Looking more uncomfortable than ever, Sinclair said, “I wouldn’t say ‘supporting.’ I don’t intend to be active in anyone’s political campaign.”

“Tomlinson wants to make MHD a major issue in his campaign,” Jake said. “Will you support that?”

As if reciting a line learned by rote, Sinclair repeated, “I don’t intend to be active in anyone’s political campaign.”

Jake glanced at Perez, then said to the professor, “I imagine your son will be working for Senator Leeds.”

“He already is employed by Senator Leeds,” Sinclair replied.

“I mean, in his reelection campaign.”

Sinclair drew in a deep breath, then replied, “Arly’s a grown man. He makes his own decisions.”

Glynis spoke up. “Jake, you said you wanted Professor Sinclair to meet with Mr. Tomlinson.…”

Nodding, “That’s right.”

“Tomlinson don’t have a chance against the senator,” Perez said knowingly.

“I’d still like you to meet him and talk about the issue of MHD power generation,” Jake said to the professor.

“I’d be happy to meet with him,” Sinclair said.

Surprised, Jake blurted, “That’s great! How’s your schedule look for the rest of this week?”

Waving a hand as though the matter was trivial, Sinclair said, “Check that out with my secretary. Or better yet, with Glynis, here. She’s become indispensable to me lately.”

Indispensable, Jake thought. What the hell does that mean?

Shifting his eyes from Jake to Perez, Sinclair asked, “How is your schedule for the rest of the week, Nacho?”

Spreading his hands, Perez said, “I got nothin’ but time, Prof. You set your meeting with Tomlinson and I’ll be there.”

James A. Van Allen Museum of Science

JAMES A. VAN ALLEN MUSEUM OF SCIENCE

Leverett Cardwell smiled his quizzical little smile. “What a tangled web we weave,” he quoted, “when first we practice to deceive.”

Jake was not smiling. “It’s a serious problem, Lev. Tomlinson wants to announce his candidacy before Christmas and he wants to make MHD a major issue.”

Cardwell and Jake were in the planetarium. The round, domed room was empty between shows, half lit, shadowy, hushed. The soundproofed walls seemed to cushion the air; Jake always felt a little strange, special, in the planetarium, as if he were in a cathedral or a holy shrine. Jake and Dr. Cardwell were sitting side by side in plush reclining chairs on the last row, by the curving wall, next to the control booth, speaking in low, guarded voices. The acoustics in the planetarium were so good that they could have spoken in whispers from across the chamber and still heard each other perfectly well.

“And he doesn’t want to come out for MHD only to have Sinclair speak out against the idea,” Cardwell summarized.

“Right,” said Jake. “I’ve finally set up a meeting between the two of them, but Sinclair wants to bring one of Senator Leeds’s flunkies with him.”