“Perhaps we should be asking that of you,” Pierce said, smugly, staring into his reflection and straightening his tie.
For a moment Andie wanted to get off the elevator. But the slow climb up eight flights by foot was unappealing. She decided to stay. She could always kill Pierce, she told herself.
“Pardon me?” she said.
Pierce smiled slyly at her. “Well, we heard about the letter bomb. And that’s not the first one, is it? Doesn’t this kind of thing ever make you just a little bit nervous? I mean, you are working for a target when you work for Eleanor Jacobsen.”
Andie shrugged. “I consider it a privilege to work for somebody like Senator Jacobsen. Public office can be dangerous, Carter. Anybody can become a target. Even you.” She looked at his metallic-striped yellow tie and considered choking him with it.
“B-r-r-r.” He paused. “I’m not inventing these facts, Ms. Greenberg. It’s obvious that working for certain people is especially perilous.”
“So?”
“I’m just curious as to how you can stand it.”
“Carter…” Fuentes looked nervous.
“Well, it certainly beats hell out of working night and day to underbid the remnants of our country’s industry on behalf of foreign interests.” Andie smiled sweetly, dripping venom. “Excuse me, this is my floor.” The door opened and she strode out, fuming.
“Andie, wait.”
She spun around, ready for an argument. But Fuentes had followed her, alone.
“Well?”
“I’m sorry about Carter. You know he’s got this thing.…” Fuentes looked nervously around the crowded hall, moved closer.
“What thing?”
“About…you know.” He almost whispered.
“About mutants?” Andie asked between clenched teeth.
“Yeah. He thinks they should all be sent to Marsbase when it opens, or something like that.” He shrugged.
“Funny, that’s usually how I feel about Carter.”
Fuentes snickered. She felt better.
“And how do you feel about them, Karim?”
His smile vanished. He looked down for a moment, then met her eyes with a sober, searching gaze. “I think they have a right to representation just like anybody else. And the right to be left alone. I don’t know any mutants very well, but Jacobsen seems sharp, dedicated and efficient. She gets her job done despite all the media attention. What else can you ask for in a senator? I don’t see you cleaning up after her all the time the way I do for Craddick.”
“That’s for sure.”
“Look, some people may have a problem with Jacobsen, but it’s not my concern. Mutants seem all right to me. And I say, if they’ve finally gotten themselves a senator, good for them. Besides, my grandmother would spin in her grave if she thought I was putting down another minority group. She was the first one in our family to finish college. She believed in equality and she made sure everybody in her family did too.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, Karim. There aren’t many people I know who do,” Andie said. She was liking him better by the moment. “I admire the hell out of Eleanor Jacobsen. And I’ll do anything I can to help her bring mutants and nonmutants together.” She turned to leave, stopped as he took hold of her arm.
“Andie, would you like to have lunch?”
The charm was stripped away, He looked exposed. Earnest. Even more appealing. Andie smiled.
“That sounds like fun.” She glanced down at her gold watch. “But it’ll have to be late, say one-thirty. In addition to the usual business, I’ve got to get Jacobsen, and myself, ready for that Brazil trip.”
“Yeah, I thought so. Craddick may go too.”
“Well, I won’t mind escaping wet, cold Washington in March for the sunny beaches of Rio.”
“That makes two of us. Listen, a late lunch sounds fine. Let’s talk about Brazil then, okay?” He smiled eagerly.
“Great. See you at one-thirty in the lobby?”
He waved and was gone.
Andie held her holocard up to the door. It slid open, wishing her a good day in a grating voice that she hated.
There was a letter for Jacobsen from Senator Horner, “the reverend senator,” as Andie called him. She buzzed for admittance to Jacobsen’s inner office. No response. Well, it was early yet. Jacobsen usually appeared around nine.
Cracking the seal on the folder, Andie read the contents and shook her head. Another crazy proposal about unifying the mutants with The Fold, Horner’s fundamentalist constituency.
“If only every mutant man, woman, and child would join our flock, our prayers would be answered,” the senator wrote.
