The Cat's-Paw

By Raymond J. Radner

Regina Marcott has come a long way from the laid-back California campuses of the 70s. Shes a high powered, high tech pioneer in micromechanics with a penchant for robots.

The physicist creates a miniature marvel; a robot small enough to fit inside a human ear with an endearing personality big enough to crawl inside her heart. Regina savors her success with close friend Rud Moryn, who shares it with his White House cronies. Their reactions range from outright admiration to sinister speculation.

For while the creation Regina calls Ring is a stunning innovation and a scientific breakthrough, he is also irresistible to the forces who recognizes the power and potential of this ultimate surveillance weaponthe worlds spies.

Ruds old college pal John Klingman, now the Presidents chief of staff, sees much more than Rings miraculous metallic mechanics, he sees millions of dollars in his pocket. Willing to sell out his country for cold cash, he will stop at nothingand only Regina and Rud can save Ring from a man made inhuman by obsessive greed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: May 29, 2001
• ISBN: 9781475920994

Raymond J. Radner

Raymond J. Radner was a Technical Manager at AT&T Bell Laboratories where he received patents in computer and lightwave communications technologies and was extensively involved in global science business endeavors. He embarked on a second career as a fiction writer with The CAT’S-PAW. He and his wife, Judy, live in Morris Plains, New Jersey and Naples, Florida.

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The Cat’s Paw

by

Raymond Radner

Authors Choice Press

San Jose New York Lincoln Shanghai

The Cat’s-Paw

All Rights Reserved © 1996, 2001 by Raymond J. Radner

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.

Authors Choice Press

an imprint of iUniverse.com, Inc.

For information address:

iUniverse.com, Inc.

5220 S 16th, Ste. 200

Lincoln, NE 68512

www.iuniverse.com

Originally published by Commonwealth Publications, Inc.

Cover Design by Dan McGorry, Fusebox, Inc.

This work is a novel and any similarity to actual

persons or events is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 0-595-18562-2

ISBN13: 978-1-4759-2099-4 (ebook)

Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

About The Author

For my wife, Judy.

She never flinched.

Acknowledgements

Many thanks to my reading team who took the time to plow through my first attempts and comment. They were: A1 and Gizelle Puiatti, Tim and Linda Connors, and Gary Blake. To a skilled editor at proof time, Wendy Wunder. And, always, Judy.

Chapter 1

Regina Marcott’s concentration was broken when the night cleaner bumped the hallway wall with the floor-buffing machine. She rolled her shoulders to loosen her cramping muscles but continued to hold her head steady over the microscope.

Abruptly, she stopped her breathing. My God, he’s moving, she whispered. She remained still. He’s moving as if he knows what he’s doing. I think he’s actually trying to work his legs out of the adhesive. I can’t believe it. Her pulse quickened. I didn’t expect this. I’ve got to make a videotape. Damn! I’m not ready. I’ll bet the camera isn’t focused.

She jerked her head away from the binocular eyepiece and turned a dial on the microscope-mounted video camera. Ahh, yes, there he is. The image cleared. Regina gently touched the TV screen as if she might console the struggling hu-manoid figure. She was mesmerized by the faint red glow of the ring that circumvented the spherical head. She tingled with excitement. ‘The video, she remembered, and reached for the recording switch. The tiny creature suddenly disappeared. Oops! Where did he go? She snapped her head back over the microscope to peer into the eyepiece again and clicked away at the magnification dial, hoping to get her subject back into the field of view. Where the hell could he have gone?" He was no bigger than a flea. Even if he had become mobile, she was certain he shouldn’t have been able to move more than a fraction of an inch.

Could he have jumped out from under the microscope? Dammit, I should have left the cover-glass over him. Why wasn’t I more careful? she lamented.

Yet, how could she have guessed the minuscule robot would have moved like this, as if he had come to life? She leaned away to search the brightly-lit microscope stage, then quickly repositioned herself over the eyepiece.

Where is he? She stood up, trying not to bump or touch anything. Cautiously, she backed away, hoping another perspective might help. No! Keep still Don’t panic, she scolded herself. She scanned the lab table and squinted. I wouldn’t see him from back here. I’ve got to get in closer. Fearful that her excited breathing might blow him away completely, she tugged at the drawer of the table behind her and picked out a surgical mask without allowing her attention to leave the microscope stage. He can’t be gone. Don’t let him be gone. Slowly, she leaned in for a better look. She couldn’t see a thing. It wasn’t likely she would see him with her naked eye, especially if he fell next to something else and wasn’t moving.

