Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO



The red-eye from San Francisco to Reagan International was deserted. The most famous person in the world was the lone occupant of the first class section. Feeling no eyes upon her was a welcome respite. At thirty thousand feet she felt completely safe from the constant crush of the paparazzi. Everything had gone as planned. Miraculously not a single camera had been thrust in her face. She smiled briefly. For a moment she felt like herself again.

For Julia Rayhied going out in public had become a tedious, sometimes dangerous ordeal. Her every move had to be carefully planned. Each transition timed and executed with synchronized watches. Each public outing was more elaborate than the last. Alternate routes were mapped out, diversionary itineraries planted and look-alike sightings staged all to protect Julia from her adoring fans. It seemed crazy enough all right. No one told her it would be like this. She wouldn’t have believed them anyway. Honestly, no one really lived like this, did they?

She tried to take it all in stride, the good and the bad. Being the star of television’s most popular show was not without certain benefits. There wasn’t a soul out there that didn’t want a piece of that. It was the seamier dividends that no one really wanted to hear about.

"S.E.T.I.’s Universe" had made her a world famous icon, a regular household word. It was estimated that a billion people in over hundred nations tuned in every week to see her and the amazing footage she presented. The impact of the show was unprecedented in television history. It peaked every standard it was measured against. Instant fame in such massive proportions could’ve taken its toll on her, but she loved what she was doing, and believed in it with all her heart. She felt at home on the set among the lights and cameras. It was as if she’d been searching for this unlikely role all her life. She liked the person she saw on that little screen each week. Slowly, subtly she was becoming that person. It was odd at first, but soon it came naturally. Driven by an internal force she did not understand she found confidence and maturity. Yet, strangely, she did not worry about the girl she had left behind.

Julia Marie Rayhied was brought to America at age seven by her father. He was a research scientist and lecturer in New Delhi. Her American mother was a Red Cross worker stationed in India during the floods. The family never looked back when he accepted a position on the Berkley faculty. Julia and her dogs grew up in the safe and comfortable suburbs of San Francisco. Life was good.

Her perfect world was shattered suddenly when both her parents were killed in a tragic plane crash. She was seventeen years old completely alone in the world. There was no family in California. Her father’s family was still in India and her mother was from Wisconsin. She had never even met her relatives from up north. Besides, she told herself she had no intention on leaving California. With a generous life insurance settlement she was able to put herself through college. Financial worries aside she devoted all her time to her studies and graduated at the top of her class. Two years ago she was editing videotape at a local cable access channel. She was fresh out of college and getting her first taste of the broadcasting industry. It was a foot in the door they told her, real world experience. Others warned her that cable access would never launch a career. They told her she would be foolish to waste her talent on garbage no one would ever see. Her early critics might have been vindicated had it not been for a desperate man named Glenn Stratton and his pathetic little local cable access show.

She met Glenn on the set of "S.E.T.I. Listens"; a low budget cable access program he hoped would help bring in badly needed contributions. Glenn Stratton Jr. was the director of the once proud space exploration program left withering on the vine by an unsympathetic administration. Barely surviving on contributions from a handful of dedicated benefactors and some equipment on loan from NASA the program was quietly going broke. He couldn’t pay enough to keep good people on staff. He never once blamed any of them for bailing out on him. He would do the same in their shoes. Local volunteers produced the modest TV show with himself as the host because he couldn’t bring himself to ask anyone to do it for nothing.

She remembered the first time she saw the show. It was truly awful. Glenn was uncomfortable and awkward on camera. His bumbling made her cringe with empathy. Despite the gaffs, the subject matter absolutely intrigued her. The whole notion of extraterrestials visiting the Earth ignited a passion in her she had no idea existed. She found herself staying late on Wednesdays to watch the taping. One evening Glenn asked her to join him on the set. She grudgingly accepted. She would play the part of host, asking the questions and he would answer as if he were the expert guest. She agreed to do it having no idea what she was getting herself into. The following week he called and asked her to be on the show again. She did it. And he called again the week after that. As the rash of UFO sightings around the world lit up the airwaves more and more people began to watch the show with intense interest. In fact, the shows rise in popularity was directly proportional to the amount of time she was on the screen.

She was a natural in front of the camera. She had a grace that reached out from the TV and grabbed the viewers. It couldn’t be explained it was something entirely intangible, but it was very real. It was no coincidence that very soon Glenn was only on the screen a few minutes each episode. Therefore, no one, except perhaps Julia herself, was surprised when the show began to attract the attention of cable industry insiders. They thought they’d seen it all when cable outlets all over the U.S. and Canada picked it up the feed. The show achieved genuine cult status within six months of going national. Soon thereafter the new and improved S.E.T.I.’s Listens caught the eye of a wealthy philanthropist from Phoenix, Arizona. He agreed to fully fund the show if Julia would agree to sign on as permanent host. "S.E.T.I.’s Universe" was born.

The weekly show combined science, mystery and Julia Rayhied’s natural beauty and personality into the hottest hour of television ever devoted to science. Fueled by the world’s growing obsession with UFO’s and extraterrestials S.E.T.I.’s Universe achieved credibility where others just went for the throat. Julia was just as likely to see herself on Scientific American as she was to see her face plastered all over the covers of People and Vanity Fair. She received invitations to everything. It seemed everyone wanted a piece of her. Most of the time she graciously declined. She knew enough not to spread herself too thin. But last week when Liberty Cole, the President of the United States of America, called her, she accepted without a moment’s hesitation.

Invited to Washington on behalf of the Cole administration Julia was to go before the Congressional subcommittee on Science and Technology to lobby for the funds to complete the final phase of the Global Array project. The Global Array project, a military program taken off the ash heap of history and thrust back into the limelight, was the hottest topic inside the beltway. Starting out its controversial life as a classified project under President Reagan the Global Array was a key part of his strategic defense initiative program. The Global Array survived the onslaught of terrified Democrats as bent on destroying his presidency as they were SDI itself. Unfortunately, it could not survive a succeeding administration hostile to the idea of funding military space projects. Three quarters of the way to completion the plug had been pulled by the new Democratic administration. As powerful as she was Libby Cole could not jump-start it again without help. So in return for any help they could give the President S.E.T.I. was promised privileged access to the completed array. Having the most popular TV personality in the nation on her side gave the president confidence that opinions could be swayed in the stuffy halls of congress.

Presently Julia felt more like a special agent on a top-secret mission than a television star. By presidential request no one was to be told of her appearance at the committee hearing. The last thing Liberty Cole wanted was runaway speculation about her true motives on the Sunday morning talk shows. It was no secret she had been taking a beating in the mainstream media on the whole UFO matter. After all, a UFO landed on the front lawn of the White House! The president, they said, did not see it, but hundreds of people did. How could she simply stick to the lie? It was driving her numbers down in the polls with less than a year and a half before the election. This publicity stunt would be the perfect boost for her sagging popularity ratings as she headed into next year’s primary season. For this the president was no fool. S.E.T.I.’s Universe was a huge hit. It seemed to give the people some comfort in these incredibly strange times. She needed to tap into some of those good feelings for herself.

Traveling alone, even being alone, was a luxury Julia rarely experienced any more. Back at the office, only Glenn knew anything about the trip. He made all the arrangements himself as he always did. It was the first time she traveled without him; it was a strange sensation not to have him sitting next to her on the plane. Even in his absence he left nothing to chance. Her instructions were simple: she would fly to Washington alone, meet a man from the State Department at the hotel and do exactly what he told her. It was all so clandestine; she giggled, like a Robert Ludlum novel. The only thing missing was the street lamp, trench coat and the rolling fog. It made her spine tingle when she thought about it. She would enjoy the moment for as long as it might last because come tomorrow all hell was going to break loose. 

The soothing hum of the two massive Pratt and Whitney engines was comforting. The attendant dimmed the lights shortly after the captain had made the requisite announcements. She stared blankly at the overstuffed briefcase on the seat next to her. It was packed with fan mail she had intended on reading when she found a minute. When she began pouring through them she felt slightly embarrassed that her life seemed to mean so much to people she had never met. She began to dose off after about the twentieth proposal of marriage. Somewhere between Colorado and Missouri she started to dream. 

The forest was lush but not so overgrown that she could not walk with ease. The sound of a child’s laughter echoed through the trees. There was a hacking sound in the distance, like a hatchet or machete slicing through a thicket. She spun around trying to locate the source. She saw a glint of metal and started walking toward it. The trees here seemed different, like nothing she had seen before. The colors so vivid they hardly looked real. What was this place? She had never been here before yet everything felt strangely familiar. She came upon a man clearing brush around a smallish tree of the same sort she had seen along the way. His back was to her and he did not see her approaching. Who he was she did not know. Somehow, she knew she belonged to him. They were in love. A branch snapped under her foot and he turned to face her...

"Excuse me, Miss Smythe. Jane Smythe..."

Julia’s eyes popped open. The flight attendant was standing over her. "Wha... What?" she sputtered.

"This fax arrived for you. It was labeled urgent. I apologize for disturbing you."

"No. No, that’s all right," Julia mumbled taking the piece of paper from the attendant. "Thank you. You did the right thing."

Once the flight attendant returned to the galley, she peeled open the tape pausing momentarily to read the name on the cover. Jane Smythe. The name was Glenn’s idea. It lacked any imagination, but it would have to do. The fax could’ve only come from Glenn himself since he was the only one on the planet who knew she was aboard this flight.

..............................................................................................…………………………………… Dear Miss Smythe,
My name is Jerry Baines and I am big fan of yours. However, I do not want you to confuse what I am about to tell you with the ranting of a fanatic.

First, you must be wondering how I knew where to find you. It is my job to know such things. I would’ve used your real name but I know you require anonymity. I am the president of Baines International, a research and information company based in Santa Fe, New Mexico. This is public knowledge and can be easily verified by you when you have a chance. I urge you to do so.
Second, I have something that I know will interest you. I have in my possession physical evidence that proves the visitors have indeed landed on this planet. I’ve never shown anybody or even mentioned the existence of these artifacts to anyone until now. I chose you because I sense something about you that I’ve never felt about anyone before. You are the one. I wish I could be more specific, but I can’t. I want to meet you and show you what I have. I suggest a public place, or anyplace you would feel safe. It is not my intention to frighten you. I believe once you’ve seen and touched this evidence with your own hands you will be as intrigued as I am. I beg you to consider a meeting.

Lastly, I feel I must warn you about what you are getting yourself into. The United States government cannot be trusted. I’m sure Liberty Cole is a fine person and in my eyes has been a good president, but it’s not the President that you should fear. She’s as much a pawn in this game as anybody. There’s an entity operating within the government that has the ultimate power. I urge you to be careful. They do not play games.

I will contact you after you’ve had a chance to consider my proposal. I’ll give you a number to call. If you say no I will understand and you will never hear from me again.
Sincerely, Jerry Baines …………………………………………………………………………………………….

She smiled. He almost had her. She knew Glenn had a ripe sense of humor but this was over the top. She inspected the header; it had been faxed from New Mexico. Nice touch, she had to admit, very clever. She yawned as she tossed the fax on the pile of unopened letters; her heavy eyes closing in unison with the paper as it came to rest. That was the last time she gave it any thought.

***

The Holiday Inn was quiet. The lobby as barren as her conversation with the driver on the long cab ride over from the airport. Julio, a recent immigrant, did not have command of the English language, had apparently memorized the street signs en route to every hotel in the Washington metro area.

Glenn chose the aging hotel situated just off I-395 in Alexandria because it was likely to be the last place one would expect to find a celebrity of her stature. It was inevitable that the news would leak out that Julia Rayhied was in town, the White House would see to that. The old Holiday Inn would be disregarded by foaming at the mouth reporters as out of the question for someone like Julia Rayhied.

Behind the desk one lone clerk sat, his head buried in his phone. She set her bags down with a thump hoping to draw his attention. He looked up at her and then returned to his phone.

"Excuse me," she said softly. The boy looked up again and set his phone down hard on the desk. "I have a room reserved."

"Name?"

"Ju...Jane Smythe."

He keyed in her name and waited impatiently for the printer to spit out the registration form. "The room’s prepaid, I’ll just need a credit card for incidental charges."

Giving him a credit card was out of the question. She reached in her handbag for some cash. "I prefer to pay with cash."

"I’m sorry, we have to have a credit card." He explained it to her as if he’d been forced to say it a million times before. "It’s hotel policy. My manager really gets on my case if I don’t get a credit card number."

She laid five crisp one hundred-dollar bills on the desk and spread them out as if it were a winning poker hand. "I think this will cover everything." His eyes lit up. "And keep the change." 

"Yes, I believe you’re right," he exclaimed. "This will definitely take care of everything and here’s your key Miss Smythe." She smiled at him. Money had a funny way of smoothing over everything. She picked up her bags and started toward the lobby elevators. "Oh, Miss, I almost forgot." He grabbed a piece of paper and scurried around the counter. "This fax arrived for you about a half hour ago."

"Thank you," she said taking the paper out of his hand.

"Hey," the young man said with his head cocked in an inquisitive tilt, "your voice sounds familiar." She was afraid this would happen. The over sized tinted glasses, backward facing baseball cap and floppy clothes would fool the eye, but the ears were not so easily tricked. Glenn’s instructions to her were clear; she was to talk as little as possible. Despite having been in America for nineteen years she still maintained a slight accent from having learned the King’s English in her native India. On TV it was part of her charm. As an undercover traveler, it was a real problem. "You sound like that lady on that TV show."

"TV show?"

"Yeah, that show about flying saucers, you know, SETI... something."

"I’m sorry, I don’t watch much TV," she said as turned toward the elevators again.

"You really should watch that show," he urged. "It’s really cool."

"Yes, I’m sure it is."

On the elevator she casually scanned Glenn’s latest installment. It was short and to the point. Glenn’s alter ego, one Mr. Jerry Baines, requested an answer to his proposed meeting. There was an 800 number provided and the assurance that if denied he not bother her again. She smiled; Glenn certainly was having fun with this.

Inside her room she set her bags on the bed and reached for the phone and punched in the 800 number she had already memorized. The voice on the other end was a recording introducing a voice mail system. A recording soft-spoken man came on claiming to be Jerry Baines himself. She giggled; Glenn was going all out for this. " Okay Glenn, you’re on," she said with a chuckle. "We will definitely have a little meeting when I get back to San Francisco. Good-bye."

As she replaced the handset on the cradle she suddenly felt a tinge of fear. What if wasn’t Glenn? He always said the world was filled with crazies. It wasn’t impossible that some one could have found her. In fact, thinking back over the past year no matter how hard they would try to cover her travels with intentionally misleading information somehow one crafty reporter or photographer would always get through it.

She grabbed the television remote control from the nightstand. Like most hotels the Holiday Inn had each room connected to the Internet via the TV. She clicked on the national telephone book and found the Santa Fe business directory. She did a search for Baines International. It was there! She did a general sweep for information on the company after an unsuccessful search for the company’s DNS entry. In a Wall Street Journal report she found a brief description in a listing of privately held companies. Baines International: president and CEO Gerald Baines. Specializing in research for foreign corporations and governments wanting to do business in the United States. Net worth estimate: 800 million to 1 billion dollars. Could Glenn have done all this? Playing a practical joke was one thing, but this was going too far. The whole thing was beginning to frighten her.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. She jumped from the bed; her heart immediately lodged in her throat. She tiptoed to the door and peered out the peephole. A man in a dark suit stood alone with his hands folded in front of him. "Who is it?" she called. He held an ID badge to the peephole. She could not read the name but she could see the logo of the State Department across the top. It was her contact. She sighed heavily and unbolted the door. "Come in."

***

The committee members had never seen anything like it. The usual order of things had succumbed to a sea of virtual chaos. Reporters and photographers were crawling over each other for position. Every VIP in town was there. There were rumors floating around that the President herself was in the building. Two years earlier a subcommittee hearing on funding for the Global Array would’ve hardly commanded a mention in the Congressional Quarterly. Today it was the only show in town.

The original force behind the controversial super-radar installations was the dream of knocking incoming ICBM’s out of the sky. The six legs of the array, one at each pole and four around the equator, would’ve given the pentagon an unprecedented view of space. With the ability to track any incoming object to within a centimeter of accuracy the array was touted as the keystone to America’s missile defense system. Space based laser systems tied to the array could’ve conceivably eliminated the danger of an accidental launch from anywhere on the Earth, thereby preventing an unintended full-scale nuclear war. However, there were those who didn’t want to see the arms race spill over into space and did everything in their power to stop it. Dubbing it "Star Wars" and painting President Reagan and the conservatives as warmongers the liberals along with their friends in the media successfully poisoned the well. Taxpayers and voters wanted nothing to do with expensive and speculative military space ventures. The first Bush administration quietly completed four of the six legs of the Array before the Clinton White House put the brakes on the idea of deploying any missile defense system. Only the Antarctic and Indian Ocean installations were left to bring on line. This circumstance was highly dismaying to America’s military planners as it was widely accepted that the next nuclear threat was going to come from Middle East regimes that supported terrorist organizations. Iran was on the doorstep of having long range missile capability. Pakistan and India, already possessing nuclear weapons, were not far behind. There was also China, the new sleeping giant, to consider. The people of Earth had lived with the threat of nuclear war for decades upon decades. The banal notion that each generation would be the last had permeated human society so thoroughly that it had literally become it’s own mythology. It was always in the back of the mind but never seeming real. However, the reach of worldwide terrorism and these dismaying lights in the night sky were very real. Nearly every one on the planet had seen or at least knew some one who had seen the lights. People wanted straight answers from their government. They desired the truth for once. The Global Array was proclaimed the ‘essential key’ to the truth and protection. 

Julia Rayhied was hustled into the building through an underground service entrance. The darkly tinted windows of the Chevrolet Suburban held the identity of its passengers in secret. Mr. Brown, the man the State Department provided as an escort, said little to her since they left the hotel. Apparently it was not part of his job to make friends with his assignment; he was going above and beyond the call of duty. He seemed unimpressed with her. Perhaps it was a facade, his game face. It probably took years of extensive training to appear this stiff and emotionless. Still, being ignored was a strange sensation to her. After several attempts at small talk she gave up and returned to her notes on the history of the Global Array.

Inside she was ushered into a basement studio where she watched the proceedings on a video monitor. The debate was lively. It was quite clear that several members of the committee were hostile opponents of the program. Smith from Massachusetts and Sellstone from Minnesota carried the water for the opposition. Chairman Richter could be expected to buffer the two of them by lobbing a few softballs of his own. If she had a friend out there it would be the congressman from south Florida sitting in the chairman’s chair.

***
"Miss Rayhied," began the congressman from Massachusetts, "in this era of economic contrasts, where school children often don’t have a lunch to eat and the elderly can’t afford the medicine they need because they’ve reached their Medicare limits, how can you ask this government to lay out billions of dollars for a couple of fancy antennas?"

"Certainly, when you put it like that," Julia countered, "it appears preposterous doesn’t it?" She smiled patiently as the congressman beamed with self-satisfaction. "But that is an intellectually dishonest statement and you know it, sir."

The assembled crowd erupted with a combination of laughter and cheers. A flurry of flashes prompted to Chairman Richter hold up his hand, which muted the din. It was going to be a duel, a battle of wits. Julia’s first jab landed solidly. Glenn had prepared her well.

"I beg your pardon," Smith said wryly, "I’m not sure if you’re insulting my intelligence or my honesty, mam. Frankly, I don’t want to know. The truth is that this country made a moral decision years ago not arm space. I for one am not going to be fooled by the supposition that Array would be used as merely a tool of science. It’s designers work for the military..."

"If I may," Julia interrupted, "the designers of the pyramids were morticians. Does that make the pyramids any less spectacular? That kind of logic is irrelevant to the debate. This is not about the military. This is not about petty politicking. This is about finding out the truth. Who or what is behind these baffling UFO..." She caught herself. "Sorry, UAP sightings? This is about answering the eternal question. Are we unique in the universe? Everything we are as a race hangs in the balance. I think it’s time we made a moral decision to tell the truth!" Again, the hall erupted in cheers and whistles. This time Chairman Richter did nothing.

When finally it died down Senator Sellstone asked to be recognized. "Mr. Chairman, may I have the floor?"

Richter held up his hand and with a nod from the congressman from Massachusetts he declared, "Chair recognizes the honorable gentleman from Minnesota."

"Thank you Mr. Chairman," he said wryly as he turned toward Julia. "Miss Rayhied, first, let me tell how much a pleasure it is to have you here today. We haven’t had this much excitement here since...since... I don’t believe we’ve ever had this much excitement..." he waited for laughter that never materialized. "Anyway... What you said about making the moral decision to tell the truth strikes a chord with me. Around here it seems the truth is in short supply. I think in our zeal to embrace every new technology, no matter what the cost, we run the risk of choosing one set of morals over another. A few years back we struck down a plan to build a multi-billion dollar super-collider in Texas. The scientists told us it was the only way to advance the leading edge of quantum physics. Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t go to bed at night worrying about the space between the electrons of an atom. But, I do worry about the hungry children going to bed at night with an empty stomach because the local food shelf lost it’s federal funding and couldn’t maintain it’s lease. Whose morals will you choose, Miss Rayhied? Lining the pockets of defense contractors or filling the bellies of innocent children."

They had always expected it to get down to this. Sellstone wasted no time in trotting out the hungry children. Glenn had coached her well and she was ready for them. "I’m glad you brought that up, Senator. Let the honesty begin here, shall we? You know and I know that if we built the Array, if we built ten of them, not one child in this country would miss a meal because of it. The money spent here would not be taken out of the funds slotted for the welfare and well being of the least in our society. Let us take them out of the picture right now. Let’s get down to the real reason you and people like Representative Smith oppose this. The reason you oppose funding on any new technology is because you cannot control the outcome of the enterprise. With social spending you can control the fate of millions. In the process never offering them anything more than a bare bones subsistence. You shift the blame for their situation on the greed and thoughtlessness of the successful and hardworking. In a sense, telling the poor they are nothing without the generosity of the government."

"Now wait a minute..." the startled congressman interrupted.

"I’m not finished, sir." Julia shot back. The audience gasped. With a sanctifying confidence that came from the very depths of her being, she lashed out. "Let me be the first to tell you that they are not at all grateful, in fact, they resent you. Your kind of compassion holds them down. And what does it teach the dear children you seem to care so much about? What they see is what they get. And what they see is a system where all they have to do is NOTHING. The government will come along and take care of them. The sooner they learn that life is hard and that to get ahead you must work and educate themselves the better this whole world will be."

This time the audience and half the members of the committee stood and cheered. Blinded by a barrage of flash bulbs Chairman Richter raised his hands and his voice in an effort to restore order. "Ladies and gentlemen, please hold it down," he yelled above the roar. That having no apparent effect he was forced to raise it to the next level. Banging an empty pitcher of water on the rostrum, he gathered everyone’s attention. "I will clear this room..." he looked in the direction of the media pit, "we will conduct ourselves in a civilized manner!" When everyone was sitting again he turned to Senator Sellstone, "do you have anything further?"

"Actually, I’d like Miss Rayhied to answer my question. Let me repeat the question in case you forgot it during your fine speech. In a moral sense which would you choose, Miss Rayhied? Unending expenditures on military gizmos and scientific ventures, both with track records for dubious results, or real support for real people stuck in the cracks of this free market society?"

"You talk about support as if it comes in only one flavor," Julia continued her Glenn inspired riff, "instead of lifting people out you would mire them and everyone else down. Senator, opportunity is the flavor I choose. This great government can and should take the leading role in promoting equality of opportunity. And not by bringing every one down to the same level. But by setting the standards by which we all can compete and succeed. This doesn't mean we should continue to make sweetheart deals with undeserving industries anymore than we should perpetuate public laziness with endless handouts. Rather we should be setting good examples by fostering good behavior and good citizenship. Simple things really, like fixing broken windows, painting bridges, and creating a sense of real safety for the public. And by building things that promote and provide opportunities. I site the railroads, air traffic control, the interstate highway system, electrification of the countryside, yes, even a war machine that turned back the nazi’s and the communist’s. This government, this society, yes, this free market society, succeeded in putting a man on the moon..." she paused as Senator Sellstone arrogantly rolled his eyes.

