that you’re a creep, honey. I just had to say something to shake your ma up a bit.” Penny gave me a shy glance and showed me a flash of stainless steel in a wary, meaningless smile. Having mended my fences there, I hoped, I turned at last to look at the woman.
It was kind of a shock. I mean, the buildup had been terrific. This was the woman who’d betrayed her husband with a man of unsavory political associations, who’d stolen for him documents, as she thought, of national importance, and who—it was still perfectly possible— might well have sloshed concentrated sulfuric acid into another man’s face and, when he was helpless, killed him. It was only natural to expect a pretty far-out female, either an unpredictable featherweight neurotic or a dark figure of mystery and evil—something on the order of a vampire lady with slanting eyes and a sinister smile.
Instead there was just a tallish, nicely proportioned, healthy-looking, pretty woman with, so help me, freckles. I mean, real, all-over freckles, not just a faint, fashionable dusting across the bridge of the nose. Her hair was dark brown with reddish glints, and her face... well, I’ve already said she was pretty. This is considered a crime in some quarters, where a woman is either beautiful or she’s nothing.
Genevieve Drilling wasn’t beautiful. You didn’t want to hang her on a wall and admire her as a work of art. She was just a damn pretty woman, and you wanted to say something to make her smile, for a start. Once you got her smiling at you, other ideas would doubtless occur to you unless, of course, your heart was set on a vision of pure and perfect loveliness—or unless you were, as I was supposed to be, a dedicated agent whose singleminded devotion to duty was impervious to temptations of any kind.
Well, I didn’t have her smiling at me yet, far from it. She was watching me with cool dislike.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“David P. Clevenger, ma’am,” I said. “The P stands for Prescott, but I don’t use it much.”
“Indeed?” she said. “That’s very interesting. What do you do, Mr. Prescott Clevenger? To be specific, what are you doing here? Besides molesting young girls, I mean.”
I glanced around. “I didn’t lest a single mo, did I, honey? All I did was tell you I had a message from your pa. Isn’t that right?”
The kid on the bed didn’t say anything. She just put her glasses back on her small nose so she could see me clearly. Genevieve Drilling said, “We’re not interested in messages from my husband.”
I said, “I hear you say it, ma’am. I don’t hear her.”
The woman’s gray-green eyes narrowed. “You sound as if you thought I was intimidating... Penny’s here of her own free will, aren’t you, darling? She’s made her choice. You can tell my husband that.”
I said, “I can remember some choices I made in my teens, that I’m damn glad now were overruled by higher authority.”
Genevieve Drilling said, “Penny and I understand each other. You go right ahead and deliver my husband’s message, Mr. Clevenger, if it will reassure you. I’m surprised he’d allow himself to be distracted from his work long enough to send one, I really am. Both Penny and I were under the distinct impression he’d forgotten that we existed. Well, what does he want?”
“He wants her,” I said.
I was aware of the kid stirring slightly behind me. I didn’t look that way. I had no idea what Dr. Herbert Drilling really wanted. Maybe children, even his own, just bored him. He sounded as if he might be that kind of a man.
“Just her?” Genevieve said challengingly. “Not me?”
“Nothing was said about you, ma’am.”
“Well, that figures,” she said dryly. “He always did consider me the only mistake of an otherwise perfectly planned life. Is that all he wants?”
I glanced at her innocently. “Probably not, ma’am, but that’s all of his wants I’m concerned with. I gather the U.S. government is
It was kind of a shock. I mean, the buildup had been terrific. This was the woman who’d betrayed her husband with a man of unsavory political associations, who’d stolen for him documents, as she thought, of national importance, and who—it was still perfectly possible— might well have sloshed concentrated sulfuric acid into another man’s face and, when he was helpless, killed him. It was only natural to expect a pretty far-out female, either an unpredictable featherweight neurotic or a dark figure of mystery and evil—something on the order of a vampire lady with slanting eyes and a sinister smile.
Instead there was just a tallish, nicely proportioned, healthy-looking, pretty woman with, so help me, freckles. I mean, real, all-over freckles, not just a faint, fashionable dusting across the bridge of the nose. Her hair was dark brown with reddish glints, and her face... well, I’ve already said she was pretty. This is considered a crime in some quarters, where a woman is either beautiful or she’s nothing.
Genevieve Drilling wasn’t beautiful. You didn’t want to hang her on a wall and admire her as a work of art. She was just a damn pretty woman, and you wanted to say something to make her smile, for a start. Once you got her smiling at you, other ideas would doubtless occur to you unless, of course, your heart was set on a vision of pure and perfect loveliness—or unless you were, as I was supposed to be, a dedicated agent whose singleminded devotion to duty was impervious to temptations of any kind.
Well, I didn’t have her smiling at me yet, far from it. She was watching me with cool dislike.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“David P. Clevenger, ma’am,” I said. “The P stands for Prescott, but I don’t use it much.”
“Indeed?” she said. “That’s very interesting. What do you do, Mr. Prescott Clevenger? To be specific, what are you doing here? Besides molesting young girls, I mean.”
I glanced around. “I didn’t lest a single mo, did I, honey? All I did was tell you I had a message from your pa. Isn’t that right?”
The kid on the bed didn’t say anything. She just put her glasses back on her small nose so she could see me clearly. Genevieve Drilling said, “We’re not interested in messages from my husband.”
I said, “I hear you say it, ma’am. I don’t hear her.”
The woman’s gray-green eyes narrowed. “You sound as if you thought I was intimidating... Penny’s here of her own free will, aren’t you, darling? She’s made her choice. You can tell my husband that.”
I said, “I can remember some choices I made in my teens, that I’m damn glad now were overruled by higher authority.”
Genevieve Drilling said, “Penny and I understand each other. You go right ahead and deliver my husband’s message, Mr. Clevenger, if it will reassure you. I’m surprised he’d allow himself to be distracted from his work long enough to send one, I really am. Both Penny and I were under the distinct impression he’d forgotten that we existed. Well, what does he want?”
“He wants her,” I said.
I was aware of the kid stirring slightly behind me. I didn’t look that way. I had no idea what Dr. Herbert Drilling really wanted. Maybe children, even his own, just bored him. He sounded as if he might be that kind of a man.
“Just her?” Genevieve said challengingly. “Not me?”
“Nothing was said about you, ma’am.”
“Well, that figures,” she said dryly. “He always did consider me the only mistake of an otherwise perfectly planned life. Is that all he wants?”
I glanced at her innocently. “Probably not, ma’am, but that’s all of his wants I’m concerned with. I gather the U.S. government is
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