Power Play (9 page)

“Really?” Tomlinson was smiling but he didn’t seem all that impressed.

“And MHD generators could burn the high-sulfur coal we have in this state cleanly, without damaging the environment.”

“We could reopen the mines,” Amy said. “Lots of new jobs. Lots of profits for the mine owners.”

Tomlinson said, “Really?” again, but this time there was an edge of excitement in his voice.

“Really,” said Jake. “Clean energy. Reduce our imports of foreign oil. Use the energy resources we have right here in the USA. Revitalize the state’s coal industry.”

Sitting up straighter, Tomlinson muttered, “Several western states have big deposits of high-sulfur coal that are just lying in the ground, unusable.”

“We could use them!” Jake enthused. “Energy independence!”

His smile genuinely pleased now, Tomlinson said, “My god, Jake. This could mean more than the Senate. This could carry me to the White House!”

Amy raised a cautioning finger. “The Senate first, Franklin. One step at a time.”

He chuckled. “Right. Right. One step at a time. And the Senate would be a good launching pad for a run for the presidency in a few years.”

“Onward and upward,” said Amy, grinning back at Tomlinson.

Jake wondered how far they had already gone.

DINNER FOR THREE

Tomlinson insisted that Jake stay for dinner, and the three of them ate in the mansion’s spacious dining room, huddled at one end of the long polished table beneath a chandelier dripping crystal while the butler and one of the kitchen help brought in various dishes. Another servant poured wine for them, making certain no one’s glass went empty.

Jake barely noticed what he was eating, he was too excited about the grand visions that Amy and Tomlinson were unfolding before his eyes.

“I’ll get in touch with whoever’s running Lignite Mining,” Amy said. “You’ll want the coal interests aboard your campaign.”

“And the environmentalists,” Tomlinson said eagerly. “Get their top people to meet with Lignite’s top people.”

“Great!” she said, waving a fork in the air. “With you in the middle, bringing them together in common cause. Terrific photo op!”

Jake said, “You’ll have to meet with Professor Sinclair first.”

“Professor Sinclair?” Tomlinson asked. “Who’s he?”

Reaching for his wineglass, Jake said, “He’s the man in charge of the university’s MHD research. And, uh, I’m afraid he doesn’t think much of using MHD as a plank in your political platform.”

“Really?” Tomlinson looked more intrigued than alarmed. “Why on earth would he feel that way?”

With a shrug, Jake replied, “I’m not sure. He’s an academic—”

“We can’t have him standing in our way,” Amy said.

“I’ll persuade him,” Tomlinson said easily.

“He’s agreed to meet with you,” said Amy.

“Good,” Tomlinson said. “Fine.” He took a forkful of rare roast beef and chewed thoughtfully for a few moments. Then he said, “Jake, could you set up the meeting for me? I’d like to talk to him one on one.” With a grin he added, “Give him a dose of my charm.”

“Right,” said Jake. “Will do.”

The conversation moved on to other subjects, other problems, other opportunities: extending the state’s old-age benefits, genetically engineered corn, climate change. Amy wondered aloud how the United Mine Workers would react to the promise of MHD.

“They’re not as important here as in West Virginia,” Tomlinson said. “This is a right-to-work state, remember. No union-closed shops.”

Amy countered, “Still, the union’s endorsement could be a nice feather in your cap. It could get you national recognition.”

Tomlinson nodded. Then he said, “We’ve got to bring the electric utilities on board.”

“That might not be so easy. They’ve been in Leeds’s camp for years.”

“Then we’ll have to pry them loose from Leeds.”

Amy nodded. “We can try.”

By the time they had finished the sherbet and fruit cups of dessert, Jake could see that Tomlinson was eager to make MHD not merely a part of his campaign, but the central plank in a platform that stressed change.

Well, he thought to himself, every outsider candidate talks about change. The tough trick is to make the changes real once you get elected.

As they got up from the dining room table Tomlinson excused himself. “I’ve got a couple of dozen phone calls to make. Get the ball rolling. No time to waste.”

“Then you’re going to announce that you’ll run?” Amy asked.

“In due time. And I’m not just going to run,” Tomlinson said, smiling warmly at her, “I’m going to win.”

She looked like a true believer staring at the object of her worship.

