“Oh.” Jake gulped at his drink again.

“Do you want another?” Tomlinson asked.

“No, I’m okay with this, thanks.”

“What are you drinking?”

“Ginger beer. It’s nonalcoholic.”

“In Australia they take it with brandy. Brandy and dry, the Aussies call it.”

Jake almost asked Tomlinson if he’d been to Australia, but stopped himself in time to save the embarrassment. Of course he’s been to Australia, Jake told himself. He’s probably sailed yachts there. Or raced cars in the Outback.

“Dr. Cardwell says I should have a science advisor on my team,” Tomlinson said. “And he says you’re the man for the job.”

“He told me the same thing.”

“So what do you think?”

“Well, Mr. Tomlinson—”

“Frank.”

“Um, okay, Frank … I don’t know much about politics, and even less about how a political campaign is run.”

Tomlinson actually laughed. “That’s no problem, Jake. I’m surrounded by campaign managers, aides, volunteers. They all tell me they know exactly how to get me elected.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What I need is somebody who knows about science. What I need is an issue, a new idea, something that will show that I’m different from Leeds. Different and better.”

“A new issue.”

“Sure! Like Jack Kennedy and going to the Moon. Something exciting. Something to get people stirred up.”

“I see.”

Tomlinson leaned forward in the chair, toward Jake. In a voice that suddenly was deadly serious, he asked, “Think you can find me a new idea that I can campaign on?”

And Jake wanted to do it. He looked into Tomlinson’s sapphire blue eyes and saw that they were unwavering, deadly earnest. He realized that he wanted to help this man succeed.

“I can try,” he said.

Tomlinson’s smile returned. “That’s all I can ask of you, Jake. Try your best.”

“I will.”

“Good. You come up with an electable issue and I’ll name you as my science advisor.”

“How quickly will you need it?”

Tomlinson cocked his head slightly, calculating. “It’s August now. The election’s next November. That gives us fifteen months.”

“Fifteen months,” Jake echoed.

Raising a warning finger, Tomlinson said, “But we’ll need that issue long before then, of course. I’ve got to decide whether I’ll file for the race by the end of the year. I’ll need a good issue from you before then.”

“In four months?”

“Sooner, Jake. In a few weeks, if you can.”

“I’ll do it,” Jake promised.

“Good! Wonderful!” Tomlinson got to his feet and Jake hauled himself up to stand beside him. He realized that he was actually an inch or so taller than Tomlinson.

“I’ll have something for you in a couple of weeks,” Jake promised.

Tomlinson took Jake’s hand in both of his own. “I’ll look forward to it.” He led Jake toward the door of the library. “In the meantime, enjoy the party.”

“Thanks.”