"From the little they've told me, they might have found the—you know, what the press is talking about, the weapon the aliens might use against us."

"Who are they?"

"One is Jeremy Kemp. He's a conceited son of a bitch and hell to deal with, but he's an excellent geologist. The other two are oceanographers. Ever hear of Walt Samshow?"

"I think so. Wrote a textbook I read in college. He's pretty old, isn't he?"

"He and another fellow named Sand are with Kemp in Hawaii. They say they saw something pretty unusual."

"All right. Give me a phone number." He switched on the light over the nightstand.

"Samshow and Sand are on board a ship in Pearl Harbor." Riley enunciated the number and name of the ship for him. "Ask for Walt or David."

"Thanks, Chris," Arthur said, hanging up.

"No rest?" Francine asked.

"Some people think they might have found the smoking gun."

"Jesus," Francine said softly.

"I'd better call them now." He got out of bed and went into the den to use the extension there. Francine followed a few minutes later, wrapped in her robe.

When he had finished with the call, he turned and saw Marty standing beside her, rubbing his eyes.

"I'm going to San Francisco this weekend," he said. "But I've still got a couple of days with you guys."

"Show me how to use the telescope, Dad?" Marty asked sleepily. "I want to see what's going on."

Arthur picked the boy up and carried him back to his bedroom.

"Were you and Mom making love?" Marty asked as Arthur lay him down in the bed and pulled the covers over him.

"You got it, Big Ears," Arthur said.

"That means you love Mom. And she loves you."

"Mm-hm."

"And you'll go away but you'll come back again?"

"As soon as I can."

"If we're all going to die, I want you both here, with me, all of us together," Marty said.

Arthur held his son's hand for a long moment, eyes moist, throat gnarled with love and a deep, inexpressible anguish. "We'll start with the telescope tomorrow, and you can look tomorrow night," he finally said in a harsh whisper.

"So I can see them come," Marty said.

Arthur could not lie. He hugged his son firmly and stood by the bed until Marty's eyes were closed and he was breathing evenly.

"It's one o'clock," Francine said as he slipped under the covers beside her.

They made love again, and it was even better.

November 22

"Gauge! Bad dog! Dammit, Gauge, that's a frozen chicken. You can't eat that. All you can do is ruin it." Franchie stomped her foot in fury and Gauge slunk from the kitchen, berry-colored tongue lolling, ashamed but pleased with himself.

"Wash it off," Arthur suggested, sliding past Gauge to stand in the kitchen door, grinning.