NH3

Home > Other > NH3 > Page 41
NH3 Page 41

by Stanley Salmons


  “Thank you so much for inviting us,” Maggie added.

  “Oh, but you simply had to be here. Now have fun. I must buzz. Will you excuse me?”

  “Of course.”

  A tray of drinks came by, borne by a white-gloved waiter. Terry helped himself to a glass of champagne while Maggie took a Buck’s Fizz.

  They sipped their drinks and looked around the room. A smile came to Maggie’s lips and she gave Terry a gentle nudge.

  “Remember when we got the invitation?”

  It was the last week of their honeymoon, and they were spending it at her parents’ villa in Portugal.

  A thin veil of ash still hung in the sky but the sun was beginning to show through more strongly, and it was warm enough to have lunch on the terrace. The wooden table was already crowded with dishes: freshly baked bread, salads, big tomatoes, roasted peppers, artichokes, olives, and grilled sardines in oil. Maggie set out plates, knives, and forks, then wandered over to the wrought-iron balcony, where Terry and her father were enjoying a glass of white wine together, looking out over the vineyard to the fluted terra cotta roofs of the village below.

  Terry held his glass out to her. It was frosted with condensation.

  “Here, try this, Mags.”

  She took a sip.

  “Mmm. That’s lovely. Is it local?”

  “It is, yes,” Roger answered. “Made by a cooperative. Not last year, of course – there wasn’t enough sun to ripen the grapes. Things may be better this year.”

  “Did you buy the vineyards separately?”

  “Oh no, they came with the villa. I was retiring, and Eleanor suffers with her chest, so we thought it would be a good idea to move out here. To start with I thought I might sell the vineyards off but it seemed a shame to split the property up. As it happens it’s worked out rather well. Our neighbour’s a member of the cooperative. He tends the vines and arranges the picking. When the skies clear properly we may even turn a small profit. Could be a useful supplement to my pension.”

  Eleanor emerged from the house. “Lunch is ready. Do you want iced coffee or are you going to continue with the wine?”

  “Both,” Roger said, unhesitatingly.

  “All right. Go on, you get started.”

  She went back into the house. Terry started to cut the bread and Maggie and Roger helped themselves to the salad. A few moments later Eleanor emerged from the house with a jug of iced coffee.

  “Here you are. The post just came. I brought it with me.”

  She sat down and fanned quickly through the envelopes. Then she paused, holding one up.

  “There’s one here for you, dears. American stamp. Good gracious, the envelope has ‘White House’ on it. It can’t be that ‘White House’ can it?”

  Maggie suppressed a smile. “We’ll have to see, won’t we?”

  “It’s addressed to Dr. and Mrs. McKinley. How did they know where you were?”

  “Pretty well everyone knew we were coming here, Mum. Come on now, hand over.”

  Eleanor passed the letter to her daughter, making no attempt to hide her curiosity. She raised a hand to fluff up her grey curls as she waited and Terry suppressed a smile at the familiar gesture.

  Maggie opened the envelope and scanned the card she found inside. She read it out. “‘The President and First Lady request the company of Dr. Terence McKinley and Mrs. (Dr.) Margaret McKinley at a levee at the White House to celebrate the restoration of the centre of government to Washington, D.C. Black tie.’” She turned it over. “Oh, isn’t that nice: there’s a personal note on the other side, scribbled by the President. ‘I very much hope that you, as principal architects of our recent success, will be able to join us. Best wishes on your recent betrothal and every good wish for the future. Yours, Harry.’”

  Eleanor’s mouth was open.

  Roger said, “Here, let me see that.”

  He read the invitation, exchanged wondering glances with his wife, and said slowly, “What the devil have the pair of you been up to?”

  The guests milled around. A continuous procession of trays of canapes appeared and receded amongst them. Maggie managed to pick up two vol-au-vents and handed one to Terry.

  “I wish we could have told them what it was really about,” she said.

  “They were satisfied to know it was some sort of government job. They’re terribly proud of you.”

  “And of you.”

  James Brierley came by. The woman with him was as tall and slender as he was, expensively dressed and with a tautness to her features that suggested the attentions of a plastic surgeon. There were those who referred to such women as “Washington wives”.

  “Ah, Dr. and Mrs!” Brierley said. “Let me introduce my wife, Kendra. Kendra this is Dr. and Mrs. McKinley. Would you believe, these two have just been on honeymoon in Portugal.”

  “Oh, how lovely!” she exclaimed in a slow Southern drawl. “We were in Portugal a few years back, weren’t we James? It was simply gorgeous.” She suddenly looked deeply worried. “How are things there?"

  “It’s still beautiful, Mrs. Brierley,” Terry reassured her.

  “Oh, and you’re from Eng-er-land!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing in here in Washington?”

  Her husband looked vaguely discomforted.

  Terry said cheerily, “I’m with NASA. I’m Deputy Director of the Exoplanets and Stellar Astrophysics Laboratory. And Maggie’s at NIH. She heads up a molecular biology lab.”

  “Really?” Kendra’s voice swooped down two octaves. “How fascinating!”

  She continued to look from one to the other with wide blue eyes.

  “Terry,” James Brierley interrupted. “I think the President is trying to attract your attention.”

  “Oh. Would you excuse me for a moment?”

  “Well surely,” Kendra Brierley said, linking her arm with Maggie’s. “We’ll take good care of your lady wife. Come with me, dear. There are some people you simply have to meet.”

  The President put his hand on Terry’s shoulder and guided him over to a quiet corner.

  “So many people around, haven’t had a chance to talk to you,” he said.

  “I understand, Sir,” Terry said. “It’s a grand occasion.”

