'I've got to get that.' She pushed him slowly back through the door, then closed it in a state of shock. There was a sec ond knock on the front door. 'Just a minute,' she called out. Now she leaned against the inner door to talk with Michael, wanting him to understand. 'God, Michael, I'm sorry. That was my fault. I am so sorry. Someone is supposed to have self-control and that's me and I apologize for leading you on. I'll be back.'
Then she hoisted her panties, ran to the closet and found her robe, took her laundry, ran to the door, and missed the phone call. As she guessed, the nice young man came for her laundry in reply to an earlier request. Once that was taken care of, she returned to the inner door to Michael's room. The phone rang. It was Michael.
'No worries,' he said. 'The customs are different here. I know we are supposed to eat and have romantic talk first.'
'No,' she said. 'We don't have to eat first. You have to know some things about me first and I have to know some things about you. But it's okay. Everything is cool. I have a robe on now and I'll tie your tie.'
She figured this was like riding a horse-if you fell off, you had to get back on quick. The longer she waited, the more awkward it would become.
When she opened the door, she was determined to act as if nothing were amiss, so she reached up to take his tie and began again. Standing close, she once again had the over powering urge to mold herself to his body, but she managed to show none of it. Nearly breathing a sigh of relief when she had completed the job, she sent him to his room, showered, then went to her closet and found herself pondering which of the few outfits would impress a man from the Amazon. Then she reminded herself that her purpose was to help protect him, not to impress him. She stared at herself in the mirror, wondering what she was about. She knew herself well and realized that a good portion of her brain was currently given over to female plotting that even she didn't understand. Amazing, given that Gaudet probably had people in New York who would kill her to get to Michael.
She had to get him out of New York. The only complicat ing factor was the journals and Michael could come back to Ithaca for those-if and when they arrived. Fortunately, Michael had revealed a goal similar to hers. Now it was time for her to seal the deal.
She called Michael and said she might be up to twenty minutes late for dinner. Then she called her on-again, off- again boyfriend in LA, thinking she might break it off. But as they talked, she considered how abrupt this was; she was excited but uncertain; then she thought of Sam's self-control. After a newsy chat she followed her habit and said, 'I love you' to a boyfriend whom she no longer loved, then hung up.
It took Michael only a few minutes to put on a sport coat and tie. As he waited, he felt an acute sense of embarrass ment and tried hard to get his composure so that he could pretend that what just happened never happened. Like men everywhere, he needed something to distract himself while he waited for the lady. Picking up one of his science journals, he read about a newly discovered painkiller that was one thousand times more effective than morphine and de rived from one of the five hundred or so molecules that make up the deadly toxin of the cone snail. People with chronic- pain syndrome were being freed from their misery, and there were few things, other than Grady, that he could think of that were more exciting. The drug was called Ziconotide. At the moment he needed something like that, only effective in killing the sex drive, which at this point was becoming a form of pain.
Grady had encouraged him to look the part with his editor, although for him that meant his jungle clothes. He suspected that the traditional business garb was because she wanted him to blend in with the street crowd, but he didn't argue. Eventually she emerged from her room looking like the mod els he had seen in American magazines. She wore a black knit dress with an eye-catching plunge at the neckline. It cer tainly did not hide her figure. Michael was aware that deep within their brain Homo sapiens had programmed certain body ratios that were associated with fertility. Males seemed to equate this hourglass configuration with mating behavior and, in fact, found it quite inspirational in that regard. Clearly, the dress fully retained his sense of inspiration.
Just as he was about to walk out the door, the phone rang. It was Rebecca.
'Looking forward to seeing you tonight and tomorrow,' she said.
'We are about ready to leave.'
'I wanted to mention, a man was here looking for you today. He left you a letter, said he was a fellow scientist and that it was urgent. He asked if there was any way I could get in touch with you. I think he thought you were probably still in the Amazon, although I'm not sure about that. I told him I thought I might have a rare opportunity to get you on the phone and said no more.'
'Good. My friend Grady is convincing me that we must not tell people that I am in New York. Bring the letter to din ner tonight if you have it. Did the man leave a name?'
'Yes. He did. Although he wanted assurance that I would give his name to no one but you and I assured him of that. It's all quite mysterious.'
'Who is he?'
'Georges Raval.'
Grady took charge of the taxis. With them in the taxi were Yodo and one other. Their entourage followed in second and third taxis.
When they entered the taxi, she sat close and for a mo ment put her hand over his. The warmth of it traveled through his body.
'Won't it be exciting when you can get started on your work?'
'I want so bad to get back to it. And to spend some time in a new place.'
'Do you know where?'
'The mountains of the Pacific Northwest, maybe. There's an almost unspoiled block of wilderness there. Well, more than one. This one's near the Salmon and Klamath rivers.'
'Maybe you can satisfy Sam's concerns and get started on your work all at once,' she said, and looked at him squarely for the first time since entering the taxi. 'Maybe…'
'Yes?'
'Maybe it would be good to go there soon.'
'You want me to do what Sam wants.'
'I want you to do what you want. But not to die trying.'
Her body was next to his and her thigh was touching his for its full length and he could sense that they both wanted the same thing.
Then his cell phone rang.
'I have your journals,' Dr. Lyman said.
'Oh, thank goodness. Thanks for calling. You made my evening. I'll be right back to you. Will this number work for my return call?'
'It'll work. Be here for half an hour.'
'Grady, I need to talk with you now, in private.'
'Sure. Driver, could you pull over for just a minute?'
They got out onto the curb and Michael drew her away from a nervous-looking Yodo.
'You have to make a choice. I'm going to be honest with you and I expect you to be honest with me.'
'Okay.'
'My journals are at Ithaca. I'm going alone, unless you want to come. Nobody else.'
'That's crazy.'
'No, it's not. Two of us won't be noticed. This looks like a president's motorcade.'
'I see. We'll dress and act like nobodies and pull in driving an old Chevy. Sam will never go for it.'
'It's not up to him where I'm concerned. I guess you would be different.'
'Let me ask one thing. If I go with you and we get the jour nals, can we meet the bodyguards on the way back and then lock the journals up in a vault, except for what you need?'
Michael thought about that for a moment. He sensed he needed to give her something or he would end up going alone.
'Okay. We meet the guards halfway between New York and Ithaca.'
'I'll call Sam.'
Michael shook his head and chuckled. 'Always Sam.'
A letter had come from Gaudet. After locking the door to his office, Baptiste removed it from the envelope. The mo ment he had found it in his residential mailbox, he had stud ied it, trying to determine its authenticity. He did not note this letter on any incoming-mail log nor did he make a copy for any file:
