Jane ran up the steps of KKRS, smiling cheerfully at the receptionist and thinking ahead to the meeting for which she was almost late.  She nearly ignored the hand waving her back to the desk but the woman standing awkwardly near the stairs caught her eye and she slowed down.

 “Grace?  I’m really late for a meeting.  Can it wait until this evening?”  She shook hands with the hooker from Fifth Avenue she’d interviewed the month before.

 “Gosh, Miss Hyde, I don’t want to keep you.  It’s probably not important or anything but I was kind of worried and you were so nice before . . . I’m just not sure what to do.”  Grace’s eyes darted around the lobby and she hardly stopped to breathe before continuing.  “I thought maybe you might have a idea and all . . .”

 Jane restrained a sigh, looked up at the clock above the elevator and smiled.  “I’m already late, Grace.  Another few minutes won’t make any difference.  Annie, will you ring Mr. Elliot and tell him I’ll be up as soon as I can.  Now Grace, why don’t you come with me up to the staff lounge?  This sudden heat wave has me parched.  I’ll split a diet Coke with you.  Okay?”

 “Oh, you don’t have to do that but it is kind of hot, isn’t it?  I just misremember when it’s been this warm so far north and all.”  Grace cast a last look behind them and breathed a sigh of relief when the elevator doors closed before anyone else could get on.  “It won’t take but a minute or two.  I’m just kind of confused and all.  But you’re real smart and you can probably figure out what’s wrong.  I watched you on the TV . . . when you were on the Moon.  That was pretty brave of y’all.”

 Jane remembered that when she got stressed, Amazing Grace’s voice reverted to her Georgian drawl.  “I admit I was a little scared going up there.  But it’s a unique place with some of the most fascinating people I’ve ever met.”  They got off on the fifth floor and she led the way down to the small room with the Coke machine, a table and four chairs.  “It’s not very pretty but we don’t have to share it for awhile.  Diet Coke all right with you?”

 “Sure, I kind of got used to it after all these years up north.  Still doesn’t beat an RC though, does it?”  Grace laughed and sat down at the table with her back to the wall instead of the hall, putting her small leather purse in front of her and opening it then closing it again.

 Jane fed the machine the quarters she kept in her jacket pocket at all times.  Collecting the frosty cold cans, she passed one over to Grace before sitting down across from her.  “Okay, what’s up?”

 Grace seemed to be intent on opening the can without breaking one of her inch long, highly lacquered nails.  “Well, it’s kind of hard to explain.  You see I still keep in touch with some of my friends from the old hometown.  They don’t know what kind of work I’m in.  I just tell them I’m a model for dish soap and those kind of things that don’t show a model’s face and all.  That way, they can think I’m doing okay.  My best friend Dixie, she sent me a newspaper clipping about my old high school sweetheart, Joey.  He got killed the other day in an accident in New York City.”

 “I’m sorry to hear that, Grace.  Is it something about his death that has you worried?”  Jane took a sip of her Coke and wished for a bucket of ice to pour it over.

 “Kind of . . . New York it’s a dangerous place but he was a real good man.  He was real patriotic and bent on helping people with his medical work.  We were all real proud of him.  He was a doctor researching all kinds of diseases and such for a real big medical lab.”  Grace seemed to run out of steam all at once, her fingers nervously opening and closing the clasp on her purse.

 “He sounds like a good man, Grace, doing important work.”

 She looked up and Jane saw the tears well up and overflow onto the painted cheeks.  “Yeah, he was.”  Opening her purse, she pulled out a Kleenex and an envelope.  Dabbing at her cheeks, she finished by blowing her nose.  “We didn’t write real regular to each other.  But he liked to brag a little bit to me about how important his work was.  Men like to do that, you know?”

 “I do indeed.”  Jane flashed back to her last dinner with Peter on Moon Base while he and Joshua described their flights to the Asteroids and back.  “It seems to be in their genes.”

 “There, I knew you’d understand . . . about genes and gene-e-ics.”

 “Genetics?  Was that what Joey was working in, genetics?”

