Lucifer's Hammer Read online

  He looked around for Loretta, but she was too short to stand out in this crowd. Instead he picked out high-piled hair of unconvincing orange-red: Brenda Tey, who’d been talking to Loretta before Harvey went to the bar. He made for that point, easing past shoals of elbows attached to drinks.

  “Twenty billion bucks, and all we got was rocks! Those damn big rockets, billions of dollars dropped into the drink. Why spend all that money out there when we could be—”

  “Bullshit,” said Harvey.

  George Sutter turned in surprise. “Oh. Hello, Harv… It’ll be the same with the Shuttte. Just the same. It’s all money thrown down the drain—”

  “That turns out not to be the case.” The voice was clear, sweet and penetrating. It cut right through George’s manifesto, and it couldn’t be ignored. George stopped in midsentence.

  Harvey found a spectacular redhead in a green one-shoulder party gown. Her eyes met his when he looked at her, and he looked away first. He smiled and said, “Is that the same as bullshit?”

  “Yes. But more tactful.” She grinned at him, and Harvey let his own smile stay in place instead of fading away. She turned to the attack. “Mr. Sutter, NASA didn’t spend the Apollo money on hardware. We bought research on how to build the hardware, and we’ve still got it. Knowledge can’t go into the drink. As for the Shuttle, that’s the price to get out there where we can really learn things, and not much of a price at that…”

  A woman’s breast and shoulder rubbed playfully against Harvey’s arm. That had to be Loretta, and it was. He handed her her drink. His own was half gone. When Loretta started to speak he gestured her silent, a little more rudely than he usually did, and ignored her look of protest.

  The redhead knew her stuff. If careful reason and logic could win arguments, she won. But she had a lot more: She had every male’s eye, and a slow southern drawl that made every word count, and a voice so pure and musical that any interruption seemed stuttered or mumbled.

  The unequal contest ended when George discovered that his drink was empty and, with visible relief, broke for the bar.

  Smiling triumph, the girl turned toward Harvey, and he nodded his congratulations.

  “I’m Harvey Randall. My wife, Loretta.”

  “Maureen Jellison. Most pleased.” She frowned for half a second. “I remember now. You were the last U.S. newsman in Cambodia.” She shook hands, formally, with Harvey and Loretta. “And wasn’t your newscopter shot down over there?”

  “Twice,” Loretta said proudly. “Harvey brought his Air Force pilot out. Fifty miles of enemy lines.”

  Maureen nodded gravely. She was fifteen years younger than the Randalls, and seemed very self-possessed. “So now you’re here. Are you natives?”

  “I am,” Harvey said. “Loretta’s from Detroit—”

  “Grosse Pointe,” Loretta said automatically.

  “—but I was born in L.A.” Harvey could never quite bring himself to tell Loretta’s half-truth for her. “We’re scarce, we natives.”

  “And what do they have you doing now?” Maureen asked.

  “Documentaries. News features, mostly,” Harvey said.

  “I know who you are,” Loretta said in some awe. “I just met your father. Senator Jellison.”

  “That’s right.” Maureen looked thoughtful, then grinned broadly. “Say, if you do news features there’s somebody you ought to meet. Tim Hamner.”

  Harvey frowned. The name seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place it. “Why?”

  Loretta said, “Hamner? A young man with a frightening grin?” She giggled. “He’s a teensy bit drunk. He wouldn’t let anyone else talk. At all. He owns half a comet.”

  “That’s him,” Maureen said. Her smile made Loretta feel part of a conspiracy.

  “He also owns a lot of soap,” Harvey said.

  It was Maureen’s turn to look blank.

  “I just remembered,” Harvey said. “He inherited the Kalva Soap Company.”

  “May be, but he’s prouder of the comet,” Maureen said. “I don’t blame him. Dear old Dad could have been President once, but he’s never come close to discovering a comet.” She scanned the room until she spotted her target. “The tall man in the suit with white and maroon in it. You’ll know him by his smile. Get anywhere near him and he’ll tell you all about it.”

  Harvey felt Loretta tugging at his arm, and reluctantly looked away from Maureen. When he looked back someone else had snared her. He went to fetch another pair of drinks.

