“No. No, I don’t think I’d care to tell you that, John. In fact--Al,
I think I hear your phone.” He looked meaningfully at the young man,
who undraped himself from the corner of the desk, mock-saluted, and
left. “Now let’s get something straight, John,” Harbridge said. “I got
your call through. That’s as far as I go. You had no damn business
coming in here again. If you had half a brain, you’d realize what it
means if they get you into that hearing room _now_. If you care about
Lisa at all--Well, that’s your affair. But you busting in here is _my_
business. This is the last time you do it. Try it again, and you’ll
find yourself in the jug before you’re halfway in the main door. You
follow me?”
“_All_ the way,” Johnny said. “Sir.”
“All right. I’m going to do one more thing for you, and then I’m
through. I wouldn’t do it for _you_; but it happens to be more
convenient for me this way. I’m going to get you the hell out of here
without any of the process servers who are outside by now getting hold
of you. After that, will you please, kindly, _get lost_?”
“I hear you talking,” Johnny said tightly. “I’m not sure I follow you
though.”
“You follow me all right. Come on.”
Johnny followed. There was nothing else he could do. What counted now
was Lisa, Lisa and nothing else. No one else. If he had to eat Jed
Harbridge’s crud, he could do that too. _And remember it too_--but for
now, he followed. He followed the General up to the private parking
roof, and accepted the loan of a heli, and took off.
For where?
Home seemed less unlikely than most other places.
_Dollars Dome--Thursday, October 6, 2_ P.M.
The woman was positively _glowing_ at him.
“You _do_ understand, Lee? I can’t take a chance on letting him come
up. Not now. Maybe in a month or so, if things quiet down. But one more
mess now--I’m sorry to put it that way, Lisa--”
“I _do_ understand, Chris.” She smiled impishly. “Anyhow, you wanted
publicity, didn’t you?”
“God help me, I did.” He looked at her suspiciously. “You know, I keep
feeling as if you’re just sitting there waiting for me to do a reverse
switch and tell you I’ve changed my mind and sure he can come.”
“Well, it would be nice. Do you think it would help if I
_concentrated_?”
“Concentrate any harder, and--I don’t know. I know I won’t change my
mind. If I _could_, I _would_ have, by now.”
“All right, then.” But she still sat, smiling.
“You sure you don’t want to go, after all?”
She shook her head. “I don’t _want_ to. And even if I did, it wouldn’t
be a good idea.” Her laughter poured out. “I can just see myself on
that witness stand!”
He winced. She stood up.
“It’s all right, dear. I’m not _going_ down. Tell them to come get me,
if they want me that much.”
He tried visualizing that one, and liked it. “I might just do that,” he
said, and then reluctantly: “About Johnny, Lee. What do you want me to
do?”
“Let him come up.”
_Damn you, woman! You know what I mean._ “Short of that,” he said
gruffly.
“Give him my love. Tell him I want him to come.”
“You don’t want to--well, send a letter or anything? I could deliver it
myself. Privacy--”
She hesitated. “No. No, I don’t think that’s the way. Oh, Chris, don’t
_worry_ so! If _I’m_ not worried, why should you be? It’s going to be
all right. _I know it._”
The worst part was: he believed her. You couldn’t _not_ believe, when
she was there with you. But--
“Have a good trip,” she said.
“Thanks. Take care of yourself, Lee.” She moved to the door with that
fantastic grace she seemed to have developed lately. “Oh, Lee--”
She turned back, smiling.
“If you don’t mind--I’d just as lief you stayed in Dome while I’m gone.
I’d hate to think of you out at the Shack--Well, like yesterday. It
bothers--”
“Oh, stop _worrying_, dear.” She turned, and was gone.
_Baja California Spaceport--Sunday, October 9, 5_ P.M. (_P.S.T._)
“No, she didn’t come this trip.”
“Well, what do you suggest, Dr. Christensen? Will you accept delivery,
or should we return to sender?”
“Can you tell me the name of the sender?”
“I suppose--I don’t see why not. Colonel Wendt.”
“I’ll take it,” he said decisively.
The Port Manager handed it over with relief. “All right. Will you see
the reporters now? They’ve been waiting....”
_Rockland--Sunday, October 9, 10_ P.M. (_E.D.S.T._)
He couldn’t see why he’d never thought of it before.
All the times he’d sat in this room and stared at that damn impregnable
glass wall, and never realized he had something so simple that
could--if not damage it, then at least--make an impression on it.
He got up from the couch and picked up the five darts from the floor.
Two others stuck to the curved surface of the giant window, both from
previous tries. He had been leaving them there, timing himself to see
how long it took to get them all up. But that didn’t work, because he
didn’t stick with the game. Now he got an absurd satisfaction out of
wrenching the two suction cups loose. He’d keep score the other way
instead--see how many _turns_ it took to get them all up.
At least it wouldn’t be too quick.
Not that it mattered; it was ten now; if she didn’t call soon, she
wasn’t going to. Unless the landings were _really_ late this time?
He dialed for the news, and sat back, not listening to all the headline
part. Landing times would come at the end.
The first shuttle had been scheduled for five-thirty, Central time.
That was two and a half hours now he’d sat waiting for the phone chime;
dialing for no-news; pacing the room up and down; opening the liquor
cabinet and closing it again; getting--and forgetting--five cups of hot
coffee from the bleak kitchen.
Somewhere along the way, he’d thought of the darts.
Given a near-impossible combination of luck and skill, you could make a
suction dart stick on curved glass one time in--how many? That’s what
was wrong with the first scoring system; this way he’d find out.
He threw all seven, one after another, as fast as he could. One caught,
clung, dropped. The others just bounced. The phone chimed.
_The phone!_
He reached for the switch, and the screen lit up, and--_damn it to
Hell, you fat bastard, where’s Lee?_--it was Chris!
“She didn’t come,” Johnny said.
Chris shook his head. “She asked me to give you a message.”
“Yeah? Okay, give it.”
“She _couldn’t come_.”
“No?”
“The doctor says....”
“_Which_ doctor? Ole buddy Phil?”
“No, the Medic. She’s not supposed to take the trip till--”
“You always were a bum liar, Chris. So she didn’t come. So?”
“All right, I’m a bum liar. If you want to know, I wouldn’t let her.
And you ought to have your head examined, for wanting her to. She’s
been subpoenaed.”
“Me too. If they get around to serving it.”
“Yeah, but her left isn’t as good as yours. Do you want to hear the
message or not?”
“Sure. Why not? What is it? Love and kisses?”
“As a matter of fact, that’s _exactly_ it.”
“Okay.” But he had seen Chris hesitate. There was more. He waited.
Chris waited.
“All right, spill it, will you? What’s the rest?”
“You turning mindreader too?” Chris said nastily.
“Leave it lay, man,” Johnny growled. “_What else did she say?_”
“She said for you to come up.”
“Okay. Got room next trip?”
Chris shook his head.
“The one after?”
Same bit.
“_No_ room, huh? She stays up, I stay down, right?”
Chris never said a word.
Johnny switched off and got out the bottle and picked up the darts, and
started keeping score by how many belts it took to get a dart up.
Damn things wouldn’t stick at all.