Awed and humbled into speechlessness, Louis released his mentor's hands. Loughlin grabbed back, maintaining the contact.
"I will care for her with all my powers. Just...don't send her here until you've gone. Please?"
Louis closed his eyes and tipped back his head.
"Of course, Malcolm. If you wish. Thank you."
==
Chapter 24
A flash of morning sun off a polished blue object caught Christine's eye and drew it to the driveway.
"Louis?"
"Hm?" He seemed absorbed in the morning newspaper, which he frequently disdained to read.
"Why is there a second car in our driveway?"
He looked up from the paper and peered out the window.
"Hm. Nice color. Well, there doesn't seem to be anyone in it. Perhaps we'd better have a look."
They went out to the driveway, where a small metallic blue Chrysler sedan glittered in the late summer sun, right behind Louis's old Dodge pickup truck. Christine watched as Louis went to the driver's side door and tried the latch. It opened at once.
"Looks new. Come have a gander, Chris."
She went to peer over his shoulder at the interior of the car. It did look new, and very handsome.
He moved aside and gestured at the driver's seat.
"Try it out. I've had a hankering for one of these for a while."
"Sit in someone else's car? What if he comes back?"
Louis made a show of peering up and down the street. "I don't see anyone. Don't worry, I don't think it's Tiny's. Go ahead, you never know when your next chance to sit in a new car will be. Besides which, it's in our driveway."
She slid into the driver's seat and addressed the controls. It was very nice indeed. The seats were soft leather, and gave off that wonderful aroma of a fine piece of leather upholstery unmatched by anything else. The wheel fit beautifully into her hands. Even the driver's seat position was perfect for her, without adjustment.
"Hey, he left the keys in it!"
"No!" Louis bent over her to look at the set of keys dangling from the ignition switch.
"Massively thoughtless. I'd almost say he deserves to have it stolen. We'd better find out whose this is and see to it that it gets back to him."
"How are we supposed to do that?"
Louis shrugged. "Some people leave their registrations in the glove compartment. Have a look."
She popped open the glove box to find a standard white envelope. It was unsealed. She extracted a few slivers of paper from it and began to shuffle through them. She came upon a title document immediately.
It was made out to D'Alessandro, Christine M.
She swiveled to stare at Louis, who stood by the driver's door with an expression of pleasant interest.
"Any clues yet?"
She stuffed the wad of papers back into the envelope, returned it to the glove box, and rose from the car. He gave way to let her out. She stared at him for perhaps a minute before his deadpan started to disintegrate into his characteristic grin.
"When did you do this?"
He shrugged. "Yesterday evening, while you were at the computer. I didn't have anything else to do."
"You didn't have anything else to do." He shrugged again. She threw her arms around him and kissed him before breaking into a fit of giggles, in which he immediately joined her.
"You crazy man! How much did this cost?"
He pushed her to arms' length and clucked at her in mock disapproval. "You know better than to ask the price of a gift. If I wanted you to know, I'd have left the price tag on it."
She kissed him again, more thoroughly this time, and held him tight against her.
"You're still a crazy man. But you're my crazy man. Thank you, Louis. Thank you for everything."
"You're welcome, Chris." His voice sounded a little unsteady. "Want to drive me to my morning appointment?"
"Sure! When and where?"
"Don't worry, it's not till ten. We have time to shower. And put on your best outfit, because it's your morning appointment too."
"What? What for? With who?"
"With whom." He leered. "I want you to meet a friend of mine."
"Thought I knew 'em all already."
"Not a chance."
***
Richard Orloff was a man with a problem. He was Director of Software Engineering for Onteora Aviation, and he was running out of software engineers.
It didn't matter how high the salaries rose anymore. It just caused the dwindling stock of competent people to churn among the employers. The universities were turning out a bare trickle of graduates who had the right stuff, a trickle inadequate even to replace the accelerating stream of retirees. Separating out the good ones from the pretenders was a costly job that only the employers could perform. There wasn't much visible difference between them until you saw them at work.
It had been the central problem of his life for four years, and would probably remain so until he retired himself, an event that would be a while in coming. For compensation, he had his own large salary, a luxurious office in OA's Engineering Center, and the most attractive, efficient, and persuasive secretary the company could find. He had ceased to notice any of those things. The recruitment problem was slowly driving him nuts.
I can have as many computers as I want. I just can't find the people to program them.
His tenure had seen the departure of more than half of the engineers in his department. Of the more than one hundred who had retired, jumped ship, or changed trades, he had been able to replace only two. Those that remained were spread out much too thinly for the health of the company or the security of the nation. That he knew the reason for the shortfall did nothing to reduce his distress.
The worst of it was losing Louis Redmond. The little bugger was worth his weight in gold.
Louis had carried the software directorate of Onteora Aviation on his shoulders, and had done it with grace and invulnerable good humor. His capacity had seemed boundless; the more was asked of him, the more he delivered. Project managers had often gotten into shouting matches in hallways over who would be next to get the use of Redmond's skills. Louis had never complained, had done all that was asked of him, on time and within budget, with a composure that nothing seemed to affect.
