Eldredge’s normal smile faded from his tanned face. “Hugh O’Donnell is an independent scientist using the American/Canadian module by special arrangement with Trikon NA,” he said. “The arrangement is similar to that of Trikon International with the Mars Project.”
“It is not similar to the Mars Project if he is using Trikon facilities,” said Bianco.
“It is part of the arrangement.”
“Who is this arrangement with?”
“Fabio, it’s a bona fide—”
“Who is it with?!”
Eldredge’s beach-boy features darkened.
“If you want to know, I’ll have to patch in someone else,” he said. “Hold the line.”
The screen went blank, although the subtle hum meant the connection still held. Goddamn these Americans, thought Bianco. How can they lease away precious lab space?
A split image formed on the monitor. Eldredge occupied one side; the other showed a man seated in a room with a blank white wall behind him. Eldredge introduced the man simply as Mr. Welch. The man nodded in acknowledgement. He had a bulldog’s chin beneath a thin nose and narrowed eyes. His dark business suit was tight on his shoulders.
“You want to know about Hugh O’Donnell,” said Welch. “He was specially selected by us to work on an extremely sensitive project. Trikon NA agreed to cooperate.”
“Who are you?” said Bianco. “Besides being Mr. Welch.”
“An employee of the United States government. That is all you need to know.”
“Jonathan—”
“It doesn’t matter who they are,” said Eldredge. There was a strained tone in his voice that implied Trikon NA’s cooperation was not completely voluntary.
“What is the nature of this project?” said Bianco.
“That is none of your concern,” said Welch.
“It is my concern when my project suffers for his presence. And it is my concern when my space station is being misused.”
Welch rolled his eyes as if mugging for a television camera.
“Another prima donna scientist who thinks he owns Trikon Station,” he said. He focused his attention squarely on Bianco. Even in the tiny telephone screen his eyes looked ruthless, dangerous. “I don’t know where you come from, but we have a saying here that possession is nine-tenths of the law.”
“What are you driving at?” said Bianco.
“I don’t give a good goddamn who holds title to that aluminum shitcan. It’s crewed by Americans. It’s maintained by a support system based in the United States. And if any accidents happen up there, you can blame the Americans.”
“Are you suggesting—”
“I’m suggesting you don’t push me,” said Welch.
Was this Welch really saying that the station would be destroyed if Trikon refused to cooperate? The thought raised a pinch of angina beneath Bianco’s breastbone.
“Do either of you know about this?” demanded Bianco. He held up a handful of galley pages. “‘A Chemical Assessment of Ocean Pollution and Its Long-Term Effects on Marine Flora’. Do you have any idea how serious this is? For everyone?”
Eldredge started to make placating sounds, but Welch cut him off.
“We know all about it,” he said. “We are both doing important work, Professor. Unfortunately, there is only one station suited to both our tasks. You will have to work around O’Donnell. And don’t try to interfere with him during your visit. He is being supervised.”
The images disappeared.
Bianco stared at the suddenly blank screen. Mother of God, he thought, even Trikon Station is not beyond the grasp of an overreaching government. A stab of angina sent him crumpling into a chair. It was more necessary now than ever to journey to the station, for himself and for Trikon.
“Where the hell have you been?”
The connection was poor. Bob Rodriguez sounded as though he were speaking through a plastic bag.
“Working,” said O’Donnell.
“You’ve been working ever since I’ve known you,” said Rodriguez. “But you hardly ever missed a meeting, and when you did you called.”
“Isn’t that easy.”
“Where the hell are you that you can’t call? The clubhouse has a speakerphone. You installed it yourself.”
“I know, I know,” said O’Donnell. “Can you keep a secret?”
“That’s all I fuckin’ do,” said Rodriguez.
“I’m on a space station,” said O’Donnell. There was a long silence from the other end. “Bob?”
“Hugh, if you’re having problems, the club can help. That’s what it’s for.”