Power Surge Page 21

  Jake made a mental note to contact Nevins and ask him about marketing household solar panel arrays as a protection against power failures.

  “Do you have someone you can stay with for a few days?” the landlord’s wife asked.

  With a shake of his head, Jake said, “I’m afraid not. I’ll have to get a hotel room.”

  “They’ll be jammed,” said his landlord.

  “Maybe.”

  “They’ll charge double, most likely.”

  Before Jake could reply to that, his cell phone buzzed. They must have repaired the tower, he thought as he pulled it from his pocket.

  B. F. Tomlinson, read the phone’s screen.

  Somewhat surprised, he asked, “Frank?”

  Tomlinson’s voice replied, “Jake, are you okay? How’d you make it through the storm?”

  “I’m okay, but my apartment got kind of flooded.”

  “I was worried about that, you being in the basement. Amy thought we ought to ask you to spend the night with us, but by then the cell phones were out and I don’t have your apartment’s phone number here at the house.”

  Glancing at his landlord, who was resolutely keeping his eyes on his own plate of bacon and eggs, Jake said, “That’s awfully good of you, Frank. Thank Amy for me.”

  “Will you be okay now? How badly is your place flooded?”

  “We’ll need a professional cleanup crew. I’ll have to find a hotel room for a few days.”

  “Nonsense. You come here.”

  “Your house?”

  “We have plenty of room, and as long as the auxiliary generator works, we’ve got electricity. Come on over.”

  “Frank, that’s awfully good of you.”

  “And once you get here, we can talk about your rejoining the staff.”

  “Really?” Jake’s voice squeaked. Inwardly he frowned at how eager and grateful he sounded.

  Well, I am eager and grateful, he told himself as he thanked his landlord and wife, then went downstairs to his apartment and packed a travel bag for a few days’ stay at chez Tomlinson.

  He wasn’t even disturbed when he saw that his Mustang’s roof had leaked badly and the seats were all wet. Instead, as he went back to his apartment for a roll of paper towels, Jake felt happy that the car’s roof hadn’t blown off altogether.

  Preparations

  “Committee hearing starts Monday,” Tomlinson said, looking eager with anticipation.

  “Unless they’re postponed by the storm,” Amy said.

  “I doubt that,” said Jake.

  The three of them were sitting in Tomlinson’s living room after a late-morning brunch served by the cook. The big TV screen on the wall showed cleanup efforts under way around the city. Electrical power was still off for most of the metropolitan area, except for places that had standby emergency generators, as the Tomlinson residence did.

  Savoring the coffee that Amy had poured for him, Jake said, “You know, the house I’m in has solar panels on the roof. We got electricity as soon as the sun came up.”

  “The panels weren’t damaged by the storm?” Amy asked.

  “No. And I guess the wind blew off any debris that might have landed on them. They worked just fine. All they needed was some sunshine.”

  Tomlinson saw what Jake was driving at. “Solar panel emergency kits. The city ought to look into that.”

  “And hospitals should put them on their roofs,” said Jake. “Stores, shopping malls.”

  “Gas stations,” Amy added.

  With a grin, Jake said, “I know just the guy you should talk to, Frank.” But then he wondered if Wilmer Nevins would want to talk to a US senator.

  * * *

  Jake rode with the senator that afternoon to his office in the Hart building, where they worked on the opening statement that Tomlinson was to make at the energy committee’s hearing on Monday.

  When they arrived, five staff members were already in the office, including Kevin O’Donnell. None of them seemed surprised to see Jake with the senator. O’Donnell stuck his hand out and said, “Welcome back, Jake.” And that was that. The rest of the afternoon they worked together as if Jake had never been fired, huddled around the circular table in the conference room.

  Toward six o’clock, O’Donnell asked the senator if he wanted to keep on going or adjourn for the day and finish the prep work the next morning, Sunday.

  Tomlinson grinned at his chief of staff. “I have a dinner date this evening. With Senator Santino.”

