“What did that cost her?” Justine asked.
“Billions,” Gore said. “In taxpayer money. Even I was surprised by what she offered for the starflight agency’s first budget.”
“She’ll look for a jumper to introduce the bill, someone who’s leaving the Senate,” Thompson said. “If Patricia’s got any sense she’ll try and get the President to introduce the agency formation bill into the Senate himself. That way, Doi won’t get the blame when the budget is announced.”
“She’ll get blamed when the navy starts up,” Justine said.
“If we need a navy, no one is going to question the cost.”
“Christ, she might even make a second term.”
“Did you tell Campbell we want to shift the agency base to High Angel?” Thompson asked.
“No. Someone else can do our dirty work.” Gore looked at Justine. “I thought your ex would fit the bill.”
She groaned and flopped down into the chesterfield. “Why him?”
“That way we can offer Buta the new High Angel shipyard assembly contracts. It fits perfectly. Sheldon will know he’s got to accommodate everyone else.”
Justine glanced at her clock display. “All right. We’ve got an hour before predinner cocktails. I’ll sound him out.”
“I thought you’d talked to him already today?” Thompson asked.
“Yes, but that was about Abby. She’s being a problem.”
“Is she all right?” Gore asked. “I haven’t received any information.”
The immediate interest amused Justine, he really was protective of the family, especially the direct lineage. “This wouldn’t reach you. We were just talking about which university she’s going to. I wanted Yale, she and her mother would like Oxford, and Rammy favors Johannesburg.”
“It’ll be Oxford,” Gore said. “You always cave in to your offspring.”
Cocktails were served in the music room. It was a large split-level room on the ground floor, with a central dais of teak for the ancient Steinway piano. The woman they’d hired to play the beautiful antique for the evening was from the San Francisco Civic Orchestra; she had an admirable repertoire and a mellow voice. After hearing her start with an Elton John classic Thompson was almost reluctant to take Ramon, Patricia, and Crispin down to the other end of the room where they stood in front of a Harkins water flow sculpture that took up most of the wall. Crispin wasn’t part of the deal to be made, but as he was now on Doi’s team he would be useful in providing assurances to Ramon. The more players were tied together, the harder it was for them to renege.
“You have to admit,” Thompson said to his ex-brother-in-law, “having Chairwoman Gall on your side would be a big help within the African caucus. A great many of your members respect her. It wouldn’t be just you trying to swing the proposition, you could share the load.”
“That woman is a total ballbreaker,” Ramon said dismissively. “I think you’re making a mistake including her in this without any prior consultation. And she’s only a very loose member of the Senate’s African caucus. When it suits her is the usual membership criteria.”
“She’s got to want the agency to be based at High Angel,” Crispin said. “I know she was most unhappy when the Second Chance was built at Anshun. I haven’t heard that kind of language in a committee room since the Kharkov Independency crisis.”
“All the more reason she’ll tell everyone to go to hell,” Ramon grumbled. He directed a wistful look at one of the waiters carrying around silver trays full of canapés, then checked around guiltily for Justine. “She’ll want her pound of flesh for that slight.”
“Chairwoman Gall is a fellow professional,” Thompson said. “The economic benefits to her fiefdom cannot be overlooked in these circumstances. She’ll sign on the dotted line.”
“She might,” Ramon said. “But in any case, don’t be so sure the High Angel will permit you to establish the agency there.”
“From what I understand, the High Angel is equally interested in the Dyson Pair,” Patricia said. “Besides, we don’t actually need its permission to site the new agency facilities there. It’s a convenient dormitory, nothing more.”
“Any lack of cooperation on its part would be a problem,” Ramon said.
“One we could surmount,” Thompson said. “The primary reason for siting the agency there is simply moving it away from Anshun.”
As one, they turned to look at Campbell Sheldon, who was talking with Isabella. The girl was dressed in little more than a white cotton cobweb, whose active semiorganic fibers shifted every time she moved so that her body’s true sexuality remained provocatively veiled. She was laughing with easy enthusiasm at whatever story Campbell was recounting, while he seemed equally enthusiastic at the attention she was shining on him.
“The Sheldons can be reasonable,” Crispin said. “When it’s in their interest.”