What a hypocrite, Andie thought. But every special interest group had its representative in Washington. Last week, it had been the United Muslim Liberation Front through Emir Kawanda. They’d already tried, and failed, to beat the mutants, running their own candidate against Jacobsen. Now they wanted to join them. And who could blame all these minority groups? The mutants seemed to reach goals easily that it had taken others generations of marching, demonstrating, and petitioning to achieve.
Maybe demagogues like Horner and his ilk wanted to grab a ride on mutant coattails. But their underlying philosophies of greed, racism, and religious imperialism seemed incompatible with mutant concerns. Not that Horner would care, Andie thought. Beneath all that sanctimony, the “reverend senator’s” heart pounded to a shrewd political rhythm: votes, votes, votes.
“Good morning, Andrea.” Jacobsen strode through the office, a screencase in either hand, She smiled, then disappeared into her private office. Andie followed, poking her nose through the open door.
“Senator, we’ve got another appeal from Horner. The usual stuff.”
“Then give it the standard response.”
“Right. Thanks but no thanks.”
“Exactly.” Jacobsen was already at her deskscreen. She looked up briefly. “Has Stephen Jeffers confirmed our meeting at nine-thirty?”
“Yes.” Andie paused. “I must say, he’s certainly turned into an ally.”
“What did you expect?”
“Well, since he ran so hard against you in the primaries, I thought he’d keep his distance.”
Jacobsen smiled. “Andie, a polished old pol like you should know that political feuds can be the most fleeting of all. And when it comes to getting business accomplished, especially mutant business, Stephen is too much of a professional to allow our onetime rivalry to get in his way. Good thing, too. If he hadn’t gotten behind me after the primaries, I doubt I’d have been elected. It would have been too easy to split the mutant vote.”
“Even with the huge mutant population in Oregon?”
“Absolutely. His assistance was invaluable.”
He’s not hard to look at either, Andie thought. All that hair. That square chin and killer smile. Those golden eyes.
Jacobsen gave her a sly look. Andie turned away, suddenly uncomfortable. She knew Jacobsen was a limited telepath, but weren’t they supposed to respect privacy?
“Are you ready to discuss the Brazil trip?” Jacobsen asked.
“I’ll be right in.” Andie pulled the file, grabbed her notescreen and swung back into Jacobsen’s office.
“You remember the supermutant rumors?”
“Of course.”
“Naturally, I have a great deal of interest in this. It seems my interest is shared by others, so much so that a congressional investigation has been suggested. Unofficially, of course.”
Andie nodded. “And you’re the logical choice to head up this ‘unofficial’ junket?”
“So it would seem.” Jacobsen smiled wryly. “Everybody’s favorite mutant.”
“Have they asked you yet?”
“No. But they will. A shame. Frankly, the last thing I want to do right now is take a silly trip to Brazil. I don’t even speak Portuguese.”
“Get an implant.”
“Not until they ask me.” Jacobsen reached for he
r white porcelain coffee cup. “Which I assume they will do this afternoon. So I think you’d better schedule a hypnotic implant for both of us, Andrea. The usual cultural background and language package. We’ll be briefed by the State Department just before we leave. And plan on being away for at least two weeks.”
“Done. I’ll program enough cat food to last Livia until April, just in case you want to open a satellite office down there.”
Jacobsen smiled at the jest. She seemed unusually light-hearted this morning. “Don’t tempt me, Andrea. I need you to act as a good influence around here. Oh, and don’t forget to notify the appropriate media agencies.”
“Of course.” She paused. “Senator, a question off the record?”
“What is it?”
“You don’t give much credence to this supermutant rumor, do you?”
Jacobsen’s eyebrows arched upward in surprise, but the unguarded moment lasted mere seconds before the smooth mask was back in place.
“I think it’s healthy to maintain a skeptical attitude until hard proof is available,” she said. Her voice was calm. Careful. “What we are dealing with here are rumors. And I hate wasting time on rumors.”