  O’Donnell’s eyes went wide. “When did that happen?”

  “Last night. He phoned me at home in the middle of the storm and said he wanted to go over what I intended to say on Monday. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you about it, Kevin. What with the storm and all…”

  O’Donnell looked upset, almost pained. “You’ve got to keep me informed about these things, Frank.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.” But Jake thought that Tomlinson didn’t look sorry. He seemed almost amused.

  The phone on the row of cabinets along the wall rang. O’Donnell waved everybody off and picked it up. “Senator Tomlinson’s office.”

  He listened for several minutes, then said, “I’ll ask him. Hold on.”

  Looking over at the senator, across the circular table, he said, “It’s Earl Reynolds. WETA is asking if you can squeeze in a half hour for their local news show tomorrow morning. They want you to tell them how your energy plan would help the city cope with natural disasters like this hurricane.”

  Tomlinson hiked his brows questioningly. O’Donnell nodded. The senator said, “Okay. Tell him I’ll do it.”

  Jake wondered if he should try to take credit for WETA’s interest. But then he had a better idea.

  * * *

  “Solar Solutions?” Tomlinson asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of them.”

  Jake and the senator were riding to WETA for the Sunday morning news show. Jake had already phoned Wilmer Nevins and asked him to meet them there before the broadcast.

  “I think this is an opportunity for you to mention how solar panels could be used to provide emergency electrical power during a blackout.”

  “Once the sun comes up,” Tomlinson said.

  “They can charge batteries during the daytime and let you run on them during the night.”

  “Really?”

  “Frank, they’ve been setting up systems like that for years in poor villages in Africa and Asia. The same kind of setup could work as emergency generators during a blackout.”

  The senator still looked uncertain.

  “Just talk to Nevins for a few minutes before the show,” Jake urged. “He’s been doing this sort of thing for years.”

  “If Reynolds doesn’t object.”

  Jake urged, “Frank, Earl’s a great PR guy, but he doesn’t know much about energy systems.”

  “Okay,” Tomlinson said. Reluctantly.

  Nevins was deep in conversation with Reynolds when Jake and Tomlinson arrived at the station’s green room.

  Jake introduced Nevins to the senator.

  “You put up solar panels,” Tomlinson said as he shook Nevins’s hand.

  With an almost boyish grin, Nevins said, “It turns out that my people put up the system on the house Jake lives in.”

  Jake saw that Nevins was almost a head shorter than the senator, but thicker in the torso and limbs. His tightly curled hair was silver-gray, his face weathered and tan. In contrast, Tomlinson looked like a tall, elegant patrician. Which he is, Jake realized.

  After a few minute of intense talk, the senator turned to Jake. “Maybe we should put this idea of emergency solar systems into the energy plan.”

  “No!” Nevins snapped, alarmed. “Keep the government out of it!”

  Puzzled, Tomlinson asked, “You don’t want government support?”

  “We don’t need it. We’ve got more work than we can handle, as it is.”

  With a grin, the senator asked, “But you don’t mind if I men
tion the idea on today’s interview?”

  Nevins looked clearly torn. “You can say what you want to. It’s still a free country.”

  One of the station’s assistant producers stuck her cornrowed head through the green room door. “You’ll be on in five minutes, Senator. I’ll bring you onto the set and mike you up.”

  Reynolds pulled Tomlinson away from Nevins. “Don’t spend the whole interview talking about solar. Stay above any single technology. Explain the plan as a whole.”

  Tomlinson nodded, but he looked toward Nevins as he did so.

  As the assistant producer guided them down the hallway and onto the set, Jake asked, “How did your dinner with Santino go?”

  “Peaches and cream,” Tomlinson replied. “Mario is already seeing the energy plan helping him to win votes for the Majority Leader’s spot.”

  Jake felt pleased. But as they stepped around a fake wall and onto the brightly lit set, he wondered if the plan would be enough to win the election for Santino. And what would happen if it didn’t.

