Powersat

Houston, Texas

From her little cubicle down the hall from Chavez’s office, Kelly Eamons phoned April at her Astro Corporation office.

April’s image on Eamons’s desktop screen looked surprised once she recognized the FBI agent.

“Hi, Kelly! How are you? Have you found out anything new?”

Wishing she had something positive to say, Eamons replied guardedly, “Not really. What’s happening with you?”

“This place is jumping. We’re going to turn on the powersat next week. Every news outfit in the country is buzzing around. They all want to interview Dan and Gerry Adair, our astronaut. They’re even asking for interviews with the engineers.”

Eamons tried to hide her disappointment She’d been hoping that April wasn’t too busy to help her stalled investigation.

“I thought Dan made a mistake to schedule the turn-on for the Sunday of the holiday weekend,” April was rattling on, “but he’s a lot smarter about these things than I am. It’s a slow news day, and the media’s practically frothing at the mouth to have a big story for Sunday.”

Big story if the satellite works, Eamons thought. But, she realized, an even bigger story if it doesn’t work.

To April she said, “I understand that one of Tricontinental Oil’s directors is spending a lot of time down there in Matagorda.” Before April could ask, she added, “Asim al-Bashir.”

“Oh, yes. Asim’s here all the time.”

“Asim?” Eamons’s ears perked up.

Lowering her voice slightly, April said, “I’ve been dating him.”

“You have?”

“Nothing serious. Just dinner.”

“Really?”

“He’s very nice. Sort of.”

Her mind racing, Eamons tried to make small talk while she decided how much to tell April. The kid’s not a trained agent, she told herself. You got her into enough trouble with that Kinsky guy and Roberto. If al-Bashir really is the brains behind Roberto and everything else…

“He’s invited me to come up to Houston for a visit,” April was saying. “Maybe we could get together then.”

“That sounds a little like walking into the spider’s parlor,” Eamons said, still wondering what to do.

“Don’t worry. I can’t get away from the office until after the powersat’s turned on,” April said.

“Still…”

“I’ll get my own hotel room,” April said, her smile brighter. With a laugh she added, “If you’re worried about me you can have an agent follow me wherever I go.”

Or plant a bug on you, Eamons said to herself.

For months Jane had ignored Dan’s phone messages. In truth, she had been too busy to see him, with Morgan Scanwell’s constant campaigning across the nation. New Hampshire, Iowa, South Carolina, the smashing Super Tuesday victories, and now the California, New York, and Texas primaries coming up. The major leagues.

Dan had called insistently, almost every day since their brief foolish fling at his place in Matagorda. Stupid thing to do, Jane told herself every time she saw his name on her list of unanswered messages. You allowed your hormones to overwhelm your good sense. If Morgan ever finds out… ! But coldly, logically, she told herself that if Morgan found out he would do nothing. He might be hurt, crushed even, but he would neither do nor say anything that would sidetrack his campaign to the White House.

Nor will I, Jane decided. I owe Morgan that much. I can’t let Dan interfere, can’t let him muddy the waters no matter how much I love him. Not now. It’s too late for that now. Maybe not ever.

Still, her heart had nearly stopped when she’d seen Dan at the Senate subcommittee hearing. She’d known he would be there, she’d thought she’d steeled herself for the moment, yet still her knees went weak at the sight of him. It had taken all her strength, all her resolve, to sit through his testimony and remain cool, unmoved.

Now, as she sat alone in her office at the end of a long, draining day, his name appeared again on her desktop screen, right at the top of calls she should answer.

Almost without her consciously willing it, Jane clicked on his name.

Dan’s face appeared on the screen. He was grinning happily. “I know you’re busy but I just wanted to say thanks for helping us. Sunday morning we’re supposed to turn the powersat on. Maybe you can come down here Saturday. I’ll have a surprise for you.”

His image froze, a set of telephone numbers superimposed over it office, personal direct line, cell phone.

A surprise, she thought. I’ll bet. Probably a bottle of champagne and a freshly made bed. Despite herself, Jane smiled. Then she thought, Morgan ought to be at the Astro facility when Dan turns the power satellite on. After all, he is the governor of Texas and Astro is in his state. It would be good publicity, a fine chance to show his energy independence ideas can really work.

She brought up Morgan’s schedule for the coming week. He’ll be spending the next three days in California and New York, she saw. Friday night back to Austin, ostensibly at tending to his duties as governor but actually mending fences and shaking hands for the upcoming Texas primary. Monday the Memorial Day barbecue. Jane called Austin and spoke to Scanwell’s travel aide.

“He can jet down to Matagorda for a few hours on Sunday,” she said. “He’ll get more news coverage there than in Austin.”

The travel aide, a lank-haired, sleepy-eyed brunette, nodded unenthusiastically. “Yes, Senator, I suppose so. But he’s got a full schedule of meetings set for Sunday and then the barbecue on the holiday.”

“Bring the important ones along on the jet with him,” Jane told her. “They’ll appreciate being on the plane with the governor and then seeing the kickoff of the power satellite.”

“I don’t know if I can do that this late,” the aide complained. “It’s already Tuesday and—”

“You can do it,” Jane said firmly. “I have every confidence in you.”

The aide nodded again, even more glumly. They both understood quite well that when the governor’s campaign manager makes a suggestion, it’s really a command.

That done, Jane clicked to her own schedule for the Memorial Day weekend. The Senate would be adjourned until Tuesday noon. Friday she had meetings scheduled with Denny and the rest of the strategists to plan the final weeks of the campaign leading up to the party’s convention in Denver.

I could fly home to the ranch Friday night, she told herself. I could pop down to Matagorda early Saturday and be there when Morgan arrives on Sunday.

I could, Jane thought. But I won’t.