Free The Multiple Man by Ben Bova

sorry."
    "Meric?" Her voice brightened. "Hi. I must've just dozed off. I was sort of expecting you to call. Wait half a minute . . ."
    The screen cleared and showed her, yellow hair tousled and eyes a little bleary. She had a green robe pulled up around her throat.
    "How'd the speech go?" she asked.
    "Good enough."
    "Count the applause?"
    "No, let the computer analyze it when the tapes get to the office tomorrow."
    "You're down."
    "It's a down city," I said.
    But she was looking at me from the phone screen very intently. "No, you've been down for the past week or more. Whatever it is, it's really got you bugged."
    "Never mind. I'll live through it."
    "It started when she called you, didn't it?"
    "She?"
    "The First Lady." Somehow Vicki put an accent on the word "lady" that wasn't entirely wholesome.
    "Laura's got nothing to do with it," I said.
    Vickie just shook her head. She wasn't buying a word of it.
    We just sat there for a silent moment or two, neither of us wanting to say anything, neither of us wanting to break the connection. I was totally alone except for this flickering electronic image of her.
    "The convention's not much fun?" Vickie asked at last.
    "Bunch of bloodsuckers," I grumbled. "I'm surrounded by the kinds of people I had to fight when I was a reporter. Fight them for raises. Fight to get the real news printed, the stuff they wanted to cover up to protect their friends. Now I'm a big-time political person. I'm supposed to smile at them and tell 'em we're all in this together."
    She laughed, and the sound of it made me smile, too. "It's a good thing you didn't go into the State Department."
    "Yeah," I admitted, "maybe so."
    "Will you be able to stand it for another day? You're scheduled for three network interviews tomorrow."
    "That's okay. That's with the working slobs. I get along fine with them."
    She tried to stifle a yawn.
    "Hunter do okay with the daily briefing this morning?"
    "Oh, yes," Vickie said. "He was fine. No problems." She yawned again.
    "Aw, hell, I shouldn't be keeping you up all night—"
    "I don't mind," she said.
    "But I do. Go to bed. We both need some sleep."
    "Meric?"
    "Yeah?"
    "I wish I were there with you." She wasn't smiling when she said it. She said it straight out, no games, no tricks.
    Without thinking about it for an instant, I decided to misunderstand her. "You'd be just as bored and sore at this bunch of self-righteous hypocrites as I am."
    Her face didn't change expression. But her voice went fainter. "Yes. I guess so."
    "Good night, Vickie."
    "Goodnight."
    I touched the button on the tiny keyboard alongside the phone, and its screen went blank and dead.
    Shit! Added to everything else, now I was sore at myself.
    The phone chimed softly. I punched the response button. A woman's face filled the screen: middle-aged, but well kept; expensive makeup and hair styling.
    "Mr. Albano, are you retiring for the evening?"
    I had seen her before. Where? Behind the hotel service desk down in the lobby, when I had checked in that morning.
    "Yes," I said.
    "Is there anything we can provide for you?"
    I heard myself chuckle. "Sure. A fifth of Scotch, a bucket of ice, and a tall redhead."
    She didn't even blink. "Any particular age?"
    "On the Scotch?"
    "That, too."
    "Make it the best Scotch you've got. And the lady should be in her twenties. I'll settle for that."
    "Certainly, sir."
    Like the rest of the hotel's services, my nightcap left a lot to be desired. The redhead was willing, even enthusiastic. She was young and well built, the kind that would go to fat in another five years. Big bouncy siliconed breasts. And a brain the size of a walnut. Most intellectual topic of discussion: the local hockey team. Apparently she and another girl were keeping the visiting teams so busy that they inevitably lost when they played in St. Louis. So she claimed. Showed me a purseful of still photos of herself, her friend, and the top stars of the hockey league. Offered to run a videotape cassette in the