involved in the thought of the conversation, failed to notice her. She stood silently and politely listening. "I know. I know," Adrian finally said in response to Lionel's observation. "Haven't I told myself a million times. But‌ I'm hooked." Then he suddenly became aware of Juliet and was caught by surprise. He shot her an inquisitive look. "Hello, Lionel," Juliet said with a pleasant smile and a nod toward the young man Lionel was with. "Is this your friend Adrian?" Lionel was caught momentarily off guard. "Oh! Yes! Adrian, this is Juliet." Adrian waved an approving gesture with his right hand and shot a big smile. His voice boomed out. "My pleasure, Juliet." "Come-on, let's get lunch," Lionel suggested. "There's a good Japanese place down Telegraph Avenue." Adrian's face lit up with delight. Lionel put his arm around Juliet. "Sushi. Hot wasabi," Adrian shouted as he stood up. "Sounds great." The three of them jauntily headed toward Telegraph Avenue. Juliet, the youngest of the three, remained politely deferential to the two young men. She had, moreover, never walked anywhere with a son of a former president of the United States. So she walked silently with her arm around Lionel Verney's waist, happy to be a college girl in their company on such a fine bright sunny day. Adrian turned to Lionel with news he knew his friend would like. "By the way: gig when you graduate next week," he said. He waited for Lionel's look of surprise. "Business associates" need an 'observer' in Vienna. Report on OPEC. Want it?" Lionel could not repress his look of amazement. "Sure. Of course. Thanks." As he said it he glanced away at a nearby protestor carrying an anti-genetic engineering placard.
COUNTDOWN TWENTY-TWO Raymond Gordon, colonel, retired, United States Army, looking athletic and younger than his fifty-some years, stood on the steps of the United States Capitol Building in the afternoon sun. He wore an expensive tailored suit. His clear pale blue-gray eyes had a penetrating quality that had served him well as an Army officer. He was, as always, cleanly shaven and his slightly graying brown hair was trim and neat with a fresh short military haircut. Lionel Verney, in a neat suit and tie, hurried up the steps toward him. It had been a year since that day on the Berkeley campus when Adrian Wyndeshour had offered him the government job that then had seemed lower-level and routine. It had turned out to be anything but that.