The magnifying glass. She snatched it from the shelf behind the microscope and peered, moving it slowly back-and-forth and all around. Nothing. Breathing into the stifling mask made swirling, hollow sounds in her head that unnerved her even more. There was a tiny flash of light at the edge of the microscope stage. It’s him! She scrutinized that edge. Nothing.

Damn. I lost him. She got down on her knees, scanning the floor through the magnifier. Nothing—just dust, tiny solder balls and a paper clip. She carefully picked up the paper clip with her long, clear-lacquered fingernails. Maybe he’s hiding behind it. Nothing. She got up, pulled off the mask and stood helplessly staring at the microscope. How could she have allowed this to happen?

He’s gone.

Chapter 2

After a nearly sleepless night at her apartment in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, Regina relied on habit to guide her through her shower, makeup and dress while she processed mental images of her laboratory microscope station, searching for a clue she might have missed. Her trance was broken by a chill when she found herself outside standing next to her car in the misty morning air. She yanked open the door of the green Jaguar XJS, drawing out a whiff of Armor-All and laid her navy-blue suit jacket neatly on the passenger seat. Her white silk blouse would do for the long trip.

While her delicate scent of Chanel was being swallowed up by the Armor-All, she buckled herself into the snug driver’s seat. No lab coat, sweatshirt and dungarees today. She knew she had to look good. Anything to give her an edge. She was on her way to make an important presentation, maybe the most important thus far in her career. After last night, her career might no longer be notable.

The dash clock said 7:10. She undid the top button on her blouse, slipped a CD into the player and began rocking her head gently to Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds. Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band was one of two CDs she kept in the car; the other was Carreras, Domingo and Pavarotti in Concert.

Today she would not join Carreras, enthusiastically greeting the day with a sigh for Granada. This was a Berkeley, Sergeant Pepper morning. Lucy in the sky with diamonds…. She could always rely on the Beatles to take her back to her earlier struggles—reminders that set a more ap-

propriate mood than Granada for formulating a serious plan. She tensed up, remembering the gauntlet of Berkeley’s physics curriculum and social chaos and how she had dodged her way through it. She had been knocked about and disoriented a few times, but held on to finish in a tie for the top spot in her class.

She raced the engine lightly and checked the side-view mirrors. The images shimmered through tears, just as they did the day she drove away from Berkeley to claim the fellowship she had won to do graduate work at Cal Tech. She took a deep breath and sensed the pressure of her seat belt, now much more comfortable than it had been that day, stretched across her lap in front of the eighth-month mound that was her unborn son. What had happened to the student-lover turned narcomaniac that she left there in a stupor? Twice she tried to find him, for Corey’s sake, but failed. Perhaps she could have tried harder. Perhaps Corey will find him someday.

Regina dabbed at her cheeks with the back of her hand. Those were tough times at Berkeley. She focused on them whenever she got in a jam. The predicament she found herself in now was the ultimate paradox: simultaneous disaster and earth-shaking success. Last night she had given the leading edge of science a great push forward, but it pushed back and got away from her. She had nothing to show, not even a picture. Still, she was sure her tiny creation had actually moved deliberately. Imagine that—a microman machine that moved without a battery or spring. He even seemed to know what he was doing, she reassured herself. No one else had ever come close to achieving anything like this.

She’d have to stay cool. Keep it on the brightside. She might still recover.

She stomped the accelerator, and the sleek machine bolted eastward to Interstate 40 for the seventy-mile commute across North Carolina to the Futronics Micromechanical Research Corporation at The Research Triangle Park, near Raleigh, where her lonely experimentation had gone away. She was tense and her mind raced. When her mind raced, so did her car. She ignored the speedometer and sparse traffic while she argued with herself. Should I tell them what really happened last night? No, I can’t do that, not all of it How much, then? Maybe just the motor: I’ll just tell them about the motor. That’s all they’re aware of anyway. Oh God, he seemed to be working so well. Maybe I imagined more than I really saw. No, he was working—I’m sure of it. I’ll never be able to make another one like that. Maybe I should act as if he never existed. I’ll never find him now. He’s lost, dammit. Just the motor., just talk about the motor today. That’s trouble enough

When she skidded into her parking slot the dash clock said 8:05. She meshed into the revolving door in the entranceway and hurried past the low, smooth curves of Art Deco furniture. She scanned the prospective employees and salesmen studying the citations for scientific achievement on the walls in the reception area. If she had kept things under control last night, there wouldn’t have been a wall big enough to hold the awards.