Orloff had offered to make Louis a project manager himself. The young engineer had declined with a shout of rage.
"How competent do I have to be," he had screamed, "not to get made into a paper shuffler?"
Then came the day, nigh on a year ago, that Louis announced his departure. Orloff had wanted to pass out from shock. He'd offered to let the young engineer set his own salary, define his own working conditions, choose his own projects. None of it had worked. Redmond had mentioned the National Technical Personnel Conscription Act, passed by Congress the day before.
"I will not be a national resource," he'd said. Orloff had tried to reassure him, but Louis had allowed no further discussion.
Since then, Orloff had struggled without hope. He still had some good people left -- Rolf Svenson and Terry Arkham were damned good, and unlikely to be leaving soon, thank God -- but he knew that his central mission, to rebuild the company's expertise base in software design, he would not fulfill. The best he could do was to act as a rationing agency, helping to make the decisions about which projects were to be strangled for lack of technical talent.
Yesterday's call had been quite a surprise. Louis wanted to talk to Orloff. He said he knew someone Orloff ought to meet. Orloff was slavering over the chance to talk Louis into taking back his old responsibilities.
The hours dragged slowly until ten AM.
***
Louis led Christine into Richard Orloff's office. The executive practically charged around his desk to greet them. He pumped Louis's hand hard enough to inflict pain.
"Christ, it's good to see you again, Louis! Want your old job back? I can ram the paperwork through in about five seconds."
Louis la
ughed. "Whoa, boy. At least finish your hellos first. Christine, this is Richard Orloff. He used to be my boss. Dick, this is Christine D'Alessandro, probably the hottest young software talent you're ever going to meet. Shake hands and come out negotiating, folks."
The statement surprised both Christine and Orloff. Orloff turned toward the young woman and looked at her speculatively; Christine turned to Louis with "why didn't you tell me?" written all over her face.
Orloff broke the silence. "Where did you find her?"
"I didn't find her. I trained her."
"Is she that good?"
"Mind your manners, Dick. The lady is here in front of you. Why not address her directly, the way your mother taught you?"
Orloff flushed. "I'm sorry, Christine...may I call you that?"
"Sure."
"And 'Dick' will do fine for me. Are you as good as my prodigal son over here says you are?"
"Well, if he says so."
The executive blinked. "Have you brought a resume with you, Christine?"
Louis broke in. "Chris didn't know I was bringing her here, Dick. She hasn't worked in the field before this. She doesn't have a college degree. In fact, she doesn't have a high school diploma."
Orloff's gaze returned to Louis. "What?"
"You heard me. She doesn't have any credentials of any kind. I trained her. And I'm telling you that she's as good as I ever was, maybe a little better. Now, do you still have a shortage in the department, or is OA going to stop doing digital avionics systems and open a bakery?"
The executive opened his mouth, then closed it again. He waved them at his guest chairs and resumed his seat at his desk.
"When you came in, I thought you were going to tell me you'd gotten married, and that Christine is your wife. I was braced for that. Congratulations, I can do. This is going to take more getting used to."
Louis cocked an eyebrow. "Do you remember how good I was, Dick?"
"I could hardly forget. Sure you don't want to come back, now?"
"Cut it out! I'm history. Get used to it. But do you think I can recognize talent on my own level?"
"Well, yeah. And I believe what you've told me, but there are company policies that will make a lot of noise shattering if I hire someone with no degrees and no relevant experience."
Louis grimaced. "Dick, when I turned in my resignation, you pitched a fit that probably landed in Canada. Said I was destroying the department by leaving. Said you could never replace me. Have you managed to?"
"No."
"Well, I have. Here she is. She wants seventy-five grand a year and all the bennies. One time offer, take it or leave it."
Orloff gasped. "Louis, you were only getting eighty when you left!"
Christine was staring at Louis as if he'd dropped his pants in public.
Louis smiled. "Not because I couldn't have made more, Dick. You know that. Chris could make more, too. We're being nice to you for old times' sake."
While his former boss tried to cope with his astonishment, Louis turned to Christine and said, "Dick's a Russian Orthodox. I'll have to take you to one of their churches some day. Everything's gilded. They pinch pennies about everything else to save up for that. Even when it isn't their own money."
"Louis!"
"Oh, hush, Dick, you know it's true. Look, I appreciate that Human Resources is going to put you through a wringer on this. That doesn't change anything else. Chris is going to get her price, here or somewhere else. She's the genuine article, you have my word on it. You're only getting first crack at her because I like you and she trusts me. If you still trust me, the only question remaining is whether you still care enough about the department to be willing to endure a storm from upstairs." He rose from his chair. Christine rose as well. "Take the rest of the day to think about it and call us at home this evening. Tomorrow we talk to Sentry Munitions."
They left Orloff's office as they had entered it, hand in hand and in silence. When they had seated themselves in Christine's little Chrysler, Louis gave way to raucous laughter.
