“But we can’t commit, really, I mean buy, unless we see the colors, feel the quality of the material.”

“I know,” Hardy said. “Feel the quality…”

“And two of the ships are running late. They could come in earlier but even so, it’ll take a few days to go through the bolts.”

“I got it, really.” Hardy put the gun on the counter. “It doesn’t thrill me, but I’ll live.” Poor Dismas. “Otherwise, how’s the trip going?”

“Well, people are starting to get nervous about ninety-seven. You can feel it already. Nobody wants to talk long-range, like by next year some plans may evolve and the Brits will be gone. It’s weird.”

“It’s better,” Hardy said. “People ought to remember they might be gone by next year.”

Jane paused. “My cheerful ex-husband.”

“Hey, not so ex.”

“Not so cheerful either. Gone by next year! You can’t live thinking like that.”

Hardy wanted to tell her you’d better, that even a year was pretty optimistic. He was tempted to remind her that their son hadn’t even made it that year, but he let it pass. She didn’t need to be reminded of that. “You’re right,” he said. “You can’t live like that.”

“Dismas, are you all right?” she asked. “Are you doing anything for fun?”

“I am tearing up the town. I’d just rather be doing it with you.” He realized he was being a pain in the ass. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s three A.M. and you tell me you’ll be gone another week. I’m a little disoriented, is all. A little case of vu zjahday.”

“Vu zjahday?”

“Yeah. It’s the opposite of déjà vu. The sense that you’ve never been somewhere before.”

Jane laughed. “Okay, you’re all right.”

“I’m all right.”

“I love you,” she said.

“Maybe when you get home we talk some long-range, huh?”

A beat, or it might have been the delay on the line. “It could happen,” she said.