became the youngest chief of staff to a U.S. senator on the Hill. No one had ever shown such trust in Jason before.
Now Jason couldn’t help wondering what William Sidel had done to garner such trust. Everything he had read about the man painted him as a simpleminded, down-home good ole boy who happened to be a bit of an entrepreneurial whiz. Sidel had no particular talent. Instead, he possessed something much better—the gift of bullshit, the ability to ignite and excite others about his schemes using only words and promises, getting them to follow, to believe, to create, to rally and even to invest. Only, thermal conversion wasn’t a scheme at all. It was brilliant, but it also wasn’t Sidel’s idea. He had bought the patent, hired one of the founding scientists, then added to and improvised the process enough to claim it as his own.
Sidel’s witty repartee made him the life of the party and his annoying banter made him everyone’s buddy only by default because no one wanted to end up as the butt of his one-sided jokes. The man could pull a zinger even on the best of the best. Jason remembered when a cocky reporter from E: the Environmental Magazine tried to attack Sidel by calling him a snake-oil salesman, Sidel quipped, “It’s not snake oil, it’s real oil. You’d know that if you were smart enough to read your own magazine.”
And the thing is, Sidel was right. It was the real deal. It was an ingenious process. Jason was proud the senator was a part of it. But he didn’t trust Sidel and he wasn’t sure why Senator Allen did.
“How do you put up with that guy?” Jason couldn’t help it. He had to ask.
“Who? Sidel?”
“Of course, Sidel.”
Senator Allen finished wiping his silk tie, balled up the last towel and tossed it on the floor across from them. “He gets things done, my boy. He gets things done.” And then he turned to watch the miles of pine trees pass by outside the limousine window as if that was all the explanation that was needed.
10
Sabrina rushed back to the lab to hang up her lab coat and retrieve her briefcase. She’d be late, but hopefully she could get to Chattahoochee before dinner was served. It pained her to think of her father needing to be spoon-fed because they refused to take off the restraints. Despite the circumstances she was relieved that the tour had to be cut short.
She wasn’t surprised to see O’Hearn and Pasha still working. Pasha’s family had all remained in Moscow. O’Hearn had claimed he was a dedicated bachelor though he had mentioned a son once. Earlier, when they had all drawn blanks trying to figure out where Dwight Lansik might be, Sabrina thought it remarkable how little they knew about their boss. And with the exception of Anna Copello, whom Sabrina knew nothing about nor did she wish to know, none of them had anyone to go home to.
She was on her way out again, car keys dangling, when Pasha asked, “The tour good? No?” He stopped on his way to the back storage area, waiting for an answer. Usually Pasha didn’t even bother to look up from his work. That he had bothered to ask made her realize that the three of them had probably continued to discuss the subject while she was gone.
“It was good,” Sabrina said, despite remembering the malfunctioning valve to Reactor #5. “Until Mr. Sidel had everyone take a look into the holding tank.”
“Ow, that couldn’t be good.” O’Hearn crinkled his nose, the mention enough to revive the memory of the stink.
“Senator Allen puked right over the railing,” she told them.
O’Hearn let out a rare laugh, but Pasha turned his head.
“Puk-ed?” Pasha didn’t understand the word.
“He tossed his cookies,” O’Hearn said, smiling and enjoying the Russian’s confusion. “He upchucked his lunch.”
Sabrina hated that O’Hearn poked so much fun at Pasha, once even claiming it was his superficial revenge for the cold war.
“He vomited,” she said before O’Hearn could
Now Jason couldn’t help wondering what William Sidel had done to garner such trust. Everything he had read about the man painted him as a simpleminded, down-home good ole boy who happened to be a bit of an entrepreneurial whiz. Sidel had no particular talent. Instead, he possessed something much better—the gift of bullshit, the ability to ignite and excite others about his schemes using only words and promises, getting them to follow, to believe, to create, to rally and even to invest. Only, thermal conversion wasn’t a scheme at all. It was brilliant, but it also wasn’t Sidel’s idea. He had bought the patent, hired one of the founding scientists, then added to and improvised the process enough to claim it as his own.
Sidel’s witty repartee made him the life of the party and his annoying banter made him everyone’s buddy only by default because no one wanted to end up as the butt of his one-sided jokes. The man could pull a zinger even on the best of the best. Jason remembered when a cocky reporter from E: the Environmental Magazine tried to attack Sidel by calling him a snake-oil salesman, Sidel quipped, “It’s not snake oil, it’s real oil. You’d know that if you were smart enough to read your own magazine.”
And the thing is, Sidel was right. It was the real deal. It was an ingenious process. Jason was proud the senator was a part of it. But he didn’t trust Sidel and he wasn’t sure why Senator Allen did.
“How do you put up with that guy?” Jason couldn’t help it. He had to ask.
“Who? Sidel?”
“Of course, Sidel.”
Senator Allen finished wiping his silk tie, balled up the last towel and tossed it on the floor across from them. “He gets things done, my boy. He gets things done.” And then he turned to watch the miles of pine trees pass by outside the limousine window as if that was all the explanation that was needed.
10
Sabrina rushed back to the lab to hang up her lab coat and retrieve her briefcase. She’d be late, but hopefully she could get to Chattahoochee before dinner was served. It pained her to think of her father needing to be spoon-fed because they refused to take off the restraints. Despite the circumstances she was relieved that the tour had to be cut short.
She wasn’t surprised to see O’Hearn and Pasha still working. Pasha’s family had all remained in Moscow. O’Hearn had claimed he was a dedicated bachelor though he had mentioned a son once. Earlier, when they had all drawn blanks trying to figure out where Dwight Lansik might be, Sabrina thought it remarkable how little they knew about their boss. And with the exception of Anna Copello, whom Sabrina knew nothing about nor did she wish to know, none of them had anyone to go home to.
She was on her way out again, car keys dangling, when Pasha asked, “The tour good? No?” He stopped on his way to the back storage area, waiting for an answer. Usually Pasha didn’t even bother to look up from his work. That he had bothered to ask made her realize that the three of them had probably continued to discuss the subject while she was gone.
“It was good,” Sabrina said, despite remembering the malfunctioning valve to Reactor #5. “Until Mr. Sidel had everyone take a look into the holding tank.”
“Ow, that couldn’t be good.” O’Hearn crinkled his nose, the mention enough to revive the memory of the stink.
“Senator Allen puked right over the railing,” she told them.
O’Hearn let out a rare laugh, but Pasha turned his head.
“Puk-ed?” Pasha didn’t understand the word.
“He tossed his cookies,” O’Hearn said, smiling and enjoying the Russian’s confusion. “He upchucked his lunch.”
Sabrina hated that O’Hearn poked so much fun at Pasha, once even claiming it was his superficial revenge for the cold war.
“He vomited,” she said before O’Hearn could
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