"What was this all about, Louis?"
"A job for you. You are going to work, you know."
"Why didn't I get any warning about this?" Her face was severe.
"So you could work your way into one of your famous fits of paralyzed terror? You did fine, Chris. It's easier to impress by saying nothing than by talking a blue streak. He'll call tonight with an offer."
As they headed back to Foxwood, Louis continued to laugh. When Christine began looking over at him too often for safety, he quieted himself.
"You have no idea how much fun that was, Chris."
"Oh, I think I can guess." Her tone made it plain that she hadn't shared in his amusement.
"Forgive me?"
"Ask me tonight."
"I did give you a new car four hours ago."
"Oh? And what have you done for me lately?"
Louis shook his head and went back to laughing.
==
Chapter 25
The day was special. Christine knew it upon awakening. She and Louis clung to one another just a little longer than usual. The sunlight was just a little stronger than was normal for a Monday in late September. The air was just a little crisper than it ought to be in central New York at the start of autumn. It bore a feeling of portent.
She took special care with everything that morning. She bathed and groomed herself with more than her usual attention to detail, more than she had ever taken before. Picking a suit took her ten minutes. Even seating herself at the kitchen table seemed a complex affair that required close attention to a host of details. Louis looked up from his omelet and grinned.
"Relax. You're going to blow their socks off."
She nodded and dug into her breakfast. The flavors were more pronounced than usual. The cheese was sharper, the butter was richer, and the coffee was stronger. She found herself eating with appetite and relishing each bite.
If only I could feel the confidence in myself that he has in me.
"Chris?"
"Hm?" She looked up with a mouthful of eggs. Louis sounded as if he'd thought of something important.
"Just don't kick anybody. It's bad form on your first day."
She choked on her eggs and her sudden laughter.
"You bastard! What if I'd gotten food on myself?"
He shrugged. "You have plenty of suits, and they're all nice."
It would be really nice if I didn't have to be away from him to do this.
You know you have to. Now bear down and get through it.
Shut up, Nag. You used to be a lot more interesting, way back when.
And you used to be a lot more frightened.
She knew it was true. There was little for her to fear these days. She was about to start a prestigious job at a top-shelf employer that would pay her a salary so high it made her lightheaded to think of it. Louis had made her into a one-woman army. Though her heart and guts might never fully believe it, it appeared that the Butchers had been thoroughly dealt with. And there was Louis himself.
Stuff to be afraid of? I don't even have anything to complain about. If I didn't have a little straightening-out to do with Helen, I wouldn't have a care in the world.
I wonder if it would help if Louis and I were to drag her into bed with us.
She savored the thought of her petite friend sandwiched between her and Louis. It brought a smile to her lips that she couldn't suppress.
"Something you might share with me?"
She clamped down on a giggle before it could escape.
Maybe later, Thunder Stud.
"Nothing important, Louis. What will you do with your day?"
His brow furrowed. "Let's see. I don't have anyone to spar with, so the morning is free. And I don't have anyone to teach programming to, so the afternoon is free. I guess I'll go out, get roaring drunk, wreck the car and kill myself. Say, can I borrow yours?"
She laughed again, and the tiny tension that had been nestling in
her chest dissolved in the warmth of her mirth.
"Sounds like a plan. Louis? Drive me to work?"
He went blank for a moment, then grinned. "Sure, why not? You might even say it's traditional."
"Traditional for what?"
He wiped his mouth and rose from the table. "Never mind."
***
Louis was walking Christine toward the security shack at Onteora Aviation's front gate when he heard, then saw, the commotion approaching from down the street.
A paunchy man with an angry red face in a blue terrycloth bathrobe was screaming, chasing an enormous, shaggy black dog, and swinging a golf club. Neither was moving very fast. The man's paunch and staggering, bowlegged run sufficed to explain his lack of speed. The dog was limping badly, perhaps from a blow already struck. It was barely keeping out of its pursuer's flailing range.
He shouted "Catch the dog and make nice" to Christine before running to intercept the club wielder. The man tried to move around him. Louis hooked one arm inside the man's club arm and yanked him backward onto the pavement. The impact was muffled, but the consequent profanities were not.
Louis held the man down until some color had drained and some rationality had returned to his face. It took awhile.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, asshole? Let me up!"
Louis shook his head.
"Peace, friend. What do you think you're doing?"
The man tried to rise. Louis held him down.
"That fucking mutt just drooled all over my only clean suit!"
Louis nodded. "I see. And this is how you normally go to the cleaners? On foot, in a bathrobe, with a -- say, that's one of those new titanium drivers, isn't it?"
Color surged back into the man's face. He started to gobble from rage. No recognizable words came out.
Louis plucked the golf club from the man's hand and stood up. He made a show of inspecting it, sighting along the length of the shaft.
"I've wanted one of these myself for quite a while now. I don't golf, but I understand they're ideal for beating a dog to death in public. Wasn't that what you were trying to do a moment ago?"
On Broken Wings Page 18