 “Kind of, I guess.  I never did understand much about all that medical stuff but he’d write me sometimes and tell me about some advance or another he’d made.  The last letter before this one was kind of different.”  Grace took another drink, turning the can around and around in her hand.  "He was discouraged because some grant had fallen through and they were going to move him into another office or something where he’d be working for somebody else.  And he didn’t like it one bit.”

 Jane could almost see the too serious man in his mid thirties, always an assistant and never the boss.  “Is that the last letter?”
 Grace nodded and pushed the envelope over to her, tears leaking again from her brown eyes.  “I’m not the smartest person in the world, Miss Hyde.  I wouldn’t be a hooker if I was.  But it sure seems odd to me that he’d write this letter to me and then suddenly get himself killed, crossing a street.”

 “May I read it?”  Jane’s hands itched to open the long white envelope.  That sixth sense that had stood her in good stead so many times before was going off like a ten-alarm fire.

 “Sure.  That’s why I came by.  Maybe you’ll just tell me I’ve got rocks in my head but if there’s something wrong with him dying and all.  I want to know it and I want some justice for him.”  Grace blew her nose again and sat back, finally relaxing in the uncomfortable plastic chair.

 Jane opened the envelope after first checking the postmark that read New York City, March 3, 2001.  Two sheets of paper were enclosed filled with a rather fussy pedantic handwriting that went a long way to telling her about ‘Joey’s’ personality.  It was dated the second and even had the time listed - 8:50 p.m.

Dear Grace,

It has been a very busy month for me.  Even though I wrote you of my disappointment at losing the Richelli Grant to a vastly inferior project in genetic research, I may have managed a minor coup in landing yet another grant.  I was approached by a member of the NSA about a possible security breach at my very own agency.

Well, I was shocked to say the least and I asked him why he didn’t approach Dr. Morris directly.  That’s when he told me that the head of our research facility might in fact be a spy for the Chinese.  Well, I could hardly believe my ears although I have always thought it a little odd that he hired so many Asian doctors when there were plenty of good medical men right here the United States of America.

The agent (I can’t tell you his name but he certainly appears to have ancestors who came over with the Mayflower) informed me that it was my record of loyalty to our great country which led his superiors to approach me.  I am to watch Dr. Morris and to secure xxxxxxxxxx.  Well, I can’t really say what I’m to get for him.  Just that it will show up those horrible experiments the lab did in the Fifties.

And how lax the security is here.  I know I’ve written to you before how lackadaisical the security measures are around here.  Well, maybe now something will be done.  I am a trifle hesitant about part of my mission but the NSA agent assures me that it will be treated with great care.  And of course, it’s all in a good cause.  There may even be a chance at another grant in the near future.

After it’s all over, I’ll write you how it turned out.  I believe I caught one of your commercials the other evening while I was watching the news.  Didn’t you say that Ivory Soap was one of your accounts?  You always did have beautiful hands, Grace.  Perhaps this will be the year that you come up to New York and allow me to take you to dinner.  It’s very lonely here in this big city so far from home.  But my work is here just as yours is in Boston so we mustn’t complain too much.

Sincerely,
Joe

 Jane tried to decipher what was under the heavily edited section but had no luck.  “Who did Joe work for?”

 “The Morris Institute in Manhattan is what he told me a couple of years ago.”

 “What’s his full name and what was his address?”

 “Joseph Peter Hinckle and he lived at 336 23rd Street, number 6.”  Grace recited from memory.

 “I’ll look into it for you, Grace.  Where will you be tonight if I need to reach you?”  Jane’s fingers itched for her computer.

 “I don’t feel much like going to work tonight but I thought I’d go over to the Pink Pussycat about nine and have a drink in Joey’s memory.”  Grace looked every one of her thirty-seven years.  “I still can’t quite believe he’s gone.”

 “You have my sympathy, Grace.  Will you let me keep his letter for the moment?  I’ll bring it back tonight and we’ll both have a drink in his memory.”

 Grace smiled almost shyly.  “That’d be real nice, Miss Hyde.”

 “Please, Grace, call me Jane.  We’re partners in this investigation, right?”

 She nodded and seemed to perk up.  “That’s real neighborly of you, Jane.  I appreciate it.  About nine?”

