Kinsella (Kinsella Universe Book 1)

by Gina Marie Wylie

  They went outside and joined the others, standing by the limo.

  “Two things,” Captain Gilly told everyone, “tomorrow at ten, we have a special tour laid on for you, to take you around to see some of Washington’s sights. Lunch is included. It’s true you could go on your own, but, trust me, you won’t get better service than you will get as guests of the President! At four, tomorrow afternoon, we’ll have a short meeting to make sure we’re all on the same page for Monday morning.

  “While I can’t stop you from picking up the phone and calling a reporter or news organization, you have to understand that if we trace a leak back to you, and we would, then your participation goes to zero. Not in dollar terms, but in terms of input.”

  Stephanie spoke up. “I’m being unfair here, speaking to Stan only, but I think the rest of you are smart enough to understand that I mean you as well. If not, listen carefully.

  “You can pick up the phone and call CNN or Fox. You might, possibly, get as much as ten thousand dollars for your scoop. They might just decide to extend that to a hundred grand, but I think if you’re relying on the generosity of a TV news network, you’re barking up the wrong tree.

  “Still, it would be money in your pocket!”

  She smiled at Stan. “Except you would become persona non grata with the government. You would get your per diem for this trip and that would be it. You could probably make a few thousand dollars on the personal appearance circuit, maybe even ten or twenty thousand — and that would be it. You’d be out of the loop, would never be let back in the loop, and you’d be professionally washed up. No one wants to hire a leaker.

  “Stick with us for a few days. Then there will be talk shows and other guest appearances. You’ll get to keep the money you earn for those... except the government will be on your side instead of sniping at you every way they can.”

  Stan Benko looked at Professor Kinsella, a surly expression on his face. “You’re trying to screw us.”

  “Stan, the money was settled last week, remember? You get a quarter of the patent royalties; Johnny gets a quarter. Do you even know what your one day total is?”

  “Pardon?”

  “The first license applications were received yesterday. If those licenses are granted, which Caltech would have to be insane not to grant them, how much did you make yesterday?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Mr. Chang, how about you? Do you know?” Stephanie asked.

  “A half million dollars. If the license applicants actually pay up.”

  “Does your knowledge extend to who they are?”

  “You and Lockheed.”

  “Not noted welshers,” Stephanie said dryly. “Just control yourself, people. In a week, pretty much, you can say and do what you want. After that you’ll be able to talk to anyone you want, say anything you want and take the money to the bank.”

  “Stan,” Captain Gilly said levelly, “one thing. I’m not an easy person to impress. Unless you are a total fool you have to know that if Professor Kinsella wished, she could have been alone on this aircraft this weekend and you wouldn’t have known about it until later. You were given free rein to write your paper, to file the patent. The university was cognizant of your rights in regards to the license fees and did not cut into your share to recompense Professor Kinsella — they did it out of their portion. They would have been entirely within their rights to have taken it from yours.

  “I would advise you for the rest of the week to think very carefully before you speak, unless someone solicits your opinion directly. And in that case, I would be very general and vague in my answers.”

  “What are we doing here?” Johnny Chang asked. “You said the President was interested in the patent. I assume that’s because we put a VW on the moon. Which means someone else could put something even larger up there — with a crew.”

  “This isn’t the place to discuss it, Mr. Chang,” Captain Gilly told him. “Please wait until tomorrow afternoon, and we can talk more about it then.”

  “I notice everyone’s tiptoeing around the gorilla,” Anna Sanchez said quietly.

  “Pardon?” Stan asked, obviously confused.

  “It’s October 30, 2010. Tomorrow is Halloween and two days after that are the off year elections. How much of this is politics?”

  Captain Gilly looked around. No one else was close. “In Washington, Miss Sanchez, when to take a pee break is a political decision. Does the term ‘October Surprise’ ring any bells?”

  Anna shook her head.

  “Well, let’s just say that the favorite time for one party or the other to pull a political dirty trick on the other is the week before the election.

  “The President really and truly believes that this is so big that it transcends politics. Besides, his party is ahead in the polls and looks set to gain enough seats in the Senate to defeat a filibuster. He has spent the bulk of the last week campaigning, as well as this weekend. Monday he is going to confound quite a few pundits. There will probably be a few late leaks Monday, but he expects the media to embargo them until after the election.

  “So, yes. There is going to be a huge gorilla sitting with us in the meeting Monday. Better for everyone if you just ignore it. Wednesday things will be different, so just be patient about that, too.”

  Later that evening Anna found Stephanie in the one of the sitting rooms, her feet up on a table, staring at nothing in particular. Anna smiled at the glass of iced tea sitting next to her mentor. “Professor Kinsella, you said you wanted to talk to me.”

  “Have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”

  Anna grinned. “Saturday night is my one luxury. I go out dancing. In the course of the night I have one beer. Sometimes if the company is good and I’m in the mood, two.” The two women traded smiles.

  “Anna, you are a wonderful student, keen, sharp, and bright. There are a thousand adjectives that I could use to describe you. Moreover, you’re easy to work with, you know how to supervise others and how get the best from them.”

