Love Me Before Dawn

Barton remained serious, delighting in the grayness now coming to Hamilton’s suddenly pale-looking features. “Saw ’em just the other night at that fancy party we all attended. They met out on the balcony. I’m surprised more people didn’t see them kissing each other. I just happened to walk out to grab a breath of fresh air when I stumbled on them.”

The dull, heavy feeling was spreading in Cy’s chest and he pressed his fist harder against his body. “Is that all?” he demanded hoarsely.

“I understand she went up to Palmdale today,” Barton continued slowly. He looked at his watch, making the gesture significant. “It’s six-thirty. Where is she? I called earlier today and her secretary said she was having lunch with the captain. Long lunch, ain’t it, Hamilton?”

* * *

It was almost nine-thirty when Cy heard the front door of their home open. He raised his head, remaining on the couch with the newspaper thrown nervously across his lap. He had been too upset to read it. Tess hurried into the living room, her eyes dark with apprehension.

“Oh, Cy! I’m sorry I’m late. I had a flat tire on the way back, and there was no phone nearby so that I could call you.” She shrugged off her coat, allowing it to hang over the back of the couch as she walked over to him. Pushing back several tendrils that had escaped from behind her ear, she sat down. As she looked at him, she realized something was dreadfully wrong. His face was ashen. Reaching out she gripped his hand. “Darling, what’s wrong? You look awful!”

“I haven’t been feeling well since about six tonight,” he admitted heavily. It was true, the heavy pressure in his chest had continued after Barton told him about the affair. He looked up into her beautiful flushed features. She appeared so damned innocent looking. So untouched…

Tess leaned over, caressing his cheek. “My poor darling. Have you eaten yet? Probably not. You get so busy you forget. I’m starved, Cy.” She started to rise but he gripped her hand.

“Stay a moment, Tess. There’s something we have to talk about.”

Her brows knitted worriedly. He sounded like a man who was lost, without hope. Chewing on her lower lip, she sat back down. “What’s wrong, Cy? Has something happened at work? You aren’t well.”

He took a deep, unsteady breath, gripping her hand tightly. “Derek Barton came in today with some very disturbing news.”

“Him!” Her voice took on a scathing tone. “Why doesn’t he leave you alone? The man is unbearable.”

“He didn’t come today with any problems concerning the contract.”

Tess tilted her head, puzzlement written in her face. “What then?”

Cy swallowed hard, finding it hard to breathe. He took two half breaths, forcing the words out. “You were seen in the arms of Captain Ramsey at the party, Tess. And I can’t help but wonder if you were late this evening because of him…”

Horror coursed through her, and Tess pulled her hand free, covering her lips. Her mouth went dry, her heart plummeting. Cy gasped, falling back against the couch, clutching at his chest. A small cry escaped her and she leaned forward, gripping his shoulder. “Cy! What’s wrong? Oh, my God. No!”

Chapter 4

MAY 24, 1974

CHAD STOCKWELL LOOKED UP AT HIS STAFFER, GARY Owens, who was following the B-1 program. The Senator tapped his short, square finger on the top of a pile of papers in front of him. “According to this, Rockwell is behind schedule in getting that bomber assembled and ready for flight, Gary. What’s the economic impact of such a lag?”

Owens, a Yale graduate, adjusted his conservatively colored tie. “Senator, I think I’d better give you a bit of background before answering that. The Air Force targeted the first engine test of the B-1 in March. It didn’t go down. They’re still hoping to make the first flight in June. Apparently more time is being spent on piecing the air frame together than had been anticipated. There’s a great deal of pressure being put on Rockwell by the Air Force to get the entire project back on schedule. If they keep going like this, it will probably be the end of 1974 before they test fly that monstrosity.”

Stockwell frowned, moving quickly through the figures. “What I’m really concerned about is if they’re going over the fiscal year budget allotted to them by Congress.”

Owens allowed himself a brief, pleased smile. He had done a great deal of digging, involving phone calls to the Pentagon, Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, and Rockwell to piece that answer together. “Yes, sir, they are. And any delay in the program tends to add to the price. What it comes down to, Senator, is this: one B-1 used to cost the American public forty-four million dollars. Now, with Rockwell lagging behind, the unit program cost has risen to fifty-four million.”