  As always, Harvey Randall drank too much and wondered why he came to these parties. But he knew; Loretta saw them as a way to participate in his life. She didn’t enjoy his field trips. The one attempt to take her on a hike with their son had been a disaster. When she went with him on location she wanted to stay in the best hotels, and if she dutifully came to the small bars and gathering places Harvey preferred, it was obvious that she was working hard to hide her unhappiness.

  But she was very much at home at parties like this one, and tonight’s had been especially good. She even managed a private conversation with Senator Jellison. Harvey left her with the Senator and went to find more drinks. “Light on the gin, Rodriguez. Please.”

  The bartender smiled and mixed the drink without comment. Harvey stood with it. Tim Hamner was alone at one of the little tables. He was looking at Harvey, but the eyes were dreamy; they saw nothing. And that smile. Harvey made his way across the room and dropped into the other chair at the table. “Mr. Hamner? Harvey Randall. Maureen Jellison said I should say ‘Comet.’ ”

  Hamner’s face came alight. The grin broadened, if that were possible. He took a telegram out of his pocket and waved it. “Right! The sighting was confirmed this afternoon. Hamner-Brown Comet.”

  “You skipped a step.”

  “She didn’t tell you anything? Well! I’m Tim Hamner. Astronomer. Well, not professional, but my equipment’s professional. And I work at it — anyway. I’m an amateur astronomer. A week ago I found a smear of light not far from Neptune. A dim smear. It didn’t belong there. I kept looking at it, and it moved. I studied it long enough to be sure, and then I reported it. It’s a new comet. Kitt Peak just confirmed it. The IAU is naming it after me — and Brown.”

  For just that moment, envy flashed through Harvey Randall like a lightning strike. It was gone as quickly; he made it go, shoving it into the bottom of his mind where he could pull it up and look at it later. He was ashamed of it. But without that flash he would have asked a more tactful first question. “Who’s Brown?”

  Hamner’s face didn’t change. “Gavin Brown is a kid in Centerville, Iowa. Ground his own mirror to build his telescope. He reported the comet at the same time I did. The IAU rules it a simultaneous sighting. If I hadn’t waited to be certain…” Hamner shrugged and continued, “I called Brown this afternoon. Sent him a plane ticket, because I want to meet him. He didn’t even want to come until I promised to show him around the solar observatory at Mount Wilson. That’s all he really cares about! Sunspots! He found the comet by accident!”

  “When will we see this comet? That is,” Harvey backtracked, “will it be visible at all?”

  “Much too early to ask. Wait a month. Watch the news.”

  “I’m not supposed to watch the news. I’m supposed to report the news,” said Harvey. “And this could be news. Tell me more.”

  Hamner was eager to do that. He rattled on, while Harvey nodded with a broadening grin. Beautiful! You didn’t have to know what all the words meant to know the equipment was expensive, and probably photogenic to boot. Expensive and elaborate equipment, and the kid with a bent pin for a hook and a willow stick for a rod had caught just as big a fish as the millionaire!

  Millionaire. “Mr. Hamner, if this comet turns out to be worth a documentary—”

  “Well, it might. And the discovery would be. How amateur astronomers can be important…”

  Hooked, by God! “What I was going to ask was, if we can make a documentary on the comet, woul
d Kalva Soap be interested in sponsoring it?”

  The change in Hamner was subtle, but it was there. Harvey instantly revised his opinion of the man. Hamner had a lot of experience with people after his money. He was an enthusiast, but hardly a fool.

  “Tell me, Mr. Randall, didn’t you do that thing on the Alaskan glacier?”

  “Harvey. Yes.”

  “It stunk.”

  “Sure did,” Harvey agreed. “The sponsor insisted on control. And got it. And used it. I didn’t inherit control of a big company.” And to hell with you, too, Mr. Timothy Comet Hamner.

  “But I did. And this would be worth doing. You did the Hell’s Gate Dam story too, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I liked that one.”

  “So did I.”

