Jeannie had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “My God, this is awful,” she said.
The report then moved on to another topic, research on human embryos; and Jeannie had to turn to page nineteen before she found another reference to herself.
Jeannie read to the end, but the newspaper did not report her insistence that her work was ethically blameless. The focus was entirely on the drama of her defiance.
It was shocking and painful to be attacked this way. She felt hurt and outraged at the same time, the way she had when a thief had knocked her flying and snatched her billfold in a supermarket in Minneapolis years ago. Even though she knew the reporter was malicious and unscrupulous, she was ashamed, as if she had really done wrong. And she felt exposed, held up to the scorn of the nation.
“I may have trouble finding
“I’m sorry, Jeannie, but I’m in trouble too, for getting the Bureau involved.”
As Jeannie started the coffee machine, she was struck by a thought. “This article is unfair, but if your boss spoke to you last night, it can’t have been the newspaper that prompted his call.”
“Maybe he knew the article was coming.”
“I wonder who tipped him off?”
“He didn’t say exactly, but he told me he had had a phone call from Capitol Hill.”
Jeannie frowned. “It sounds as if this is political. Why the hell would a congressman or senator be interested enough in what I’m doing to tell the FBI not to work with me?”
“Maybe it was just a friendly warning from someone who knew about the article.”
Jeannie shook her head. “The article doesn’t mention the Bureau. Nobody else knows I’m working on FBI files. I didn’t even tell Berrington.”
“I’ll try to find out who the call came from.”
Jeannie looked in her freezer. “Have you had breakfast? I have cinnamon buns.”
“No, thanks.”
“I guess I’m not hungry either.” She closed the refrigerator door. She felt despairing. Was there nothing she could do? “Ghita, I don’t suppose you could run my scan without your boss’s knowledge?”
She did not have much hope that Ghita would agree. But the answer surprised her. Ghita frowned and said: “Didn’t you get my E-mail yesterday?”
“I left early. What did it say?”
“That I was going to run your scan last night.”
“And did you?”
“Yes. That’s why I’ve come to see you. I did it last night, before he called me.”
Suddenly Jeannie was hopeful again. “What? And you have the results?”
“I sent them to you by E-mail.”
Jeannie was thrilled. “But that’s great! Did you look? Were there many twins?”
“Quite a lot, twenty or thirty pairs.”
“That’s great! That means the system works!”
“But I told my boss I hadn’t run the scan. I was scared and I lied.”
Jeannie frowned. “That’s awkward. I mean, what if he finds out, at some time in the future?”
“Exactly. Jeannie, you have to destroy that list.”
“What?”
“If he ever finds out about it, I’m finished.”
“But I can’t destroy it! Not if it proves me right!”
Ghita’s face set in determined lines. “You have to.”
“This is awful,” Jeannie said miserably. “How can I destroy something that might save me?”
“I got into this by doing you a favor,” Ghita said, wagging a finger. “You have to get me out of it!”
Jeannie did not see that it was entirely her fault. With a touch of acerbity she said: “I didn’t tell you to lie to your boss.”
That angered Ghita. “I was scared!”
“Wait a minute,” Jeannie said. “Let’s stay cool.” She poured coffee into mugs and gave Ghita one. “Suppose you go into work today and tell your boss there was a misunderstanding. You gave instructions that the sweep should be canceled, but you later found it had already been carried out and the results E-mailed.”
Ghita took her coffee but did not drink it. She seemed close to tears. “Can you imagine working for the FBI? I’m up against the most macho men in Middle America. They’re looking for any excuse to say that women can’t hack it.”
“But you won’t get fired.”
“You got me over a barrel.”
It was true, there was nothing Ghita could say to force Jeannie. But Jeannie said: “Come on, it’s not that way.”
Ghita did not soften. “Yes, it is that way. I’m asking you to destroy that list.”
“I can’t.”
“Then there’s nothing more to say.” Ghita went to the door.
“Don’t leave like this,” Jeannie said. “We’ve been friends for too long.”
Ghita went.
“Shit,” Jeannie said. “Shit.”
The street door slammed.
Did I just lose one of my oldest friends? Jeannie thought.
Ghita had let her down. Jeannie understood the reasons: there was a lot of pressure on a young woman trying to make a career. All the same, it was Jeannie who was under attack, not Ghita. Ghita’s friendship had not survived the test of a crisis.
Jeannie wondered if other friends would go the same way.
Feeling miserable, she took a quick shower and began to throw on her clothes. Then she made herself stop and think. She was going into battle: she had better dress for it. She took off her black jeans and red T-shirt and started again. She washed and blow-dried her hair. She made up her face carefully: foundation, powder, mascara, and lipstick. She dressed in a black suit with a dove gray blouse, sheer stockings, and patent-leather pumps. She changed her nose ring for a plain stud.
She studied herself in a full-length mirror. She felt dangerous and she looked formidable. “Kill, Jeannie, kill,” she murmured. Then she went out.
31
JEANNIE THOUGHT ABOUT STEVE LOGAN AS SHE DROVE TO JFU. She had called him a big strong kid, but in fact he was more mature than some men ever got to be. She had cried on his shoulder, so she must trust him at some deep level. She had liked the way he smelled, sort of like tobacco before it is lit. Despite her distress she could not help noticing his erection, although he had tried not to let her feel it. It was flattering that he should get so excited just hugging her, and she smiled as she recalled the scene. It was a pity he was not ten or fifteen years older.
Steve reminded her of her first love, Bobby Springfield. She was thirteen, he was fifteen. She knew almost
