Footfall

Roger Brooks listened halfheartedly as Fox marshaled his arguments. There weren’t any new ones. They weren’t what Roger had come for, anyway. Fox could argue, but the real stories would come from learning what tactics Fox intended to use. He had loyal troops, loyal enough to chain themselves to the gates of nuclear power plants or clog the streets of Washington. Fox had led the fight against the Sun Desert nuclear power plant, and won, and his tips had put Roger in the right place at the right time for good stories.

Not today, though. No one was listening to Fox today. Not even his friends.

Not even me, Roger thought. This wasn’t going to make any kind of news. Brooks was tempted to put away his notebook. Instead he said, “This could be just a puff of smoke tomorrow, or later today, for that matter. Have you thought about what an interstellar spacecraft might use for power? By the time the aliens stop talking, these orbiting solar plants could look like the first fire stick, even to us.”

Fox shook his head. “Hell we may not even understand what these ETI’s are using. Or maybe it’s worse than what we’ve got. Anyway, nothing changes that fast. Whatever that light in the sky does for us, the High-Beam is going ahead unless I stop it. And I intend to. I had an appointment with Senator Bryant. He canceled, for today, so I’ll just wait him out.”

Brooks jotted, “John Fox is the only man in the nation’s capital who doesn’t care beans about an approaching interstellar spacecraft.”

“Hell, I wish I had something more for you,” Fox said’. “Thought I did.”

“It’s all right.”

“No, it’s not,” Fox said. “You’re like me, Brooks. A nut. Monomaniac.” He held up his hand when Roger started to protest. “It’s true. I love my deserts, and you love snooping. Well, heft, I’d help you get a Pulitzer if I could. You’ve always played fair with me.” He chuckled. “But not today. Nobody’s paying attention to a damn thing but that ETI comin’. Do you really believe in that thing?”

“I think so. You know that army officer who was in Hawaii when they saw it coming? I know her. I just don’t think she’s part of anything funny. No, it’s real all right.”

“Could be.”

“There are a lot of scientists in the Sierra Club,” Roger said. “Any of them have an opinion?”

“On High-Beam? Damn right—”

“I meant on the ETI’s, John.”

Fox grinned. “I haven’t heard. I will, though, and I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Jenny surveyed her office with satisfaction. The furniture was battered. Fortunately, there wasn’t much of it, because if there’d been more, the office couldn’t have held it all. She had a desk with nothing on it but a telephone. There were also a small typing table, three chairs, and a thick-walled filing cabinet with a heavy security lock. They said they’d get her a bookcase, but that hadn’t come yet. Neither had the computer terminal.

The room was tiny and windowless, in a basement, but it was the White House basement, and that made up for everything.

The phone rang.

“Major Crichton,” she said.

“Jack Clybourne.”

“Oh. Hi.” He’d come in for coffee after he drove her home. They’d sat outside under Flintridge’s arbor, and when they noticed the time, two hours had passed. That hadn’t happened to her in years.

“Hi, yourself. I’ve only got a moment. Interested in dinner?”

Aunt Rhonda would expect her to eat at Flintridge. “What did you have in mind?”

“Afghan place. Stuffed grape leaves and broiled lamb.”

“It sounds great. But—”

“Let me call you after you get home. No big deal, if you can’t make it, I’ll go to McDonald’s.”

“You’re threatening suicide if I don’t have dinner with you?”

“I have to run. I’ll call you—”

“I haven’t given you the number,” she said. “How will you call?”

“We have our ways. Bye.”

She put the phone carefully on its cradle. Holy catfish, I’m actually light-headed. Stupid. I just need lunch. But I was thinking about him just before he called.

The private phone on Wes Dawson’s desk was hidden inside a leather box. It rang softly.

“Yes?” Carlotta said.

“Me.”

“How’s Houston?”

“Hot and wet and windy. I’m in the Hilton Edgewater, room 2133.”

She made a note of the room number. “I miss you already,” he said, “Sure. You probably have a Texas girl already.” “Two, actually.”

“Just be careful. I’ve seen the Speaker. We’ll arrange for you to be paired whenever we can, so it’ll go in the Congressional Quarterly.”

It was standard practice: a congressman who couldn’t be present for a vote found another who intended to vote the opposite way, and formed a pair. Neither attended, and both were recorded as “paired” so that the outcome of the vote wasn’t affected, but neither congressman was blamed for missing a roll-call vote.

“Good. Can you ask Andy to look after my committee work?”

“Already did. What kind of administrative assistant do you think I am, anyway?”

“Fair to middling.”

“Humph. Keep that up and I’ll ask for a raise I suppose Houston’s full of talk about the aliens?”