  “Good.” Hamner nodded several times. “Look, this could be worth sponsoring. Even if the comet never becomes visible, and I think it will. Lord knows they spend enough of the advertising budget sponsoring crap that nobody wants to watch. Might as well tell a story worth telling. Harvey, you need a refill.”

  They went to the bar. The party was thinning out fast. The Jellisons were just leaving, but Loretta had found another conversation. Harvey recognized a city councilman who’d been after Harvey’s station to do a show on a park that was his current goal. He probably thought Loretta would influence Harvey — which was correct — and that Harvey had influence over what the network and its Los Angeles station did — which was a laugh.

  Rodriguez was busy for the moment and they stood at the bar. “There’s all kinds of excellent new equipment for studying comets,” Hamner said. “Including a big orbital telescope only used once, for Kahoutek. Scientists all over the world will want to know how comets differ, how Kahoutek was different from Hamner-Brown. Lot of scientists right here. Cal Tech, and the planetary astronomers at JPL. They’ll all want to know more about Hamner-Brown.”

  Hamner-Brown resonated in his mouth, and Tim Hamner obviously loved the taste. “You see, comets aren’t just something pretty up in the sky. They’re left over from the big gas cloud that formed the solar system. If we could really learn something about comets — maybe send up a space probe — we’d know more about what the original cloud of gas and dust was like before it fell in on itself and made the Sun and the planets and moons and things like that.”

  “You’re sober,” Harvey said in wonder.

  Hamner was startled. Then he laughed. “I meant to get drunk just to celebrate, but I guess I’ve been talking instead of drinking.” Rodriguez came over and put drinks in front of them. Hamner lifted his scotch rocks in a salute.

  “The way your eyes glow,” Harvey said, “I thought you must be drunk. But what you say makes a lot of sense. I doubt we could get a space probe launched, but what the hell, we could try. Only you’re talking about more than a single documentary for something like that. Listen, is there a chance? I mean, could we send a probe into the comet? Because I know some people in the aerospace industry, and…”

  And, thought Harvey, that would be a story. Who can I get for editor? he wondered. And Charlie Bascomb’s available to do camera…

  “Jellison, too,” Hamner said. “He’d be for it. But look, Harv, I know a lot about comets, but not that much. It’s all guesswork right now. Be a few months before Hamner-Brown gets to perihelion.” He added quickly, “Closest point to the Sun. Which isn’t the same as the closest point to the Earth…”

  “How close will that be?” Harvey asked.

  Hamner shrugged. “Haven’t analyzed the orbit yet. Maybe close. Anyway, Hamner-Brown will be moving fast when it rounds the Sun. It will have fallen all the way from the halo, out there beyond Pluto, a long way. You understand, I won’t really be computing the orbit. I’ll have to wait for the professionals, just like you.”

  Harvey nodded. They lifted their glasses and drank.

  “But I like the idea,” Hamner said. “There’s going to be a lot of scientific pressure for studies of Hamner-Brown, and it wouldn’t hurt to push the idea with the general public. I like it.”

  “Of course,” Harvey said carefully, “I’d have to have a firm commitment on sponsorship before I could do much work on this. Are you sure Kalva Soap would be interested? The show might pull a good audience — but it might not.”

  Hamner nodded. “Kahoutek,” he said. “They were burned on that one before. Nobody wants to be disappointed again.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you can count on Kalva Soap. Let’s get across why it’s important to study comets even if you can’t see them. Because I can promise the sponsorship, but I can’t promise the comet will deliver. It might not be visible at all. Don’t tell people anything more than that.”

  “I have a reputation for getting my facts straight.”

  “When your sponsor doesn’t interfere,” Hamner said.

  “Even then, I have my facts straight.”

  “Good. But right now there aren’t any facts. Hamner-Brown is pretty big. It has to be, or I couldn’t have seen it out that far. And it looks to get pretty close to the Sun. It has a chance of being spectacular, but really, it’s impossible to tell. The tail could stretch way-y-y out, or it could just blow away. It depends on the comet.”

  “Yeah. Look,” Harvey said, “can you name one newsman who lost his reputation because of Kahoutek?” He nodded at the puzzled look that got. “Right. None. No chance. The public blamed the astronomers for blowing it all out of proportion. Nobody blamed the news people.”

