Part 9 (1/2)

”But how did he know enough to look for the names of women customers from McClaren's files?”

”I told him.”

Walker's irritation was beginning to come into his voice. ”But how did you know?”

”It was the way she opened bank accounts and bought stuff when the million two disappeared. I had him run the twenty-five or so in the files who were the best matches: about the right age and s.e.x.” He paused. ”You know, if you carry life insurance, auto, and home owner's with one company, you get a big break on the rates, so-”

”I know that,” Walker interrupted. ”The company knows everything about you-birthday, family, jobs, social security number, credit records, physical exams, driving records. That's what I do for a living, remember? I use that information.”

Stillman shrugged. ”So did she.”

”And so did Gochay?”

Stillman smiled. ”Now you're catching up.”

”That's illegal,” said Walker. ”All of it is illegal.”

Stillman sighed. ”That's why he doesn't come cheap. You can't pay pocket change and expect people to commit felonies for you.” He finished his drink and stared at the gla.s.s regretfully before he set it down. ”She's not alone.”

”What?”

”She's not traveling alone,” said Stillman. ”I thought you might like to know that.”

Walker shrugged in irritation. ”If you're trying to say I wasn't good enough for her, I knew that before you showed up.”

”n.o.body would be. It's two guys.” He stared at his papers again. ”Or I think it is. Constantine looked to see if there was anybody whose reservations corresponded exactly with hers-same check-in and check-out in more than one city. To his surprise, there were two. Every place she went, there were two men checked into an adjoining room.”

”I'm amazed,” said Walker.

”Of course, the other possibility when you have two guys is that they're keeping an eye on her. She could be doing this against her will.” He picked up the doughnut bag. ”Well, got to go. I've got to get us both to the airport early tomorrow.” He headed for the door, and Walker expected him to stop and say something else. But he stepped out and closed the door behind him. A few seconds later, Walker heard another door down the hall close.

Walker sat in the silence of the strange room and stared at the wall. He thought about Ellen. He brought back the quiet, friendly way she talked. She was pretty, but that had only been what had made him notice her, and it seemed irrelevant now. His memory couldn't hold her in stasis so he could study her features. She was moving, talking, and he supposed it was her direct, pleasant manner that had attracted him. It had somehow also given him the notion that an invitation of some kind would not be scorned. If she didn't want to go, she would simply say so. He had asked her to dinner at Scarlitti's and thought his guess was confirmed. She had said, ”I'd like that. I don't know anybody up here, and it will give us a chance to talk.”

Kennedy had said something to him after training cla.s.s one day that had puzzled him. He had said, ”What do you make of Ellen Snyder?”

Walker had answered, ”Make of her? I like her. She's always pleasant and friendly. Great smile, too.”

Kennedy had smirked and cupped his hand beside his mouth to call, ”h.e.l.lo? She's in sales.”

”What do you mean?”

”She's been training herself to sell insurance policies. Am I getting through to anybody in there?”

”So she's not going to kill somebody to get a desk in the main office. This means she's insincere when she says 'Hi'?”

”It means she knows she's good at making people like her and making them think she likes them just as much. If they believe that, then they'll like her even more, and pretty soon they're writing a check. She's using us to sharpen her skills: we're her tackling dummies.”

The dinner had been full of things to think about. The evening had begun with a certain promise. He had been pleased when he had smelled a hint of perfume and seen that her makeup was different-the lips redder, a little blush on the cheeks, and eye shadow. He had interpreted those changes as having been intended for him, as indications that she liked him and wanted to show him. No, he remembered, he had made more of it than that. He had decided that she was declaring a change in their relations.h.i.+p. He had seen that she wore flat heels and sweaters for business, so how could the dress, high heels, and perfume not be messages?

The conversation had been full of moments when he had thought he sensed something unusual happening. They had both talked about themselves more openly than he would have expected, because when one of them stopped, the other would ask another question that prompted the next set of revelations. It was as though each of them were a series of doors leading inward. Each question was a knock on the next door. The one inside would hesitate for a moment, then decide to make an exception and let the visitor in one more door-just one more.

Her revelations about the past were as unmemorable as his: a family far away that was more remarkable to her than to anyone else, a childhood and adolescence that had been embarra.s.singly free of serious obstacles. There were big differences in their thoughts about the next twenty years of their lives, but he had noted them without alarm. She had grand strategies. He didn't believe in the efficacy of grand strategies, but he was interested in them, and enjoyed hearing about hers.

When he had left her at her apartment she had lingered at the security gate at the front entrance and thanked him simply and warmly. He had wondered if she was waiting for a kiss, or if it was the furthest idea from her mind and she would think he was soph.o.m.oric to do the sort of thing that high school kids did instead of what grown-up business colleagues did ...whatever that was. By the time he had reached the conclusion that since he wanted to kiss her, the only sane and logical course was to try, the opportunity had expired. She was chirping an energetic ”Good night” and closing the gate behind her. He had replied, ”Night,” turned on his heel, and taken himself off.

A couple of days later, he really had asked her to the concert, and she really had refused, just as he had told Stillman. When she had refused, he had looked back on their first date differently. The makeup and perfume and the little dress and shoes had been brought out because it was evening, not because she was interested in seducing him. Her conversation had not been intimate, just open: free of paranoia or guile. She had asked questions about his life because she was interested in life, not because she was interested in John Walker. He decided he had been foolish, but only mildly foolish. He had offered his company in a polite and friendly way, and she had just as politely declined. Maybe she had given him a hint in her conversation that he had missed. The twenty-year plan she had described had not included any time or s.p.a.ce that John Walker could imagine he might occupy.

