Mr. Yamaguchi about a mutual acquaintance, Sean Murphy.”
“This is outrageous,” Herbert said.
“Please,” Sterling warned. “Let’s not allow this conversation to dissolve into mere posturing. The fact is, your behavior was outrageous, Mr. Devonshire. What I am asking is a small price to pay for the benefits you will accrue from landing such a customer as Sushita Industries. And I can guarantee I will be useful to you in the future.”
“I gave very little information,” Herbert said. “Entirely inconsequential.”
“If it makes you more comfortable to believe that, that’s fine,” Sterling said.
There was a pause. The two men stared at each other across the expanse of antique mahogany. Sterling was happy to wait.
“All I said was that Mr. Murphy and a few associates were borrowing money to start a new company,” Herbert said. “I gave no figures whatsoever.”
“The name of the new company?” Sterling asked.
“Oncogen,” Herbert said.
“And the proposed product line?” Sterling asked.
“Cancer-related health products,” Herbert said. “Both diagnostic and therapeutic.”
“Time frame?”
“Imminent,” Herbert said. “Within the next few months.”
“Anything else?” Sterling asked. “I should add that I have ways of checking this information.”
“No,” Herbert said. His voice had developed an edge.
“If I learn you’ve deliberately prevaricated,” Sterling warned, “the result will be as if you refused to cooperate.”
“I have more appointments,” Herbert said tersely.
Sterling stood up. “I know it is irritating to have your hand forced,” he said. “But remember, I feel indebted and I always repay. Call me.”
Sterling took the elevator down to the ground floor and hurried over to his sedan. The driver had locked the doors and had fallen asleep. Sterling had to thump on the window to get him to release the rear locks. Once inside, Sterling called his contact at the FAA. “I’m on a portable phone,” he warned his friend.
“The bird’s scheduled to leave in the morning,” the man said.
“What destination?”
“Miami,” the man said. Then he added: “I sure wish I was going.”
“WELL, WHAT do you think?” Janet asked as Sean poked his head into the bedroom. Janet had brought Sean out to Miami Beach to see the apartment she’d rented.
“I think it’s perfect,” he said, looking back into the living room. “I’m not sure I could take these colors for long, but it does look like Florida.” The walls were bright yellow, the rug was kelly green. The furniture was white wicker with tropical floral print cushions.
“It’s only for a couple of months,” Janet said. “Come in the bathroom and look at the ocean.”
“There it is!” Sean said as he peered through the slats of the jalousie window. “At least I can say I’ve seen it.” A narrow wedge of ocean was visible between two buildings. Since it was after seven and the sun had already set, the water looked more gray than blue in the gathering darkness.
“The kitchen’s not bad either,” Janet said.
Sean followed her, then watched as she opened cabinets and showed him the dishes and glassware. She’d changed out of her nurse’s uniform and had on her tank top and shorts. Sean found Janet incredibly sexy, particularly when she was so scantily clad. Sean felt himself at a distinct disadvantage with the way she was dressed, especially as she bent over showing him the pots and pans. It was difficult to think.
“I’ll be able to cook,” she said, straightening up.
“Wonderful,” Sean said, but his mind was concerned with other basic appetites.
They moved back into the living room.
“Hey, I’m ready to move in tonight,” Sean said. “I love it.”
“Hold on,” Janet said. “I hope I haven’t given you the impression we’re moving in together just like that. We’ve got some serious talking to do. That’s the whole reason I came down here.”
“Well, first we have to get going on this medulloblastoma thing,” Sean said.
“I didn’t think the two issues would be mutually exclusive,” Janet said.
“I didn’t mean to imply that they were,” Sean said. “It’s just that it’s hard for me at the moment to think about much beyond my role here at Forbes and whether I should stay. The situation is kind of dominating my mind. I think it’s pretty understandable.”
Janet rolled her eyes.
“Besides, I’m starved,” Sean said. He smiled. “You know I can never talk when I’m hungry.”
“I’ll be patient to a point,” Janet conceded. “But I don’t want you to forget I need some serious communicating. Now, as far as dinner is concerned, the real estate person told me there’s a popular Cuban restaurant just up Collins Avenue.”
“Cuban?” Sean questioned.
“I know you rarely venture from your meat and potatoes,” Janet said. “But while we’re in Miami we can be a bit more adventuresome.”
“Groan,” Sean murmured.
The restaurant was close enough to walk so they left Sean’s 4?4 where they’d found a parking spot across from the apartment. Walking hand in hand, they wandered north up Collins Avenue beneath huge silver- and gold- tipped clouds that reflected the reddened sky over the distant Everglades. They couldn’t see the ocean, but they could hear the waves hit against the beach on the other side of a block of recently renovated and refurbished Miami art deco buildings.
The entire beach neighborhood was alive with people strolling up and down the streets, sitting on steps or porches, roller blading, or cruising in their cars. Some of the car stereos had the bass pumped up to a point that Sean and Janet could feel the vibration in their chests as the cars thumped past.
“Those guys aren’t going to have functional middle ears by the time they’re thirty,” Sean commented.
The restaurant gave the impression of frenzied disorganization with tables and people crammed everywhere. The waiters and waitresses were dressed in black pants or skirts and white shirts or blouses. Each had on a soiled apron. They ranged in age from twenty to sixty. Shouting back and forth, they communicated among themselves and to the steam table in expressive bursts of Spanish while they ran and weaved among the tables. Over the entire tumult hung a succulent aroma of roast pork, garlic, and dark roasted coffee.
Carried along by a current of people, Sean and Janet found themselves squeezed among other diners at a large table. Frosted bottles of Corona with lime wedges stuck in their mouths appeared as if by magic.
“There’s nothing on here for me to eat,” Sean complained after studying the menu for a few minutes. Janet was right; he rarely varied his diet.
“Nonsense,” Janet said. She did the ordering.
Sean was pleasantly surprised when their food came. The marinated and heavily garlic-flavored roast pork was delicious, as was the yellow rice and the black beans covered with chopped onions. The only thing he didn’t care for was the yucca.
“This stuff tastes like potato covered with mucoid exudate,” Sean yelled.
“Gross!” Janet exclaimed. “Stop sounding so much like a medical student.”
Conversation was almost impossible in the raucous restaurant, so after dinner they wandered over to Ocean Drive and ventured into Lummus Park where they could talk. They sat under a broad banyan tree and gazed out at the dark ocean dotted with the lights of merchant ships and pleasure boats.
“Hard to believe it’s still winter in Boston,” Sean said.
“It makes me wonder why we put up with slush and freezing rain,” Janet said. “But enough small talk. If, as you said, you can’t talk about us for the moment, then let’s talk about the Forbes situation. Was your afternoon any better than your morning?”
Sean gave a short, mirthless laugh. “It was worse,” he said. “I wasn’t on the second floor for five minutes before the director of nursing burst into the room like a raging bull, yelling and screaming because I was looking at
