He curled into a ball and felt the blistering blow as he smacked into the ocean. He uncurled and opened his eyes, struggling to orient himself as he heard and felt the great churning of his wounded, pilotless machine plunging into the water twenty meters from him. He swam for the surface and broke through to the pure sweet air, shouting to himself as he broached.
Death! You rotten bastard! I’ve looked into your putrid eyes. And I’ve won again!
Isaacs stood near the door, watching the mild confusion as some members of Jason tried to leave the room past the clutter of chairs and lingering people. After Runyan’s projection of the destruction of the Earth, if not the Sun itself, by his hypothesized black hole, Phillips had called a halt to give time to think and evaluate. They would reconvene the next morning.
Isaacs recalled Runyan’s fatalistic shrug when Phillips suggested their free time should be spent seeking a different solution to the problem. Isaacs recognized that Runyan was sincerely convinced he had the correct interpretation, however wild the idea, whatever the gaping questions left unanswered. But a black hole! Isaacs could see no immediate weakness in Runyan’s argument; it made a certain sense. But it violated every professional instinct. Somehow, Runyan had to be wrong. Isaacs determined to have a quiet, serious talk with Phillips.
Danielson noticed that Isaacs was not moving to leave immediately. In attempting to get out of the way, she did a brief Alphonse-Gaston routine with Zicek before retreating into the cranny between the desk and the sofa. Runyan edged along the blackboard and then in front of the sofa to get behind Zicek, Fletcher, and Noldt. Out of a sense of propriety for his temporary quarters, only Gantt remained seated in the swivel chair at the desk.
As Danielson watched Noldt, the last of the first group to leave, she was startled to feel a grip on her elbow. She looked around to see Runyan, whose mood was transformed by an infectious smile of mirth and well-being.
“You see what you and your boss have done?” he asked merrily. “Put me through the wringer! What I need now is the company of a pretty lady for dinner. Do you have any plans?”
Her smile, which had been spontaneously induced by Runyan’s radiating good spirit, brightened further. Runyan’s revelation had left her shaken, the idea was too strange, too new for her to readily cope with it. Her immediate reactions were much more personal. She was exhilarated that her work and risks had paid off. These men of Jason had given her the ultimate accolade by taking her analyses seriously. Besides listening to her, Runyan had deeply impressed her with his mind-boggling explanation of her discoveries. She was delighted at the chance to prolong these feelings with an evening in Runyan’s company.
“I’m not sure what Mr. Isaacs has in mind,” she said.
“Well, let’s just see,” Runyan cut her off. Without releasing his grip on her arm, he led her around Gantt to Phillips and Isaacs.
“Gentlemen. I propose a few drinks and a good meal in pleasant company as therapy for our weighty problems. Will you join us?”
Isaacs noted with irony that Runyan had appointed himself and Danielson the core of the action, as if Phillips and he were the peripherals. Danielson had comported herself very well through everything today, thinking on her feet, picking up quickly on the lack of scorching, a point he should have stressed. More evidence of her good prospects in the Agency. His glance fell on Runyan’s possessive hand on her elbow. Isaacs was still nervous about Danielson consorting with these academics, particularly Runyan, coming on fast this way. She was a grown woman, though, and deserved some recognition for her excellent work of the past few months. He looked at the expectant smile on her face and smiled himself in acquiescence.
“Of course, provided we’re not out too late.”
“I’d be honored to be in your company,” replied Phillips, with a small bow.
As if remembering suddenly whose room they were in, Runyan spoke back over his shoulder, “How about you, Ellison? Can you join us?” His jovial tone dropped a note, a slight hint that Gantt was welcome to go his own way, which Gantt ignored or failed to notice.
“Sure, I’d like to join you if you don’t mind,” said Gantt, rising from his chair.
“I’m sure Dr. Danielson would like a chance to freshen up,” Phillips nodded in her direction. “Let me show you and Mr. Isaacs to your rooms.” Then to Runyan he said, “Let’s meet in the lobby downstairs in forty-five minutes.”
As Phillips escorted the pair out, Runyan turned to Gantt. “You brought your Thunderbird down here from Pasadena, didn’t you, Ellison? Can you take all five of us?”
“Sure, I can manage that.”
“Hey, good. I’ll see you downstairs later.”
Runyan left, pausing a moment to look down the corridor to his left where Phillips was showing Danielson into her room. He then proceeded up another flight of stairs to his own cubicle.
Danielson shut the door behind her and looked around the room that was markedly similar to the one she had been in all afternoon, but less cluttered. There was no desk and the dormitory bed remained in its position near the windows. Her overnight bag had been neatly deposited on the use-worn bureau by the marine chauffeur they had rated on this official trip. She peeked into the bathroom and then kicked off her shoes and lay back on the bed, her mind spinning with the events of the afternoon. She found herself thinking about Runyan, the way he had taken charge of the meeting, and of their plans for dinner. She felt a warm glow, twinged at the edges with fingers of darkness.
Phillips showed Isaacs into a very similar room across the hall and two doors down.
Isaacs looked in the door with scarcely concealed disinterest. He turned to address the older man.
“I know it’s been a long afternoon, but there are a few points I would very much like to clarify. Could you possibly spare me some time now?”
“Of course,” nodded Phillips with a hint of a smile. “I thought you might ask. Come,” he said, gesturing down the hallway with his right hand as his left touched Isaacs’ arm in invitation. “Let’s go down to my office. We can be more comfortable there.”
They retraced their steps down the hall and descended the stairs by which they had come up earlier in the afternoon. Phillips led the way to the end of the lower corridor and into the office that served the dormitory supervisor during term. A bay window looked out over a well-kept green lawn. Phillips crossed the room to a cabinet nestled among long rows of bookshelves.
“Would you have some sherry?”
“Why, yes, please … I would,” Isaacs replied.
“I hope you don’t mind cream sherry. I developed a taste for it as a youth.”
“That would be fine.”
Phillips extracted a decanter and two small cut-crystal glasses from the cabinet and set them on the desk. He poured carefully and handed one glass to Isaacs. They toasted one another in quiet salute, then Phillips moved a chair up along the edge of the desk for Isaacs so the expanse of the desk would not discourage intimacy. Phillips sat in the nicely upholstered chair behind the desk and watched as Isaacs seated himself.