Stockwell pursed his fleshy lips, feeling anger and indignation over the entire situation. “Damn them. They were planning to order 241 B-1’s. Do you realize what the price tag on that will be?” He hit his intercom button, signaling his secretary.

“Yes, sir?”

“Betty, get me the engineer who’s running the show from Rockwell on the B-1.”

“That would be Mr. Daniel Williams, sir. I’ll ring his office right away.”

“Thank you.” Stockwell looked pleased. “Nothing like getting the full story from the source, Gary. Sit down. I want you in on this conversation with Williams.” He frowned, searching his memory. “I thought Cy Hamilton was the top dog at Rockwell?”

“Cy Hamilton was, sir, until he died of a sudden heart attack a few days after the B-1 party, Senator. Dan Williams was pushed into the slot to keep things on an even keel.”

“Didn’t work, did it?” he murmured, grinning.

“No, sir, I don’t think so.”

“Mrs. Hamilton?” Her secretary Ruth Caldwell poked her head around the opened office door.

Tess sat with her hand propped up against her wrinkled forehead. She looked up. “Yes, Ruth?”

“It’s Senator Stockwell’s secretary on the phone.” Ruth gave a grimace. “I told her Dan was out on business for the day. So he wants to talk to you.”

Tiredly Tess rubbed her face. Would she ever sleep soundly? She doubted it. Depression seemed to color her whole world black. “All right,” she answered softly, the exhaustion evident in her tone. “I’ll take the call.”

This was all she needed. Since Cy’s unexpected death, Tess had been asked to help Dan Williams take over the job as chief engineer. In a way, she was grateful for the twelve-to-fourteen-hour days. At least when she was working, she didn’t have to think. She didn’t have to feel that knife-twisting pain in her heart. Cy had died in her arms thinking that she had had an affair with Shep Ramsey. Her lips pursed into a familiar line of pain and guilt. Thank God for Dan Williams. He drove her mercilessly, not realizing he was doing her a favor. If her mind was occupied, she could ignore the anguish she carried in her heart. Expelling a long sigh, Tess picked up the white phone.

“Good morning, Senator Stockwell. This is Tess Hamilton. May I help you?”

“Mrs. Hamilton, I’m sorry to hear about your husband. Cy Hamilton and I go way back.”

A little warning signal went off immediately in Tess’s head. In the last seven months she had found out about the games politicians played. They would use anything they could to throw one off guard, so they could get some straight answers. Well, with Stockwell, she was going to be very cautious.”

“Thank you for your condolences, Senator.”

“A terrible loss, Tess. You don’t mind if I call you Tess, do you?”

Tess groaned inwardly. She didn’t want him to use her first name. She did not want to be familiar with Stockwell in any way. She hadn’t liked what she’d seen of him at the party, and his damaging press releases about Rockwell and the Air Force reinforced that dislike. “Yes, well, what can I do for you?”

“Just a few small, unimportant questions, Tess.”

I’ll bet, she thought, keeping her pen poised over a pad of paper to jot down his questions and then her answers. Her palms grew damp; she sensed Stockwell was after a great deal more than his lighthearted conversation indicated. “Go on,” she urged.

“I was just curious as to why the engine test of the first B-1 didn’t take place in March as originally scheduled.”

“We’ve been installing several systems, Senator. Delivery of some of the subassemblies such as valves, pumps and wiring has taken longer than originally anticipated. The engineers have tried to estimate the completion date of each task. Each of these individual activities, no matter how large or small, are then run through our scheduling computer. Some of the plumbing must be put in first before the wiring can be placed. Everything has to go in a prearranged order.”

“But Rockwell has people there who have scheduled large projects on complex aircraft before. They know the time involved on something of this size and complexity.”

Tess’s mouth thinned. “Senator, if you recall, the B-1 was originally designed in 1967, which means the plans are seven years old. As you well know, technology has rapidly advanced in those years. To be able to accurately project cash flows and time schedules on something that’s going to be built seven years in the future is nearly impossible. Extra time has been needed for design changes to continually update and modernize the B-1 changes that were not anticipated seven years ago. We’ve done the best we can under the circumstances.”

“And the cost estimate?” Stockwell asked.

“The rates are higher than anticipated. No one seven years ago could have predicted today’s skyrocketing costs.”

“Indeed. Each B-1 unit was supposed to cost forty-four million. Now, according to what my staff can figure out, it will be something like fifty-four million. That is extremely distressing, Mrs. Hamilton.”