Lucy cleared her throat. “What’s the program called? The one you’re developing.”
“SureFired,” he said, pushing his empty glass away, shooting a nod at the bartender. “It’s a wildfire prediction algorithm.”
All the talking must have made him quite thirsty. Lucy took her chance to speak, knowing it might not come again. “That sounds familiar. I think I know someone who worked on that.”
“Really? That’d be surprising.”
Such a charmer.“Yeah, his name is Marty. Marty Coursin? Do you know him?”
The smile dropped from David’s face. He pulled back, his posture growing rigid. “Never heard of him.”
Shoot. Maybe that was the wrong way to do it, but she was getting desperate. They’d been there over an hour and she’d hardly said more than ten sentences.
“Really?” Lucy cocked her head to the side. “Maybe he was working on a different program that did the same thing. It sounded like the same sort of technology, you know? I feel like I’ve heard about that before.”
David shrugged. “Maybe.”
Lucy needed to do some damage control. “That’s really cool, though. You’re working on something that can save lives.”
He nodded, but said nothing.
Terrific. Suddenly the guy who couldn’t stop talking didn’t have anything else to say.
After a few minutes, he announced that he’d had a nice time, but it was time for him to go. “It was a pleasure meeting you. We should do this again,” he said as he paid for his cherry soda.
Lucy didn’t fail to notice that Mr. Moneybags did not offer to pay for her root beer float.
“Yeah, that’d be nice,” she said, returning his lie.
He left her there, poking at her ice cream, as he stepped out of the restaurant to place a call.
