Free The Cassandra Project by Jack McDevitt Page A

suspect because I’ll have proven how easily I can be bamboozled.” “Then why not just ignore it, cancel your airtime, and pretend it never happened?” said Camden.
    “Because
something
happened,” said Bucky decisively. “I don’t know what, though I’ve got a pretty good idea. And if I’m right about what it was, it’s essential that NASA come clean before we actually launch our Moon mission.” He paused, looking from one to another. “Doesn’t it bother any of you that they’ve been lying to the public for half a century? And that it’s got to be about something major, something
important
. If it’s minor, there’s no need to still be keeping it secret. If it was just some stupid glitch that could embarrass or humiliate them, hell, 80 percent of the public wasn’t even alive then, and just about anyone who could be embarrassed is dead by now.” “That’s an assumption, Bucky,” said Gloria. “A logical one, but still an assumption. You know the government: It lies about something, usually something trivial, every five minutes. “ “I just explained why it’s
not
trivial,” said Bucky.
    She shook her head. “You just explained why you
think
it’s not trivial, and it was a logical answer—but what has logic got to do with the government? You say everyone’s dead, so why not reveal whatever it was if it was trivial? I say there have been so many lies and cover-ups, why go to the trouble of exposing this one if everyone involved is dead and most of the public can’t even remember the Apollo missions?” “Okay,” said Bucky, “I’ve listened patiently. I haven’t heard anything to make me change my mind. Now we’re going to spend the next day and a half trying to find out what the hell happened. Clearly, Ralph D’Angelo has either gotten possession of the diary, or he’s made a photocopy of it.” “Why?” asked Brent.
    “Because he’s an hour from Washington, and he had to be under a lot of pressure to keep quiet about this,” explained Bucky patiently. “So he had to protect his ass, and that means either the diary or a photocopy, with some expert already authenticating Aaron Walker’s handwriting.” He paused. “We need a copy of whatever he’s got.” “Don’t look at me, Boss,” said Brent. “I don’t leave your side, not for anything.” Bucky turned to Camden. “Okay, Ed. Get on the next flight down there, and don’t come back without it.” “And if he doesn’t want to part with it?” asked Camden. “I can’t bust down doors the way Jason can.” Bucky sighed deeply. “We’re not criminals, Ed. I don’t want you to beat it out of him.” “Then what?”
    Bucky stared at him. “You’re working for a billionaire. What do
you
think I’m going to suggest?” “How high can I go?”
    “Gloria, D’Angelo’s not syndicated, right? He just works for
The
Baltimore Sun
?” “That’s right.”
    “What’s the most he could be making?”
    “Week, month, or year?”
    “Per year.”
    “Without being syndicated? No more than $130,000, probably a little less.” Bucky turned back to Camden. “A quarter million ought to do it.” “And if he wants more?”
    “Tell him you have to see it to decide if it’s worth more.”
    “And then?”
    “Then decide.”
    Camden walked to the door. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” Then he was gone. Bucky lit a Havana, took a couple of puffs, and walked back and forth in front of his desk, thinking. Finally, he sat down.
    “I need to talk to Jerry Culpepper,” he announced.
    “Culpepper?” repeated Gloria. “Even if he knows what happened, which I, for one, doubt, he’ll never tell you.” “We’re on the same side,” replied Bucky. “He just doesn’t know it yet.” “What makes you think so?” asked Brent.
    “His job is disseminating information.” Gloria and Brent just stared at him, puzzled. “Don’t you see?” he continued. “Everything he’s built in his career depends upon his