Grant shook his head. "It's more than mere production, Ralph. Production means many lives. And is one man's life worth more than many men's?"
"To me, my life is."
Grant laughed, taking the sting out of his matter-of-fact statement, "You're selfish."
Lindsay nodded glumly. "I admit it. How're you going to tackle that one out there?"
"Boldly, brashly, and brazenly. Whatever agency is manipulating these things will find me slightly different. I hope I'm confusing enough to make them wonder."
"I wish—" said Lindsay.
"Forget it," said Jack. "I've got to go, and there's little sense in stewing about it. I'll be back, and then we can handle the rest of these things with ease. No chin up, fella. You're in the hot spot of doing a hard job."
"I know," he muttered.
When he looked up, Grant had left.
Lindsay passed his hand over his face with the gesture of a completely baffled and worn-out man. He looked up at his wife. "Jenna," he pleaded, "is there—?"