Regina apologized to the guard for not stopping to chat about a chili recipe he was trying to recite to her. Not having the time to listen to him doubled her guilt pangs since it was she who had asked for it, and she knew the poor fellow had probably made a special effort to remember the intricate formula without reading it. As she hurried down the long hallway to Lou Winters’ office, she promised—in the name of her father’s spirit-that she’d make a special effort to return for the recipe sometime during the day with a pad and pencil and two cups of coffee.

After she gave Lou Winters a quick hug and sat down to face him, she hoped she didn’t look as worried as she felt. He mumbled nervously and flopped into the leather chair behind his desk. He was a fat guy with a lit fifteen-watt light bulb for a nose. Most of his face and neck was hidden behind a gray-speckled, black beard. Whether or not he was nervous, seeing him and hearing his voice relaxed her a little. She managed a smile. She was so alone in this—so isolated. There was still a little time before the meeting. She’d find a way to talk to him about last night. They’d work it out the way they always did.

Her growing optimism was short lived. Lou was fidgety—more so than usual. His mumbling became coherent. Important day, Regina. I hope you’re ready. Important people at this meeting.

He was telling her the obvious. She let him go on. She knew it always made him calmer to talk for a while, uninterrupted. She wanted him to be very calm. Maybe his lecture would provide her an opening to bring up her problem.

All our big customers are going to be here—at the same time—in the same room, he said excitedly. It’s a great opportunity. We can’t screw up. Good thing the National Security Agency let us have the micromotor to continue your development. That gave you an excellent opportunity to see how well it works. I want you to tell them everything, Regina. Show them all your data. Put on a show. Show them how good we are.

Regina squirmed. She wished the NSA had kept the damned microminiature motor she had invented last year. That’s what started it all. Everyone assumed she had been concentrating on improving the motor that was smaller than the diameter of a human hair, but she had gotten sidetracked. She hadn’t been telling Lou everything there was to tell. She had given him only good news: ‘The micromotor data is excellent. Everything is going smoothly, is all she ever said. She hadn’t mentioned a single word to anyone about the tiny robot she had contrived. After all, she wasn’t confident it would ever work. Better to wait and see, she had cautioned herself. Wait until there’s something tangible to show them. Maybe nothing would come of it. But something did come of it. As one step led to the next, and her success forged ahead of her readiness to deal with it, she had maneuvered her way into a corner—this one, right here, right now. She thought she was being clever when she inserted the micromotor into the tiny humanoid form. It would serve as a cute" demonstration device for customers. She’d tell them it was just a creative motor mount and she could work on developing her mechanical creature without attracting a barrage of suspicious questions. If I do get the thing to move, she rationalized, the motor might even help his balance—keep him under control. Her grand plans had failed. Now she had neither the motor nor the robot.

Lou lectured on. ‘The NSA didn’t have to loan the motor back to us, you know. They could have kept showing it off. They milked it for a great deal of funding. He smiled. The funding was for Futronics. We should give it back to them soon so that they could do more of that.

‘They’re all going to be here today, Regina—all our regular customers and some potentially new ones. These people have stashes of spook money for far-out research. I’m depending on you to convince them they should spend it on us. They may not have as much money for guns and bombers anymore, but they’d give everything they have to get their hands on some sort of super-surveillance system. Our microminiature devices give us a good jump on everyone else. This little motor you devised is our first real opportunity. Let’s take full advantage of it."

She was right to let him talk for a while. It seemed to have calmed him. He folded his hands and asked what she intended to say to the government conclave, expecting to hear good news as usual. She realized there was little time. She had to get right to the point.

‘The first thing I should tell you, Lou, is that I had a problem in the lab last night, she began her confession in a clinical tone. I think we’d better figure out what to say about it. It’s the motor…the NSA motor…I lost it. I can’t seem to find it."

Silence. Lou’s brow furrowed deeply.

She hurried on, I’ll try again after this meeting, but I’m not sure what happened. I thought I was thorough last night. I may not be able to find it. She paused until the seconds of silence became unbearable. It disappeared…just disappeared. It’s gone. I was working on it and I think it fell—

You lost the micromotor? he whispered in disbelief.

She nodded and began again to explain.

Don’t tell me that! he exploded.

He thrust his heavy body around his opulent office. His arms flailed like huge clubs. She grippedthe chair tightly, tensing herself against the bellowing.

