Petterson watched him finish, then commented dryly, “I’m not entirely satisfied that your description of this person’s situation is all that you make of it, Mr. Director.”
Fowler crossed mental fingers and blessed the air conditioning. “It can, of course, be verified, Senator. Any independent news team investigating—”
“Oh, I hardly think that’s necessary,” put in Senator Kaiser with admirable speed. “We all have great confidence in the accuracy of Mr. Fowler’s research people.”
Fowler knocked wood with those mentally crossed fingers, said quietly, “Then may I propose that that ability be put to a vote, Senators?”
“Oh, we can do that tomorrow, or even next week,” continued Kaiser. “No need to take up with such a small matter now.”
114
A Miracle of Small Fishes
“Excuse me, Charley,” said Minister Stanislaus, “but I do think there is need.”
Petterson stared around the table, examined each face individually. “I see. Very well. You all know my views on the matter, gentlemen. You’ve heard Mr. Fowler’s—yet again. I think a simple show of hands will suffice.
“All those against?”
Two hands shot up, Petterson’s and Kaiser’s. They stayed up a long time, millennia it seemed to Fowler. But no third hand joined them.
Petterson kept her hand up while she bestowed a motherly smile on each of the three unvoting congressmen—a motherly smile that held promises of murder and total destruction if at least one other palm didn’t expose itself. To their credit, the three remaining senators sat firm.
Finally she caved in—her arm was getting tired— and tried one last ploy.