Page 36 of Reinventing Cato
He dragged his fingers through his hair, anxiety thickening his throat. The threat might be empty, but how could he take that risk? The real irony was that he wasn’t sure he wanted the bloody job, even after he’d gone on and on about it. In talking to Vigge, he’d finally admitted his uncertainty.
Cato knew how fortunate he was to have been headhunted by such a prestigious organisation. He was four or five years older than the average doctorate student. He’d not taken a straight path to astrophysics. He loved it, that would never change, but there were more PhD students than there were post-doctoral openings. No matter how many papers Cato published, no matter how many citations he had, even if he was first-author and had come to the attention of the press—which he had, it guaranteed nothing. He’d half-heartedly started to apply for jobs last September, and then in November, the NASA job had been dangled like a succulent carrot. Or maybe more like a chunk of marzipan, something he could never resist.
I am so lucky.
That’s what he’d thought. Now he didn’t think that at all. He felt like one of the unluckiest people on the planet.
If there was a chance that a member of his family might die if he accepted the position, assuming it was offered, there really was no choice. He’d turn it down. Of course, he would. He could go to the police and show them the message. But even that was a risk. He swallowed hard. Maybe the police had a way to find out who’d sent it. It had to be illegal to make even vague threats to kill someone, but what if Cato did something that alerted the person who’d sent the message and they went through with their threat before the police could take action?
Common sense told him that if it wasn’t possible to reply to the message, then whoever had sent it had made sure it wasn’t traceable. Most likely used a burner.
He wished he had someone hecouldtell. Not a member of his family, obviously. Not that he didn’t trust them, but Devan would be all concerned and angry and sweep in and… Cato didn’t want that. He needed a sulky policeman who’d think rationally. Preferably the one he’d walked away from. He chewed his lip so hard, he made it bleed.
Cato arrived far too early for the interview. He’d fretted about whether he should even turn up, but the threat hadn’t related to going to the interview, just to taking the job, so maybe he’d be giving himself time. Though he wasn’t sure for what. Could be that all he needed to do was make sure the job wasn’t offered. Except he didn’t think he could do that.
He went into the hotel toilets and took off the cassock, then washed and shaved, drawing some curious looks from people coming in, but he didn’t care. He reeked of Mike’s pungent aftershave, so he washed his hair in a sink—not easy with a motion sensor tap—and stuck his head under the hand drier—and that wasn’t easy either.
He didn’t bother putting in his lenses or the shirt he’d brought. Instead, he wore his black T-shirt withEmbrace the Dark Sidewritten across the front and he put on his black jeans rather than his interview trousers, which were heavily creased. A glance in the mirror showed just how tired and stressed he looked. His bitten lip made it appear as though he’d been thumped in the mouth.Just great.
Having too much time to think had sent him spinning in a full circle about the job, and now, for his own sense of pride, he wanted it to be offered so he could turn it down.Except that was going to make him look a real dickhead.
Maybe he’d just let things unfold. No decision would be made today in any case. It could take weeks. It had already taken a couple of months. They might be interviewing in Europe too. He took eyeliner from his toilet bag and used it, trying to erase the worried look and give himself confidence. Now he could be taken for a bad-tempered, thick-lipped, hungover, geeky biker in skinny jeans. Still, that wasn’t far off his norm. Except he didn’t have a bike.
As he nursed a coffee in the hotel lounge, he called Devan. Hearing a friendly voice might ease his anxiety.
“Hi, Cato. Did you make it in time?”
“Yep. I’m in the hotel now,” he said quietly.
“What’s wrong?”
What the hell?Someone else who could read him like a book? Cato opened his mouth to tell Devan about the message and thought again. Not here. Not now. Maybe not ever. “Not sure I want it anymore.”
Devan exhaled. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Why not? You were so excited about it.”
“I think…I need to do something different.”
Devan didn’t say anything for a moment. This wasn’t the first time Cato had abruptly changed direction in his life and even though it had been part of his plan, others had thought he was crazy. “Okay. First of all, whatever you decide to do, you know I’ll support you.”
It was an opening for Cato to make some witty remark about not being a heavy brother, but he couldn’t bring himself to make a joke. “I’m not sure what else I could do.”
“Anything, Cat. You can do anything you set your mind to. You’re creative and tenacious and brilliant. The way you think, the way you’ve taught yourself to think, your ability to handle massive amounts of data and turn that data into something understandable is more valuable than you realise. You already proved that once.”
“I barely managed the three years.” He’d nearly killed himself with the stress.
“You don’t need to go into something as high-pressured as investment banking.”
Cato shuddered. As far as he was concerned, that had been legalised slavery with a touch of torture thrown in. Except he’d been well paid to put up with it.
“There are lots of businesses you could work in,” Devan said. “Start-ups in particular. If you want to do something different, then do it. It’s okay to change your mind. Being happy is all that matters in the end. Life’s too short to lose sight of that.”
Cato exhaled. “Space makes me happy.”
“The stars were in your future right from being a small boy, and they can still be in your future. You’ll always be an astrophysicist. You can just be something else as well.”
