He shook his head slightly. “Later,” he murmured, and sat back,
watching her and the speaker, his face carefully neutral. But Phil
thought he saw an echo of the same unease he felt himself.
Later, in one of the larger conference rooms, twenty-odd of the banquet
elite drank coffee and brandy and listened to newly-arrived music
tapes. McLafferty’s crew was staying a week, till the next orbit down;
but the congressman himself would leave tomorrow. Conscientiously using
his time, he made a point of speaking with everyone in the room, taking
notes occasionally with an air of apologetic industry. His manner was
briskly efficient, but leisurely--yet somehow it took hardly half an
hour’s time to cover the group, and permit him to drift over casually
to the circle of chairs where Lee and Phil sat together with Chris and
Thad Bourgnese.
“You know, you fellows really have got something here,” McLafferty’s
smile should have been engaging; somehow it was not. “One thing,” he
said, with a nod at Lee, and a sweep of the arm around the room, “You
certainly have the best-looking lady scientists _I’ve_ ever seen!”
Thad grinned. “I can see it now,” he said. “Headline: Congressman Gives
Lunar Ladies Blanket Clearance. Or: Selenite Scien_tistes_--hmmm--need
a verb with an _S_ and something about Security. Well--” He rose, made
a mock-bow to Lisa, who was laughing helplessly. “Beggin’ yer pardon,
mum, you bein’ Medic in any case, and not Lab Staff, present comp’ny
excepted an’ all that.”
It could have been nasty. It wasn’t ... perhaps because Lisa’s laughter
_included_ McLafferty? Or just that comment and reaction were both so
spontaneous? Phil couldn’t tell for sure.
Bourgnese excused himself, and went off in the general direction of
the redheaded Donovan girl, leaving the seat next to Lisa for the
congressman, who had passed with astonishing speed through startlement,
chagrin, mild amusement, and suspicion to sudden hilarious delight.
“One thing,” he said, regarding Lee with warm approval, “You folks
don’t scare easy.”
She blinked. “What are we supposed to be scared of?”
“Nothing,” he said. “_Absolutely_ nothing.”
And damn if it didn’t sound just like he meant it!
_Rio de Janeiro--12_ A.M. _(S.W.A.T.)_
It was the fourth club that night, and he was positive he had said
hello to all the same people at each one. He sat at a single table,
watching red and black and orange and blue-green female rumps writhe to
rhumba beat and wondered how they contrived to stock each joint with
The Crowd between the time he left one and arrived at the next.
No more pub stops, he told himself firmly. Next time he’d go direct,
maybe to _Los Gringos_, yes, that was a good bet--tourist trap kind of
place The Crowd wouldn’t be caught dead in. Go _straight_ there, find
out. If they were there anyhow, he’d _know_....
He could swear those jazzy bottoms out on the dance floor were
_exactly_ the same ones he’d watched all night.
He finished his drink, thought about another. Hell with it, make the
move _now_, catch ’em off balance. He got up and started to weave his
way through the full tables. The band had stopped. People were coming
off the floor.
Behind him, a voice he knew said high and clear, snide and cruel,
“Well, she always had a yen for Phil Kutler--”
_Gentlemen don’t slug lady bitches_, he told himself, carefully
unbunching the muscles in shoulder and upper arm. _Leave it lay, lad.
Don’t even look._ He knew he knew the voice, but he did not know
_whose_ it was: best to leave it that way.
He dodged past a couple of strangers, got blocked at the next table by
a crowd of six sitting down. The high vicious clearness followed him:
“But I’m not so sure that’s it. I can’t say _who_ told me, but it’s
someone I _usually listen_ to, and the way _he_ heard it, the reason
_Ray_ let that Moon scientist off so easily--”
It died away. Another voice, lower and less clear, urgent in undertone,
blocked it off. Johnny’s way was still stopped. He turned, not meaning
to; walked back past the table between without wanting to, went up to
the red-gown bitch who owned that voice.
The deeper, lower, one, the man at her side had been saying _his_ name.
He smiled, and he knew just how damned unpleasant that smile was.
“Pardon me,” he said. “I believe you were saying something about a
friend of mine?”
“Excuse me,” she said coldly. “I don’t believe--” She turned to the
white-jacketed man. “Darling, do you--?”
“Yes,” he said wearily. “Johnny Wendt, Linda Har--”
“Forget it,” Johnny said, suddenly sick of the whole thing. Why pick a
fight with a perfectly nice guy over a bitch, or a pair of them? “Skip
it. I’m sorry. I don’t want to know your friend. Should’ve cut out like
I started to. Teach her some manners, hey?”
He turned and started to edge his way past the table again.
“_Bob!_” The high clear vicious voice. _Yeah?_
He grinned. Nobody could say _he_ started this one. He tensed himself
for the hand that would touch his shoulder.
_Okay!_ He wheeled back, driving from the shoulder as he turned, with
great satisfaction.