Don’t tell me that! Don’t tell me that, Regina. I don’t want to hear it, he snorted. How the hell could you lose something like that? It was the only one of its kind in the world. The NSA and DARPA will shit.

ARPA, she corrected him reflexively.

DARPA…ARPA, I don’t give a damn what—

‘They dropped the D from Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, "she interjected, trying to distract him from his rage.

"I said I don’t give a shit what they’re called. ARPA, DARPA. The FBI is going to be here, the NSA, the Pentagon, the CIA…ARPA, DARPA. For God’s sake, that thing doesn’t belong to us. It belongs to the NSA. What are they going to think? These people are all coming to hear about our wonderful science—about micro-wonderful this and micro-wonderful that and about how we’re miniaturizing machines the same way the electronics people miniaturize computers. They’re coming to hear about a fantastic little motor that is smaller than a grain of sand. And what is it you’re going to tell them? I lost it! I lost it. Is that what you’re going to tell them? I lost it. Just like that? Who’s going to give us contracts to do that? Who’s going to pay us for losing their multi-million dollar technologies?

Regina, for Christ’s sake, we’re talking about the lifeblood of our business. DARPA was about to give us a big contract—

ARPA.

"I know for a fact that the NSA and the CIA were thinking about a joint venture, pooling their development funds to support a bigger program for us. Who the hell knows what they’ll do now?

Our name will be mud in the government research business. I gave this project to you because you were the only one I trusted to keep the goddamned thing safe. Oh…wait…just wait until they hear about this. Maybe we shouldn’t tell them. But that thing really belonged to the NSA. We have to tell them."

Regina tapped her glasses on the armrest of her chair, listening impatiently, struggling against panic. Lou’s tirade was not a complete surprise. Admittedly, she had it coming.

Oh, Christ, we can’t hide this, he moaned. We can’t hide this. This is a hell of a breach of security. They’ll never trust us again if they find out some other way. Oh, Jesus….

Regina’s guilt was piling higher. Poor Lou was so upset. He’d always worked so hard to win his customers’ trust. That had always been foremost in his mind. He was such a grinder. She knew that everything he had came slow and hard.

But she’d had enough. They weren’t getting anywhere and there was little time for debate. ‘Take it easy, Lou, she interrupted his silence. It’s not going to do you any good to get angry with me. We’ll find a way out. Now that you blew off some steam, let’s go. I still have a presentation to make, she said, trying to sound confident. It was time for her to faceup, take charge, get them out of this mess she had spawned. I’m just going to tell them what happened…well, maybe not exactly. We’ll assure them that everything is being done. We’ll seal off my lab. Hey, come on, things like this happen, you know. Don’t you remember? This is research. It’s all new. We make mistakes, break things, lose things. And when there’s only one of a kind…well, it couldn’t be helped."

She turned for the door before she lost anymoreof her tenuous courage. She wanted to be in the lab, looking. But it was up to her to get them through this day—one thing at a time.

*   *   *   *

Regina quickly wove her way around the clutches of engineers and scientists that were gathered in the plush conference room, drinking coffee, making small talk or trying to impress each other while they waited for the presentation to begin. There must have been more than thirty of them.

She headed straight for the coffee pot and poured herself a cup, picked up a cherry Danish and bit into it before anyone could start a conversation about her work in micromechanics. She could only guess how they intended to use the micromotor. They all craved an undetectable surveillance system—the pot of gold at the end of the spyland rainbow. She suspected this particular motor was aimed at providing the driver for a recorder or communication system no larger than a fly speck. A device like that could be sent directly to the heart of enemy territory simply by sticking it onto some unsuspecting foreign dignitary on a visit to the White House. No one had told Futronics, officially, that this was the plan, but secrets were always meted out one at a time.

What good was conjecture about something that didn’t exist? There had been only one motor, and it was lost. It would be a long time before anyone could obtain the ultimate microminiature spy system, she thought. What about the little robot? If only there had been more time. Her plans for him were more noble—scouting our vital organs for disease, mining plaque from our arteries. Spying was for scoundrels.

Regina glanced around the room, evaluating the demeanor of the guests, and noticed that the ARPA and the NSA people tended not to mingle with each other. It was important to know who, exactly, was here. The motives of many of these attendees weren’t always so complicated. Some came simply to get away from the office. A few didn’t hide their lust for her, and she spoke to them very carefully or avoided them entirely. Others, less obvious, listened to little of what she said, dreamily watching her every move. There wasn’t much she could do about that. She concentrated on the serious technologists. She sensed when they were swayed by her words and deeds and saw her as the professional she was.

