felt back of the front seat. 'Just pull on that strap.'
'No, thank you. I may do a little drinking later, not now.' Easy. Easy, McAuliff, he thought to himself. For Christ's sake, don't be obvious. Holcroft can wait all night. Two minutes ago, you were going to let him do just that!
The old man took an envelope from his jacket pocket. 'I'll give you the good news straight off. There's no one we objected to strenuously, subject to minor questions. On the contrary, we think you finalized your selections rather ingeniously...'
According to Warfield, the initial reaction at Dunstone to his list of first choices was negative. Not from security - subject to those minor questions; nor in quality - McAuliff had done his homework. But from a conceptual viewpoint. The idea of female members on a geological survey expedition was rejected out-of-hand, the central issue being that of less strength, not necessarily weakness. Any project entailing travel had, by tradition, a masculine identification; the intrusion of the female was a disquieting component. It could only lead to complications - any number of them.
'So we crossed off two of your first choices, realizing that by eliminating the Wells woman, you would also lose her husband, Jensen... Three out of the first five rejected; knew you'd be unhappy, but then, you did understand... Later, it came to me. By George, you'd out-thought the lot of us!'
'I wasn't concerned with any strategies, Warfield. I was putting together the best team I could.' McAuliff felt he had to interject the statement.
'Perhaps not consciously, and qualitatively you have a splendid group. But the inclusion of the two ladies, one a wife and both superior in their fields, was a profound improvement.'
'Why?'
'It provides - they provide - a unique ingredient of innocence. A patina of scholarship, actually; an aspect we had overlooked. A dedicated team of men and women - on a grant from the Royal Society... so different somehow from an all-male survey expedition. Really, most remarkable.'
'That wasn't my intention. I hate to disabuse you.'
'No disabusement whatsoever. The result is the same. Needlessly said, I pointed out this consideration to the others, and they agreed instantly.'
'I have an idea that whatever you might "point out" would be instantly agreed to. What are the minor questions?'
'"Incidental information you might wish to consider" is a better description.' The old man reached up and snapped on a reading lamp. He then removed several pages from his overcoat, unfolded them, and placed them in front of the envelope. He adjusted his glasses and scanned the top paper. 'The husband and wife, this Jensen and Wells. They're quite active in leftish political circles. Peace marches, ban-the-bombing, that sort of thing.'
'That doesn't have any bearing on their work. I doubt they'll be organizing the natives.' McAuliff spoke wearily - on purpose. If Warfield intended to raise such 'questions,' he wanted the financier to know he thought them irrelevant.
'There is a great deal of political instability in Jamaica; unrest, to be precise. It would not be in our interests for any of your people to be outspoken on such matters.'
McAuliff shifted in his seat and looked at the little old man - tiny lips pursed, the papers held in his thin, bony fingers under the pin spot of yellow light, giving his ancient flesh a sallow colour. 'Should the occasion arise - and I can't conceive of it - when the Jensens make political noises, I'll quiet them... On the other hand, the inclusion of such people might be an asset to you. They'd hardly, knowingly, work for Dunstone.'
'Yes,' said Warfield quietly. 'That, too, occurred to us... This chap, Ferguson. He ran into trouble with the Craft Foundation.'
'He ran into a potentially vital discovery concerning baracoa fibres, that's what he ran into. It scared the hell out of Craft and Craft's funding resources.'
' We have no fight with Craft. We don't want one. The fact that he's with you could raise eyebrows. Craft's well thought of in Jamaica.'
'There's no one as good as Ferguson, certainly not the alternate, and he was the best of those remaining. I'll keep Ferguson away from Craft.'
'That is essential. We cannot permit him otherwise.'
Charles Whitehall, the black scholar-dandy, was a psychological mess, according to Dunstone's data banks. Politically he was a conservative, a black conservative who might have led the Kingston reactionaries had he remained on the island. But his future was not in Jamaica, and he had recognized it early. He was bitter over the fact.