“Trick or treat?” Jake muttered tiredly to Kevin O’Donnell, who had tapped just once on his office door and then stepped in.
“What tricks do you know?” O’Donnell said as he closed the door behind him.
“I don’t know any tricks.”
O’Donnell smiled crookedly. “Then you don’t get any treats.”
Jake studied O’Donnell’s face as the staff chief sat down in front of his desk. Kevin smiled rarely.
It was past six p.m. Most of the senator’s staff people had left the office long ago. Jake had spent most of his day trying to put together a team of former astronauts to form a coherent group that was willing to speak to schoolchildren and use the kids’ natural interest in space to encourage them to study the STEM subjects. Farthington had promised to bring NASA into the program, but so far the agency had offered no help to back up that promise. Harry Quinton had quickly agreed to help as much as he could; Nicholas Piazza seemed eager to face schoolchildren.
“I’ve got an eight-year-old grandson who tears my head off every time I see him,” Piazza said. In Jake’s phone screen, the man looked actually pleased.
“Eight years old?” Jake asked.
“Going on a hundred and two,” Piazza said, laughing. “The kid’s a real terror.”
Tomlinson was slipping in the national polls, although he seemed to be holding his own in Iowa and even New Hampshire. But for how long? Jake constantly asked himself. We’ve been working so hard on assuaging the NEA that the senator’s space plan has hardly been mentioned in the news media for the past several weeks.
Looking across the desk at O’Donnell’s nearly smirking face, Jake said, “I’ve been working since seven thirty this morning on this damned NEA problem, Kevin. I’m in no mood for kids’ games.”
O’Donnell cocked his head slightly to one side, as if to determine the truth of Jake’s statement. Then his smile went from teasing to pleased.
“Got the NEA’s acceptance of our request for a meeting. Thought you’d want to know.”
Jake felt his eyes widen. “They’ll meet with us?”
“Yep. Dora Engels herself, and five key members of her inner circle. They just e-mailed a formal acceptance, with a hard copy heading our way through snail mail.”
“Great!” Jake enthused. “That’s just great!”
“They want to keep the meeting small, quiet. The senator, Farthington, a couple of ex-astronauts.”
“Ike Knowles,” said Jake.
Nodding, O’Donnell went on, “They’re happy about Harold Quinton. NEA people don’t get to see billionaires face-to-face very often.”
“Guess not.”
Then O’Donnell added, “And you.”
“Me?”
“You’re the head man on the space plan, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” Jake’s voice trembled slightly with excitement.
“You’re going.”
“When? Where?”
“Next Monday morning, at their headquarters on Sixteenth Street.”
“After Halloween,” Jake said, immediately feeling stupid about it.
“That’s right. No tricks and no treats.”
Jake thought, I don’t care if there’s no treats. I just hope they don’t pull any tricks.
As he got up from the chair, O’Donnell said, “By the way, Derek Vermeer phoned the senator, said he’s very pleased that we’re including a Mars training facility in the plans for the Moon base.”
“That means the Mars lobby’s swung around to our side!”
“No,” O’Donnell corrected. “But it means they won’t actively oppose your space plan. Frank’s very pleased.”
Nodding, Jake said, “So am I.”
* * *
As soon as O’Donnell left, Jake phoned Farthington’s office at NASA headquarters and once again got an assistant. He left a message, then tried Isaiah Knowles’s cell phone. A message machine.
Feeling frustrated, Jake left for home.
The lobby of the condo building was aglow with plastic jack-o’-lanterns and various witches, black cats, and assorted hobgoblins. As he rode the elevator to his unit, Jake felt almost sorrowful that no children were allowed to go door-to-door begging for candy. Against the condo association’s rules. Not that there were so many kids living in the building, he reminded himself. He didn’t really know his neighbors well, but he hardly ever saw any children in the elevators.
Tami wasn’t home yet. Jake knew she was working just as hard as he was, trying to keep the NEA flap from becoming a media sensation. Senator Moonbeam versus the National Education Association. That’d be a great way to destroy Frank’s campaign.
Jake poured himself a glass of wine, turned on CNN, and settled himself on the sofa to wait for Tami. It’s her turn to cook, he remembered. We’ll go out to Mamie’s. She’ll be tired after putting in another long day.
The big news story on both CNN and Fox News was the funeral arrangements being made for Vladimir Putin. The Russians were going all-out, turning their president’s death into an international showcase. Heads of state from all over the world had been invited to Moscow. The president of the United States had already agreed to attend. Her last chance at being in the international spotlight, Jake thought.
The front door opened and Tami came in, looking bone weary. Jake jumped up from the sofa and reached for her as she let her tote bag slump from her shoulder to the table by the door.
“Dinner at Mamie’s,” he announced, after pecking her on the lips.
She smiled tiredly. “No, let’s eat here. I don’t feel up to going out.”
“But—”
“The fridge is full of leftovers. I’ll heat up something.”
“You sure?”
“Sure.” Tami headed for the bathroom.
“Got some good news,” Jake said. “We’re set for a meeting with Engels and her people next Monday.”
Tami brightened a bit. Then she said, “I heard something today.”
“More good news?”
She shook her head. “Herbert Manstein has quit Rockledge Industries.”
“Quit? Where’s he going?”
“He’s joined Senator Sebastian’s campaign staff.”
Suddenly Jake felt just as weary as Tami.