Across the room stood a solitary, sullen and slightly disheveled attendee, leaning with his back against a monstrous walnut door. His cup began to rattle, splashing coffee onto the saucer, and he fell backwards. Frantically he grappled for support, and his coffee cup and saucer tumbled onto him and then the floor. As the door opened wider, an arm reached out from behind it and caught him before he collapsed halfway into the hallway. Regina smiled a sigh of relief when she saw that Rud Moryn was the catcher. He was now helping the man to recompose himself and apologizing for not opening the door more slowly.

Regina’s list of loves was her son, her mother, Lou, her work and her Jaguar. Rud had made serious inroads lately. They had met for the first time a little over a year ago at an event something like this one and have been trying to get together whenever their free time overlaps. So far, that has added up to a total of thirty-six days in bursts of no more than two—not nearly enough time to please either one of them. It has become more bearable sincethey had recently begun to emphasize the more torrid aspects of their relationship during their fly-bys, relying on the phone to fill in the blanks.

Regina’s stomach twitched when she finally caught his eye and basked for a moment in his sensuous gaze. With a wink, he tipped his head slightly to the right, playfully inviting her to sneak out a side door for a quickie.

Two days before, he had told her that he wasn’t certain he could be here. She was so glad to see him; she could easily forget where she was. She bolted into the crowd to get to him. When she reached him, she almost shoved what was left of her Danish into his mouth just to share something with him right then. She caught herself before she created a scene that might destroy the personal fantasies of the lechers and shatter the moral tranquility of the others. She deftly tapped the last morsel into her own mouth and sent a clear, erotic message directly into his brain with a brief, hard stare. She forced herself to look away and return to the subject at hand.

I really screwed up, Rud.

I could see that—you always preferred cheese Danish.

She looked back at him and smiled, ready to take him up on the quickie, then looked away again. This was no time to lock in on his ample lips, rugged face and digging, dark eyes. No. Come on. Help me out. I have a problem, really. She looked around anxiously. She had to tell somebody what she’d done. A secret this big was too hard for one person to contain. Besides, her scientific ego was about to explode. Rud had helped her before—just by talking. She could tell him about what she’d done. Besides being her closest friend and her lover, his special assignment to the

Congressional House Committee on Space and Technology provided him with at least the same high security clearances as anyone else here.

He put his hands in his pockets and smiled at a circle of NSA people trying to nod a welcome to him. What did you do, now? he asked solemnly, trying to look to everyone else as if he and Regina were having a casual but business-like conversation.

I lost it.

He couldn’t resist the opportunity to be playful again. I know, but you never told me who the guy was. He smiled, took his hand out of the pocket of his dark blue, faintly striped suit and waved at the ARPA people.

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. Come on, Rud, cut it out.

Okay, okay. You lost what?

‘The motor," she said tersely, still tapping her foot.

The motor? It took a few seconds to sink in. ‘THE motor? You lost…THE motor? he stuttered, unable to maintain his smile. How the hell did you manage that?"

Her eyes squeezed shut, and she whispered through clenched teeth. That little man I made…1…I think he ran off with it.

Rud twisted his shoulders and looked at the floor. He began tapping his foot, too. Regina, what little man?

I told you…the one I put the motor in…. I thought I told you. Didn’t I tell you…last time?

No, Regina, we didn’t talk much about your work last time. We were busy, remember?

Yes, I remember…. She relaxed some, pondering that, and felt better now that she had told someone about the microrobot. She straightenedup with a deep breath and, not alone with her secret anymore, charged ahead. ‘Well, anyway, I put the motor into a little man I made in my high security lab."

A little man? A little man? And he ran…what do you mean he ran away with…he took the motor? Regina…what the hell are you talking about?

Listen, Rud, he did…. At least I think he did. He was working really well then, zippo, he took off, she said, amazing herself enough to turn up the volume on her whisper. Rud waved his left palm downward as he turned to hide his gesture from the group with a little shh, shh.

You’re telling me you actually made a micro…integrated…man. What is it? A machine? A robot?

She waggled her head yes, trying to suppress a triumphant smile.

And this little…thing…actually moved around? he asked, stupefied, but apparently hesitating to doubt her as her head waggled faster. And then it just took off? Why are you smiling, Regina? For Christ’s sake, you lost something…invaluable…at least $150 million worth of work. And there aren’t any more of those damned motors around…anywhere.

