Power Play Read Online Free Page B

to what do we owe the honor of your presence?” Sinclair asked, in a tone that was almost imperious. His voice was deep, resonant. The kind that won arguments.
    “Dr. Cardwell told me to take a look at the MHD generator work,” Jake said.
    Sinclair’s smile faded. He sank into his chair; Jake and Rogers also sat. The young woman looked curious, but said nothing.
    “ Doctor Cardwell?” Sinclair asked, practically sneering. “You mean the fellow who runs the planetarium?”
    “Yes,” said Jake. “Leverett Cardwell.”
    “He bought his doctorate from a diploma mill,” Sinclair said, in a disgusted grumble.
    “That’s not so!” Jake blurted.
    “Check it out for yourself,” said Sinclair.
    Jake stared at the professor, not knowing what to say.
    Bob Rogers broke into the cold silence. “Cardwell does a damned fine job at the planetarium.”
    Sinclair nodded. “Oh, he’s a good showman, I’ll grant you that. But he’s not a scientist. Not at all.”
    Holding on to his rising temper, Jake repeated, “Dr. Cardwell advised me to look into the MHD generator work you people are doing.”
    “For what purpose?”
    The brunette spoke up. “Dr. Ross is going to be Franklin Tomlinson’s science advisor.” Turning to Jake, she added, “Isn’t that so, Dr. Ross?”
    She was really very good-looking, Jake realized. Oval face, dark brown hair that fell straight back past her shoulders, in a practical, no-nonsense sweep. Her eyes were dark, too, deep brown, calm and serious; slightly almond-shaped, kind of oriental, exotic. She was wearing a blue and white blouse with a cut-out neckline, deep enough to be interesting while still being modest. She impressed Jake as a sincere, thoughtful young woman: intelligent and strong-minded.
    For a long moment Jake didn’t reply. Not until she smiled slightly and repeated, “You are joining Tomlinson’s campaign staff, aren’t you, Dr. Ross?”
    “Jake,” he heard himself say.
    “Jake.”
    Rogers broke the spell. “Jake’s an assistant professor in the astronomy department.”
    “I’m Glynis Colwyn,” the brunette said. “I’m from the business school. I’m working with Professor Sinclair, doing a case study of the MHD program for my thesis.” Her accent was strange, intriguing: almost like a British inflection, but not quite.
    Rousing himself at last, Jake said, “Uh … to answer your question, Ms. Colwyn—”
    “Glynis.”
    “Okay … Glynis. To answer your question, I am seriously considering advising Mr. Tomlinson if he runs for the Senate next year.”
    Sinclair looked from Jake to Colwyn and back to Jake again. “I still don’t understand what that has to do with our MHD work.”
    “Tomlinson needs a science issue to campaign on,” Jake said.
    “Our MHD work is a research program,” Sinclair said, “not a political issue.”
    “But it could be,” Glynis said. “You could get a lot of attention for the program if Tomlinson picks up on it.”
    Sinclair shook his head. “Do we want that kind of attention? I don’t think so.”
    “But—”
    “I don’t want our work turned into a political football,” Sinclair insisted.
    “It might be helpful, you know,” Rogers said. “We’re going to need a big wad of funding to build a pilot plant one of these days.”
    “That’s far in the future.”
    Glynis said, “Isn’t it about time that a politician made scientific research one of his priorities? God knows that Senator Leeds wouldn’t recognize a test tube from a … a…”
    “Prophylactic?” Rogers suggested.
    Jake, Rogers, and Colwyn burst into laughter. Sinclair stared at them coldly.

JACOB ROSS’S OFFICE
    By the time he reached his own office in the astronomy building Jake was sopping wet. An afternoon thunder shower had brewed up while he was giving his Introduction to Astronomy lecture to an auditorium full of bored freshmen. Most of them were taking Astronomy 101 to fulfill their curricular requirement for a science course. They