"Because the data sets don't show any rise in Pacific sea level."
"I'd be careful about saying things like that," Drake said. "Where did you hear that? Because that has to be disinformation from industry, Peter. There isno question sea levels are rising around the world. It's been scientifically demonstrated time and again. Why, just the other day I was looking at the satellite measurements of sea level, which are a relatively new way to make those measurements. The satellites show a rise of several millimeters, just in the last year."
"Was that published data?" Evans said.
"I don't remember offhand," Drake said, giving him an odd look. "It was in one of the briefing summaries I get."
Evans hadn't planned to ask questions like these. They had just somehow come out of his mouth, unbidden. And he was uncomfortably aware that his tone was skeptical. No wonder Drake was giving him an odd look.
"I don't mean anything," Evans said quickly. "It's just that I heard these rumors..."
"And you wanted to get to the bottom of it," Drake said, nodding. "As is only natural. I'm glad you brought this to my attention, Peter. I'll get on the horn with Henley and find out what's being disseminated. Of course it's an endless battle. You know we have those Neanderthals at the Competitive Enterprise Institute, and the Hoover Foundation, and the Marshall Institute to deal with. Groups financed by right-wing radicals and brain-dead fundamentalists. But, unfortunately, they have a tremendous amount of money at their disposal."
"Yes, I understand," Evans said. He turned to go. "Do you need me for anything else?"
"I'll be frank," Drake said, "I'm not happy. Are we back to fifty thousand a week?"
"Under the circumstances, I think we have no option."
"Then we will have to manage," Drake said. "The lawsuit's going fine, by the way. But I have to focus my energies on the conference."
"Oh, right. When does that start?"
"Wednesday," Drake said. "Four days from now. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
"Of course," Evans said. He walked out of the office, leaving his cell phone on the side table across from the desk.
Evans had gone all the way down the stairs to the ground floor before he realized Drake hadn't asked him about his stitches. Everyone else he had seen that day had made some comment about them, but not Drake.
Of course, Drake had a lot on his mind, with the preparations for the conference. Directly ahead, Evans saw the ground-floor conference room bustling with activity. The banner on the wall read,ABRUPT CLIMATE CHANGE--THE CATASTROPHE AHEAD. Twenty young people clustered around a large table, on which stood a scale model of the interior of an auditorium, and the surrounding parking lot. Evans paused to watch for a moment.
One of the young people was putting wooden blocks in the parking lot, to simulate cars.
"He won't like that," another one said. "He wants the slots nearest the building reserved for news vans, not buses."
"I left three spaces over here for news," the first kid said. "Isn't that enough?"
"He wants ten."
"Ten spaces? How many news crews does he think are going to show up for this thing?"
"I don't know, but he wants ten spaces and he's told us to arrange extra power and phone lines."
"For an academic conference on abrupt climate change? I don't get it. How much can you say about hurricanes and droughts? He'll be lucky to have three crews."
"Hey, he's the boss. Mark off the ten slots and be done with it."
"That means the buses have to go way in the back."
"Ten slots, Jake."
"Okay, okay."
"Next to the building, because the line feeds are very expensive. The auditorium's charging us an arm and a leg for the extra utilities."
At the other end of the table, a girl was saying, "How dark will it be in the exhibition spaces? Will it be dark enough to project video?"
"No, they're limited to flat panels."
"Some of the exhibitors have all-in-one projectors."
"Oh, that should be all right."
A young woman came up to Evans as he was standing looking into the room. "Can I help you, sir?" She looked like a receptionist. She had that bland prettiness.
"Yes," he said, nodding toward the conference room. "I was wondering how I arrange to attend this conference."
"It's by invitation only, I'm afraid," she said. "It's an academic conference, not really open to the public."
"I've just left Nick Drake's office," Evans said, "and I forgot to ask him--"
"Oh. Well, actually, I have some comp tickets at the reception desk. Do you know which day you'll be attending?"
"All of them," Evans said.
"That's quite a commitment," she said, smiling. "If you'll come this way, sir..."
It was only a short drive from NERF to the conference headquarters, in downtown Santa Monica. Workmen on a cherry picker were placing letters on the large sign: so far it said,ABRUPT CLIMATE CHA , and beneath,THE CATASTR .
His car was hot in the midday sun. Evans called Sarah on the car phone. "It's done. I left my phone in his office."
"Okay. I was hoping you'd call earlier. I don't think that matters anymore."