smiled at him, her lower lip tucked alluringly between her front teeth.
'Yet as we take our first steps into the infant twenty-first century, we must proceed boldly rather than tentatively to assure that none are denied access to this dynamic realm of information and knowledge. Those of us who have been blessed with lives of material comfort are obliged to share the rewards we have enjoyed. Listen up and listen well: It is time to dedicate ourselves to guiding and educating the children, so that they too may grow without limitation, and attain new and fulfilling horizons. Time for each of us extend a hand, and pledge a portion of our wealth to bringing them technology that will immeasurably improve their lives. It is a hard fact that advancement requires money. Schoolroom computers, high-speed DSL modems, Internet connections — none of these come free. From Bahrain to Barbados, from Afghanistan to Antigua, from the industrial capitals of Europe to the emerging nations of West Africa, the youngest and least fortunate of us must be guaranteed access….'
Caine went on in that vein for perhaps ten more minutes, and then decided to quit before he talked himself hoarse. His standing ovation was punctuated with cheers and bravos. He noticed that Odielle's clapping was rather feeble and halfhearted, and that her pinched expression seemed even tighter than it had been all morning — could it be she'd seen him exchange intimate glances with Arcadia, even knew something about his trysts with her? The thought made him tingle with a kind of giddy excitement.
But later for that. The show wasn't over yet, not until his Southeast Asian business associates — his benefactors, as they would have preferred to be considered — saw him run through his greatest hits. Doubtless, they would be watching and listening for them in front of their television screens.
Caine stood quietly until the crowd subsided, then announced that he would be taking a few questions from the press corps.
Predictably, the first one shouted at him had nothing whatsoever to do with his gift to UNICEF, or his challenge to the rich, or his crusade to put the deprived youngsters of the world on-line.
'Mr. Caine, as you know, the Morrison-Fiore bill will be signed into law the day after tomorrow.' Caine recognized the reporter from the network newscasts; he had a scoop of dyed brown hair and an alliterative name. 'Could you please give us your thoughts about that, and also about the fact that Roger Gordian is expected to simultaneously hold a press conference in Washington to declare his continuing opposition to the President's relaxed encryption policies.'
Caine looked thoughtful. 'I respect Mr. Gordian for his tremendous past accomplishments. But he has already expressed his views on the subject, and the people have voiced their grassroots opposition through their elected representatives. This is about our children and our grandchildren. About the future. Regrettably, Mr. Gordian has turned his eyes in the opposite direction.'
'If I may follow up, sir… as the bill's most vigorous proponent in the public sector, will you be going to Washington for the signing ceremony?'
'I haven't yet decided.' Caine manufactured a smile. 'The President has been gracious enough to extend an invitation, but one day a week in the spotlight seems like plenty to me. Quite candidly, I've had enough of hotel rooms and am itching to get back to work.'
The reporter sat down and a second man sprang to his feet.
'Do you believe there's any link between Roger Gordian's stance on the encryption issue and UpLink's diminishing stock values?'
Beautiful, Caine thought.
'That's a question better asked of an investment banker than a software developer,' he said. 'I'm really not here to speculate on my colleague's business difficulties. But if I may argue the obvious, the fortunes of any technology firm rise or fall on the willingness and ability of its leaders to look ahead rather than behind them.' He paused. 'Now, if we may get back to the children's initiative I've proposed today….'
But of course they didn't, which was exactly what Caine had wanted and anticipated. In the remaining minutes of the Q and A, Roger Gordian's name was mentioned half a dozen times, mentioned until he almost became an unseen presence at the press conference.
But not a participant to it, Caine thought. Today the floor was his, and his voice alone was being heard.
Engrossed in his own performance, he called on another reporter.
The future indeed.
That was very much what it was all about. 'Roger—'
Putting his hand over the phone, Gordian looked up at his wife as she appeared in the doorway of his study, wedged the receiver between his neck and shoulder, and held his pointer finger aloft.
'Just a minute, hon.'
'You said that twenty minutes ago. Before you called Chuck Kirby.'
'I know, sorry, we tend to get long-winded,' he said distractedly. 'Right now, though, I'm just buzzing the airport. I intend to fly the plane into Washington for the press conference, and want the mechanics to check it out… '
Ashley gave him a look that meant business. 'Gord, what do you see in front of you?'
He cradled the receiver. ' 'A wonderful but increasingly impatient spouse?'
She still wasn't smiling.
'Gorgeous, too,' he said, knowing he was in for it.
'It's been three hours since I came home from the salon with shorter hair and blonder highlights than I've ever had in my life, and you've been holed up in here the entire time, too busy to notice,' she said. 'This is Saturday. I thought you were going to take the evening off.'
He didn't say anything for a moment. Three hours since Ashley came home? Yes, he guessed it was. The afternoon seemed to have raced past before he'd managed to get a handle on it. As had the six months since his continual absorption with his work, his calling as she referred to it, had brought them to the brink of divorce. Always, he seemed to be trying to catch up. It was only after the murders of his dear friends Elaine and Arthur Steiner in Russia — a hail of terrorist gunfire having ended their lives and thirty-year marriage without reason or warning — that Gordian had awakened to what a gift he had in Ashley, and realized with terrible clarity how close he was to losing her. A half year of intensive counseling and earnest commitment had helped bridge many of the rifts between them… but every now and then there were marital ground tremors that reminded him the bridges weren't all that steady. Not yet, anyway.
'You're right, that's what I promised.' He stretched his neck to work out a kink of tension. 'I apologize. Do you suppose we can start over from here?'
Ashley stood there in front of his desk, a trim, elegant woman whose youthful good looks had made no discernible concessions to early middle age, her sea-green eyes very still as they met his gaze.
'Gord, listen to me,' she said. 'I'm not a pilot. I don't even like to sit near the window in a passenger plane and be reminded there are clouds underneath me, rather than over my head where they belong. But you've always told me how being in the cockpit of a jet frees up your mind, gives you a feeling of perspective and… what's that term you use? Ambient space?'
'Either that or altitude sickness,' he said, smiling wanly. 'You're a good listener, Ash.'
'It's my best quality.' She slowly crossed the room to his desk. 'That space you talk about… it's a kind of luxury that you afford yourself, and I'm glad you're able to do it. But sometimes I'm also a little jealous of it. Do you understand?'
He looked at her.
'Yes,' he said. 'Yes, I do.'
She expelled a long sigh. 'I'm not blind to what's going on. I read Reynold Armitage's latest bunk in the Wall Street Journal I hear you and Chuck talking about stock sell-offs. I saw your face when the evening news carried Marcus Caine's remarks about you at the U. N. And I can imagine how it must sting.'
Gordian started to answer, then hesitated, his brow furrowed, his lips pressed tightly together. Ashley waited. It was his nature to hold his thoughts in close, and she knew he often had difficulty raising the lid on them.
'I once met a snake-oil advertising man who would've called Caine's tactics a pseudo advocacy campaign,' he said at length. 'Or pseudo adversary campaign, it depends. He's been running both at once, you see. The basic idea is to use a public issue to gain attention for your firm, while promoting certain corporate agendas without being overt about it. You get the target audience to notice you by creating or stepping into a controversy, and then slip in the message you really want to convey between the lines. It's the marketing equivalent of a stage magician's top