Tomlinson headed for his office while Amy led Jake to the front door with the butler hovering a discreet few steps behind them.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” she said, almost dreamily. “He’s going to run. And he’s going to win. I just know he will.”

Jake shook his head. “Sinclair could be a problem. He seems dead-set on keeping the program out of politics.”

Laying a hand on Jake’s arm, Amy said, “You set up a meeting with Sinclair. Let Franklin talk to him. He can charm anyone into doing anything.”

Jake stared at her. “What’s he charmed you into?”

Amy’s eyes went wide for a moment, then she laughed lightly. “Jake, you’re jealous!”

Suddenly feeling flustered, he replied, “I guess I am.”

“And possessive,” she added, more gravely.

He had no response for that.

“Do you want me to go home with you? Is that it?”

Of course that’s it! he shouted silently. But he couldn’t say it out loud. One roll in the hay doesn’t mean you own her, stupid. She probably just did it to get you to help Tomlinson.

He heard himself ask, “Are you sleeping with him?”

“Is that important to you?”

“Yes.”

She was gazing steadily into his eyes, as if searching for something. Her eyes were almost greenish, he saw, with flecks of brown in them.

“Come on,” Amy said. “Let’s go to your place. I’ll follow your car.”

“Are you sleeping with him?” Jake repeated.

“No,” she said firmly.

He thought it was a lie. But he didn’t care. Not with her standing so close that he could feel her breathing, sense her perfume, take her for his own.

At least for this night.

DECEMBER

ASTRONOMY 101

The months flew by. Jake stayed as close as he could to Bob Rogers, absorbing everything the physicist had to tell him about MHD. They even started meeting at the gym every Wednesday afternoon for an hour of one-on-one on the basketball court. Although Rogers was ten years older than Jake, he was in much better condition; he delighted in running rings around Jake, leaving him puffing and sweaty.

After a few weeks Jake began to do a little better. By god, he told himself, I’m getting back into shape! On the rare occasions when he was on campus, Tim Younger joined them and ran both of them ragged. It was the only time Jake saw Younger laugh.

Jake had expected Tomlinson to declare his candidacy in October, but the man kept postponing the announcement. Part of the problem was that Professor Sinclair was being very evasive about meeting with him.

Glynis Colwyn was working as liaison between Jake and the professor. But while Bob Rogers and even the surly Tim Younger spent hours with Tomlinson and brought him out to Lignite to witness a run of the big rig, Sinclair sent one excuse after another through Glynis, postponing a meeting with the would-be candidate.

“What’s the professor’s problem?” Jake asked Glynis as they walked across the campus toward the lecture hall where Jake met with his Astronomy 101 class. He was toting his old laptop in its worn leather case on his shoulder; Glynis carried a thick sheaf of papers under one arm.

She shook her head, frowning slightly. “Damned if I know. Arlan just seems … well, almost afraid to meet with Tomlinson.”

“Afraid?”

She shrugged. It was a bright sunny day, warm for early December with the thermometer almost touching fifty degrees Fahrenheit in the early afternoon. Students were strolling across the campus, some even stretched out on the fading grass, pecking at their cell phones or chatting quietly. Glynis wore a maroon hip-length leather jacket over dark slacks. Jake had pulled up the collar of his lined leather car coat. When Louise had surprised him with it, many birthdays ago, she said its color was called bone. Now Jake thought that it looked like a bone that’d been buried in the ground and dug up again, more than once.

“Bob is gung-ho for Tomlinson,” Jake said. “So is Tim, in his way.”

“I know. Tim says that Tomlinson can get us the money to build a demonstration power plant: fifty megawatts for five thousand hours. That’s what we need to convince the utility companies that MHD can work for them.”

“So why is Sinclair hanging back?”

With a shake of her head, Glynis replied, “I’ve tried to get him to tell me. He just says he’s not ready to meet with Tomlinson yet.”

“What’s he waiting for?”

“If I knew I would tell you.”

“We could build the demo plant in Lignite,” Jake muttered.

“Couldn’t Tomlinson go ahead without Sinclair’s blessing?” Glynis asked.

“I suppose. But how would it look if the head of the MHD program comes out against Tomlinson?”

She stopped walking, shocked. “He wouldn’t do that! He couldn’t!”

