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 setoff?”

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 knew 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—I 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 do it 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 it.”

“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, Pd be hurt.”

“Jon, 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.”