  Anna Sanchez grinned. “Boss, I learned at the feet of a master. Your management style consists of three things: you hire good people, you tell them what you want... and then you either fire them when they do something else or you give them attaboys and something else to do if they’ve done good.”

  “It’s called hiring good people and letting them get on with the job,” Stephanie told her. “So, Anna — tell me what are you going to do with your doctorate?”

  “I have some ideas. Not quite the same ones I had a few months ago, but close enough. Once I have the doctorate I’m going to go long... instead of being someone’s flunkie, I’m going to get a teaching position and start working on grant proposals. Eventually, I want to head up my own lab.”

  Stephanie nodded. “You don’t want to work for someone else?”

  “No, Professor. I don’t mean any offense, but I’m much better at telling people what to do than following someone else’s instructions.”

  “You understand what I’ve proposed?”

  Anna nodded.

  “I need an assistant project manager. Candidly, I have other fish I want to fry and I’d like someone to take as much of the day-to-day load off my hands as possible. If that person does a good job, which I’m certain she will, then likely there will be quite a few projects of a similar nature starting up immediately after the first project finishes, and there will be absolutely zero top managers with experience available. That someone could write their own ticket.”

  Anna was quiet for a minute. “Me?”

  “Yes, you.”

  “I wouldn’t be doing any research on my own.”

  “True, but then, would you be doing research as a lab head? Or would you be hiring other people to do it?”

  Stephanie’s student laughed. “There’s that!”

  Again Anna was silent. “Professor, why don’t you want your name associated with any of this?”

  “Ha! A good question! Not even the e
stimable Captain Gilly has thought to ask that one. Did you ever take part in a three-legged race?”

  Anna shook her head.

  “Basically you take two people, usually a parent and kid, and have them both put one leg into the same gunny sack, then tie the sack tightly to their legs. Then you have them run a few hundred yards.”

  “That doesn’t sound very efficient.”

  “Well, it’s not. And if the two tied together aren’t on the same page, so to speak, it can be amusing to watch as they fall on their faces. However, if you have an anal father and an equally anal daughter, who’ve practiced a few times, you can run pretty fast.”

  “And this is a metaphor for what, Professor?”

  “If we were going to be discussing Kinsella turbines this week, I’d have my leg in a gunny sack, with fame as my partner tugging me in directions I don’t want to go. If I was famous in any way, I’d have the same problem. That’s not something I want, so I’m avoiding it. I have secured a revenue stream that will last a dozen and a half years and will make me phenomenally rich over that time. I want to concentrate my attention on the things I want to focus on, not what fame and fortune drive me to do.”

  “Do you think they’re going to give you the project? Do you think they’ll let you pick your number two?”

  “It’s a matter of principle,” Stephanie told Anna. “They have the money to pay for a lot more bells and whistles than I could afford on my own. But I could afford most all ‘mod cons’ on my own, that’s for sure — but not on the same scale.

  “The people here play politics; I submit to you politics is politics — the only thing that changes are the stakes. Department politics is different only in scope from what they do in this city. I’m 99.99 percent sure they’ll let me lead the construction project. I’m 99 percent sure they’ll let me pick my number two. I’m 99 percent certain that the nice Captain Gilly will be the President’s man on the project. He’ll have his own box, off to one side on the org chart: liaison-consultant or some such.

  “That’s not important to me. The project is important; what I want the project to accomplish is important. And I’m not talking about in reference to me, but to the human race. You know what I want.”

  Anna nodded. “I was a geek in school; I read a lot, I studied a lot more. I read a lot of science fiction. I know who said: ‘The Earth is too small a basket for all of the human race’s eggs.’”

  “Stranger things have been said in the land,” Stephanie quipped. Anna giggled.

  “You’ll think about my proposition?” Stephanie asked.

  “Done did, boss! You get the gig, I’d be proud to be at your elbow.”

  Stephanie flashed her a quick smile. “Understanding that I don’t plan on being around that much, to be stood next to?”

  “Oh?” Anna grinned. “I’ll just have to make do myself, then! So sad! So glad!”

  The next afternoon, John Gilly welcomed the group as they stood in the lobby of the Pentagon. “Good afternoon,” he told them. “If you’ll follow me, please?” He led the way, and everyone trailed along behind him. Stephanie was mildly amused to see a female naval officer and two male enlisted men following them.

  They went down a long corridor, took an elevator up, and went through several doors, then another long corridor. They went through what Stephanie was sure were the same sort of scanners airports and courthouses used and ended up in a large conference room.

  Stan waved his wife towards one of the seats, and Captain Gilly spoke. “Mrs. Benko, Stan, if you could wait a moment.”

  Someone came through another door, leaving it open.

  Captain Gilly intoned formally, “Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States of America.”

  The President walked in, followed by two aides and his Chief of Staff.

  The President nodded at them. “In a minute, we’ll have a photo session: a group shot, then each of you with me. A souvenir.” He smiled winningly at the group.

  Stephanie admired how easily it was done. One second everyone had been either hostile or nervous, or, in Stan’s case, both at once — the next second everyone was at ease, almost preening, looking forward to having their picture taken.

