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  “I want the s.o.b. who did this,” Andrea told Nick that morning as she sat bleary-eyed at her desk. “I’ve got one measly week left, and I want him before I leave.”

  Nick stood at her window, hands on his narrow hips, and looked out at the bleak morning. The Security Squadron had gone on full alert the instant the fire was reported, and it had been a long night for everyone. He sighed now and rotated his shoulders to ease the tension.

  “The fire marshal promised to call me as soon as he knows what caused the fire,” he said.

  Andrea looked at his back. “But he said it was arson.”

  “Thinks it was,” Nick said. “I expect he’s right. Merle knows what he’s doing. But he won’t commit himself till all the evidence is in.”

  “Sensible,” Andrea admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “Did he tell you how long that should be?”

  “He hopes to know by sometime tomorrow. He’s in one hell of a hot seat, ma’am. Did you hear the news on the radio this morning?”

  “You mean all the uproar in town because there were weapons on the plane? That’s the kind of noise politicians get paid to make. And, of course, the locals are nervous about it. Most people don’t understand how harmless an unarmed nuclear weapon is. As far as hot seats go, I think MacLendon’s must be the hottest.”

  Nodding, Nickerson faced her. “I hear he’s talking to the news people and the city council this morning.”

  “Probably. I really don’t know.” Sighing, Andrea stood and went to the file cabinet to pour another in an endless stream of cups of coffee. “I want the squadron to stay on full alert for the time being. And I’m going to activate the Pyramid tonight to make sure nobody’s ignoring our status.”

  The Pyramid Alert System was an ingeniously simple system whereby each person on the pyramid telephoned the two persons below him to pass along information or to bring the squadron to full alert. In less than twenty minutes, Andrea’s entire four hundred man squadron could be communicated with individually. In only slightly more time, the Bombardment Wing commander could bring the entire base to alert status through the same system.

  “I guess that’s it for now, Nick,” she said after a moment, dismissing him. “When you go by Lieutenant Dolan’s office, stick your head in and tell him I’d like a word with him.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He departed, shutting the door quietly after him.

  Poor Dare, Andrea thought as she settled behind her desk again. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back against the chair and sighed. Between SAC HQ, the press, and the local politicians, he must really have his hands full. Through it all, he would have to be courteous, concerned, understanding, and firm. Quite a recipe, especially for a man who’d had no more sleep than he had, thanks to last night’s events.

  With her eyes closed, his image rose vividly in her mind, and now that there was no one to betray herself to, she admitted just how much she’d missed him this week. She went to bed at night longing for him and woke in the morning feeling empty because he wasn’t there. It was a ridiculous dependency, she told herself, especially since they’d only had three nights together. How could he have become a habit so fast? Why was it that after such a short time, such a brief acquaintance, a dozen times a day she wanted to turn to him to share some thought?

  And only last night she’d awakened in the dark and mistaken the shape of a pillow for his shoulder. She didn’t like to remember how her throat had ached and her eyes had burned when she’d realized it was just a pillow.

  Well, she told herself firmly, it didn’t matter. January thirtieth was fast approaching. Dare was clearly content to let the relationship end there, and after a time she would get over this ridiculous emotional reaction.

  A knock on the door announced Lieutenant Dolan’s arrival, and Andrea straightened. “Come in,” she called in a brisk, businesslike voice, relieved to have the distraction of work.

  “Still working, I see.”

  It was after ten that evening when Andrea looked up to see Dare standing in the doorway of her office. Her neck was stiff from hours of hunching over lists that refused to shed any light on the case, and her eyes were red and burning.

  Dare had never looked so good to her as he did now, leaning against the doorjamb. His unbuttoned parka revealed a teal blue sweater, and his fingers were tucked into the front pockets of snug, worn blue jeans.

  “Give it up, Andrea,” he said roughly. “You’re out of here in a little over a week. It won’t be your problem anymore.”

  “It’s my problem right now, sir.”

  “It’s the OSI’s problem.”

  “They don’t seem to be getting very far with it.”

  He looked tired, too, she noticed. And angry and frustrated. The lines of his face seemed to have grown deeper just since yesterday. She resisted a totally feminine and totally ridiculous impulse to smooth them away. Or soothe them away.

  “Got any coffee?”

  “I just brewed a fresh pot.” She watched him lever himself away from the door frame and stride to the coffeepot on top of her filing cabinet. She’d forgotten how big he was, just since yesterday. How tall and lean and hard he was. She always felt a clenching thrill when she saw him for the first time after an absence, however brief. Why was that?

  Her eyes never left him as he filled a cup and settled into one of the chairs facing her desk. He crossed his legs loosely, one ankle on the opposite knee, and leaned back, rubbing his eyes wearily.

  “The guy doesn’t leave a trail,” he said. “Not a hint or a sign of what he’s up to. What’s the point of all this if he doesn’t get the satisfaction of telling somebody why?”

  “Maybe he gets all the satisfaction he needs just from doing it. Or maybe he’s saving up his explanations for some grand finale.”

  “That thought’s cost me some sleep, I can tell you.” He sipped the coffee and grimaced. “I’ve swallowed enough coffee today to float a battleship. At this rate I’ll have an ulcer in a week.”

  Andrea opened her desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of antacids. She tossed them to him. “Help yourself.”

  “You, too, huh? Thanks.”

  “I keep thinking I’m missing something that’s as plain as the nose on my face,” Andrea remarked. “Like I’ve got all the puzzle pieces but I just can’t see how to fit them together.”

  “Well, if you’re right that I’m the target, he’s doing a damn fine job. My career’s getting more tenuous with every passing minute.”

  “But why, Dare? You’ve done everything you can to stop him.”

  He shrugged. “The buck stops here, as they say. They’re starting to ask some tough questions at the top, like why the devil everything’s gone to hell in a handbasket since I took command here.”

  Andrea ached for him. “Everything has not gone to hell since you took command. Everything is just fine, except for some loony, and you can’t be responsible for loonies.”

  “That’s not how it looks if you’re sitting up at SAC headquarters and one of your bases is all but out of commission, and the guy in charge out there isn’t doing diddly about it.”

  “That’s not fair!”

  “Who said life was fair?”

  “Who said it shouldn’t be?”

  A faint smile came to Dare’s mouth, lifting the corners slightly, as he took in the pugnacious set of Andrea’s chin.

  “I need a cigarette,” was all he said, but he was thinking how badly he needed her in his arms right now, needed to feel her warmth and the gentleness she kept so well hidden.

  Andrea pulled open yet another drawer and retrieved an ashtray, setting it down on the desk between them. “So smoke,” she said.

  “Prepared for all eventualities, I see,” he remarked as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his parka pocket.

  “Yes, sir. We try.” She rose and refilled her own cup with coffee, then started to pace around her office, unaware that Dare spared a few moments to admire her bottom in the ugly blue Air Force