The Second Ship (The Rho Agenda #1)(65)
“That is ridiculous!” Senator Wilkins fumed.
“For once, Senator, I agree with you.”
“The fact that you and the president are in the hip pockets of the big multinational corporations makes everything coming from your mouth a product, bought and paid for by the richest of the rich.”
“Senator, I believe last year you were claiming that the president and I were both owned by big oil. Isn’t it odd that we are embracing a technology that will take the world off of fossil fuels?”
“You are merely helping those same corporations shift to new technologies.”
“And that is bad, how?”
Charles Paul interrupted. “Gentlemen, I am afraid we are out of time. I want to thank you both for coming here to discuss this important topic. To my audience, I say, have a good Sunday, and I will see you next week.”
The vice president reached across the table and shook the host’s and then the senator’s hand, enjoying the fake smile on the latter’s face. Then, accompanied by his secret service team, Vice President Gordon exited the building, got in the backseat of his limousine, and leaned back for the ride to the West Wing of the White House.
Another Sunday and another set of guest appearances down. The truth of the matter was that he and the president had a winning hand on the topic of cold fusion, and they intended to press that advantage home. True, it was not regarded by everyone as a beneficial thing. Even groups within the Republican Party were suspicious that it came from Rho Project alien technology.
Several Christian religious groups had come out in opposition equivalent to the fatwas being issued by radical Islamist groups. However, their loss of support was more than compensated for by the large numbers of Democrats and Independents that had come on board in support of the policy. Considering the rate of worldwide adoption of cold fusion technology, there would be no putting that genie back in the bottle.
The Middle East was a problem, but even that could be dealt with. OPEC was in disarray, several of the member states calling for an all-out ban on oil exports, but those voices could not overcome the group’s addiction to cash flow. Fact was, even though new cold fusion power plants were coming on line around the world at record pace, it would be several years before a portable power unit usable in automobiles was in mass production and affordable.
In the meantime, the second technology from the Rho Project was secretly getting ready to move to human testing next month. Vice President Gordon had no doubt about the outcome of that testing. He just needed to be a little patient. Let the world get accustomed to how great the first alien technology was before introducing the next.
Gordon clasped his hands behind his head as he looked out the window. He never tired of the sight of the White House from the backseat of the vice presidential limousine. Of course, it was only a matter of time before the “vice” came off the name.
Vice President Gordon smiled. He could afford to be patient.
Chapter 46
The Johnsons arrived at the McFarland house at 3:30 p.m. and immediately received a traditional country greeting: they were put to work. In the extended McFarland family, the process of preparing the meal for a party was as much a part of the gathering as the dinner itself, maybe more so. Whether it was the church picnic or a Sunday-afternoon gathering like this one, the hostess delegated jobs in a way that would make an army first sergeant proud.
At the moment, Jack Johnson was helping Fred Smythe expand the dining room table and add the removable center leaves. Janet Johnson was in the kitchen, tossing salad and laughing at something Linda Smythe had just said. As for Heather, Mark, and Jennifer, they scurried around gathering the table settings, while Heather’s father carved the roast.
Heather and Jennifer cast fleeting glances at Jack. As striking as Janet appeared, Jack lit the room like a supernova. He was brown haired, lean and muscular, a little over six feet in height, and dressed with a casual elegance that would have made Hannibal Lecter proud. Although his chiseled features were handsome, it was the confident ease with which he moved and interacted with those around him that set him apart. Heather was amazed. Where were all these cat people coming from?
As for Mark, he seemed intent on checking if the ladies in the kitchen needed anything else carried out to the table. It didn’t require much of Heather’s enhanced imagination for her to guess why.
Dinner passed very pleasantly, the Johnsons chatting with the Smythes and McFarlands as comfortably as old friends. Heather couldn’t recall her dad and Mr. Smythe ever telling so many tales about their exploits. The pleasant laughter of the Johnsons just seemed to pull the tales from them.
Toward the end of the meal, the talk turned to the Johnsons. Interestingly enough, they had been college sweethearts from eastern Maryland, where they had met in a ballroom dancing club. Having seen the way Jack and Janet moved, Heather imagined that the sight of these two doing the tango would probably generate enough heat to send the other couples scurrying to rent rooms.
After dinner, as the Johnsons received a walking tour of the McFarland and Smythe houses, Mark, Jennifer, and Heather retreated to Heather’s room.
As she closed the door behind them, Heather said, “It’s okay to stop drooling now, Mark.”
“Me? What about you two? I haven’t seen that much mooning around in my life.”
Jennifer held up her hands. “Enough already. So the Johnsons are hot. It’s not as if we haven’t seen really hot people before.”