'It's an important job,' I said.
'I'm glad somebody recognises that. The home is everything. Most of the kids at the centre had no home life. If they had, they would never have got into trouble.'
She made the pronouncement with a false bravado born of despair. The irony seemed to elude her. I kept my thoughts to myself and smiled empathetically.
'No,' she said, looking up at the carving in my hand. 'I got these when I was a little girl. My father was in the Foreign Service in Latin America, and I grew up there. Until I was twelve, I was totally bilingual. It may sound fluent, but actually my Spanish is pretty rusty.'
I replaced the stone on the mantel.
'Why don't you use the side door again? Those vultures are still out there.'
We retraced my entrance and walked through the kitchen. The heavy-set guard was sitting at the table reading the Enquirer. When he saw Heather he stood and said, 'Ma'am.' She ignored him and walked me to the door. Up close she smelled of soap and water. We shook hands, and I thanked her for her time.
'Thank you, Doctor. And please excuse my loss of control. You know' - she smiled, placing one hand on a narrow hip - 'I was really dreading your visit, but I actually feel better, having spoken to you.'
'I'm glad.'
'Much better actually. Was it useful in terms of helping Jamey?'
'Sure,' I lied. 'Everything I learn helps.'
'Good.' She stepped closer, as if sharing a secret. 'We know he's done terrible things and shouldn't be walking the streets. But we want him placed where he'll be safe and cared for. Please, Dr. Delaware, help us get him there.'
I smiled, mumbled something that could have been mistaken for agreement, and took my leave.
I GOT home at seven and picked up a message from Sarita Flowers that had come in two hours before: If I still wanted to, I could meet with the Project 160 subjects at eight the next morning. Please confirm. I called the psych department message centre and did so. Robin arrived at seven-forty, and we threw together a dinner of leftovers. Afterward we took a basket of fruit out to the terrace and munched while looking at the stars. One thing led to another, and we got into bed early.
I was up at six the next morning and walked toward the campus an hour later. A flock of pigeons had massed on the steps of the psychology building. They clucked and pecked and soiled the cement, blissfully unaware of the dangers within: basement labs filled with cellblocks of Skinner boxes. The ultimate pigeon penitentiary.
The door to Sarita's office was locked. Karen heard my knock and emerged from around a corner, gliding like an Ibo princess. She frowned and handed me two pieces of paper stapled together.
'You won't be needing Dr. Flowers, will you?'
'No. Just the students.'
'Good. 'Cause she's tied up with data.'
We took the elevator two flights up to the group room. She unlocked the door, turned on her heel, and left.
I looked around. In five years the place hadn't changed: the same bilious green walls encrusted with posters and cartoons; the identical sagging thrift-shop sofas and plastic-veneered tables. Two high, dust-clouded windows embedded with wire dominated one wall. Through them, I knew, would be a view of the loading dock of the chemistry building, the swatch of oily asphalt where I'd handed Jamey his shoes and let him expel me from his life.
I took a seat on one of the sofas and examined the stapled papers. With characteristic thoroughness, Sarita had prepared a typed summary of her charges' accomplishments.
MEMO
To: A. Delaware, Ph.D.
From: S. Flowers, Ph.D., Director
Subject: ACHIEVEMENT STATUS OF PROJECT
160 SUBJECTS
Preface: As you know, Alex, six children between the ages of ten and fourteen were accepted for the project in the fall of 1982. All except Jamey participated until the summer of 1986, when Gary Yamaguchi dropped out to pursue a career as an artist. At that time Gary was eighteen and had completed three years of study toward a B.A. in psychology at UCLA. His last evaluation revealed a Stanford-Binet IQ score of 167 and verbal/quantitative skills at the postdoctoral level. Efforts to reach him regarding participation in today's meeting were unsuccessful. He has no phone and did not respond to a postcard mailed to his last known address.
You'll be talking to the following subjects:
1. Felicia Blocker: She is now fifteen years old, a senior at UCLA, and due to receive a B.A. in mathematics at the end of this year. She has been accepted into Ph.D. programmes at numerous universities and is leaning toward Princeton. She received the Hawley-Deckman Prize for undergraduate achievement in mathematics last year. Most current Stanford Binet IQ score: 188. Verbal skills at the postdoctoral level: quantitative skills beyond any known rating scale.
2. David Krohnglass: He is now nineteen years old and has earned a B.S. in physics and an M.S. in physical chemistry from Cal. Tech. He was among the top ten scorers, nationally, on the M-CAT test for admission to medical school. He plans to enter a joint M.D.-Ph.D. programme at the University of Chicago next fall. Most current SB IQ score: 177. Verbal skills at the post-doctoral level: quantitative skills beyond any known rating scale.
3. Jennifer Leavitt: She is now seventeen years old and a first-year graduate student in psychobiology at UCLA. She has published three scientific papers in peer-review journals, two as sole author. She is considering attending medical school after receiving her Ph.D. and expresses a strong interest in psychiatry. Most current SB IQ score: 169. Verbal and quantitative skills at the postdoctoral level.
4. Joshua Marciano: He is now eighteen years old and a senior at UCLA, due to receive joint B.A.'s in Russian and political science. He has created a computer programme that conducts simultaneous trend analyses of longitudinal changes in economics, world health, and international relations and is negotiating for its sale to the World Bank. He has been accepted into numerous graduate programmes and plans to take a year off to intern at the State Department before beginning graduate studies at the Kennedy School of International Relations at Harvard, where he will pursue a Ph.D. and, subsequently, a degree in law. Most current SB IQ score: 171. Verbal and quantitative skills at the postdoctoral level.
An impressive synopsis, worthy of a grant application and, considering the purpose of my visit, gratuitously detailed, even for Sarita. But the memo's true message insinuated itself between the lines: Jamey was a fluke, Alex. Look at what I've done with the rest of them.
The door swung open, and two young men came in.
David, whom I remembered as undersized and soft, had turned into a linebacker - six-three, about two thirty, most of it muscle. His ginger hair was styled in a new-wave crew cut - cropped short on top with a long sunburst fringe at the nape of the neck - and he'd produced sufficient blond fuzz to constitute a droopy moustache and chin beard. He wore rimless round glasses, baggy khaki pants, black running shoes with Day-Glo green trim, a stingily collared plaid shirt open at the neck, and a ribbon of leather tie that ended several inches above his belt. His hand gripped mine like a vapour lock.
'Hello, Dr. D.'
Josh had grown to lanky middle size, the teen-idol cuteness solidifying to masculine good looks: shiny black curls trimmed in a neat cap, a valance of heavy lash over large hazel eyes, chin square, strong, and perfectly cleft, skin seemingly poreless. He was dressed mainline preppy: cuffed flannel trousers, dirty bucks, button-down shirt collar peeking out over a maroon crew-neck sweater. I remembered him as one of those fortunate creatures blessed with looks, brains, and charm, and seemingly devoid of self-doubt, but this morning he looked tense.
He forced a smile and said, 'It's great to see you again. The smile faded. 'Too bad it has to be under these circumstances.'
David nodded in agreement. 'Incomprehensible.'
I asked them to sit, and they slumped down across from me.
'It is incomprehensible,' I said. 'I'm hoping you guys can help me make some sense of it.'
Josh frowned. 'When Dr. Flowers told us you wanted to meet with us to learn more about Jamey, we realised how little we knew about him, how much he'd chosen to distance himself from the group.'
