Power Play by Ben Bova Page A

Tomlinson to declare his candidacy in October, but the man kept postponing the announcement. Part of the problem was that Professor Sinclair was being very evasive about meeting with him.
    Glynis Colwyn was working as liaison between Jake and the professor. But while Bob Rogers and even the surly Tim Younger spent hours with Tomlinson and brought him out to Lignite to witness a run of the big rig, Sinclair sent one excuse after another through Glynis, postponing a meeting with the would-be candidate.
    “What’s the professor’s problem?” Jake asked Glynis as they walked across the campus toward the lecture hall where Jake met with his Astronomy 101 class. He was toting his old laptop in its worn leather case on his shoulder; Glynis carried a thick sheaf of papers under one arm.
    She shook her head, frowning slightly. “Damned if I know. Arlan just seems … well, almost afraid to meet with Tomlinson.”
    “Afraid?”
    She shrugged. It was a bright sunny day, warm for early December with the thermometer almost touching fifty degrees Fahrenheit in the early afternoon. Students were strolling across the campus, some even stretched out on the fading grass, pecking at their cell phones or chatting quietly. Glynis wore a maroon hip-length leather jacket over dark slacks. Jake had pulled up the collar of his lined leather car coat. When Louise had surprised him with it, many birthdays ago, she said its color was called bone. Now Jake thought that it looked like a bone that’d been buried in the ground and dug up again, more than once.
    “Bob is gung-ho for Tomlinson,” Jake said. “So is Tim, in his way.”
    “I know. Tim says that Tomlinson can get us the money to build a demonstration power plant: fifty megawatts for five thousand hours. That’s what we need to convince the utility companies that MHD can work for them.”
    “So why is Sinclair hanging back?”
    With a shake of her head, Glynis replied, “I’ve tried to get him to tell me. He just says he’s not ready to meet with Tomlinson yet.”
    “What’s he waiting for?”
    “If I knew I would tell you.”
    “We could build the demo plant in Lignite,” Jake muttered.
    “Couldn’t Tomlinson go ahead without Sinclair’s blessing?” Glynis asked.
    “I suppose. But how would it look if the head of the MHD program comes out against Tomlinson?”
    She stopped walking, shocked. “He wouldn’t do that! He couldn’t!”
    “Then why won’t he meet with the man? Hell, he won’t even talk with me.”
    “He’s refused to talk to you?”
    Jake shifted the laptop case from one shoulder to the other as he said, “Every time I phone him, his secretary says I should talk to you.”
    Glynis smiled. “Well, that’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”
    “A lot better,” he admitted. But then, “Still, it’s not moving the professor off the dime.”
    With a weary sigh, she said, “I’ll talk to him again.”
    “Tell him it’s urgent.”
    “I will.” She put out her hand and he shook it. Then Glynis headed toward the electrical engineering building and Jake turned off toward the lecture hall.
    But not before spending a few moments watching her walk away. She’s really very pretty, he thought. I ought to ask her out to dinner or something.
    Or what? he asked himself. She’s got no interest in you. Why should she? If Tim’s got it right, she’s shacking up with Sinclair. Somehow, Jake realized that he didn’t want to believe that.
    Jake had been working closely with Amy Wexler, seeing her almost every day, sleeping with her some nights. Her apartment was in a downtown high-rise condo, very expensive. Jake buried the questions that nagged at him: Is Tomlinson paying for this palace? What does she do the nights she’s not with me?
    Now a new question arose in his mind: Is Glynis sleeping with Sinclair? No, he told himself. She wouldn’t. Tim’s wrong about her. He’s probably come on to her but she wouldn’t do it. She’s too independent for