“I guess so.” Jake returned his attention to the food on his plate. The beets were just the way he liked them, slightly tart with vinegar.

“So what are you going to tell Tomlinson?” Cardwell asked.

A vision of Amy Wexler flashed into Jake’s mind. “I’ll work for him. If he’ll have me.”

“You have to give him something he can use.”

Nodding, “Energy efficiency. MHD can produce more kilowatts per pound of fuel than ordinary generators. Twice as much. We could cut people’s electric bills in half.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Cardwell said, “but not too big a whopper.”

Jake disagreed. “Bob Rogers claims—”

Patiently, Cardwell said, “There’s a difference between how efficient Dr. Rogers’s generator is and how big a cut in electric bills that it might eventually bring about.”

Mrs. Cardwell piped up, “But don’t politicians always stretch things a little when they’re campaigning for office?”

Her husband laughed. “More than a little, Alice, dear. More than a little.”

“So energy efficiency is the issue I’ll give to Tomlinson,” Jake said.

“Energy efficiency,” Cardwell echoed.

“And it’ll be clean energy, too,” said Jake. “No sulfur emissions. No carbon dioxide greenhouse gas.”

Cardwell nodded as he picked up his glass of beer. “And what else?”

“What else?”

After a sip of his beer, Cardwell asked, “What did you think of Lignite?”

Mildly surprised at the seeming change of subject, Jake shrugged. “It’s pretty much of a dump. Practically a ghost town.”

“Lev and I honeymooned there,” said Mrs. Cardwell.

“You did?”

Smiling at the memory, she said, “Lignite was a bustling town in those days. And the Main Street Hotel was a lovely place.”

“The coal mines were prosperous then,” said Cardwell. “My first job, out of college, was in the company’s laboratory out there.”

“Really?”

“We were developing products out of coal tar.”

“That was more than forty years ago,” Mrs. Cardwell said.

“You’ve been married that long?”

“I was barely out of my teens,” Cardwell said, grinning across the table at his wife. “Alice was practically jailbait.”

She blushed prettily.

“Yes, Lignite was quite a town back then.”

Jake nodded and turned his attention back to the remains of his dinner. And then it hit him.

He looked up at Cardwell. “MHD can use high-sulfur coal!”

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Cardwell said mildly.

“I mean,” Jake said, growing excited, “MHD could make the high-sulfur coal in Lignite profitable again. It could revitalize the state’s coal industry!”

Obviously pleased that Jake had finally figured it out, Cardwell said, “Now that’s an issue that can get Tomlinson elected to the U.S. Senate.”

Jacob Ross’s Apartment

JACOB ROSS’S APARTMENT