“Yes, quite wonderful,” he said, managing to avoid noticing that Dannerman was standing right beside him.
“It calls for a celebration,” said one of the postdocs. “Is there any money in petty cash, Janice? Maybe Dan could go out and get some supplies-“
“I’ll ask Dr. Adcock as soon as she’s made the announcement,” Janice promised, and someone else predicted:
“She won’t want to spend the money.”
“So what the hell,” the postdoc said happily. “We’ll take up a collection. God! To have observing time on Starlab! You don’t know what that’s going to do for my T-Tauri count!”
But they did know; they all did know, because almost all of them had observations they wanted to make, and only the skimpiest budget of hours Pat Adcock had been willing to buy for them on the Keck, or the big twin instruments in Arizona, or even the ancient radio dish at Arecibo. They didn’t need party “supplies.” They were all partying already, and when the interoffice channel lighted up and Pat Adcock’s flushed face appeared on all the screens there was a cheer from everywhere in the observatory.
Pat had to have heard it, even locked in her private office; she looked startled, then grinned. “I guess you all know what I’m going to say already,” she said. “Well, it’s true. The mission is on. We’re taking off tomorrow; in seventy-two hours we’ll be on Starlab. Dr. Schneyman will be in charge while I’m gone- and-and wish me luck, all of you!”
But she hadn’t said what kind of luck she wanted. Dannerman wondered what she was going to tell them all if she got back with a fortune in new technology, but the old orbiter still out of commission . . . but it wouldn’t matter, of course. If she was right-
If she was right, the whole world was going to change, and Dannerman himself would be part of it … provided, that is, he reminded himself, he did what the colonel wanted him to do and won the chance to go along.
He patted his belly bag, where the pouch Hilda had given him was packed away. What he needed now was a chance to use it.
Pat had firmly vetoed the notion of a party, but not much work got done at the observatory that morning anyway. Word of the mission had got out. Janice was kept busy on the phone, fending off calls from well wishers, listening to complaints from the downstairs security guards, besieged by reporters with their tinycams who wanted statements from Dr. Adcock. When Pat took her crew out to an early lunch most of the staff took off, too, determined to celebrate even if they had to do it at some nearby restaurant. The observatory finally began to quiet down.
It was time for Dannerman to do his job; all he needed was for Janice DuPage to cooperate. He lurked around the reception room, waiting for her to leave her desk for a moment. It didn’t happen for a long time. She seemed fixed at her desk, making him wonder what sort of bladder the woman had. But finally, with hardly a quarter of an hour before Mick Jarvas would be back with his charges, Janice stood up, put the elevator door entrance on lock, picked up her purse and moved toward the washrooms.
Dannerman didn’t wait. As soon as she was out of sight he was in the gun locker. A coded computer file might defeat the skills the Bureau had taught him, but a simple locker was not a serious challenge. In thirty seconds he had the locker open, peering past the gun racks until he found Jarvas’s private cubbyhole. And when he had it open, there, in among the candy bars and the anti-inflation trade goods and the porno disks, was a package, unmarked, with three sealed medical-looking patches that, he knew, did not contain any physician-prescribed medications.
Bingo. Dannerman pulled the patches out, stuffed them in his belly bag and replaced them with three of the ones Hilda had given him the night before. By the time Janice returned from the ladies’ room he was innocently watering the reception-room plants and realizing that he had not left himself enough time to eat lunch. No matter. A missed meal was a small enough price to pay for the mission.
Jarvas was predictable. As soon as he had escorted his charges back from lunch he made a beeline for the gun locker, then for a cubicle in the men’s room.
Ten minutes later Dannerman knocked on the lintel of the office where Jimmy Peng-tsu Lin was conferring with Pat Ad-cock. “Excuse me,” he said. “Jimmy?-Commander Lin, I mean? I hate to bother you, but Mick Jarvas is acting kind of funny out here. He’s a pretty big guy, and I wonder if you could give me a hand with him.”