 “I’ll be there, Grace.  And don’t worry, if there’s anything wrong, we’ll find it out.”  Jane promised and shook hands gingerly, pondering why women afflicted such talons on themselves.

 Grace nodded and Jane walked her to the elevator before saying goodbye.  Then she hurried to the meeting room, slipping in quietly and taking the seat nearest the door.  She knew that David had spotted her but he continued taking progress reports from some of the other reporters so she settled in and slipped the letter in one pocket while removing her notebook from the other.

 Five minutes later it was her turn under David’s laser vision.  She detailed her slant on the story about the rumors of a gang war just off of Central Square and he nodded before moving on.  When the others filed out of the room, she remained.  He quirked an eyebrow at her and motioned her to his end of the table.  Sliding the letter over the polished oak surface, she watched him while he read it.

 “I’ve got a feeling that it’s important.  Right after he wrote that he was killed in an ‘accident’.  The Morris Institute is one of the main players in genetic research.”  Jane sat back and controlled her fingers by shoving her hands in the pockets of her black linen jacket.  Sometime during their stay on the Moon and the letting go of her old feelings for Peter, she’d begun to see David in a different light.  So now, she had to control the urge to touch him whenever they sat like this . . . alone.

 “Horrible experiments – that’s an odd thing to write.  And why the NSA and not the FBI?”  David pulled on his right ear lobe and she hid a smile at the telltale sign that she’d sparked his interest.

 “Worth pursuing?”

 He looked at her sideways.  “And if I said no, you’d just look into it anyway.”

 She grinned at him.  “That goes without saying.  I thought I’d let the camera boys have the page with the scribbled out part to see what they can see.”

 “Good thought.  I’ve got an old friend who’s retired now.  But Palmer White was an expert on the medical advances during the Fifties and I can pick his brains about the Morris Institute.  He lives two squares over from here.”  He made another note then looked up.  “When will you meet Grace again?”

 “Tonight about nine at the Pink Pussycat.”

 His wide grin caught her by surprise.  “Hah!  When I got to town twenty-five years ago, it was the Purple Parrot.  The bartender, Mike, was a couple years older and tough as nails.  He ended up owning the place.”

 “You could meet us there.  Have a drink with Mike who stops in most evenings about eight.  And they still have tough bartenders.”  She hoped her voice was casual enough.  It was the closest thing to a date she could think of.

 He looked at her with a twinkle in those deep blue eyes.  “Hm-m-m, I’ll think about it.  Depends on whether I can get a hold of Palmer.  Expect me when you see me, otherwise I’ll see you tomorrow morning at nine.”

 Jane nodded and stood to go.  “Give me the letter and I’ll take it down to the film lab.”

 Their hands touched when he picked it up to give to her and she blushed like a teenager.  “I thought maybe I’d run a check on the Richelli Grant as well.  See who won it and why Joey thought the other grant proposal was inferior.”

 “Good thinking.  I’ll see you later.”

 “If you don’t show, maybe Mike could tell me some stories about the good old days.”  She said casually when she reached the door.

 A paper wad hit her in the back of the head.  “Out, woman!  Go and earn the queenly salary we pay you.”

 “Yes, Sir.  Right away, Sir.”  Jane managed a creditable curtsy before escaping through the door.  She kept the smile all the way down to the third floor lab that processed all their film.

 Telling them what she wanted and reminding them that they were under no circumstances to damage the paper or letter, she left the curious lab technicians and headed for her computer.  The search for the latest recipient of the Richelli Grant took less than five minutes.  Finding Lu Chen Ho took two hours.

 He was flattered to be asked about his research and half an hour later, she hung up knowing way more about the human genome number 62 than she really wanted to.  As far as he was concerned any other research was a waste of time and he only knew Joe Hinckle as the name of a competitor.  His real opponent had been someone named Angus McGill and the self-satisfaction at his win over his rival had come through loud and clear.

 The cell phone in her purse rang three times then went quiet.  She scooped it up and headed for the roof of the building, snagging another diet Coke to take with her.  Walking up the two flights gave her heart more aerobic activity than it had had in two days.  Making another mental note to get to the gym more frequently, she settled down on the low stone parapet and punched in her code.