But after the exam she had made a special effort to corner him and talk to him. He remembered it exactly. They had come out of the exam at six, and he had taken the elevator to the lobby alone and found her waiting at the door. ”That was so easy,” she moaned. He had shrugged and said carefully, ”I guess we shouldn't complain.” But she had persisted, staying with him as he walked into the lower level of the parking garage, making no attempt to veer off to where her car was parked. ”But I spent half the night studying when I could have been listening to the Third Horn Concerto. What a dope. Next time remind me.”

He had pondered that conversation for two days, hearing over and over the words ”next time.” She had not been telling him to leave her alone: she really had wanted to study. He decided that he might have just received a lesson about communicating with women. Maybe sometimes when they said something they weren't delivering an encoded subtext. The words meant to them exactly what they meant to him. On the third day, while he was still formulating theories and comparing them to her behavior, she settled the issue. She walked up to him before cla.s.s and said she had bought two tickets to the next concert in the series.

After that he had studied her with an intensity that he had never applied to anything in his life. She was different. She seemed to read him accurately, know what he was thinking without spending time at it, and never be surprised at what she knew. They had been thrown together more and more by the odd circ.u.mstance that they were doing exactly the same things at the same times each day-even having the same thoughts, as they listened to the instructors in the training cla.s.ses and committed to memory the various aspects of the business. But when they were alone together, they seldom needed to talk about the work. They saw each other as relief, a corrective to the insurance business. Before long, they were together nearly every night.

Their only argument had been about s.e.x. One night, after about a month, they had walked back to her apartment after a movie, and he had kissed her as usual and started to leave. She had looked at her watch and said, ”It's not that late, and tomorrow's Sat.u.r.day. Come in.” She had not looked to see whether he was coming, just unlocked the gate and closed it after him, then led him to her apartment, closed the door, and kissed him again without turning on the light. They had stayed there for a long time, in deep leisurely kisses as his hands moved, beginning to trace the shape of her body. Then, a sudden concern held him back. He had paused because he could not see her face, and he had begun to worry that maybe he was moving faster than she wanted to.

He tried to formulate the difficult, uncomfortable question he knew he was supposed to ask. ”Do you want to-”

”Cut it out,” she said sharply.

He had released her and stepped back.

Her voice had been annoyed. ”Not that.” He had tentatively reached for her, but she backed away too. ”Too late. Now we have to go through it. I know how that got started. It's those stupid student codes. I'm always amazed that it got to be hammered into all of our brains at every high school and college in the country, until everybody's afraid.”

”Sorry,” he said. ”I didn't think you'd be offended if I asked before ...” He wasn't sure how he wanted to phrase the rest of it, so he left it unsaid.

She let out a breath in frustration. ”I'm not offended, I'm resentful. You've been warned that if you don't stop right at this point and make me give my clear and affirmative declaration, then you're going to be a criminal. You must know I'm in a situation where I'm trying to fight a lot of shyness and nervousness anyway-I'm afraid you're going to think I'm fat or ugly or something-and this makes it worse. It forces me to go through a conversation that's much more embarra.s.sing than letting you see me naked could possibly be.”

”I'm sorry,” Walker said. ”I thought you expected it, or I wouldn't have said it.” He put his arm around her.

She pulled away and said, ”Expecting it isn't the term. I was waiting in dread for it.”

”I don't like it either,” he said. ”But I'm not sure that I disagree with the idea that people should have a chance to think and decide whether they want to do something important.”

She shook her head. ”That's so insulting. This issue didn't just get invented and sprung on us out of the blue, did it? We've been together practically every minute for a month. What did you think I was doing all this time? I was getting used to you, and making that decision. You decided on the day I asked you to go to the concert.”

His brow furrowed. ”You knew that?”

”Of course I knew,” she said. ”You really wanted to before, but you were being cautious and responsible. You knew this was not a smart thing for either of us to do, but at that point you decided it wouldn't do any lasting harm to either of us. It just took me longer to be sure you were right. You've been patient and thoughtful and all that, and I appreciate it. That's part of why everybody immediately sees that you're the real thing.”

He stepped closer. ”Is that good or bad?”

”It's great,” she said. ”Stop trying so hard. Your impulses are good: we're allowed to want s.e.x.”

He had held her close and started to kiss her again, but once more she pulled back. ”Not yet.”

”I thought-”

”That was advice for your future,” she said. ”This time it's too late. So here goes: I am a mentally competent person, over twenty-one years old. I am not under duress, have received no threat of violence or loss of income. Although John Walker and I are employed by one company, to wit McClaren Life and Casualty, neither of us serves in a supervisory capacity over the other, or expects to do so in the future-or even to be a.s.signed to the same city. I have not consumed any alcoholic beverages or mind-altering substances. Having given it due consideration, I have decided to accede to John Walker's stated wish-which I liked better implied rather than stated-that I have s.e.xual intercourse with him. I give him permission to get on with it, and let me go back to being a little more pa.s.sive, which is the way I will feel most comfortable tonight. In so doing, I do not give up any vested rights, including the right to revoke permission at my sole discretion and without notice.”

She put her arms around his neck, raised her face to look into his eyes and asked, ”Now do you feel better?” He had hesitated, and she had brought her lips up to his. ”In a minute you will.”