He took a deep breath, and tiredness lined his face. "First off: what
did your father do before he went into politics?"
Her eyes widened, and she arrested the cigarette halfway to her mouth,
put it back on the ashtray, with a puzzled frown on her face. "That's
funny," she said softly. "I thought I knew, but I guess I don't. He was
an industrialist--way, far back, years and years ago, when I was just a
little brat--and then we got into the war with China, and I don't know
what he did. He was always making business trips; I can remember going
to the airport with mother to meet him, but I don't know what he did.
Mother always avoided talking about him, and I never got to see him
enough to talk--"
Shandor sat forward, his eyes bright. "Did he ever entertain any
business friends during that time--any that you can remember?"
She shook her head. "I can't remember. Seems to me a man or two came
home with him on a couple of occasions, but I don't know who. I don't
remember much before the night he came home and said he was going to run
for Congress. Then there were people galore--have been ever since."
"And what about his work at the end of the China war? After he was
elected, while he was doing all that work to try to smooth things out
with Russia--can you remember him saying anything, to you, or to your
mother, about _what_ he was doing, and how?"
She shook her head again. "Oh, yes, he'd talk--he and mother would
talk--sometimes argue. I had the feeling that things weren't too well
with mother and dad many times. But I can't remember anything specific,
except that he used to say over and over how he hated the thought of
another war. He was afraid it was going to come--"