  WETA News

  Without a word to anyone, Reynolds made his way to the control booth, above the set, leaving Jake and Nevins standing behind the cameras as the senator settled himself onto a high plush swivel chair beside the news show’s female anchor. Her colleague, a bright-faced young man in a loud tie, was seated at her other side. In a surprisingly deep, authoritative voice he read from the teleprompter:

  “In the aftermath of Hurricane Carlos’s impact on the region, we have Senator Franklin Tomlinson with us this morning, to discuss how the energy plan he’s developed could help the city cope with natural disasters and power blackouts.”

  The female anchor, a hard-eyed blonde, smiled professionally into the camera, then turned to Tomlinson.

  “Senator, can future energy developments allow us to get through a storm like Carlos without blackouts?”

  Tomlinson turned on his smile, too, and answered, “Yes, definitely. In several ways.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, for one thing, we could use solar energy. I have a friend who lives in a house that has solar panels on its roof. As soon as the sun came up, the house had electricity.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Jake saw Nevins’s cheek tic.

  “But what about during the night,” the anchorwoman asked, “when the sun isn’t shining?”

  “Solar panels can charge a battery pack during daylight, and the batteries can provide electrical power until the sun comes out again.”

  Nevins folded his arms across his chest, then quickly unfolded them again. He’s coiled tight as a drum, Jake realized.

  “So your energy plan includes government support for solar energy?”

  Tomlinson said, “Encouragement, not support.”

  “Encouragement?”

  His expression turning serious, Tomlinson said, “From what I’ve learned about the solar energy industry, they don’t need a massive government program. They’re already building solar energy systems for private homes, shopping malls, factories, and other facilities all across the country.”

  Before the anchorwoman could ask another question, Tomlinson went on, “My plan will include significant tax credits for private individuals and small companies who buy solar panel systems. That way, we encourage the use of solar energy without spending a penny of taxpayers’ money.”

  The anchorwoman blinked once, then asked, “No government funding for solar?”

  “It’s not needed. Not for this kind of solar energy.” Leaning closer to the woman, Tomlinson said, “You see, what we’re talking about here is private homeowners and small businesses making their own decisions to go solar. We don’t need a massive government program for that. We can encourage them with tax incentives, all right, but we shouldn’t try to inject government bureaucracies into a business that is already doing okay on its own.”

  Nevins visibly relaxed.

  But the anchorwoman persisted, “So you think that solar energy could help prevent blackouts?”

  Breaking into a wide grin, Tomlinson replied, “As long as we have trees near power lines, there’ll be blackouts when a big storm hits. What I’m saying, Sylvia, is that homes that have solar panels will be able to provide their own electricity for themselves when a blackout occurs.”

  “And what about when there’s no storm? When the weather is bright and clear?”

  “They can get their electricity from sunshine, naturally,” Tomlinson answered. “Several states have passed laws that allow homeowners to sell solar-derived electricity to their local utility companies when their panels produce more electricity than they need.”

  “Sell electric power back to the power company?”

  “That’s right. That helps homeowners to recoup the money they invested to put up their solar panels.”

  “How do the power companies feel about that?”

  Tomlinson cocked his head to one side, thinking before he spoke. Then, “In general, the idea has worked out pretty well. Solar panels on private homes produce the most electricity when the sun is shining the brightest. In states like Texas, for example, when the weather is at its hottest, the utility companies need the extra electric power that the solar homes produce, to feed all the air conditioners that are running at top power.”

  Nevins was nodding happily. He only had a few minutes to talk with Frank, Jake thought, but he must have made quite an impression.

  “And another thing,” Tomlinson went on. “You could manufacture portable solar electric systems as emergency power generators. Hook ’em up to houses during a blackout, so they have power until the electricity grid comes back on line. That could develop into a whole new product line for hardware stores.”

  “Portable emergency solar power systems,” the anchorwoman echoed.

