Tin Man

by Dale Brown

  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 explana-

  tion," 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 easygoingnot

  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

  I 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

  r

  eall want to do is share it with others. You do it

  11 y

  a 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, but 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

  though
t 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 Dream-

  land. 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?I/

  "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 . . ." I

  "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

  211

  set off.

  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 kriew 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-1- 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

  doit 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

  "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,

  I'd be hurt."

  "Ion, 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."

  Masters nodded, glad to hear those words from

  Patrick. But there was obviously something more.

  "What is it, Muck?" he asked. "Why are you asking

  ? Why are we talking about this?"

  Patrick hesitated, then shook his head. "Just

  some stupid ideas I have of my own," he said. "It's

  nuts."

  "Nuts? You? Hardly. You're the most levelheaded

  , intelligent, calculating, no-nonsense, pragmatic

  guy I've ever known. What do you have in

  mind?"

  "Nothing. Forget about it."

  decided to drop it. "When I spoke with Hal

  Jon

  Briggs and Chris Wohl when they came by after the

  demo," he said, "they said ISA is very interested in

  some of the BERP applications you've been drawing

  up-the Ultimate Soldier ideas. They want to see a

  demonstration as soon as possible. I've spoken to

  the board, and they approved a developmentfunding

  package. You've got your green light."

  "Great!" Patrick exclaimed. "It'll probably mean

  BERP goes black, Jon. I know we had other ideas for

  BERP, much more altruistic ones . . -." I

  "Hal convinced me there's plenty of time to deploy

  BERP in the civil markets," Jon said. "But the

  money he's talking about was too difficult to ignore

  "But BERP going black will create a security

  nightmare since we've already demoed the process

  for the airlines and the FAA," Patrick pointed out.

  "Hal promised help there too," Jon responded.

  "His team has got to lay low because of what they

  did getting the EB-52 Megafortress out of Guambeating

  up on those Navy security guys apparently

  ruffled a lot of feathers. Hal figured having Madcap

  Magician provide security for us while we put together

  an Ultimate Soldier prototype will work out

  well for everyone concerned-we get top-quality security

  , and they hang out in an out-of-the-way place

  until the heat blows over."

  "Great," Patrick said, finding himself enthusiastic

  for the first time in several days. "I can get

  started right away, while I help Wendy with the

  baby and watch over Paul as he recuperates. I might

  need a little more personal time, but I don't think

  I'll need paternity leave . . ."

  "Take all the time you need, Patrick. Hell, after

  all that's happened lately, I'd approve a year's leave

  if you asked for it."

  "I don't need that much--only some leeway if I

  think Wendy, Paul, or Bradley needs me," Patrick

  said. "But thank you. It means a lot. We might consider

  moving the program office to McClellan Air

  Force Base or to our facility at Mather . . . 11

  "Way ahead of you, Patrick," Masters said. "I've
/>
  already got that approved. We take over the old alert

  facility at Mather this week. The Ultimate Soldier

  program office will be set up there, with full security

  . " Then he hesitated. He could see that Patrick's

  mind was elsewhere again, some kind of scenario or

  plan being developed, analyzed, changed, and tested

  in his head at warp speed. "You're going to start

  something, aren't you, Patrick? You're going to go

  out looking for some ass to kick."

  Patrick looked at Jon with his cold steel-blue

  eyes and said, "I want to destroy those bastards who

  killed those cops and hurt Paul, Jon. I don't want to

  arrest them or defeat them or punish them. I want

  to annihilate them. I know we have the weapons

  and the technology to crush them, and I want to do

  it. Tomorrow. Right now."

  Jon felt as if Patrick had been screaming at him,

  although his voice had been no more than a deep,

  dangerous-sounding whisper. "Jeez, Muck, this

  doesn't sound like you. Usually you're the one who

  wants to hold back, look at the situation, formulate

  a strategy, you know, all that 'Plan the flight then

  fly the plan' shit you always say."

  "Not this time," Patrick said. "I want to find the

  men who did this to my brother, to my police force,

  to my city-to my damned home-and I want to

  crush them like insects. I'm going to use every bit

  of technology and firepower I can gather to do it.

  I'm going to do it whether or not I cooperate with

  the police or the city or the FBI or whoever else is

  involved."

  Jon looked at his friend, stunned. He had never

  seen Patrick so angry, so determined, so . . .

  bloodthirsty. He had seen him after crises that had

  ended in tragedy, yet he had never come unglued.

  Now, he seemed possessed.

  "What do you want me to do?" Masters asked.

  "What do you want from me?"

  "Everything," Patrick said. "Access to everything

  . All your reconnaissance and surveillance

  gear. All your computers, your networks, your communications

  systems, your aircraft, your satellites.

  All of your weapons, your sensors, your prototypes,

  your manufacturing facilities. Most of all, access to

  you. These bastards who attacked in the city were

  soldiers, not ordinary robbers. I'm going to need ev-

  ery bit of modem weapons technology I can get to