The Second Ship (The Rho Agenda #1)(37)

Heather’s mouth felt so dry that she thought her tongue might permanently adhere to the roof of her mouth.

“As should be obvious, the two of you, Fred and Gil, passed your polygraphs. As for your children, while they may have acted irresponsibly, we know that the range of the transmitter on their model airplane could not have reached the lab from the park. Nor could they have received any video or audio feed from that distance. Therefore we have concluded this was an accident.”

The director looked directly at Heather, then Jennifer, and finally Mark, smiling warmly. “I was once a young person myself, as hard as that may be to believe. You three have been quite the topic of discussion at the lab. Our scientists who looked at the airplane you built really liked the innovative modifications you added. Of course, on future projects you need to program a reliable return home plan, in case your data link is lost.”

Then, turning to Mark, Director Krause said, “I hear you are quite a basketball player, young man. I don’t usually make the high school games, but I think I will try to come tomorrow night.”

Mark grinned. “I’m sure our entire school would be honored to have you there, sir.”

Director Krause nodded and shook hands with Gil and Fred. “I hope this puts your minds at ease. You have a good bunch of kids.”

Both men thanked the director, who got into his car and drove off with a wave.

Suddenly everyone became very aware that Dr. Stephenson was still standing in the driveway. As the director's car disappeared around the bend, the deputy director stepped forward.

“Be assured, if the decision were mine, neither of you men would ever work at a national laboratory again. It doesn’t matter one whit that you didn’t know what your kids were up to. You are responsible for their actions. No excuses. No exceptions.

“While your children may not have intended to spy on the lab, I’ll bet they were up to no good. Luckily, they are also no good at what they were up to, as evidenced by their incompetent construction and operation of their aircraft.”

Dr. Stephenson turned on his heel and walked back to his car, a classic model Jaguar convertible. As he opened the door, he turned toward them once more.

“Consider yourselves on probation. I’ll be personally checking the quality of your work to ensure it is better than the quality of your child rearing.”

He slammed the door, and the Jaguar departed with a squeal of tires.

Heather had never heard her mother cuss, but the stream of language that erupted from the petite woman’s lips was both creative and vile. When she stopped, there was a moment of awed silence.

Then, Mr. Smythe began to laugh, and the laughter soon spread to everyone in the driveway.

“Well, Anna, I don’t think anyone could have said that better.”

With a massive sigh of relief, they decided on a celebratory barbeque to be hosted by the Smythes that evening. While the dads fired up the grill, the moms worked on the appetizers and salad.

In the meantime, Heather, Jennifer, and Mark moved to their workshop in the Smythe garage. As soon as the door closed behind them, the three shared a round of high fives.

Jennifer melodramatically wiped her brow. “Thank God that’s over. From here on, no more wild schemes.”

Heather laughed. “You said it.”

“Hey, guys. You need to see this.” Mark’s excited voice caused them to spin around. “I never bothered to look at our receiver units since the plane went down—but guess what? We’re still getting a feed from the QTs. There’s a faint audio signal, and we even have video coming in from the camera.”

“Wait a second,” Heather said. “I thought the camera was destroyed in the crash.”

“It went black. Maybe the lens was in the mud. Now, wherever it is, it must be getting some light to power the solar cells.”

Heather was stunned. “You know what this means? Our stuff is still out there and working. We might want to start a recording.”

Jennifer’s jaw dropped. “Didn’t we almost get our heads handed to us? And didn’t we just agree not to stick out our necks again?”

Mark shook his head. “This is different. Our airplane is already out there somewhere. The QT doesn’t send detectable signals. There’s no risk.”

Heather paused a moment to consider, then nodded. “He’s right. It won’t hurt to investigate a bit more.”

Jennifer sat down hard on the bench, rubbing her temples with both hands. “Mystifying. Okay, stop. Don’t say another thing. I think I’m going to be sick.”

Mark grabbed his sister by the hand, pulling her to her feet. “Come on, Doc. Let’s go grab some dinner. Once you have some good food in your stomach and get a good night's sleep, you'll start seeing things our way.”

As they walked into the house, Jennifer replied, “That’s exactly what scares the crap out of me.”





Chapter 25





The smell of mahogany and Old English furniture polish hung thick in the air. Ventilation had never been installed in Dr. Stephenson’s private office, just off the huge laboratory that housed the Rho Ship. He didn’t need it. He didn’t want it. The thick, old smell matched the dark, ceiling-to-floor mahogany of the bookcases. It matched the oversized mahogany desk, the mahogany captain's chair that had once seated Sir Francis Drake.