else would have failed the expectations of the faithful and partly to set the
stage in advance for exploiting another “Scientists Back Off Zambendorf
Challenge” story when the proposal was turned down. Baines Hendridge’s influence
had turned out to be greater than he had calculated, however, and the Board’s
acceptance of the proposal had left Zambendorf in a position that he could
retreat from only at the cost of more public ignominy than his image could
afford.
“I guess you’re right,” Abaquaan conceded after a short silence. “But I still
don’t like the idea of getting mixed up with a NASO space mission.” He shook his
head again, dubiously, “It’s not like dealing with the public. There are some
good scientists in that outfit … in a different league from the assholes we’re
used to handling. It’s risky.”
“Scientists are the easiest to fool.” That was one of Zambendorf’s favorite
lines. “They think in straight, predictable, directable, and therefore
misdirectable, lines. The only world they know is the one where everything has a
logical explanation and things are what they appear to be. Children and
conjurors—they terrify me. Scientists are no problem; against them I feel quite
confident.”
Abaquaan smiled humoriessly. “Confidence is what you feel when you don’t really
understand the situation.” He raised his arm to glance at his wristset.
Zambendorf was about to reply when the call tone sounded from the room’s comnet
terminal. Abaquaan walked across to answer it. The screen came to life to show
the smooth, clean-cut features of Drew West, Zambendorf’s business manager,
calling from another suite farther along the hallway. “Those NBC people should
be arriving downstairs anytime now,” West said. “You’d better be getting on down
to the lobby.” Clarissa Eidstadt, who handled the team’s publicity affairs, had
arranged for a short television interview to be taped that morning, for
screening later in the day to mark Zambendorf’s return to New York.
“I was just about on my way,” Abaquaan said.
“Has Karl finished breakfast yet?” West asked. “Time’s getting on. We’ve got a
full schedule this afternoon.”
“Yes,” Abaquaan said. “He’s right here. You want to talk to him?”
“Good morning, Drew,” Zambendorf said cheerfully, stepping into the viewing
angle as Abaquaan moved away. “Yes, I’m almost ready. How did you sleep?” He
nodded across the room as Abaquaan let himself out the door.
“Hi, Karl. Fine, thanks,” Drew West acknowledged. West had accepted the Mars
situation matter-of-factly. Taking the team to the Andromeda galaxy would have
been fine by him as long as there was money in it. “The NBC team’s due here in
about fifteen minutes, and there are a couple of things we need to go over
before they show up. If you’re through with breakfast, we’ll come on down.”
“Yes, why don’t you do that,” Zambendorf said. “We can talk while I finish
dressing.”
“See you in a couple of minutes, Karl.”
Downstairs, at the hotel’s side foyer in front of the ramp leading down to the
parking levels, Otto Abaquaan pretended to study a New York street map while he
memorized the details and registration number of the car that had arrived with
the NBC van from which two men were unloading TV cameras and recording
equipment. The smartly dressed, fair-haired woman who had driven the car was
standing nearby, holding a briefcase and a sheaf of papers and talking with two
colleagues—another woman and a man—who had come with her. Abaquaan guessed her
to be the owner of the car and also the reporter who would be interviewing
Zambendorf; but he needed to be sure.
NBC had neglected to advise them of the name of their reporter in advance, which
was unusual and meant, possibly, that Zambendorf was being set up for something.
An enquiry from Clarissa Eidstadt or from Drew West could no doubt have answered
the question easily enough, but that would have wasted an opportunity of exactly
the kind that Zambendorf and his team excelled at seizing. A gamble was
involved, of course—Abaquaan might turn up nothing in the short time available—
but one of the advantages enjoyed by psychics was that negative results were
always soon forgotten.
A hotel valet drove the car away toward the ramp, and the woman and her two