She kept waggling yes to everything Rud said but began to realize he wasn’t getting it. He missed the point. In fact, her exaggerated motions were drawing the attention of many of the guests, who were bored with themselves and obviously looking to Regina to begin her presentation.

But just think, Rud, the little son-of-a-gun was actually running around, she said in a final effort to impress him, "and then he took off, zap, all by himself. Isn’t that great? You can at least tell me I did a great job…I mean…this little guy was really something." Her heart was pounding. She wanted to scream it out—Listen everybody! I created a man—a microrobot I did! And he actually….

What do you mean—guy? Why are you calling it a guy? Rud’s eyes flashed to check that no one was listening.

Because he sort of reminded me of you…you know…well, maybe he didn’t look exactly like you, but he reminded me of you anyway. God, once I warmed him up under the microscope light, there was no stopping him.

Warmed him up?

Yes, that’s how he works…the thermal diffusion micromotor and mechanical deformation…oh, forget it. This would take some time to explain.

She heard Lou’s voice.

Okay, ladies…lady and gentlemen, it’s almost nine o’clock. Let’s take our seats and get started. Frankly, I don’t know how long Dr. Marcott intends to speak this morning. This might be a quickie. He blushed and shrugged with some embarrassment. No, no…ahh…I mean…ahh, Regina, would you like to begin?

She took another deep breath, concealed a squeeze of Rud’s forearm and smiled politely for the benefit of the gathering. Rud stepped back, slid into a bulbous chair and tipped it against the richly-paneled wall.

She thought she had told him about the microrobot part. When she looked back at him, he was watching her intently. He probably thinks I’m going to tell them about the robot. I hope he doesn’t ask a question about it, she worried.

If Regina’s mind hadn’t been playing tricks last night, she had accomplished an extraordinary feat, but there was no proof. She would like to havediscussed it with Lou before the meeting, but, in his agitated state, he wasn’t ready to listen. For the moment, his mind had been saturated with the loss of the futuristic motor and the reputation of his company in the eyes of the U. S. government. He wouldn’t have had the patience for a manlike microrobot.

Sharing this with Rud was second best to having a rational conversation about it with Lou. At least she got what she expected. It helped. Even if Rud didn’t understand the technical details, she was able to tell someone and be confident it would stay between them. Once again Rud was there when she needed him like last year when she’d only known him for a few weeks. She and Lou were in Japan on a business trip. Her son, Corey and her mother were involved in an auto accident in New York City—serious enough for them to be taken to the hospital in an ambulance. Fortunately, Rud had thought to check up on her apartment and phone messages during one of his trips to Greensboro. When he heard the call from the NYPD on her answering machine, he immediately called the New York police and drove the twelve hours up to Lennox Hospital to give moral support, straighten out the bureaucratic mess and take Corey, who’d had a slight concussion, and her mother home to Morristown, New Jersey.

So now Rud knew about Regina’s microrobot. It didn’t matter that he didn’t understand it.

Regina stood alongside the podium, hoping she looked confident to the blank faces gathered around the thirty-foot mahogany conference table—waiting. She took a final glance at Lou who was wiping a trickle of sweat from his temple with one hand and holding the other in a clenched fist against his forehead waiting for her to drop the bomb.

Good morning everyone. I’m happy to see you all here…. She fought the resurgent uncertainty. Don’t stop now. Get it over with. Tell them! The motor—only the part about the motor. I don’t think any of you will be very happy to hear what I have to tell you. Unfortunately, I seem to have misplaced the thermal diffusion motor that our colleagues from the NSA were so kind to have loaned to me for the past two months. She was surprised that the words flowed so easily. She hesitated again for a few seconds, bracing for their reaction. Not so much as a blink from any of them. The weight lifted a little from her shoulders. Maybe they would be more understanding than Lou. She continued, I know it was the only one of its kind….

The blank faces suddenly rippled with some realization of her dire announcement. They moaned expletives and waggled their heads asking each other for confirmation and explanations. Regina aborted her attempt to call the meeting back to order when she realized she couldn’t be heard over the din. She strained to see Rud in the darkness against the wall and gave him a what do you think I should do now shrug. He shot back a don’t look at me shrug of his own, capped with a supportive smile.

Berkeley, Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, flashed through her mind. She glanced at Rud who was watching her with anticipation, looking confident. She straightened her shoulders and slapped the podium. May I have your attention, please, she demanded. Let’s not panic. I mean…let’s take a positive attitude about this. She waited for them to quiet down. "This device was really working. There’s certainly no doubt about that. We should consider the experiment a great success. This should in