Kinsman and Landau were ushered into a sleek limou- sine, together with Marrett and the American State Depart- ment representative: a square-jawed young man with a deep tan and the kind of wrinkles around his eyes that come from being outdoors, not behind a desk.
If he isn't ISA I'll eat the upholstery, Kinsman told himself as he settled into the limousine's back seat. The braces of the exoskeleton poked into him uncomfortably. Landau sat beside him while Marrett and the State Depart- ment man took the jumpseats facing them.
"You okay?" Marrett asked. He had to hunker down on the jumpseat to keep his bald head from bumping against the plush-lined roof.
"As well as can be expected," Kinsman replied. He caught a glimpse of Harriman entering the car ahead of theirs, with the blonde from Kansas City at his side.
"How's that one-man jail cell feel?" Marrett asked as the chauffeur started up the car and pulled away from the terminal building.
"Not all that bad. It's a lot better than trying to get along without it, I guess."
The State Department man, whose name Kinsman had not caught, asked, "How does it feel to be back home again?"
Kinsman threw him a sharp look. "My home's almost half a million kilometers from here."
"Oh. Yes, I see ... I meant . . ."
But Kinsman turned to stare out the window at the acres of totally empty parking lots surrounding JFK. "They've really shut down the whole damned airport? For us? What were you afraid of?"
"Nowadays anything can touch off a riot," answered the State Department man. "And you're not terribly popular with the plebeians, you must realize."
"Also," Marrett added quickly, "it's easier to control the news about you if the government's the only source of info. Right, Nickerson?"
Nickerson seemed to go darker, beneath his tan. "The news media can be very irresponsible, sensational."
Marrett laughed, a full-throated chuckle that filled the limousine's plush interior. "Sure. No sense letting them get sensational about a man who's led a successful revolt against the government and has come down from the Moon to visit as a guest of the United Nations."
Nickerson did not smile back. "Mr. Marrett," he said coldly, "you are an American citizen, even though you seem more loyal to the UN than to your own nation. I advise you to be more careful with your statements."
"Stuff it, sonny!" Marrett pulled a fresh cigar from his shirt pocket. Despite the winter chill outside, the big meteo- rologist wore only a leather jacket over his shirt and slacks.
Landau raised a protesting hand. "Please. No smoking."
"Huh? Oh." Marrett looked at Kinsman, then slipped the cigar back into his pocket.
The entire expressway leading into Manhattan was clear of all other vehicles except for an occasional police cruiser or Army armored car. Even the overpasses were empty of traffic and people. As the little parade of limousines and their escorts neared Manhattan an eerie sensation began crawling up Kinsman's spine. He had been here before. It all looked familiar, yet somehow different. Empty. They've pulled all the people away. No one on the streets, no cars or buses. Yet there was something more. Something was missing from the bare canyons of concrete and brick. Defoliated! Kinsman realized. Not a tree in sight. They've taken down all the trees. For fuel?
They swung up onto the Queensboro Bridge and Kins- man saw the skyline of tall gray towers that he remembered, half lost in a cold brown haze of smog. Uptown of the bridge a few private cars shared the East River Drive with phalanxes of steam-powered buses. But downtown of the bridge, where the drive led to the UN complex of buildings, the roadway was completely empty except for police and Army vehicles.
The river below looked oily and turgid, flowing sluggish- ly. And then it hit Kinsman. Water! Miles and miles of water, waves lapping gently, water that falls from the sky and makes noisy little streams like that time in Colorado flowing down 524 the mountain slopes to form rivers that sweep out mto the oceans. Rivers. Lakes. Oceans. A whole planet brimful of water.
He stared into the gray river. All that water, and look what they've done to it. Fouled their own nest.
He pulled his eyes away from the filthy river. "I just don't understand why you felt it necessary to clear out our whole path," he said.
Nickerson glanced at Marrett, sitting beside him on the other jumpseat. "Mr. Kinsman," he said, "it may come as a shock to you, but the majority of the American people regard you as a traitor. We thought it would be better for your own safety to provide a maximum of security for you."
"And a minimum of opportunity for me to tell Selene's story directly to the people."