“What will you do if they’re not just rumors?”
“I’ll worry about that if and when the time comes.”
James Ryton shot his cuffs and turned to his son.
“Nervous?”
“A bit. Excited.” Michael looked serious in his gray suit, a younger version of his father, save for the bright-pink braided tie he’d insisted on wearing. James didn’t begrudge him the vanity, but preferred his own sedate, old-fashioned burgundy neckwear. The tube car swayed and they held on to the handrails. Stations shot past the windows, squares of white light and pale faces framed for seconds, gone.
“You’ve met her before, haven’t you, Dad?”
Ryton nodded. “Yes, and it’s always a pleasure to see her. Eleanor Jacobsen has been in office now for an entire term, and it’s something every mutant can be proud of.”
The tube deposited them at the Capitol station. They flowed up the moving stairs and took the silver elevators to Jacobsen’s office. The receptionist greeted them.
“Mr. James Ryton and Michael Ryton? Please come in and sit down. The senator is in a meeting, but I’m sure she’ll be with you shortly.”
Ryton nodded impatiently. He was anxious to get on with business. After fifteen minutes had passed, he approached the receptionist again.
“Do you think it will be much longer?”
She smiled sympathetically. “I’ll remind her that you’re here.”
“Thank you.”
* * *
At the sound of the buzzer, Andie looked up from her notescreen. The senator and Stephen Jeffers were oblivious, locked in debate.
“You mean to tell me you’d allow further restrictions to be placed on mutant athletes?” Jeffers asked angrily. “Good god, Eleanor. Pretty soon we’ll have to wear weights and blindfolds before we set foot in the public arena.”
“Stephen, calm down,” Jacobsen said in smooth tones. “You’re exaggerating. Of course I won’t support these restrictions. But your demand for the repeal of the Fairness Doctrine is premature. You know we don’t yet have the support in the Senate to call for such a vote.”
“Then let’s get that support.”
“I wish it were that easy.”
Jacobsen’s screen buzzed again.
Andie intercepted the call. “What’s up, Caryl?”
“A James Ryton and Michael Ryton to see the senator. They’ve been waiting for half an hour.”
“Thanks.”
She turned to Jacobsen. “Senator, I believe your eleven o’clock meeting is here.”
“Already?”
Jacobsen checked her screen. “Andie, I need another ten minutes or so with Stephen. Can you pacify them until I can get clear?”
“Of course.”
Jeffers winked at her. “Eleanor should clone you, Andie. Then you can be in two places at once.”
“Or three.” Jacobsen corrected him. “Thanks, Andie.”
She closed the door behind her and walked into the outer office, Jeffers’s smile still glowing in her mind. The Rytons were waiting by Caryl’s desk.
“Gentlemen, please excuse the delay. I’m Andrea Greenberg, Senator Jacobsen’s assistant. She’ll be with you in a moment.” She shook both men’s hands, fighting the urge to chuckle. Talk about clones. The younger Ryton looked as though he’d been cast in exactly the same mold as his father. No, on second glance, there was something unusual about his eyes, a bit of a slant. Interesting. Mutants were always interesting, she thought. And attractive. An electric tingle moved up her spine.
Andie shepherded the Rytons toward two chairs by her desk.
“You’ve met the senator before?”
“Yes, on a previous visit,” James Ryton said. “We want to talk to her about the Marsbase appropriations bill. The regulations that are being built in will strangle the space engineering business, and we’ve only just regained our competitive stance with Russia and Japan.”
“Are you aware that the bill will be put to a vote tomorrow?”
“That’s why we’re here today.”
Andie’s private line buzzed once; Jacobsen’s code.
“Excuse me.” She turned away and picked up the earpiece.
“Andie, I’ll have to reschedule with the Rytons. How about tomorrow?”
“I’ll tell them.”
She turned to the two men apologetically.
“The senator’s meeting appears to be going into overtime. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to come back tomorrow—”
“But that might be too late,” Michael Ryton blurted out. A quick look from his father silenced him.
