Then Lisa’s expression changed. “Hell, yes,” she said at last. “Of course I’ll try it.”
Jeannie felt choked up. “Thanks,” she said. She bit her lip. “You’re a friend.” She reached across the desk and squeezed Lisa’s hand.
Lisa was embarrassed by Jeannie’s emotion. “Where in your office is the FBI list?” she said practically.
“The information is on a floppy disk labeled SHOPPING.LST, in a box of floppies in my desk drawer.”
“Got it.” Lisa frowned. “I can’t understand why they’re so against you.”
“It all started with Steve Logan,” Jeannie said. “Ever since Berrington saw him here, there has been trouble. But I think I may be on the way to understanding why.” She stood up.
“What are you going to do now?” said Lisa.
“I’m going to Philadelphia.”
32
BERRINGTON STARED OUT OF THE WINDOW OF HIS OFFICE. NO one was using the tennis court this morning. His imagination pictured Jeannie there. He had seen her on the first or second day of the semester, racing across the court in her short skirt, brown legs pumping, white shoes flashing.… He had fallen for her then. He frowned, wondering why he had been so struck by her athleticism. Seeing women play sports was not a special turn-on for him. He never watched
It was maddening that he could not simply dismiss her, even though her salary was essentially paid by him. Jones Falls University was her employer, and Genetico had already given them the money. A college could not fire faculty the way a restaurant could fire an incompetent waiter. That was why he had to go through this rigmarole.
“The hell with her,” he said aloud, and he went back to his desk.
This morning’s interview had proceeded smoothly, until the revelation about Jack Budgen. Berrington had got Maurice good and riled in advance and had neatly prevented any rapprochement. But it was bad news that the chair of the discipline committee was to be Jeannie’s tennis partner. Berrington had not checked this out in advance; he had assumed he would have some influence over the choice of chair, and he had been dismayed to learn that the appointment was a done thing.
There was a grave danger Jack would see Jeannie’s side of the story.
He scratched his head worriedly. Berrington never socialized with, his academic colleagues—he preferred the more glamorous company of political and media types. But he knew Jack Budgen’s background. Jack had retired from professional tennis at the age of thirty and returned to college to get his doctorate. Already too old to begin a career in chemistry, his subject, he had become an administrator. Running the university’s complex of libraries and balancing the conflicting demands of rival departments required a tactful and obliging nature, and Jack did it well.
How could Jack be swayed? He was not a devious man: quite the reverse—his easygoing nature went along with a kind of naivete. He would be offended if Berrington lobbied him openly or blatantly offered some kind of bribe. But it might be possible to influence him discreetly.
Berrington himself had accepted a bribe once. He still felt knots in his guts whenever he thought of it. It had happened early in his career, before he had become a full professor. A woman undergraduate had been caught cheating—paying another student to write her term paper. Her name was Judy Gilmore and she was really cute. She ought to have been expelled from the university, but the head of the department had the power to impose a lesser punishment. Judy had come to Berrington’s office to “talk about the problem.” She had crossed and uncrossed her legs, and gazed mournfully into his eyes, and bent forward so that he could look down the front of her shirt and glimpse a lacy brassiere. He had been sympathetic and had promised to intercede for her. She had cried and thanked him, then taken his hand, then kissed him on the lips, and finally she had unzipped his fly.
She had never suggested a deal. She had not offered him sex before he had agreed to help her, and after they had screwed on the floor she had calmly dressed and combed her hair and kissed him and left. But the next day he had persuaded the department head to let her off with a warning.
He had taken the bribe because he had been able to tell himself it was not a bribe. Judy had asked him for help, he had agreed, she had fallen for his charms, and they had made love. As time went by he had come to see this as pure sophistry. The offer of sex had been implicit in her manner, and when he had promised her what she asked she had wisely sealed the bargain. He liked to think of himself as a principled man, and he had done something absolutely shameful.
Bribing someone was almost as bad as taking a bribe. All the same, he would bribe Jack Budgen if he could. The thought made him grimace in disgust, but it had to be done. He was desperate.
He would do it the way Judy had: by giving Jack the opportunity to kid himself about it.
Berrington thought for a few minutes more, then he picked up the phone and called Jack.
“Thanks for sending me a copy of your memo about the biophysics library extension,” he began.
There was a startled pause. “Oh, yes. That was a while ago—but I’m glad you found time to read it.”
Berrington had barely glanced at the document. “I think your proposal has a lot of merit. I’m just calling to say that I’ll back you when it comes before the appropriations board.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“In fact, I might be able to persuade Genetico to put up part of the funding.”
Jack seized on that idea eagerly. “We could call it the Genetico Biophysics Library.”
“Good idea. I’ll speak to them about it.” Berrington wanted Jack to bring up the subject of Jeannie. Maybe they could get to her via tennis. “How was your summer?” he said. “Did you get to Wimbledon?’
“Not this year. Too much work.”
“That’s too bad.” With trepidation, he pretended he was about to hang up. “Talk to you later.”
As he had hoped, Jack forestalled him. “Uh, Berry, what do you think about this crap in the newspapers? About Jeannie?”
Berrington concealed his relief and spoke dismissively. “Oh, that—tempest in a teapot.”
“I’ve been trying to call her, but she’s not in her office.”
“Don’t worry about Genetico,” Berrington said, although Jack had not mentioned the company. “They’re relaxed about the whole thing. Fortunately, Maurice Obeli has acted quickly and decisively.”
“You mean the disciplinary hearing.”
“I imagine that will be a formality. She’s embarrassing the university, she’s refused to stop, and she’s gone to the press. I doubt she’ll even trouble to defend herself. I’ve told the people at Genetico that we have the situation under control. At present there’s no threat to the college’s relationship with them.”
“That’s good.”
“Of course, if the committee should take Jeannie’s side against Maurice, for some reason, we’d be in trouble. But I don’t think that’s very likely—do you?” Berrington held his breath.
“You know I’m chair of the committee?”
Jack had evaded the question.
Jack laughed. “The senate has more sense. They wouldn’t put Malcolm in charge of the parking committee— he’d try to use it as an instrument of social change.”
“But with you in charge I assume the committee will support the president.”
Once again Jack’s reply was tantalizingly ambivalent. “Not all the committee members are predictable.”
