Shaeffer nodded abstractly. "He'll be back in his private section before take-off, though. That's where we'll have to try and get to him."
"Ah," Griff said, offering me a hand as I swung my legs off the couch and more or less steadied myself on my feet. "You're talking about getting him out during the flight, then?"
"Right. There are parachutes stored near both exit doors. If we can contact him, all he'll have to do is grab one, open the door, and jump."
"Is that all?" an unexpected voice cut in.
We all turned around. "Hale, you were told to stay upstairs," Griff growled.
"So that Shaeffer can dismantle the stability of the universe in peace and quiet?" Hale snorted. "Fat chance."
I looked at Griff. He shrugged fractionally in return, a worried frown starting to settle onto his face. Hale had always been something of a borderline neurotic anyway, but this seemed to me to be a pretty drastic slippage. "Hale—" I began.
"You just shut up," he snapped back. "You cut out on us once—coming back now just because Griff wants a yes-man on his side doesn't win you any points."
I opened my mouth, closing it again in confusion... and only then did I spot Rennie lounging against the wall near the elevator.
And finally understood.
That confrontation among the equipment cabinets hadn't been an effort to convince me to join him in opposing Griff. Instead, he'd been trying to drive me solidly onto Griffs side... so that he could use the others' animosity toward me as a lever to get them on his side.
"Hale, if you have any specifics to bring up," Griff said soothingly, "we're willing to discuss them—"
"I have one," Rennie spoke up, strolling over. "Mr. Shaeffer, you're talking as if all the President has to do is open the door and jump out and that's that. Right?"
"He was in the Air Force for six years," Shaeffer said stiffly. "He knows how to handle a parachute."
"I'm sure he does. Has it occurred to you that if the pilot radios that they've got an open door the known past will be changed?"
I looked at Shaeffer, the muscles of my shoulders tightening. "Would they broadcast something like that?" I asked. "Or would it just show up on the flight recorder?"
"Depends on whether the pilot was on the radio at the time it happened, I suppose," he said. "If he wasn't..."
"And when someone notices the President is missing?" Hale shot back.
Shaeffer took a deep breath. "All hell breaks loose," he admitted grudgingly.
For a moment we all looked at each other. "Well?" Griff said at last. "What now, Mr. Shaeffer?"
Morgan cleared his throat. "If President Jeffers recognizes us as being from Banshee, as you've suggested he might, wouldn't he realize he has to give the pilot instructions not to mention his departure?"
"Oh, come on," Rennie scoffed. "I, for one, have no intention of just hoping he'll think of all these things on the spur of the moment—hell, Shaeffer, you've been working on this scheme for twelve hours or more and you still missed this angle."
"Rennie—"
"No, Dr. Mansfield, he's right," Shaeffer cut Griff off. "If we're going to do this safely, we've got to make sure the President winds up with only the options we want him to have."
I glanced at Rennie, saw a touch of surprise flicker across his face. Shaeffer's acceptance of his argument seemed to have pulled some of the wind out of his sails. "It gets worse," he said, a bit less belligerently. "If he jumps out of the plane anywhere near civilization, we get exactly the same problem."
"Yes, I'd caught that corollary, thank you," Shaeffer returned tartly. "Let me think."
For a moment the only sound in the room was the steady drone of a hundred cabinet fans. "All right," Shaeffer said at last. "He was in the air for approximately ninety minutes before the crash. We'll start fifteen minutes before the end."
"And what if he spots Morgan immediately?" Rennie growled.
"What if he does?" Shaeffer countered. "What's he likely to do?"
A slight frown creased Rennie's forehead as, for the second time in so many minutes, Shaeffer seemed to have taken him by surprise. "I thought the whole point of this exercise was to get him to pull the ripcord on the flight."
"Sure... but put yourself in his shoes for a second. What would you do if you were President and saw a Banshee appear in front of you?"
Rennie's frown darkened. "This isn't any time for guessing games, Shaeffer," he bit out. "If you've got some brilliant idea—"
"We wouldn't be lookin' in on him if the plane was just gonna crash," Morgan said slowly.
"What was that?" Shaeffer asked, an oddly tense look in his eye.
Morgan was frowning off into space. "Well, our business here's s'posed to be findin' out how these things happen... and if he was gonna crash, we oughta be concentratin' on the wings or engines or somethin'. If one o' us just sits there and watches him, maybe he'll think it's somethin' else gonna happen."
Griff inhaled sharply. "Like maybe... assassination?"
Shaeffer nodded, almost eagerly. "Right—exactly right. I'm expecting him to assume he's going to be the target of a simple attack, and that you're there to find out which of his aides is the one involved."
"So he'll sit there and make sure the door is locked," Griff nodded. "Makes sense."
"Or else he'll assume that there's a bomb in his private section," Hale put in.
Shaeffer's expression soured a little. "In which case he'll call for a quick search of the plane," he said shortly. "Either way, the thought of jumping shouldn't even cross his mind... until you start leading him out toward the exit."
I looked at Morgan, back to Shaeffer. "And what if the President doesn't notice him?" I asked.
"He will, Shaeffer said grimly. "This is our last chance, and we're damn well going to make sure he sees something this time. So. Dr. Mansfield, you'll be sending Mr. Portland into the slot T minus fifteen minutes to T minus six minutes—no later, understand? Ms. Cosgrove will be next, and after that Mr. Baylor here—all of them Jumping into the same fifteen-to-six minute time slot."
I looked at Griff, saw his eyebrows go up. "Didn't we decide," I said carefully, "that sending more than one person into the same slot—?"
"As each comes back," Shaeffer went on as if I hadn't spoken, "you will immediately administer a sedative, before there can be any indications one way or the other as to what the Jumper has seen or done. Understand?"
For a long moment Griff just stood there, looking as flabbergasted as I felt. Beside me, Morgan stirred. "Mr. Shaeffer," he said hesitantly, "I'd be the first to admit I'm not all that smart. But are you tryin' to say that if we don't know what the other Jumpers saw, then a lot of the problems go away?"
Shaeffer's mouth compressed into a tight line. "I'm hoping the paradoxes will, yes," he said. "It ought to work—it's a version of the Schr?dinger's cat setup—" He broke off, took a deep breath. "Anyway, we have to risk it; and we have to risk it now, Mr. Portland."
I looked at Morgan, expecting him to nod and take his position on the couch. "No," he said quietly.
—
I stared at him. We all did, for what seemed to be a very long time. "What did you say?" Shaeffer asked at last, very softly.
"I said no," Morgan told him, equally softly. "Sorry, Mr. Shaeffer, but even the way you got it I don't think it's safe enough. And if you're wrong..." He shook his head. "It all goes bad real quick."
"And you came to this conclusion all by yourself?" Shaeffer growled pointedly.
Morgan's forehead creased. "Just 'cause I never had much schooling doesn't mean I ain't got any common sense," he said without rancor.
"And common sense is important in abstract physics, is it?" Shaeffer bit out. He shifted his glare to Hale and Rennie. "All right. Which of you two put him up to this? Or would you rather the Marines upstairs ask the questions?"