Kung answered blandly, “Doctor, if you are trying to frighten me, you have not succeeded.”

“I did not expect to. But, fortunately for the welfare of this planet, your opinion did not control.” Jubal turned back to Douglas. “Mr. Secretary, this is the longest public appearance I have made in years . . . and I find that I am fatigued. Could we recess these talks? While we await your decision?”



21

The meeting adjourned. Jubal found his intention of getting his flock out of the Palace balked by the presence of the American President and of Senator Boone; both wanted to chat with Mike, both were practical politicians who realized fully the freshly enhanced value of being seen on intimate terms with the Man from Mars—and both were well aware that the eyes of the world, via stereovision, were still on them.

And other hungry politicos were closing in.

Jubal said quickly, “Mr. President, Senator—we’re leaving at once to have lunch. Can you join us?” He reflected that two in private would be easier to handle than two dozen in public—and he had to get Mike out of there before anything came unstuck.

To his relief both had other duties elsewhere. Jubal found himself promising not only to fetch Mike to that obscene Fosterite service but also to bring him to the White House—oh, well, the boy could always get sick, if necessary. “Places, girls!”

With his escort again around him Mike was convoyed to the roof, Anne leading the way since she would remember it—and creating quite a bow wave with her height, her Valkyrie blonde beauty, and her impressive cloak of a Fair Witness. Jubal, Ben, and the three officers from the Champion covered the rear. Larry and the Greyhound bus were waiting on the roof; a few minutes later the driver left them on the roof of the New Mayflower. Newsmen caught up with them there, of course, but the girls guarded Mike on down to the suite Duke had taken earlier. They were becoming quite good at it and were enjoying it; Miriam and Dorcas in particular displayed ferocity that reminded Jubal of a mother cat defending her young—only they made a game of it, keeping score against each other. A reporter that closed within three feet of either of them courted a spiked instep.

They found their corridor patrolled by S.S. troopers and an officer outside the door of their suite.

Jubal’s back hair rose, but he realized (or “hoped,” he corrected himself) that their presence meant that Douglas was carrying out his half of the bargain in full measure. The letter Jubal had sent to Douglas before the conference, explaining what he was going to do and say, and why, had included a plea to Douglas to use his power and influence to protect Mike’s privacy from here on—so that the unfortunate lad could begin to lead a normal life. (If a “normal” life was possible for Mike, Jubal again corrected himself.)

So Jubal merely called out, “Jill! Keep Mike under control. It’s okay.”

“Right, Boss.”

And so it was. The officer at the door simply saluted. Jubal glanced at him. “Well! Howdy, Major. Busted down any doors lately?”

Major Bloch turned red but kept his eyes forward and did not answer. Jubal wondered if the assignment was punishment? No, likely just coincidence; there probably wouldn’t be more than a handful of S.S. officers of appropriate rank available for the chore in this area. Jubal considered rubbing it in by saying that a skunk had wandered in that door and ruined his living room furniture—and what was the major going to do about that? But he decided against it; it would not only be ungracious but untrue—Duke had rigged a temporary closure out of plywood before the party got too wet for such tasks.

Duke was waiting inside. Jubal said, “Sit down, gentlemen. How about it, Duke?”

Duke shrugged. “Who knows? Nobody has bugged this suite since I took it; I guarantee that. I turned down the first suite they offered me, just as you said to, and I picked this one because it’s got a heavy ceiling—the ballroom is above us. And I’ve spent the time since searching the place. But, Boss, I’ve pushed enough electrons to know that any dump can be bugged, so that you can’t find it without tearing the building down.”

“Fine, fine—but I didn’t mean that. They can’t keep a hotel this big bugged throughout just on the chance that we might take a room in it—at least, I don’t think they can. I mean, ‘How about the supplies?’ I’m hungry, boy, and very thirsty—and we’ve three more for lunch.”

“Oh, that. That stuff was unloaded under my eyes, carried down the same way, placed just inside the door; I put it all in the pantry. You’ve got a suspicious nature, Boss.”