Part 38 (1/2)
She began to think again. ”Isn't it a little dangerous? I mean, I presume JFU will have to be notified of our application. Then Berrington will know where the list is. And he'll get to it before we do.”
”d.a.m.n, you're right. Let me tell him that.”
A moment later another voice came on the phone. ”Dr. Ferrami, this is Runciman Brewer, we're on a conference link with Steve now. Where exactly is this data?”
”In my desk drawer, on a floppy disk marked SHOPPING.LST.”
”We can apply for access to your office without specifying what we're looking for.”
”Then I think they might just wipe everything off my computer and all my disks.”
”I just don't have a better idea.”
Steve said: ”What we need is a burglar.”
Jeannie said: ”Oh, my G.o.d.”
”What?”
Daddy.
The lawyer said: ”What is it, Dr. Ferrami?”
”Can you hold off on this court application?” Jeannie said.
”Yes. We probably couldn't get rolling before Monday, anyway. Why?”
”I just had an idea. Let me see if I can work it out. If not, we'll go down the legal road next week. Steve?”
”Still here.”
”Call me later.”
”You bet.”
Jeannie hung up.
Daddy could get into her office.
He was at Patty's house now. He was broke, so he wasn't going anywhere. And he owed her. Oh, boy, did he owe her.
If she could find the third twin Steve would be cleared. And if she could prove to the world what Berrington and his friends had done in the seventies, maybe she would get her job back.
Could she ask her father to do this? It was against the law. He could end up in jail if things went wrong. He took that risk constantly, of course; but this time it would be her fault.
She told herself they would not get caught.
The doorbell rang. She lifted the handset. ”Yes.”
”Jeannie?”
It was a familiar voice. ”Yes,” she said. ”Who's this?”
”Will Temple.”
”Will?”
”I sent you two E-mails, didn't you get them?”
What the h.e.l.l was Will Temple doing here? ”Come in,” she said, and she pressed the b.u.t.ton.
He came up the stairs wearing tan chinos and a navy blue polo s.h.i.+rt. His hair was shorter, and although he still had the fair beard she had loved so much, instead of growing wild and bushy it was now a neatly trimmed goatee. The heiress had tidied him up.
She could not bring herself to let him kiss her cheek; he had hurt her too badly. She put out her hand to shake. ”This is a surprise,” she said. ”I haven't been able to retrieve my E-mail for a couple of days.”
”I'm attending a conference in Was.h.i.+ngton,” he said. ”I rented a car and drove out here.”
”Want some coffee?”
”Sure.”
”Have a seat.” She put fresh coffee on.
He looked around. ”Nice apartment.”
”Thanks.”
”Different.”
”You mean different from our old place.” The living room of their apartment in Minneapolis had been a big, untidy s.p.a.ce full of overstuffed couches and bicycle wheels and tennis rackets and guitars. This room was pristine by comparison. ”I guess I reacted against all that clutter.”
”You seemed to like it at the time.”
”I did. Things change.”
He nodded, and changed the subject. ”I read about you in the New York Times. New York Times. That article was bulls.h.i.+t.” That article was bulls.h.i.+t.”
”It's done it for me, though. I was fired today.”
”No!”
She poured coffee and sat opposite him and told him the story of the hearing. When she had finished he said: ”This guy Steve-are you serious about him?”
”I don't know. I have an open mind.”
”You're not dating?”