  The President walked up to the group and shook Captain Gilly’s hand, then turned to Stephanie. “Professor, good of you and your friends to come at my invitation.”

  “The honor is ours, sir,” Stephanie told him, taking his extended hand. “Of course, I have to admit a certain degree of disappointment. What sort of penance do I have to do, to earn a meeting with someone not a giant?”

  The President took her hand. “Professor, about a third of the men taller than I am, which is about half, say, ‘I thought you’d be taller.’ About a third of the rest — I can see what they are thinking in their eyes.”

  “And the other third?” Stephanie asked, knowing it was a verbal trap and knowing it would give the man pleasure to spring it.

  “Don’t give a good God damn about it. As do most of the rest. They know who they are, they’re proud of it, and aren’t bogged down in details that can’t be changed.”

  “I think I’m flattered,” Stephanie replied. “Am I being flattered?”

  “You bet,” the President agreed. The President turned to the others. “Now, let’s gather together for a group shot.”

  A photographer appeared and for the next quarter hour pictures were taken of the group and its members — even Trina Benko and her son.

  Then Trina and her baby were whisked away and everyone else sat down at the conference table. “I want to welcome you all to Washington,” the President said, starting the meeting. “I hope you had a good tour today.”

  There were polite murmurs of pleasure. The President smiled genially.

  “I’m glad you had an enjoyable time. I had originally hoped for a smaller rather than larger meeting tomorrow, but that’s not going to be possible. At the upper echelons of government pretty much everyone knows about this and since everyone agrees that it’s the greatest thing since sliced bread, they all want to be there on the ground floor.

  “Thus, most of my Cabinet will be there, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, a raft of people from my staff and theirs, the new Science Advisor designate and the NASA Administrator. Probably someone else from NASA, but I fired all the deputy Administrators last week. Call it about forty people. About the only people missing will be Congress and the Vice President, most of whom are out on the campaign trail.

  “I want to assure you tonight, as I will assure everyone tomorrow, that this is a great deal more important than any partisan politics.

  “It isn’t that I don’t want to solicit your opinions, that is the reason you were invited. But while I might tell people this is larger than partisan politics, that’s not what they’re going to think to themselves.”

  Anna Sanchez raised her hand and the President nodded to her. “Miss Sanchez?”

  “It sounded to me that all of the people at the meeting will be from your party.”

  “There will be a few from the other party. However while our nation as a whole has a two party system, that’s not so in Washington. The Army, Navy, and Air Force will have people there. NASA, the Secretaries of Defense and State. Secretaries of Labor, Treasury... all will have their own ideas about how to proceed. All of those people have agendas of their own, party politics aside.

  “Professor Kinsella cautioned you earlier about not volunteering anything, except with the greatest of thought. The same if you’re asked something. Stay brief, keep it as simple as you can and you’ll be fine. Professor Kinsella is going to be on the hot seat, that’s unavoidable. If I were you, I’d watch what she has to deal with and how she does it.

  “Now please, return to Blair House and make yourselves comfortable. You can go out and sample the cuisine at some of the local restaurants or stay in; the chef there is almost as good as mine. You would be surprised at what he can whip up on short notice!

  “Are there any ques
tions?”

  “Are we going to get the patent granted?” Stan Benko asked almost at once, without waiting to be recognized.

  “Sometime tomorrow the Patent Office will decide.” The President’s expression looked like a child staring into a candy shop window. “I’ve explained to them that I’d be very surprised if it wasn’t granted right away.”

  “And Johnny Chang and I will be the names on the patent?”

  The President shook his head. “Caltech, your names, then Professor Kinsella’s. This was supposed to have been explained to you before now.”

  “Oh, yeah. But, I was thinking... Johnny and I invented it. Why shouldn’t we get the credit and not the others?”

  The President’s eyes turned a shade of cold sea green. “You were contractually obligated to Caltech, Mr. Benko. You may sue, of course, but I was once an attorney, sir. I’d advise a client in your shoes not to do so; all you’ll accomplish is poison the water between you. There is virtually no way you can win and the University will look to get back the costs of the lawsuit at your expense.

  “Yes, you invented it. You used Caltech’s facilities to do so and you had Professor Kinsella consulting with you. Fair is fair, Mr. Benko. Don’t get greedy.”

  The last, of course, was said with steel in his voice.

  “And Professor Kinsella isn’t?”

  “Without Professor Kinsella,” John Gilly said levelly, “you’d be standing in a line tonight at a pizza restaurant, talking about lotto picks, the episode of the falling boom box forgotten.”

  Stan sat back, looking defiant.

  “Do you all understand Professor Kinsella’s proposal?” the President asked.

  “I looked at the first couple of pages,” Stan said, still surly. “She wants to build a spaceship.”

  “That’s it,” Captain Gilly agreed. “That’s what the meeting is all about. Seeking a consensus on whether or not this is a project the government should undertake and on what terms. The VW on the moon was a clever publicity stunt, and will be instantly newsworthy once it becomes public knowledge. It will help a great deal, both to get her project approved and to increase the demand for licenses for the turbines.”