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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] got the story from Margaret, he would be calling around, trying to find out where Rita had contacted him from. "I'll get it," Sandy said, crossing the room. She picked up the receiver. "Hello? . . . Oh, Eric, hi. What's up? . . . No, why? . . . she did? . . . You're kidding! . . . Oh, my God, is she all right? . . ." The gist of the conversation was clear from Sandy's responses. Had she seen or heard anything of Rita? Rita had called Eric last night and again just now, but wouldn't say from where. Eric then went on to relate the story, which Sandy of course had to listen through to be credible. She ended by assuring Eric that she'd let him know if they heard anything. "The things I do for friends," Sandy sighed after she'd hung up. "I won't forget it," Rita promised. Bruce finished putting on his coat. "Anything you two need while I'm out?" he asked Rita and Jarrow. "I guess it would probably be better if you stayed inside." "I could use some cigarettes," Rita replied. The few that Bruce had found hadn't lasted the previous evening. "How about a paper?" Jarrow said. "There might be something about last night." "I'll see to it," Sandy told them. "I've got to go out myself in a few minutes anyhow do a few things and take the Wretch out for some air." "Okay, take care." Bruce kissed her lightly and turned to the door. "See you later." He left, and they heard the front door close out in the hallway. Page 100 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html "You go ahead if you want," Rita told Sandy. "I can clear up in here." Sandy grinned. "You're just jumpy for a cigarette, right?" "Right." Sandy hauled Alice out of the baby chair and wiped off the worst of the morning's devastations. "Okay. We shouldn't be more than half an hour. I need to stock up on a few groceries. Anything in particular you'd like?" Jarrow took out a couple of twenties and held them out to her without asking. "Here's a contribution. We're not asking for a free hotel." "What are you talking about?" Sandy protested. "I don't want that. You're friends of the family, for chrissakes." "But I'm not," Jarrow reminded her. Sandy and Rita caught each other's eye in a brief hiatus. Rita pursed her lips silently and looked down at the table. "Okay, we're not proud." Sandy took the bills and nodded appreciatively. "Thanks, Dick. It'll be a big help." Sandy picked up Alice again and carried her out to the hallway, where she unfolded a stroller from its storage space by the closet. "Winston," Rita called after her, to remind her of the brand. "Got it." Sandy closed the door and began the routine that she was sure she went through at least a thousand times every week of buttoning, buckling, and tying Alice into a panoply of quilted pants, coat, bonnet, furry boots, mittens, and restraining straps that would have defied Houdini. In the kitchen, Jarrow refilled his mug and raised his eyebrows at Rita. She nodded, and he poured her another too. "We didn't exactly get a chance to find out much about each other yesterday," he said. Rita added a spoonful of sugar and stirred it in. "I can't imagine why not." "You seem to know something about official data -networks." "Right, that's what I do." Page 101 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html "You said something about having a government job." "I'm just a clerk with the state Economic Coordination Bureau here. That's why I moved back into the city when you . . . when Tony disappeared. We process the permits that companies get limiting production of indexed materials to conform to the quota assignments from the Resource Allo-cation Agency. I'm with a section called Petroleum-Derived Plastics. So it doesn't matter how much a customer's prepared to pay for, you can't ship more than our people say. Guess why Bruce doesn't have a job." "You don't sound as if you approve," Jarrow commented. "It started as part of what was supposed to change indus-try into putting service to the public good in place of private profit," Rita said. "Well, that's a pretty desirable thing to strive for, isn't it?" "I don't know, is it? Is that what you teach the kids?" "I teach them what ought to be obvious to anyone: that industrial activity is basically damaging and polluting, and anything beyond the minimum that we have to put up with should be discouraged," Jarrow replied stiffly. He didn't like the undertone in her voice, which sounded mocking, nor did he like being cross-examined by somebody who still came across as half his age, however different it might look physically. "But that isn't how it works," Rita said. "There's still a lot of profit to be made from giving out the permits. And I'm talking about private profit. When you can close down a billion-dollar plant, you make friends real easy." "That would be illegal," Jarrow objected. Rita laughed delightedly. "I don't believe this." Jarrow's face tightened defensively. Rita laid a restraining hand on his arm. "Sorry, don't get me wrong. You seem like a nice enough person, but you buy all this brainwashing that they pump out. Nobody down here in the real world " The phone rang again and interrupted her. She swung her head away to look at it. "Don't answer it," Jarrow murmured, lowering his voice instinctively, as if it might catch his voice even while still on the hook. Rita looked back toward the door. "Has Sandy gone yet?" She got up from her chair just as the door opened and Sandy reappeared. "Okay, I heard it." A wail went up from beyond the door. "Go and keep an eye Page 102 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html on Wretch, or strangle her or something." "Sure," Rita said, and hurried out. The wailing abated. Sandy picked up the phone. "Hello? . . . Yes it is. Who's this?" She frowned as she listened. Then her eyes widened. Her expression changed suddenly, and she looked unconsciously at Jarrow with a confused, fearful expression. "No, I can't. He's dead. He was killed in an accident." Jarrow, startled, set down his mug and waited tensely. Sandy shook her head as she listened. "But, that's impossible. . . . I'm sorry, I can't help you." She listened some more, than nodded. "All right, if I do. One moment." She unhooked a tethered pen from its clip on the wall and pulled over the memo pad lying on top of the refrigerator. "Okay. . . . Yes, I said I would, if I hear anything, Good-bye." She hung up and stood staring down at what she had written. "What is it?" Jarrow asked. Sandy looked up bemusedly. "It was a woman she didn't give any name. Said she wanted to get in touch with Tony Demiro. She understood we were friends of his. I told her he was dead. She said that was impossible, because she saw him two days ago in Atlanta. There's a number here to call if I hear anything." Jarrow took the pad from her hand and looked at it. The number meant nothing to him. "But there was more to it than that," Sandy said. "Something in her voice, I could tell. It wasn't just a casual -inquiry. She knew." * * * Jarrow's main concern was that despite their precautions, they had been traced, somehow, to Bruce and Sandy's. He could only conclude ruefully that his ideas on how to lose tails left a lot to be desired. "We have to get away from here," he said to Bruce and Sandy when they talked things over after Bruce was back. "This isn't your problem. You've already done more than enough, and you've got other considerations to worry about. It'll be best all around if we just go now, and don't give any leads." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |