of yourself and others and the resources of the Agency in an absurd wild-goose chase after earthquakes that follow the stars! We are not here to do astrology, Mr Isaacs.'
Isaacs caught a glimpse of the folder. It was labelled QUAKER, the code name for the strange periodic seismic signal. His mind whirled and locked like a magnetic computer tape searching for the appropriate data strip. He felt a certain relief. He was involved in a number of areas of immediate importance where McMasters's interference would have been disastrous. Apparently, those were safe for a moment. Yet McMasters had chosen shrewdly. Isaacs would be hard put to objectively defend his interest in the bizarre seismic signal which Pat Danielson continued to study when she could spare the time from Tyuratam. There was not the slightest hint that it represented a danger in any way. Nevertheless, his career-honed instinct warned him that to neglect the signal with its true nature still unknown would be foolhardy.
He started in a calm tone, 'That signal is unprecedented,
McMasters interrupted him coldly.
'We operate in an environment awash with information, some of it unprecedented and most of it trivial. If we are to maintain our precarious hold on freedom, we must be ruthless in our drive to focus on the crucial and ignore the rest. This is no time to idly follow pet fancies. The monitoring of seismic signals is not even this Agency's business. I must question your competence in choosing to mobilize the resources of the Agency to chase such a chimera.'
The bald personal attack on his judgement stirred Isaacs's anger. Tension crept into his voice.
'Sir, we are in full agreement on our goals. We must select the important elements from a flood of information, but my record demonstrates that I am effective in doing just that.'
He had stressed the 'my' and McMasters's ears tinged with red at the riposte.
Isaacs extended a vigorous forefinger at the report on the desk and continued, 'There is something profoundly disturbing about this seismic signal. Of course, there is a chance that it is insignificant, but I don't believe that is the case. I believe we must pursue this thing until we understand it.'
'You believe?' McMasters spoke with anger and mockery. 'On what basis? Is there a clear and present danger to the nation?'
'Not clear and present. You can't expect.' Isaacs began hotly.
'Is there any hint of the slightest bother to anyone, anywhere?' McMasters interrupted.
'Not yet, but...'
'Your concern for this trivial matter is foolhardy.'
Isaacs suffered the second interruption and gritted his teeth.
McMasters continued, 'You occupy a position of great authority and the Agency can ill afford such lapses. I order you to desist totally in your pursuit of this matter. I will draft a memo summarizing your ill judgement. If there is any repeat performance, I will be forced to place that memo in your file and report your case to the Director.'
Isaacs recognized this as part bluff. His record was good and McMasters could not impugn him. recklessly to the Director without endangering his own position. Still, the Director's reliance on McMasters for advice on internal affairs was well-known. McMasters, in turn, used his favoured position adroitly. Isaacs was aware that McMasters could influence the Director in a manner which could damage Isaacs professionally, and worse, could interfere with important Agency operations.
Isaacs gestured with his hands at hip level, tense fingers spread, palms facing each other, an aborted, instinctive reaction to his desire to clutch and shake the object of his frustration.
'For god's sake!' he shot. 'You're taking me to task for doing my job the best I know how.'
'Perhaps your best is not good enough,' McMasters replied sharply.
Isaacs raised his arms and eyes towards the ceiling in dismay. Then he brandished a weapon-substitute finger at the older man.
'We both know the real reason for this confrontation,' he said, louder than he intended. 'The root of it is not my competence, but yours. You're irritated because I managed to scuttle some of your outdated programmes.'
'Don't raise your voice to me,' McMasters responded with surprising volume. 'My competence is not the issue here, whatsoever.'
Outside in the anteroom, the secretary smiled slightly. To this point the conversation within had been entirely muffled. The latter outbursts did not carry clearly through the soundproofed door, but their tone was clear. The two distinguished gentlemen were, indeed, at each other's throats.
As if aware of this monitoring, McMasters lowered his voice, if not the level of his irritation. He continued, glaring at Isaacs.
'Your suggestion borders on insubordination. You are not improving your position.'
Isaacs, on cue, lowered his tone.
'This discussion is ridiculous. We both want what is best for the Agency. You know I acted in good conscience when I argued against your programmes. You are doing neither us nor the Agency a service by threatening to interfere with me in general and a potentially critical area in particular.'
'I am threatening nothing,' McMasters responded. 'I am simply carrying out my assigned duty which is to see to it that the Agency functions in the most efficient possible manner. I am putting you on notice that your unilateral authorization of worthless projects and disrespect for this office will not be tolerated. I repeat you are to terminate the operation regarding this insubstantial seismic phenomenon.'
Isaacs calculated quickly. He was in a no-win situation, with no chance of talking McMasters out of his vindictive position. He had little beyond his intuition to justify the effort he had authorized to understand the queer seismic waves. The expenses involved were small, but still a finite dram on Agency resources. He did not want the project to come up for a full-scale Agency review as McMasters could easily arrange. In such a case he would be forced to rank the seismic project below a goodly number of others. Even the Director, through no malice, was likely to suggest a 'compromise' in an effort to quell disagreements among his subordinates. His best hope would be to lose only the seismic project and prevent McMasters from lopping off any other projects. He would be no better off than now, but the disagreement between himself and McMasters would have been aired widely, and that could only lead to other trouble. He had little practical choice but to accede to McMasters.
Isaacs stared down at the man before him.
'All right,' he conceded, 'both of us stand to lose if you insist on dragging our personal disagreements before the Director, but I won't risk Agency programmes being gratuitously interrupted for the sake of exposing your machinations.'
'You'll abandon your investigation of this seismic folly?' 'Yes.'
'You understand that this is an order carrying the full authority of my office?'
'Yes, dammit!'
McMasters eyed him for a moment, then snapped,
'You are dismissed.'
Isaacs promptly whirled and strode out of the office. He resisted a temptation to slam the door behind him. The secretary half expected another wink. Instead he treated her to the sight of his back as he crossed her office and disappeared down the corridor.
In his office, Kevin McMasters wrote a brief note to his secretary, attached it to the file before him and dropped the file in his 'out' box. His gaze lingered on it, and he smiled a small, self-satisfied smile.
That afternoon Pat Danielson was one of a handful of people to receive the following memo:
It was initialled by Isaacs.
Danielson reread the two sentences with confusion and disappointment. She still had no inkling of what caused the strange signal, but she was captivated by it and had spent long hours wrestling with it. Only yesterday