_Dollars Dome--11:30_ P.M. _(C.S.T.)_
“Oh, I’m sure you _could_!” Lisa turned to Chris. “Where did Thad take
off to before? He usually works this shift, doesn’t he?”
“Usually,” Chris said--a little reluctantly? Phil wondered if the same
thought that had crossed his was in the Director’s mind? Thad had left
with Rita Donovan; hadn’t Lee noticed? It wasn’t like her to be so
tactless, if she had. And, he thought a bit grimly, it was unlikely she
had _not_ noticed. _Checking up?_ He felt almost ashamed of thinking it.
“I was just telling Ray I didn’t see why he couldn’t tour some of the
labs _now_, if he really wanted to. Thad would probably be in Bio
anyhow, and--”
“I imagine Dr. Christensen has a more formal tour ready for tomorrow,”
McLafferty broke in smoothly.
“Sort of,” Chris said easily. “But it wouldn’t make any difference
that I can see. I’m not sure Bourgnese is working tonight, but I’d be
glad to take you around myself any time. We don’t go much by the clock
around here.”
“That’s what I was telling him,” Lee said. “Ray was so startled when
we came up to daylight again, he asked how we were able to stay on a
regular schedule, and I was explaining how it worked.” She stopped and
laughed, a rippling silver sound that Phil recognized quickly as the
trained professional one. “_He_ said a place like this would suit him
fine, because as soon as he saw the sun, he thought it was morning,
and he was all ready to start a day’s work. So _I_ said, ‘Why not?’
and--there you are.”
Chris shook his admiringly. “You Mexcity types always flabbergast
me. If it was _really_ dawn, and he’d been at an all-night brawl, I’ll
bet he’d feel just the same way.”
“Company helps,” said the congressman. “Depends whom you’ve been with
all night.”
McLafferty didn’t see it. Probably even Chris didn’t. But Lee winced
under the import of the heavy compliment, and threw the briefest
pleading sort of glance at Phil.
_Well_, he thought. _Here we go on the white charger again._ He turned
to Chris.
“Why don’t you take Mr. McLafferty to see the farm?” he suggested. “You
know _that’s_ got to be working now--” All the Maintenance sections
would be. “He could see that stuff now, and the labs tomorrow.” To the
congressman he explained: “Wednesday night’s the one time the labs
run on skeleton staff. The big dinner throws everything out of whack
when the ship’s in.” With considerable satisfaction, and at pontifical
length, he made clear to the impatient visitor that the obviously
special-festive character of the earlier banquet was _not_ quite as
special as he’d undoubtedly thought, but a weekly, normal, occurrence.
“This is Saturday night in the Dome,” he wound up. “About the only
thing you’d see in the labs now would be tapes and cameras and people
tending them. But Maintenance runs all the time, of course. And I’d
think from your viewpoint, that part of the routine--that part of the
staff, for that matter--would be most--” He hesitated. “What would you
call it? Fruitful? Suggestive? Whatever it is, I’ll bet they’ve got the
most of it.” He turned to Lee, glanced up at the chrono above the Mall
fountain. “About time for us to get back to work--hey, kid?”
She took it smoothly. _And_ gratefully. “I guess so.” The gratitude
showed only in her look at him, not in her voice, which held just the
_right_ reluctance. “I don’t suppose--?” she said.
“I think the way they’re coming along, by next week they’ll be able to
handle the one session on their own,” he said. “Or with me. I blow a
mean tape, myself; I just don’t look as good as you tapping my foot to
the beat.”
McLafferty, without actually moving a foot, had somehow edged forward,
silently questioning.
“Jam session thing we’ve been trying for a group that’s had trouble
with schedule adjustment,” Phil explained, marveling at the inventive
capacity of the knight-errant. “Idea is to create a regular emotional
rhythm each day. Seems to be working out pretty well.... Oh, look, Lee,
if you want to cut out this once, I don’t suppose it would--”
“Don’t be silly,” she said firmly. Her smile was snakey-demure. “We
wouldn’t want the Investigating Committee to think I don’t earn my pay,
would we?”
“She thinks of everything, don’t she?” McLafferty said, smooth as ever.
“Tell you what, Chris--why don’t we have a look at your farm while they
get organized, and maybe stop in at this session afterwards--If you
don’t mind, Doc?”
Phil thought it over. “Don’t see why not. Sure. There’s no actual
therapy at this. I don’t think the group would mind. Come on, gal.
We’ve got about two minutes now. See you folks later--”
The two of them hurried off, not-hearing Chris calling after them:
“Hey, where _is_ this thing?”
“Let you know soon as we do,” Phil muttered.
It was really no problem. They rounded up ten eager listeners in the
dining room, and got set up in Lee’s practice room a good ten minutes
before the touring party found them.
And Lisa had no trouble getting two theoretical dormitory-mates to go
off with her afterwards. “You know,” she said sleepily, “I think this
works more for me than for you folks.”
“Night, kids,” Phil said. “Well, Mr. Mc....”
“Call me Mac,” he said grudgingly. It sounded just like, _Your round,
man! But don’t walk down any dark alleys_....