ntempt for the laws of gravity when
Dan had piled in, and Carl Golden was there, looking thinner, more
gaunt and hawk-like than ever before, his brown eyes sharp under his
shock of black hair, his long, thin aquiline nose ("If you weren't a
Jew you'd be a discredit to the Gentiles," Dan Fowler had twitted him
once, years before, and Carl had looked down his long, thin, aquiline
nose, and sniffed, and let the matter drop, because until then he had
never been sure whether his being a Jew had mattered to Dan Fowler or
not, and now he knew, and was quite satisfied with the knowledge) and
the ever-present cigarette between thin, sensitive fingers. Dan
clapped him on the shoulder, and shot a black look at his daughter,
relegating her to an indescribable Fowler limbo, which was where she
belonged, and would reside until Dan got excited and forgot how she'd
betrayed him to Dr. Moss, which would take about ten or fifteen
minutes all told. Jean Fowler knew her father far too well to worry
about it, and squinted out the window at the afternoon traffic as the
car skidded the corner into the Boulevard Throughway, across the river
toward home. "God damn it, boy, you could have _wired_ me at least.
One of Jean's crew spotted the passage list, so I knew you'd left, and
got the hearing moved up to next month--"

Carl scowled. "I thought it was all set for February 15th."

Dan chuckled. "It was. But I was only waiting for you, and got the
ball rolling as soon as I knew you were on your way. Dwight McKenzie
is still writing the Committee's business calendar, of course, and he
didn't like it a bit, but he couldn't find any solid reason why it
_shouldn't_ be set ahead. And I think our good friend Senator Rinehart
is probably wriggling on the stick about now, just on the shock value
of the switch. Always figure in the shock value of everything you do,
my boy--it pays off more than you'd ever dream--"

Carl Golden shook his head. "I don't like it, Dan."

"What, the switch in dates?"

"The switch. I wish you hadn't done that."

"But why? Look, son, I know that with Ken Armstrong dead our whole
approach has to be changed--it's going to be trickier, but it might
even work out better. The Senate knows what's been going on between
Rinehart and me, and so does the President. They know elections are
due next June. They know I want a seat on his Criterion Committee
before elections, and they know that to get on it I'll do my damnedest
to unsea