 When the static hit, she held it out from her ear, counted to ten and gingerly put it back to her ear in time to hear Sam’s voice.  "Jane?”

 “Right here, Sam.  What’s up?”

 “Did you get it?”

 She smiled at the slightly panicked undertones.  “Yes, sweetie, I got it and it’s going to be just right.  I’m in the middle of a possible story here but I should be able to break away soon.  You’ve got a month until his birthday.”

 “Yeah, I know but it’s important that it be just right.”  Sam’s sigh came through loud and clear.  “I know you think I’m an idiot but I want it to be perfect.”

 “Sweetie, what the two of you have is so close to perfect that you really don’t need things to spell it out.  I see it every time you look at each other.”  Jane smiled at a pigeon that landed on the wall, looking for crumbs.  “In fact, I’d be jealous as hell if I didn’t have a kind of date tonight.”

 “A kind of date?  Really?”  Sam’s voice perked right up.

 “More like a working-on-a-story kind of date.  But hey, it’s a start.”

 “You both need to come back up here and I’ll see what I can do about locking you in one of the airlocks for a couple of hours.”  His tone was suggestive and she laughed into the phone.

 “No thank you, my friend.  I think I can fumble through this on my own.”

 “Well, all right.  But remember where I am.”

 “No fear, Sam.”  She changed the subject abruptly.  “Have there been any more threats?”

 “Two more.”  Silence hummed between them.  “Still not specific but Martin is up here now going over some of our procedures.  You never said that the man’s a serious stud-muffin.  Half the female population and probably a quarter of the men up here lose their train of thought completely when he walks by.”

 She laughed out loud.  “Really?  I hadn’t noticed.”

 “Hah!  I’ll just bet you didn’t.”

 “Well, one of the things I didn’t mention is that you can trust your sister with him but . . . I’d watch out for Peter.”

 Dead silence.

 “Oh my god.”  The helpless laughter from the other end of the phone was contagious and she found herself chuckling along.

 “Jane, this is Seth.  Why did Sam fall off the chair?”

 She tried to restrain her giggles but couldn’t at the fond but exasperated tones.  “He’ll be okay in a minute or two.  If I can get away, would it be all right to come up?”

 “Of course, we look forward to seeing you whenever you can come.”

 “Good, tell Laughing Boy that I’ll see him soon.”

 Seth sighed in her ear.  “See you, Jane.”

 She hit ‘end’ and sat chortling over her diet Coke.  It hadn’t taken her long to figure out that Sam had experienced an epiphany of galactic proportions.  And she certainly couldn’t fault his taste since she’d been attracted to Seth at their first meeting.  But watching them together reminded her of the sweetness of being in love, a feeling that had been missing in her life for too long.

 Musing over the burgeoning urge to find someone with whom she could share her life, she enjoyed the late March sunshine and the breeze that wafted over the rooftops.  Jane wondered how they could stand the closed in spaces of Moon Base.  Even with ceilings over 11 foot high to accommodate the taller Ikiiri and corridors over ten foot in width, by the end of their week there, she’d begun to crave the wide open spaces of Earth.

 Finishing off her drink, she headed back for the office still thinking about the Moon.  Maybe they were so busy that they hadn’t had time to notice.  Sitting down at her computer to see if any of her gang queries had responded and wishing for the luxury of only working one story at a time, she switched mentally from the moon to gun running.

***********

 Walking into the Pink Pussycat, Jane wondered for the hundredth time if she was too dressed up.  She’d stood in front of her closet for long moments, sliding the hangars back and forth until she was ready to scream.  Her working attire was sturdy and practical with lots of pants and tops that could be coordinated with vests or jackets.  But tonight she wanted a different look, something sexier or at least more feminine.

 The little black dress her mother had insisted on getting her for Christmas with the only pair of heels she owned looked pretty dressy.  But no matter how warm the early spring days were, the nights were still chilly so she slung over the dress the black and green silk shawl that she’d picked up in Hong Kong.  The green was the same shade as her eyes and the dangling jade earrings that Sam had given her when they graduated from college at the same time completed the ensemble.

 Now, she wondered if it was too much even though the wolf whistle from the bar full of yuppies was reassuring.  In the subdued light of the tastefully decorated club, she looked for Grace or Mike.