  “Why should they? You were quoting the astronomers.”

  “Half the time,” Harvey agreed. “But we quoted the ones who said exciting things. Two interviews. One man says Kahoutek is going to be the Big Christmas Comet. Another says, well, it’s going to be a comet, but you might not see it without field glasses. Guess which tape gets shown on the six o’clock news?”

  Hamner laughed. He was draining his glass when Julia Sutter came over.

  “Busy, Tim?” she asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Your cousin Barry is making a fool of himself out in the kitchen. Can you get him to go home?” She spoke low and urgently.

  Harvey hated her. Was Hamner sober? Would he remember any of this in the morning? Damn.

  “Be right with you, Julia,” Hamner said. He broke free and made his way back to Harvey. “Just remember, our series on Hamner-Brown is going to be honest. Even if it costs ratings. Kalva Soap can afford it. When do you want to start?”

  Maybe there was some justice in the world after all. “Right away, Tim. I want some footage of you and Gavin Brown up at Mount Wilson. And his comments when you show him your setup.”

  Hamner grinned. He liked that. “Right. Call you tomorrow.”

  Loretta slept quietly in the other bed.

  Harvey had been staring at the ceiling long enough. He knew this feeling. He would have to get up.

  He got up. He made cocoa in a big mug and carried it into his study. Kipling greeted him with tail-thumping joy, and he rubbed the German shepherd’s ears absently as he opened the drapes. Los Angeles was semidark below. The Santa Ana had blown away the smog. Freeways were rivers of moving light even at this late hour. Other major streets were marked by a grid of lights whose yellow-orange brilliance Harvey noticed for the first time. Hamner had said they played hell with the seeing at Mount Wilson Observatory.

  The city stretched away endlessly. High-rise apartments in shadowed darkness. Blue squares of still-lit swimming pools. Cars. Bright flashing light winking at intervals, the police helicopter on patrol. He left the window and went to the desk, picked up a book, set it down; scratched the dog’s ears once more; and very gently, because he didn’t trust himself to move rapidly, put the cocoa on the desk.

  He’d never had any trouble getting to sleep in the mountains on camping trips. He’d get into his sleeping bag just after dark and sleep all night. It was only in the city that he had insomnia. For years he’d tried to fight it by lying rigid on his back. These nigh
ts he got up and stayed up until he was sleepy. Only he didn’t usually have trouble on Wednesdays.

  Wednesdays, he and Loretta made love.

  He’d tried to fight that habit once, but that was years ago; and yes, Loretta would come to his bed on a Monday night; but not always, and never in the afternoon when it was light; and it was never as good on a Tuesday or a Saturday because on Wednesdays they knew it was coming, they were ready. By now the habit had set like concrete.

  He shook away those thoughts and concentrated on his good fortune. Hamner had meant it. The documentary would be made. He thought about problems. They’d need an expert on low-light photography; probably time-lapse for the comet itself. This would be fun. Have to thank Maureen Jellison for putting me onto Hamner, he thought. Nice girl. Vivid. More real than most of the women I meet. Too bad Loretta was standing right there…

  He submerged that thought so quickly that he was barely aware of it. It was a habit he’d developed long ago. He knew too many men who talked themselves into hating their wives when they didn’t really dislike them at all. The grass wasn’t always greener on the other side of the fence; a lesson that he’d learned from his father and never forgotten. His father had been an architect and builder, always close to the Hollywood set but never quite catching the big contracts that would make him rich; but he’d gone to plenty of Hollywood parties.

  He’d also had time to take Harvey up into the mountains, and on those long camping hikes he would tell Harvey about producers and stars and writers who spent more than they earned and built themselves images that could never be satisfied. “Can’t be happy,” Bert Randall would say. “Keep thinking somebody else’s wife is better in bed, or just prettier at parties, and talk to themselves enough that they believe it. This whole damn town’s got itself believing its own press agents, and nobody can live up to those dreams.”

  And it was all true. Dreams could be dangerous. Better to concentrate on what you had. And, Harvey thought, I have a lot. A good job, a big house, a swimming pool…