side of her head.
'Ambulance!' he shouted. 'Ambulance!'
From the crowd came a soft voice: 'Do you need anything?'
Sam couldn't respond. He thought perhaps he was weeping but wasn't sure.
Sam sat in a waiting area while they did the surgery. There had been flurries of activity around Anna since she ar rived at the hospital, and mostly he couldn't get closer than about ten feet. Anna's mother, Carol, had come, but she had ignored him; obviously, there was an issue with her where he was concerned. Although he had begun explaining to her that he and Anna were to be married, Carol was like a cor nered animal in her determination to hide from the truth. When he saw the pain and the fear in her eyes, he backed off and explained that he had been with Anna and that it was im portant that he stay with her at least until things stabilized. Carol had the durable power of attorney for health care and Sam was not consulted as to Anna's treatment. At the moment that was all right because he had satisfied himself that Dr. Prince, the attending neurosurgeon, was very competent and that Anna's mother truly cared for her.
Sam had made it a point to befriend the nurses-one in particular, named Lydia. He told her briefly that he was Anna's security man, that he and Anna were great friends, and that he had even grown to love her. He did not explain about the engagement or that Anna had returned his affec tion. Given Anna's high-profile life, he explained that he was very vulnerable to the press and that it would be a great kindness if she told no one. Normally, he would have expected the nurse to talk, but this woman was serious, not given to careless gossip when it came to her duties, and he knew she would keep silent. She would be an ally. Even if the woman let it slip, he had to conduct himself as though Anna would live and, therefore in her own time, Anna would announce their love to the world. His anonymity would be gone forever. It would be a great and wonderful new beginning, but if possible, it was something he and Anna should do together.
Exhaustion had set in for Sam, probably from resisting the depression. Sam needed to sit and experience his misery so that he could eventually escape it. But there was no time. It wasn't as if someone else could take over and carry on the work of stopping Gaudet. Anna lay in a coma and it seemed that if he could sit at her bedside, he might help her to get better. It was a torturous conflict whether to devote himself completely to the one, or try to save the many.
He took a moment to call his mother. Sometimes she was more Talth spiritual leader than pyschologist, sometimes more psychologist than Talth, but she was always Mother.
First he explained that Anna was pregnant, then what had happened, and that he was all right save for his weary sor row. Of course he blamed himself. He should have had Anna surrounded with security so that a bullet could not have gotten to her. It was stupid to even be with her while he was fighting Gaudet and protecting Bowden. He should have made her see that. He told his mother all of this.
'I will go to Universe Rock and make prayers.'
'I am trying to stop the man I told you about. I believe he has a very dangerous technology that could be used against many people. I don't know what he is doing with it.'
'This is the man that you have been hunting?'
'Yes, this is the one.'
'And you are sure he will hurt many. Kill many people?'
'I believe that, yes. I am convinced, although I don't have the proof yet.'
'Even Anna might suffer if he is not stopped?'
'Yes. Definitely.'
'But you have fallen in love and she needs you,' Spring reminded him.
'Yes.'
'Who else is with her?'
'Her mother. She doesn't much like me, but she is a good woman.'
'She doesn't know you. You are uncertain about marriage?' she sincerely asked.
'I… I… don't think…' That one stumped Sam. 'I guess I'm not sure if I'm uncertain.' He could sense his mother's smile at that one.
'Anna has no Indian in her and I think it worries you that she will not accept you because you are Indian. Perhaps you question whether you will be good for her. You worry that you are not right for her world.'
'It's partly what I do for a living. Worry. I compare myself to Grandfather.'
'Grandfather's life force was very focused and it was focused on teaching young men and on understanding. Your life force is very focused as well.'
'Yes. It's focused on catching assholes being assholes. Perhaps that is why I can never be like him.'
'You can't conclude that you will never be like Grandfather. Each man has only so much he can give and he has to decide where he will give it,' Spring advised.
'My mother drops the whole load.'
'Normally, I would never drop the whole load as you put it, but you are on a cliff's face trying to decide which way to climb. You can't stop to cook a meal or build a house. This man you hunt kills your friends and your family and you are wondering… where has God gone… where is justice… and somehow you wonder if it is all because you haven't done it just right.'
'If I felt bad before, it's even worse now. But I don't think I'm a head case.'
'Your father killed himself and hid your heritage from you. And yet you are a very good man, a caring man, a strong man.' Spring was consoling her child.
'But a strange man.'
'You should know what you are up against. It is not just this evil fellow. It is what is inside you. I understand why you have called me. You need someone you respect to give you permission to leave Anna and to devote yourself to hunt ing this nemesis. You tell yourself that you are the only one that can do it. And it might be true. But maybe, you ask yourself, you are leaving her side because you are not strong enough to do the right thing. Many days from now, when Anna is better, and swollen with your child, when you look in her eyes and put your hand on her stomach… will you know that you did the right thing and will she know it too?' Spring counseled.
'That is what I don't know.' Sam lost it for a few minutes and then put himself back together.
Jean-Baptiste marveled at Benoit's self-assurance. Although he was on top, her legs were tightly gripping his thighs and her pelvis was perfectly fitted to his and she controlled the friction of their movements and the rhythm of their sex so that her excitation steadily mounted. Sweat from her belly felt good under his, and the strain and tension in her body had a sensuous quality that magnified his lust and it was all he could do not to climax as he observed her passion building. The woman was to sex as the Rolls-Royce was to automobiles. Then her breaths became very deep and her voice high pitched as she began to moan and mutter her incanta tion: 'In… in… in… in.'
Her back arched and she nearly screamed and it made him feel very much the bull man as he worked his way up to his own orgasm.
They were back in the Hotel International, back in the same room with the same pastries. For a moment he wondered if it was bugged and then dismissed the idea.
When she rolled off, he lay beside her, admiring her body and wondering at his good fortune while he tried to stifle the guilt. His life was becoming ever more confusing. He was a good public servant in the service of a government that was as soft as it was inept. He was a man of talent who had been passed over and now he was making sure that he was not entirely without good fortune. Like rules about monogamy and sex, which he was stretching some, he was also wreaking havoc with the rules of his profession. But it seemed necessary and not unlike the things done by other men who had escaped doormat status-a life spent under the boots of the arrogant and wealthy.
She went to shower, and even when he was spent she fascinated him. He sat on the toilet seat and watched her, still thrilling at the sight of her lithe body. He never had enough of looking. It was possible to watch by pulling back the edge of the shower curtain and he enjoyed the water pouring over her skin and the droplets beading over her.
'So, tell me about Gaudet. What will he do after Cordyceps?'
'Plastic surgery. I'm sure he already has the new identity and no one really knows the old one. I know what he looks like, but that is about it.'
'What will it be like when I meet him?'