  “Yeah.” The President surveyed the party as if confirming the fact for himself. “I figured we needed a bit of a morale booster.” He turned back to Terry. “Of course, we billed it as a celebration of our return to Washington. There’s only a handful of people in this room who know the real reason.”

  “Down to target levels for atmospheric ammonia – yes, we had a little celebration of our own when we got that news.”

  “Great job, great job. Let’s drink to it.”

  They touched their wine glasses.

  “Sorry about Herbert Kramer. I guess you and Maggie didn’t get on too well with him.”

  “Let’s just say we would find life perfectly tolerable if we never clapped eyes on the man again.”

  The President sighed. “Bad choice on my part. He’d given me some sound advice in the past but I guess he was out of his depth on this one. I accepted his resignation and he took early retirement. I offered the Directorship to Chris Walmesley.”

  “You couldn’t do better than that.”

  “Yeah, unfortunately he wouldn’t take it. Prefers to be closer to what he calls ‘real science’.” Terry grinned. “But he’ll be available to advise me informally from time to time.”

  He took a small sip from his glass and surveyed the room expansively.

  “So, Terry, somehow we all came through this nightmare. Tell me something. When you look back on it in years to come, what’s the part that’ll give you the greatest satisfaction?”

  Terry thought for a moment, looking down into his glass, swirling the wine slowly. He tried to think of alternatives but for some reason his mind kept returning to the same scene.

  “It may sound silly.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, there’s
a little village in Wales with a lovely trout river running through it. It has a kind of special significance for me. I used to go there with a fly rod every year if I could. Unfortunately it was ruined by the ammonia organism. I love to think of the insects and the birds and the fish – all the wildlife – gradually returning. And one day I’ll go back too and it’ll be just as I remembered it when I was an excited teenager clambering down that bank for the very first time.”

  Even as he said it he realized what a long way he’d travelled from that river, that little Welsh village, that former life. The President nodded slowly. “Sounds idyllic. You should make that trip.” He looked around him but there was no one within earshot. He lowered his voice. “You know, Terry, I still ask myself whether we had to do it – Yellowstone, I mean…” his voice trailed off.

  “So do I, Sir”, replied Terry. “Every day.”

  “And what’s your answer?”

  Terry paused, then answered. “I remind myself that it was many more weeks before we could actually start spraying. That it took another five months to get the levels right down worldwide. That without the eruption, none of us would have survived.”

  The President sighed and said, “I guess.” Then he leaned closer. “You know, my friend, in any other situation I’d award you and Maggie the Presidential Medal of Freedom. But you’re in an unenviable position. You saved the world – and no one must ever know.”

  Terry flushed.

  “We all played our part, Sir. You included.”

  The President slapped Terry’s shoulder. “You Brits!” he laughed. “Always the diplomats. Not that the whole world is particularly grateful, I might add. Oh no, they want to know what we’re going to do about all the mats of dead algae washing up everywhere. Thailand, for example. You know, before we started, Bangkok had some of the worst white smogs anywhere – they killed tens of thousands. Now the sun’s beginning to peep through and the tourists are coming back and the Thai government’s complaining their beautiful sandy beaches are being spoiled by brown algae. They say it’s the spraying we did on the ocean. Of course, they’re dead right about that part.”

  “You should tell them to scrape it up and put it on their fields. It’s stacked full of nitrogen.”

  “Hey, that’s a great idea...”

  “Excuse me, Mr. President...”

  The President’s Secretary was standing there.

  “Yes, what is it, Sarah?”

  “You’re wanted for the press photos, Sir.”

  “Back to the grindstone, eh? Ah well, see you later, Terry.”

  Terry raised a hand in farewell.

  “Thanks for rescuing me,” Maggie said, as they strolled together down a palatial corridor.

  “I thought you’d probably had enough.”

  “She’s very friendly but she is a bit overpowering. And he’s so reserved, too. I can’t understand it.”

  “They say opposites attract.”

  She looked at him. “Are we so different, then?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose we are. But you need something in common too. I’m sure they have shared interests. Theatre, friends, charities – I bet she’s a terrific fund-raiser.”

  “Probably.”

  “There you are, then. He can get on quietly with his job while she gives them both a reputation for caring about the less advantaged. Perfect match. And at the same time she keeps tabs for him on Georgetown society, who’s sleeping with who, and...”

  “Terry!”

  “I’m serious. Could be important in his job.”

  “You’re getting very cynical, Terry McKinley. I think you’ve spent too much time around politicians. Talking of which: what did the President want?”

  “Oh, he just wanted to thank us both for saving the world.”

  “Ha, that was nice of him, but we couldn’t have done it without his support.”

  “That’s more or less what I told him.” The noise of conversation receded behind them. He tilted his head in that direction. “They certainly know how to throw a party.”

  “Yes…”

  He caught the hesitation and stopped to look at her.

  “You all right?”

  “Yes… well, no.”

  “What is it?”

  She sighed. “Oh, here we are congratulating ourselves on ridding the world of that organism and getting the atmospheric ammonia down again. I just have an uneasy feeling about it.”

  “Why?”

  “Terry, the whole of mankind was at risk and nearly two million people died. Why? Because a powerful man who knew nothing about science refused to accept advice from people who did. Is that a unique circumstance, never to be repeated?”

  He shrugged. “I suppose not. Of course some people are quite capable of doing something like that deliberately.”

  “Yes, but the point is, they don’t have to be enemies of humanity, they may be just focused on the science or the commercial possibilities. They may even have good intentions, like Zak Gould. All it takes is one person who doesn’t see the full ramifications – or prefers to close his eyes to them – and something like this could happen all over again.”

  He was silent for a while. Then he said:

  “We’ll just have to be vigilant, won’t we?”

  “Yes, we will. We all will.”

 

 

 


‹ Prev