office. "Guess you'repretty sore at me. Can't blame you."
Duran remained seated, indicating a chair against one wall. He waitedtill his son had sat down.
"I'm a little dumbfounded, Rog, that's all. I suppose you had a goodreason for it."
"Sure. Old skinflint Skinner wouldn't let us--"
"_Roger!_" the senator growled threateningly. He was not going toallow the interview to start off with a half-truth.
"Yeah, but that's state land," the boy persisted. "He hadn't anyright--"
"Roger, I said a _good_ reason."
"Okay, Dad," he sighed. "No, we didn't have _that_ kind of a reason."
"What it amounted to," Duran said, "was that you wanted to dosomething spectacular like building a rocket and firing it atsomething. Only to be fun it had to be illegal, if not immoral. AndMelvin Skinner's place seemed like the least objectionable target.Isn't that about it?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Only we had just about finished the rocket beforewe started wondering about a target. That was the trouble. Once we'dbuilt it, we had to do something with it."
"How do you think that's going to sound in court?"
"I don't know, Dad. You're the lawyer."
Duran cringed, but tried not to show it.
"Roger," he said slowly. "Flippancy is the easiest defense, and theleast effective. I hope you won't feel you have to resort to it toooften."
The boy said nothing.
"Well, tell me about it," his father suggested, sensing his son'sisolation.
"About what?"
"The rocket. Wouldn't a jet have been easier to make?"
"A rocket was cheaper."
The source of the money required for the project was something Duranhad overlooked. However, it was, he realized, one best postponed forthe present. The important thing now was to regain his son'sconfidence.
"Did you design it?"
"Yeah. Well, I drew it up. Nothing very original about it. But it wasa good little machine."
Duran noticed the boy's restless squirming, saw him perfunctorilyplace a hand to the baggy pocket of his jacket and quickly withdrawit, then arrived at a decision. Reaching into his own coat, Duran tookout the pack of cigarettes, extending it to his son.
"Care for a cigarette?" he asked.
The youth looked at him doubtfully for an instant. Then he smiled hisfirst smile that evening.
"Thanks, Dad," he responded, taking one and lighting itself-consciously. He added, "You've been out of town so much, I didn'tthink you knew I'd started--"
"I know, Rog," the man said, aware of a rising flood ofself-condemnation. "Go on, son. About the rocket. What kind of fueldid you use?"
"Oh, nothing special. It had a liquid bi-propellant motor. We usedethanol and liquid oxygen. Pretty old-fashioned. But we didn't knowhow to get hold of the fancier stuff, and didn't have any way ofsynthesizing it. Then, at the last minute, we found that one of thevalves feeding into the nozzle was clogged up. That's why we were lateto class."
"Couldn't that have been dangerous?" Duran asked, and realized at oncethat he had said the wrong thing.
The boy merely shrugged.
"Well, it must have been a pretty good machine if it flew sixty milesand hit its target," Duran went on.
"Oh, we had it radio-controlled, with a midget T.V. transmittermounted in it. Grasso took care of that. He did a terrific job. Ofcourse, it was pretty expensive."
He glanced at his father tentatively for a moment, then bent his gazeto the cigarette.
"I don't have my car any more. But I guess I won't be needing it now."
There was a cautious knock on the door.
"Listen, Rog," Duran began, "I'll try to get to see you tomorrowbefore I leave. Remember that your mother and I are both on your side,without qualification. You've done a pretty terrible thing, of course.But I have to admit, at the same time, that I'm really rather proud ofyou. Does that make sense?"
"Sure," said Roger huskily, "I guess so."
* * * * *
The flight home was a quiet one. Duran found himself with manythoughts to think, not the least of which was what his wife's reactionwould be. The difficulty lay in the fact that their married life hadbeen too easy, too free of tragedy, to enable him to foresee herresponse. But life would not be quite the same now, even if Rogerescaped the more concrete forms of punishment. And perhaps it would bethe most difficult for Ernest, who would forever be expected either tolive up to or down to his older brother's reputation. When all poorErnest seemed to want these days was to play the saxophone.
And then there was his own political future to consider. This wouldcertainly not help it. But perhaps the affair would be forgotten inthe next three years. After all, it might have been far worse. Itmight have happened in a campaign year. This way he still had afighting chance. Three sessions with a good record might overbalancethe loss in public confidence this would incur. And then he thought ofthe Mars colony mess and winced.
Telling his wife about the matter was not nearly so difficult as thesenator had feared. She had been ready for news of a crime of passion,or at least of armed robbery. What her husband had to relate stunnedher at first. But once she had ridden out the shock, she recoveredquickly.
"You don't have to go tonight, Molly," Duran told her.
"You think it might look better if I didn't?" she asked gently.
"That wasn't what I was getting at," he said. He thought it over for amoment, then added, "No, I don't. In fact, I think it would lookbetter if we both went to the Governor's. Roger is not a juveniledelinquent. That, I believe, is understood. If we must accept some ofthe responsibility for what he did today, then let's do so gracefully.Were you to stay home tonight, it might appear to some that you hadreason to be ashamed of the business, which you don't."
"It might also look as if I were afraid that Ernest might dosomething similar, as if I felt I had to watch him," she said. "Oh,people can be so ridiculous! Why wasn't Millie Gorton's boy in on it?"
Duran smiled at the idea of the Governor's tubby, obtuse son involvedin the construction of anything more demanding than a paper glider.
* * * * *
The Governor's mansion, a century old edifice typifying the moribundtendency to confuse dignity with discomfort, was teeming withprofessional and political personages when the Durans arrived. Thedinner went off routinely, with no overt references made to themissile matter. However, the senator noticed that no one inquired intothe health and happiness of his two sons, so that he presumed word hadgot around.
It was not until after dinner, when he had seated himself alone in acorner of the luxurious old living room, a B and B in one hand and acigar in the other, that his host approached him.
"Evenin', Vance. Sure glad you could make it," exclaimed thefamiliarly jovial voice of Governor Will Gorton.
Duran sat down his drink and took the Governor's plump hand, shakingit vigorously. Then the senator observed the intense youngish face ofFritz Ambly, who had followed the Governor.
"Guess you know Fritz," Gorton went on, seating himself next to Duran."Says he met you at Sig's office this afternoon."
"That's right," Duran said. "Good to see you again, Ambly."
The Youth Welfare board chairman nodded affably and took the remainingchair. His look of concern had mellowed somewhat with the evening. Butthe pale close eyes remained set in an expression of aggressiveearnestness.
"How's Roger?" Gorton asked, after a moment's silence.
"As normal as ever," said Duran, unprepared for the question. Then,slyly, he added, "Thanks for talking Loeffler into letting me seehim."
"Well, Sig agreed it was the only thing to do, after I told him you'dbe leaving for Washington again tomorrow," the Governor said.
Duran grinned wryly. It had been a guess, but a good one. AndLoeffler's having passed the interview off as a personal favor puttheir relationship back in its proper perspective.
"Well, what's to be done a
bout the boys? They're all under eighteen, Isuppose."
"That's right," Gorton said. "It's entirely a matter for the juvenileauthority. At least we're going to try to keep it there. But there'smore to it than that. Which is why Fritz is here. He has something onhis mind which he thinks is pretty important. I do too."
"You see, Senator," said Ambly, coming in promptly on his cue, "it'sthis way. If the case were an isolated one, it would be easy enoughfor us to deal with.