That brought them both to the doorway, where they gazed incredulously at Jarvas. Who was dreamily waltzing up and down the corridor, pinching the ass of Rosaleen Artzybachova in passing, grabbing unsuccessfully at the breast of Janice DuPage. Rosaleen was laughing; Janice was only annoyed. As he neared Pat Adcock’s office she found her voice. “Come in here, Jarvas!” she commanded.
“Sure thing, sweet buns,” he said amiably. “Hi, Danny. How’s it going, China boy?”
Pat looked bewilderedly at Dannerman as he was closing the door behind them. “What happened?”
Dannerman shrugged. “My guess, he must’ve got his hands on some extra-powerful dope. You never know what they’re going to be selling you on the street.”
The bewildered expression changed to anger. “Crap! Mick promised me he doesn’t do drugs anymore. I couldn’t have a doper for a bodyguard.”
“Oh? Well, why don’t we just ask him to take his shirt off?”
“Aw, Dan,” Jarvas said, suddenly pouting. “I thought you and me were friends.”
Pat looked from one to the other, then made her decision. “Do what he says, Mick.”
“I don’t have to. I got pers’nal privacy rights, don’t I?”
She turned to Dannerman. “Take it off him, Dan.”
Dannerman looked at Jimmy Lin, who spread his hands; evidently personal combat wasn’t one of his specialties. It wasn’t something Dannerman would have sought with somebody like Mick Jarvas, either; but the former kick-boxer was giggling. Apart from good-naturedly pushing at Dannerman’s hands he hardly resisted as Dannerman pulled the tabs of his shirt loose, zip, and slid it down over his back.
On Jarvas’s rib cage, just under his right armpit, there was one of Hilda’s inconspicuous, flesh-colored patches.
Jimmy Lin chuckled. “Well, what do you know? He really is mellowed out.”
“Oh, shit,” said Pat, too disappointed to be furious. “What am I going to do now? He can’t escort me in that condition.”
Jarvas gave her a happy grin. “Course I can, hon. Little joy never hurt me. Just makes my reflexes sharper and all.”
He might as well not have been in the room; Pat, biting her lip, didn’t even look at him. “I was counting on him,” she told the air.
It was the cue Dannerman had been waiting for, but Jimmy Lin forestalled him. “If you need a new bodyguard, Pat,” he offered, “what’s the matter with your cousin? He’s handy enough with his fists, you tell me.”
“Danny? For a bodyguard!” Pat Adcock stared at him, then at Dannerman. “I guess you’re big enough,” she said thoughtfully. “What kind of gun do you carry?”
“Twenty-shot spray with quick-change clips. Same as always.”
“Are you sure you know how to use it? Oh, right, you were rotsy in college, weren’t you?”
“Protsy, actually.”
She sighed and made up her mind. “I don’t really have much of a choice, do I? All right, Dan-Dan, I guess you’re about due for a promotion. How would you like be an astronaut for a While?”
Not much work got done in the observatory that afternoon, either. At least not by Pat Adcock and her spacefarers. As soon as they’d sent Jarvas, sniveling, back to his home in the company of one of the larger postdocs, Pat declared herself through for the day. “Take me home, Dan. I’ve got to pack. You better take an overnight bag, too.”
“Sure thing, Pat. I’m new at this, though. What sort of stuff do you pack to go into space?”
“How do I know? I’ve never done it before either. I guess they’ll give us all the space stuff we need at the Cape, but we’ll be gone five days, according to the mission plan, so take whatever personal things you think you’ll need. And, oh, yes, don’t forget your gun.”
“You’re expecting trouble?”
She didn’t answer. Just, “Don’t forget, I want you back at six A.M. to get us to the airport.”
Six o’clock, Dannerman thought dismally on the ride up to Pat’s Yorktown condo. That meant getting up not much after four; it was a long way from Rita’s Riverside Drive place to York-town. But at least he could make it an early night.