"So you are acquainted with Mr. Feinman and Mr. Gordon," Crockerman said as they sat back with cups in hand.

"I know them by reputation, and met Mr. Gordon once when he was in command of BETC," Hicks said. He smiled and nodded at Arthur as if for the first time this evening.

"I'm sure our people have asked you what moved you to come to Furnace Creek Inn."

"It's an ill-kept secret that something extraordinary is happening here," Hicks said. "I was working on a hunch."

The President gave another of his weak, almost discouraged smiles, and shook his head.

"I am amazed I was brought here," Hicks continued, "after the way we were initially treated. And I am truly astounded to find you here, Mr. President, even though I had deduced you would be, by a chain of reasoning I've already described to your Army and Secret Service agents. Let us say, I am astounded to find my hunch proving out. What is happening here?"

"I'm not sure we can tell you that. I'm not sure why I've invited you to dinner, Mr. Hicks, and no doubt the other gentlemen here are even more unsure than I. Mr. Gordon? Do you object to the presence of a writer, a reporter?"

"I am curious. I do not object."

"Because I think we are all out of our depth," Crockerman said. "I would like to solicit outside opinions."

Harry winked without humor at Arthur.

"I am in the dark, sir," Hicks said.

"Why do you think we are here?"

"I have heard—never mind how, I will not tell—that there is a bogey here. I presume it has something to do with the Australian discovery in the Great Victoria Desert."

McClennan shaded his eyes with one hand and shook his head. "The unscrambled transmission from Air Force One. This has happened before. They should all be shot."

Crockerman dismissed this with a wave of his hand. He pulled a cigar from his pocket, then asked by an inclination of eyebrows whether anyone would share his vice. Politely, all around the table declined. He clipped the cigar and lit it with an antique silver Zippo. "I trust you've been cleared to enter military bases and research laboratories."

"Yes," Hicks said.

"You're not a United States citizen, however."

"No, Mr. President."

"Is he a security risk, Carl?" Crockerman asked McClennan.

The national security advisor shook his head, lips pursed. "Other than being a foreign national, he's got a good record."

Lehrman leaned forward and said, "Mr. President, I believe this conversation should end now. Mr. Hicks has no formal clearance, and—"

"Dammit, Otto, he's an intelligent man. I'm interested in his opinion."

"Sir, we can find and clear all sorts of experts for you to talk to," McClennan said. "This sort of thing is counterproductive."

Crockerman slowly looked up at McClennan, lips drawn tight. "How much time do we have until this machine starts dismantling the Earth?"