 “Jane, over here.”  David was standing by Mike’s booth and she held back a mental drool at the way the blue and silver sweater brought out the color in his eyes and hair.

 She threaded her way through the people dancing to the driving beat of the live band to find Grace and Mike both at the table.  David let her slip in first then he joined her, the heat from his body burning her from a good six inches away.  Jane took a firm grip on her libido and acknowledged the greetings from the other two.  A waiter took their drink order instantly and disappeared in the direction of the crowded bar.

 “If you need quiet, I can loan you my office.”  Mike said dividing his glance between the three of them.

 “No, it’s okay.  The music is kind of cheerful.”  Jane exchanged a quick look with Grace.  “I didn’t find out much, Grace, mostly dead ends that went nowhere.  The lab couldn’t pick out anything from the letter.”

 “Well, I found out about the ‘horrible experiments’ from Palmer.  It seems in 1953, the very important year of my birth . . .” he paused to send a mock frown to a cheering Mike.  “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, the Morris Institute was funded by the Army to experiment with live cultures of several of the more virulent diseases like tuberculosis, anthrax and bubonic plague.  Tested on live subjects with an almost one hundred percent fatality rate.  It was hushed up when an early version of a whistle blower tried to come out to the public.  He had an accident.”

 “How horrible.”  Grace shuddered.  “Joey would never work for someone who did something like that.  He was a good man.”

 “Just like the whistle blower.”  Jane’s eyes met David’s.  “But what’s the connection almost fifty years later?”

 “I don’t know but something tells me that we need to find out.  You may have to put off going back to the moon.”  David frowned then switched to a smile when the waiter walked up with their drinks.  “Well, part of the reason we’re here is to raise a glass in the memory of Joe Hinckle, dedicated researcher and old friend.”

 They all raised their glasses, clinking them together above the table and pretending not to notice Grace’s tears.  Jane kept her eyes on the lime in her gin and tonic, taking a healthy drink before putting it down on the table.  Mike excused himself and headed for an argument that had broken out near the dance floor.

 “Thanks, guys.  I sure appreciate your looking into his death.”  She blew her nose and smiled a watery smile across the table.  “He thought the whole Moon colony was a mistake.  He wrote me that they were going against God’s laws.  He was a good Baptist boy and he never lost that belief in a vengeful God.  I never told him that I kind of admired them up there.  They’re a lot braver than I could ever be.”

 “They’re just people like us, Grace.  Doing jobs that they love and trying to give their families a good life.”  David said quietly, his gaze kind.

 “Yeah, that’s what you showed when you were up there.”  She finished her drink and gathered up her small purse.  “I’m going home to have a good cry.  I surely do thank you all for coming here tonight.”

 “If we find out anything, Grace, I promise I’ll let you know.”  Jane spoke up as the other woman slid to the outside of the booth.

 David stood up and helped her into her little satin jacket.  She thanked him with a shy smile and left them alone.  David sat down beside her with a puzzled frown on his face.

 “What?”  Jane moved over just a trifle.

 “Something she said.  I think the Morris Institute needs to be investigated in person.  Palmer knows Nathan Morris from the old days and he offered to introduce me to him.”  He took a drink absentmindedly.

 “What is going through that devious mind of yours?”  Jane narrowed her eyes.

 When he focused on her, she could see his gaze change between one breath and the next.  “I’ll let you know when I pin it down.  But one thing I must say is that you look beautiful tonight.”

 Jane felt her cheeks go pink.  “Thank you, David.  But that doesn’t let you off the hook.  What are you trying to pin down?”

 “What if Hinckle’s disgust at the Moon colony led him to work with someone who wants to destroy it?”

 She felt a shiver run up her spine, her mind doing a quick scan of the available data.  “Biological warfare?  Something from the lab that could wipe out the base?”

 He shrugged.  “We may be seeing shadows where there are none but we have to keep looking.  We need something more than a feeling.”

 “In case it’s true.”  Jane shivered again.  “Let’s start tomorrow.  I have to know.”

 “Tomorrow it is.”  His hand covered hers.  “Don’t worry.  We’re good at this.”

 “We’d better be.”

*********************
End of chapter 30