McClennan's face reddened. "Nobody knows, Mr. President," he said.

Hicks stiffened his back and glanced around the table. "Excuse me," he said, "but—"

"Then, Carl," Crockerman continued, "isn't the time-consuming, formal way of doing things counterproductive?"

McClennan stared pleadingly at Lehrman. The Defense Secretary held up both hands. "You're the boss, sir," he said.

"Within limits, I am," Crockerman affirmed peevishly. "I have chosen to bring Mr. Hicks into our confidence."

"Mr. Hicks, if I may say so, is a media celebrity," Rotterjack said. "He has done no research, and his qualifications are purely as a journalist and a writer. I am amazed, sir, that you would extend this kind of privilege to a journalist."

Hicks, eyes narrow, said nothing. The President's gentle, dreaming smile returned.

"Are you finished, David?"

"I may very well be, sir. I agree with Carl and Otto. This is highly irregular and dangerous."

"I asked if you were finished."

"Yes."

"Then allow me to repeat myself. I have decided to take Mr. Hicks into our confidence. I assume his security clearance will be processed immediately?"

McClennan did not meet the President's eyes. "I'll get it started."

"Fine. Mr. Gordon, Mr. Feinman, I am not expressing any doubts about your capabilities. Do you object to Mr. Hicks?"

"No, sir," Arthur said.

"I have nothing against journalists or writers," Harry said. "However wrong Mr. Hicks's novel has turned out to be."

"Fine." Crockerman mused for a moment, then nodded and said, "I believed we turned down Arthur's request for a Mr. Dupres, simply because he is a foreign national. I hope none of you mind a little inconsistency now . . .

"We do indeed have a bogey, Mr. Hicks. It released an extraterrestrial visitor we call the Guest. The Guest is a living being, not a robot or a machine, and it tells us it rode a spaceship from its world to this one. But—" The President told Hicks most of the story, including his version of the Guest's dire warning. Again, nobody corrected him.

Hicks listened intently, his face white. When Crockerman finished, puffing at the cigar and blowing out an expanding globule of smoke, Hicks leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. "I'll be damned," he said, his voice low and deliberately casual.

"So will we all if we don't decide what to do, and soon," Crockerman said. All others kept their counsel. This was the President's show, and few if any were happy with it.

"You're speaking with the Australians. They know about this, of course," Hicks said.

"They haven't been told yet," Crockerman said. "We're worried about the effect the news might have on our people if it leaks."

"Of course," Hicks said. "I . . . don't know quite what to make of it myself. I seemed to have stepped into a real hornet's nest, haven't I?"