Andie started to tell them she was sorry, but she stopped in midsentence. They looked so crestfallen. She checked her desk chart. By the time Jacobsen could meet with them tomorrow, the vote would already have been called.
“Wait,” she told them. “Let me see what I can do.”
She buzzed Jacobsen.
“Senator, I’m sorry, but I really think you ought to make time for the Rytons today. They want to see you about the Marsbase appropriations bill, and tomorrow, you won’t have time for them before the bill comes to the floor.”
“Is it that urgent?”
“I think so.”
A pause while Jacobsen conferred with Jeffers off the line. Then, “Would they mind if Jeffers sits in?”
Andie turned to the Rytons.
“Stephen Jeffers is with the senator now. Would you mind if he’s part of your meeting?”
“Not at all.”
“They’ll be right in.”
“Thanks, Andie.”
“Okay, folks, you’re in.” She almost winked at the younger Ryton, he looked so relieved. Even his father seemed to have thawed a bit. “This way.”
As they walked into Jacobsen’s office, James Ryton paused at the door.
“Miss Greenberg. Thank you.” James Ryton smiled. Andie had the feeling he didn’t do it often.
“James? It’s good to see you again.” Jacobsen shook his hand briefly. “And this is your son?” She took Michael’s hand. He was impressed with the firmness of her grip and her authoritative air. Dressed in a sober gray business suit, she commanded the office space with ease, gesturing for them to sit down on the padded red leather chairs in front of her desk. Michael saw that she was not wearing a mutant unity pin. Probably not her style, he thought. She seemed conservative and low-key, far more so than he’d expected. And her office had an old-world feel enhanced by the mellow wooden paneling, the elegant blue upholstery on the sofa, and the wine-colored Oriental rug on the floor. No twenty-first-century poured acrylic furniture for Senator Jacobsen.
A handsome man with a square jaw and golden eyes was already seated by the desk. A unity pin sparkled on the lapel of his navy-blue business suit. Michael’s father nodded to him.
<
br /> “You’ve met Stephen Jeffers?” Jacobsen asked.
“At the Western conclave three years ago,” Ryton said.
“Good to see you again, James.” Jeffers shook his hand, then turned to Michael. “I see you’ve joined the firm since then. A good move. It’s one of the best space engineering firms in the business, from what I hear.”
“James, I understand you’re handling the solar collector contract,” Jacobsen said.
“Yes.”
It’s about time that the American space program got competitive again.”
“Well, we’d like to keep it that way. But these damned regulations are crippling us.”
Jeffers nodded. “The legacy of the Greenland accident.”
“Safety regulations have become a noose around our neck. I already employ a dozen people just to cope with these new specifications. It’s impossible to stay competitive given these conditions. I can’t just farm out the work to Korea the way Russia and Japan do.”
“James, safety regulations are a fact of life in the space industry,” Jacobsen said.
“Safety, yes. And all of our work is state-of-the-art in that regard. But most of these recent regulations are just window-dressing, something your colleagues can point to whenever the moronic public raises some outcry about space safety.”
“Now hold on, James—”
“Senator, you have no idea how knotted regulations have become. That’s why we’re here. With the rising cost of parts and labor, and competition from abroad, if any additional safety restrictions get tacked on to this legislation, I won’t be able to stay in business.”
Jacobsen shook her head. “You know this is a sensitive issue. I can’t just walk in and announce my opposition to federal safety regulations on Marsbase. I’d be laughed off the Senate floor. Rightly or wrongly, it’s a political necessity that we satisfy critics of the space program or there won’t be any space program. We’ll have a replay of the eighties. And that will be even worse for your business.”
“I’d be happy to testify as to the impact of existing safety measures,” Ryton said. “We’ve had to increase prices tenfold just to stay in the same position as before Greenland. I’m sure that if you surveyed my American competitors, you’d find the same to be true. Perhaps the taxpayer would be interested to know how much it’s costing them to pay for the psychological comfort of these redundant systems.”
The Mutant Season Page 6