"Miss Rayhied," he interjected sharply, "tell me your not equating this Global Array to Jack Kennedy’s challenge to this nation."

"I think President Kennedy understood the importance of the final frontier. Congressman, in case you haven’t noticed, something is going on in the skies above us. I think this has gone beyond left and right politics and into the realm of national security. We owe it to the nation and the world to get to the bottom of this, now." When she was finished the room fell silent. For the first time in his life Senator Sellstone had nothing to say. Julia Rayhied had said it all.

***

They identified themselves as only agents of the Secret Service as they whisked her away from the hearing room down a long, dark hallway and into some sort of waiting room. For five minutes she was completely alone. Even Mr. Brown, who had not left her side since the hotel, was gone. When he returned he came in with a woman carrying some kind of instrument in her hand. Without speaking a word the woman waved the instrument over Julia’s body. Then, just as abruptly, the woman left.

Mr. Brown turned toward the open door. "We’re good," he shouted. No less than ten men entered the room. They each carried with them a piece of furniture or a prop. In the blink of an eye the room was transformed into a fine tearoom. "Please sit down, Julia."

"What’s going on?"

"We’re going to have a visitor."

Finally two men, each carrying a flag, entered the room. They placed the flags behind the dainty little table and chairs and left. Mr. Brown left immediately behind them. Again, she was alone. She reached over and felt the side of the teapot. It was cold. When she looked up she was staring into the face of the President of the United States. She shot up from the chair and thrust her hand out. "Mrs. President, I’m sorry."

"Nonsense, dear," Liberty Cole said apologetically. "It’s a pleasure to meet you, Julia. You did a fine job out there. I thank you for your service to the nation." The president promptly sat down and motioned to a member of her staff.

Suddenly the room was filled with reporters and photographers. Blinded by the flashes Julia just smiled and nodded as the president took questions from the reporters. She didn’t realize at first when a question was directed toward her. "I think I can answer that for Miss Rayhied," Libby Cole offered, "the plan to fund the SETI program goes back to campaign. I dare say we didn’t realize the kind of opposition we would face from our friends on the other side of the isle." 

"I really can’t speak to that," Julia added timidly, "my role at S.E.T.I. is in media relations. I have absolutely nothing to do with finance." More flashes. In the confusion all she could do was smile. 
 
The whole thing was over faster than it started. The president was gone the instant the last reporter left the room. Julia looked up at Mr. Brown and shrugged. "What was that all about?" 

"Photo op," he replied glibly. "Now, what do you say to an offer of a drink and a toast?"

She smiled. "I think I’d like that."

***

It was called The Romper Room. The club only allowed certain government employees. It was for the people who shouldn’t be seen in normal public places. Every dark suit in Washington was there. She had never seen anything like it.

"Why do they call it The Romper Room?" she asked him innocently.

"Well, back in the sixties when this place opened up there was a kid show on TV called Romper Room. They had a little mirror with no glass in it and they would point it at the camera at the end of the show and say; I see Susan and Johnny out there and I see Mark and Karen..."

"I don’t get it."

Mr. Brown tilted his head toward a group of people at the table next to theirs and whispered in her ear, "CIA, FBI, Secret Service..."

"Ooh," she blurted. "Sometimes I’m a little slow on the uptake." Just then their server arrived with their drinks. She set four glasses on the table in front of them. "Did you order two rounds?" Julia asked him.

"No, I didn’t, " he replied as he looked quizzically at the server.

"No, he’s right, but a nice gentleman over there offered to buy you a round. He sent this note." She handed the note to Julia.

As she read the note the paper began to shake in her hand. "Oh my God!"

"What’s wrong, Julia?" Mr. Brown snapped.

"He’s here!"