“Then why won’t he meet with the man? Hell, he won’t even talk with me.”

“He’s refused to talk to you?”

Jake shifted the laptop case from one shoulder to the other as he said, “Every time I phone him, his secretary says I should talk to you.”

Glynis smiled. “Well, that’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”

“A lot better,” he admitted. But then, “Still, it’s not moving the professor off the dime.”

With a weary sigh, she said, “I’ll talk to him again.”

“Tell him it’s urgent.”

“I will.” She put out her hand and he shook it. Then Glynis headed toward the electrical engineering building and Jake turned off toward the lecture hall.

But not before spending a few moments watching her walk away. She’s really very pretty, he thought. I ought to ask her out to dinner or something.

Or what? he asked himself. She’s got no interest in you. Why should she? If Tim’s got it right, she’s shacking up with Sinclair. Somehow, Jake realized that he didn’t want to believe that.

Jake had been working closely with Amy Wexler, seeing her almost every day, sleeping with her some nights. Her apartment was in a downtown high-rise condo, very expensive. Jake buried the questions that nagged at him: Is Tomlinson paying for this palace? What does she do the nights she’s not with me?

Now a new question arose in his mind: Is Glynis sleeping with Sinclair? No, he told himself. She wouldn’t. Tim’s wrong about her. He’s probably come on to her but she wouldn’t do it. She’s too independent for that kind of fooling around. Besides, he’s a married man. She doesn’t need that kind of trouble. Then he added, And she certainly doesn’t need an assistant professor of astronomy.

*   *   *

The lecture hall was half filled with listless, bored students, most of them tapping away at their cell phones. Only a handful showed any real interest in astronomy. Those few, those precious few, sat in the auditorium’s front row as Jake climbed up onto the stage and set up his laptop’s PowerPoint slide presentation.

A couple of the front-row female students were quite good-looking, and they knew it. Trouble on the hoof, Jake thought. Lay a finger on them and they’ll scream sexual harassment. But in the meantime they wear low-cut sweaters and lean forward a lot.

“All right,” he said into the lectern’s built-in microphone. “Let’s settle down, shall we? Cell phones off, please.”

A palpable wave of discontent spread through the half-empty auditorium.

“Okay,” Jake said, forcing a smile. “Today we’re going to look at the king of the planets, Jupiter, and its major moons. If there’s any place in our solar system that harbors life, it’s most likely here…”

POLITICS 101

Jake’s telephone message light was blinking when he returned to his cramped little office. He punched the button and heard Glynis’s voice:

“Jake, I’ve talked with Professor Sinclair about his avoiding you. He seemed surprised. He said he’s tied up for the rest of today, but he’s attending a social function this evening and he could talk to you there, if you want to come.”

Jake phoned her back immediately. “What’s this social function that Sinclair’s going to? Where is it? What time?”

She hesitated for a moment. Then he heard, “It’s a cocktail party. For Senator Leeds.”

“Leeds? He’s going to a cocktail party for Leeds?”

“Don’t get upset, Jake,” said Glynis. “It’s a university thing. The senator is dedicating a new wing to the library this afternoon, and the university is giving him a cocktail reception afterward.”

“And Sinclair’s going to be there.”

“It’s just a formality. After all, he
is
the dean of electrical engineering this year. It doesn’t mean he’s in Leeds’s camp.”

Jake sucked in a deep breath to calm himself. “When and where?” he asked again.

*   *   *

The cocktail reception was in the library’s new wing, of course. Jake rushed home to change into a presentable pair of slacks, a fresh shirt, one of his three ties, and his best suede jacket. No time for a shower, still, he was nearly fifteen minutes late; the room where the reception was being held was already filled to overflowing. People were milling around in the hallway, others were strolling through the new wing, admiring the empty bookshelves.

Jake shook his head at the way the university did business. They raised all this money to build a new wing on the library but they hadn’t bought the books to fill it. Different budget. Construction money comes out of one pocket, book purchases another—much smaller—pocket. It’s stupid, he thought. Anyway, printed books are an anachronism, almost. The students use the Internet to research their assignments.

“There you are!”

Jake turned at the sound of her voice and saw Glynis Colwyn squeezing through the crowd toward him. With Tim Younger a half step behind her, a plastic wineglass in one hand and a relaxed smile on his face.