Part 16 (1/2)
”Thank you. And I promise I'll be most discreet.”
A little while later, on the way back to his office, Crane smiled. Now maybe that self-important little son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h, Taber, would find out what it meant to insult a United States Senator.
From there, his mind went to another insult. So they'd pa.s.sed him up in forming the committee to hear about the d.a.m.ned androids, had they? Well, by G.o.d, he'd show them the people of his state wouldn't tolerate that, either.
The people back home were going to hear about their Senator.
It probably wouldn't even be necessary to campaign next year.
7
”If you've changed your mind about anything--about us, maybe--just say so. I'll understand.” Frank Corson felt he had to make this point--at this particular time. There was something inevitable in the need to do so.
”You're being ridiculous. The old thing about money again,” Rhoda parried.
”There's nothing old about money. The problem is ever new. It's always with us.”
Rhoda Kane wanted to cry. She sat on the floor beside the sofa on which Frank Corson lay, his hands behind his head, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. She wanted to say, _Darling, what's happened to me? What is this thing inside me that keeps blocking me away from you? Why can't I tell you about it?_
But she could not say this. She could only push the tears back and lay her head seductively on his chest. ”You're just tired, dear. You've been working too hard.”
He ran his hand petulantly through her hair. ”It isn't me. It's you, Rhoda. Half the time you don't even realize I'm talking to you. You're getting such a faraway look in your eyes I'm beginning to think there's another man.”
”That's silly,” she said lightly. ”Let me make you a drink.”
”I don't want a drink.”
The way he responded to her kiss indicated he didn't want to make love, either. Rhoda settled back to the floor and said, ”Darling--”
Suddenly she couldn't go on. Somewhere inside, a dam broke; the strange, bewildering block tottered and began to fall. ”Darling--there's something I want to tell you--”
Frank Corson indicated with a jerk of his head. ”The phone's ringing.”
”Let it ring. Darling, I--”
”For heaven's sake, answer it, Rhoda. It might be important.”
She got up, went to the phone and picked it up. ”h.e.l.lo.”
”This is John Dennis.”
She felt that frightening excitement again--that feeling of dangerous delight at something forbidden. ”Yes?”
”Do you remember what I told you to do?”
”Yes.”
”Has it been done?”