the operations room long enough to get next to Fleur and let Harstein's pheromones do their work.
Harstein's mention of blackmail had set Jack's mind working.
While waiting for the elevator, Jack got some hotel stationary from the front desk and penned a note, then wrote Fleur van Renssaeler on the back.
The note said: I need five minutes of your time. If I don't get it, the world (and Reverend Barnett) will find out about your sins of the flesh with Tachyon.
He considered signing it Yours in Christ, Jack Braun but decided that might be pushing things a little far.
The elevator doors opened and Jack stepped inside, surprising the hell out of two Barnett supporters of the little-blue-haired-lady variety. Jack smiled politely as he entered and pressed the button for Barnett HQ.
People waiting for the elevators did a lot of double takes as Jack stepped out, but nobody stopped him as he headed for the operations center. He walked right through the door, past a lot of young women on telephone banks, and failed to see any sign of Fleur. He grinned at the nearest worker.
"Where's the boss lady?" he said.
The girl stared. She was maybe seventeen, cute in an unformed blonde way. Her glasses slid down her nose. Her name, according to her name tag, was Beverly.
"I--" she said. "You're-"
Harstein bent close to her and said, "Go ahead. You can tell him." He smiled reassuringly.
"Ah--"
Harstein's expression was gentle. "It's really all right, Beverly," he said. "Mr. Braun's here on business, and I'm just tagging along."
Beverly pointed with a pencil. "I think Miss van Renssaeler is in her office," she said. "Two doors down. 718."
"Thank-you."
The room was beginning to buzz with alarm. People were glaring at Jack and dialing phones. He smiled at them all reassuringly, gave them a wave, and left. Harstein followed.
"I hope it's a small room," Harstein said. "You have no idea what the advent of air-conditioning has done to my power. "
Heads poked from the door as Jack strolled to 718 and knocked. He could hear televisions, and a phone ringing in the room. The phone cut off, and he heard steps coming to the door. It opened.
A silver-haired man stood there, his eyes widening in shock, then narrowing in anger. He flushed.
"Yes." Fleur's voice, on the phone. "I guess he's here. Thank you, Veronica."
"You are not welcome here," the silver-haired man said. "I'd like to see Miss van Renssaeler," Jack said.
The man tried to slam the door. Jack held it open with his hand. "Please," he said.
The door jerked open. Fleur looked at Jack from over the rims of square-cut reading glasses. Her mouth was a grim slash. Two other men stood behind her, in various uneasy postures. Televisions turned to various networks babbled along one wall.
"I don't think we have anything to talk about, Mr. Braun," she said.
"We do," Jack said. "I'd like to apologize, for a start."
"Fine, you've done that," Fleur said. She started to close the door.
"I'd like to speak to you for just a few moments."
"I'm busy. You may write for an appointment, after the convention." The door closed to a few inches, and again Jack stopped it. )ack produced the envelope from his pocket.
"Okay," he said. "Here's my appointment request. I'd like you to read it now."
He lightly tossed the envelope inside and let Fleur close the door. He looked down the corridor to see two security men walking toward him, doubtless summoned by the phone ladies. Their expressions, in the face of a man who used to throw Russian tanks off Korean mountainsides, lacked confidence.
"Uh," the nearest one said.
Jack grinned at them. "No problem, officers. I'll be leaving as soon as Miss van Renssaeler gives me an appoint ment."
Thev looked at each other, then decided to wait. "We were told there was a problem," one of them said. "Problem? No problem."
The guards did not seem reassured.
The door opened. "Five minutes," said Fleur. "And that's all you get." She turned to the men in the suite with her. "Reverend Pickens, Mr. Smart, Mr. Johnson, I hope you'll excuse me. Something's come up."
The men filed out past Jack, offering mixed distrust and relief. Jack stepped into the room, and Harstein followed. "Who's this man?" Fleur said. "I didn't agree to see him."
"Josh Davidson, madam." Harstein gave a stage bow, sweeping low.
"He's an old friend of the family. He's with me."
"He can wait outside."
"Madam, I will not interfere in your business," Harstein said. "An old fellow like me finds it hard to wait in