"Of course, Jim. Of course."
CHAPTER VII
It was a very long weekend.
Harker reached his home at five-thirty that evening, having left Winstead around noon. He had had a miserable chlorella-steak lunch on the wrong side of State Street and spent the early afternoon strolling around Albany, easing the inner tension that gripped him. He made the 4:15 jet back to New York.
Chris was watching the video when he came in; it was a weekend, and the boy had no homework. He hopped up immediately and said, "Drink, Dad?"
"Martini. Very dry."
The boy busied himself with the pushbutton controls of the autobar while Harker hung up his hat and jacket. Lois appeared from the general vicinity of the kitchen.
"Did you see Winstead?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I saw him. He obviously doesn't want any part of the project."