  “But the energy plan is much broader than any one technology,” Tomlinson said, earnestly. “The plan encompasses all our energy technologies and all our energy resources in an organized, comprehensive way.”

  “It sounds wonderful,” said the anchorwoman. “I wish we had the time to go into it in detail.” Before the senator could say anything, she turned to the camera and said, “We’ll be back after a word from our supporters.”

  “We’re out,” shouted the floor director. The same assistant producer stepped up to Tomlinson and unclipped his lapel mike.

  Tomlinson shook hands with the anchorwoman and the assistant producer, then walked over to where Jake and Nevins were standing.

  “That’s it, apparently,” he said.

  Reynolds showed up, his handsome face set in a dark scowl. “You spent the whole interview shilling for solar panels,” he grumbled.

  Tomlinson made a disarming smile. “I thought they’d give me more time.” Turning to Nevins, he went on, “Anyway, I ought to get a decent discount when I get Wilmer here to put panels on my roof.”

  Nevins grinned and Jake thought that he’d made a convert of the senator. But had he made the best use of the TV time? Clearly Reynolds didn’t think so.

  Senate Hearing Chamber

  Jake watched the opening session of the energy committee’s hearing from a seat in the last row of the ornately decorated hearing room. O’Donnell and Reynolds were sitting up front, just behind the little desk where the witnesses would testify.

  Santino, sitting in the center of the row of committee members, gaveled the hearing to order. The rows of benches for the audience were only half-filled, mostly with witnesses who expected to be called on. Not much media attention, Jake saw. C-SPAN and a couple of local TV stations. He didn’t see any network news cameras in the chamber. There ought to be more, he thought. Reynolds hasn’t come through for Frank.

  Santino was at his self-effacing, passive-aggressive best as he introduced, “Senator B. Franklin Tomlinson, of Montana, who has proposed a sweeping energy plan for this committee to consider.”

  Tomlinson was at his best, too, as he left his seat among his fellow committee members and went to th
e witness desk: smiling, handsome, self-assured. He took the chair and looked up directly at Santino as one of the committee’s staff members unfolded an easel and stood it beside the desk.

  After thanking Santino and the committee for the opportunity to present his plan, Tomlinson began, “Energy is the key to everything we do, and everything we hope to do. From growing food crops to exploring outer space, energy is central to all our needs, all our hopes, all our dreams.”

  Jake knew the words by heart.

  “The comprehensive plan I’m proposing is aimed at three interlocking objectives,” the senator went on. “Strengthening America’s economy, strengthening our national security, and protecting the environment.

  “If we use our strengths and our skills wisely,” he urged, “we can not only lead the world in energy production, we can also create thousands of new jobs, lower the cost of energy around the world, lower the cost of food around the world, and make the world safer, wealthier, and healthier.”

  From his seat in the back row, Jake studied the committee members sitting on either side of Santino. They didn’t seem terribly enthused. Or even much interested. A couple of them were whispering to aides who crouched behind them. One was staring off into space, half-asleep. Santino himself, though, smiled and nodded at Tomlinson like an old teacher pleased with a bright new student.

  O’Donnell got up and unfolded a chart, which he placed gingerly on the easel standing beside the witness desk. Jake saw the complex diagram they had created over the weekend. It detailed how the energy plan included fossil fuel resources, the carbon dioxide capture technology that produced methanol fuel, and nuclear, solar, wind, and hydroelectric power.

  As Tomlinson carefully explained the chart, stressing that it was revenue neutral, the senator from Ohio asked to be recognized. Santino didn’t seem surprised.

  “Senator,” the Ohioan said to Tomlinson, “d’you mean you’d force utility companies and factories to buy equipment that will capture the carbon dioxide their plants emit?”

  Still smiling, Tomlinson replied, “The recapture equipment isn’t that expensive, Senator, and the companies can then sell the carbon dioxide to companies that will use it to produce methanol fuel. Not only is that less expensive than burying the CO2 underground, it will pay for the expense of buying the recapture systems.”