Test Pilot's Daughter II: Dead Reckoning by Steve Ward Page B

destroy your copy of that stuff. It’ll be very difficult to get to Mars from a jail cell.”
     
    “I don’t know, Michael; I don’t understand. All I can say is, God help America!”
     

 
     
    Chapter Seven
     
     
     
    Once again Christina slinked out of her condo after dark and headed in the direction of the Here’s To Ya Tavern to meet Michael. It was a cold, damp October evening, and her mind lingered on Lazer. The void left by his tragic death often churned in her gut. In recent months she had learned the true meaning of lonely, and she was beginning to have guilt laden thoughts about Michael.
     
    Lazer had offered nothing but encouragement in her life goal of being the first human to step on the surface of Mars. He even got her drunk one night and took her to a tattoo parlor. She got a small tattoo of the planet on her lower back, where it served as a symbol of her ambition and a constant reminder of his love making. She had to chuckle at the memory. He loved to run his tongue over it and say, “That’s my little Mars bar.” The red planet was crossed by a bold, blue laser beam as a symbol of their everlasting vows. Every time she showered, she looked back in the mirror and thought of him. She laughed at how Lazer had talked her into doing something so far out of character. Christina Matthews, the PhD astronaut with a tattoo? God, I love that guy. . .I mean loved.
     
    Fighting back tears and walking along a dark sidewalk, she tried to concentrate on the mission at hand. Someone in NASA or the FBI had allowed the shuttle Endeavor to be attacked, and she meant to get to the bottom of it. The problem was the complex web of obscurity. It seemed almost impossible to sort out exactly who, what, where, and, most of all, why . But nothing was impossible when she set her mind to it, and she had every intention of finding the bastard and delivering an ass load of justice.
     
    The Moon was bright, and she tensed as she saw a man in a black trench-coat sitting at a park bench just ahead. She tried not to make eye contact as she picked up the pace. Reaching in her pocket, she took a firm grip on her keys. Well trained in martial arts, she wasn’t worried about an attack so much as any diversion that might interfere with her meeting. As she passed, there was a muffled voice. It was no more than a mumble:
     
    “Chris. . .ina. . .ath.. .ooos?”
     
    She wasn’t sure, but it sounded like her name. Then it came again, a little louder.
     
    “Christina Matthews?”
     
    Oh shit, she thought, busted! She spun around and stopped in her tracks. “Who’s asking?”
     
    “Would you be kind enough to sit down for a moment?” the man asked.
     
    The voice sounded firm and professional, but she couldn’t make out the face.
     
    “What for?”
     
    The man pulled his hood back and looked in both directions to make sure the coast was clear. “I’m General Wallace. You remember me; I met you at the DROID briefing. We need to talk.” He opened his coat so she could get a clear view of his uniform and all four stars gleaming in the moonlight.
     
    Crap, she thought, busted for leaking secrets. Wonder what it’s like in jail? She took a step in his direction but felt more like taking off in a dead run. “So General, may I ask what you are doing out here in the middle of the night?”
     
    “Waiting for you, of course,” he smiled.
     
    All kinds of thoughts ran through her head. “Uhh, my security team doesn’t even know I’m here, so how. . .”
     
    “Got my ways, my dear. Now, sit, please.” Wallace slid over to make room for her. He continued to scan the area like a wary fox.
     
    “Okay, I’m not admitting to anything, see? Innocent until proven guilty, you know.” Her quick mind was already structuring a defense. She wanted to scream out a warning to Michael, but the tavern was not in shouting distance.
     
    “You’re not the one we’re worried about. Now listen, we believe this country is at risk of