The Third Twin Part 27

Jim thought about it for a while. "I don't know-will that do it?"

"Sure. Look, she imagines she's stumbled on a biological anomaly. It's the kind of thing that could make a young scientist's career. She has no idea of what's underneath all this; she believes the university is just afraid of bad publicity. If she loses her job, she'll have no facilities to pursue her investigation, and no reason to stick to it. Besides, she'll be too busy looking for another job. I happen to know she needs money."

"Maybe you're right."

Berrington was suspicious. Jim was agreeing too readily. "You're not planning to do something on your own, are you?" he said.

Jim evaded the question. "Can you do that, can you get her fired?"

"Sure."

"But you told me Tuesday that it's a university, not the f.u.c.king army."

"That's true, you can't just yell at people and they do what you told them. But I've been in the academic world for most of the last forty years. I know how to work the machinery. When it's really necessary, I can get rid of an a.s.sistant professor without breaking a sweat."

"Okay."

Berrington frowned. "We're together on this, right, Jim?"

"Right."

"Okay. Sleep well."

"Good night."

Berrington hung up the phone. His chicken Provencal was cold. He dumped it in the trash and went to bed.

He lay awake for a long time, thinking about Jeannie Ferrami. At two A.M A.M. he got up and took a Dalmane. Then, at last, he went to sleep.

29.

IT WAS A HOT NIGHT IN P PHILADELPHIA. IN THE TENEMENT building, all the doors and windows were open: none of the rooms had air-conditioning. The sounds of the street floated up to apartment 5A on the top floor: car horns, laughter, s.n.a.t.c.hes of music. On a cheap pine desk, scratched and marked with old cigarette burns, a phone was ringing. building, all the doors and windows were open: none of the rooms had air-conditioning. The sounds of the street floated up to apartment 5A on the top floor: car horns, laughter, s.n.a.t.c.hes of music. On a cheap pine desk, scratched and marked with old cigarette burns, a phone was ringing.

He picked it up.

A voice like a bark said: "This is Jim."

"Hey, Uncle Jim, how are you?"

"I'm worried about you."

"How so?"

"I know what happened on Sunday night."

He hesitated, not sure how to reply. "They've arrested someone for that."

"But his girlfriend thinks he's innocent."

"So?"

"She's coming to Philadelphia tomorrow."

"What for?"

"I'm not sure. But I think she's a danger." "s.h.i.+t."

"You may want to do something about her."

"Such as?"

"It's up to you."

"How would I find her?"

"Do you know the Aventine Clinic? It's in your neighborhood."

"Sure, it's on Chestnut, I pa.s.s it every day."

"She'll be there at two P.M. P.M.."

"How will I know her?"

"Tall, dark hair, pierced nostril, about thirty."

"That could be a lot of women."

"She'll probably be driving an old red Mercedes."

"That narrows it down."

"Now, bear in mind, the other guy is out on bail." He frowned. "So what?"

"So, if she should meet with an accident, after she's been seen with you..."

"I get it. They'll a.s.sume it was him."

"You always were quick thinking, my boy."

He laughed. "And you always were mean thinking, Uncle."

"One more thing."

"I'm listening."

"She's beautiful. So enjoy."

"Bye, Uncle Jim. And thanks."

THURSDAY.

[image]

30.

JEANNIE HAD THE T THUNDERBIRD DREAM AGAIN.

The first part of the dream was something that really happened, when she was nine and her sister was six, and their father was-briefly-living with them. He was flush with money at the time (and it was not until years later that Jeannie realized he must have got it from a successful' robbery). He brought home a new Ford Thunderbird with a turquoise paint job and matching turquoise upholstery, the most beautiful car imaginable to a nine-year-old girl. They all went for a ride, Jeannie and Patty sitting in the front on the bench seat between Daddy and Mom. As they were cruising along the George Was.h.i.+ngton Memorial Parkway, Daddy put Jeannie on his lap and let her take the wheel.

In real life, she had steered the car into the fast lane and got a fright when a car that was trying to pa.s.s honked loudly and Daddy jerked the wheel and brought the Thunderbird back on track. But in the dream Daddy was no longer there, she was driving without help, and Mom and Patty sat quite unperturbed beside her even though they knew knew she couldn't see over the dashboard, and she just gripped the wheel tighter and tighter and tighter, waiting for the crash, while the other cars honked the doorbell at her louder and louder. she couldn't see over the dashboard, and she just gripped the wheel tighter and tighter and tighter, waiting for the crash, while the other cars honked the doorbell at her louder and louder.

She woke up with her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands and the insistent chime of her doorbell in her ears. It was six AM AM. She lay still for a moment, savoring the relief that washed over her from the realization that it was only a dream. Then she jumped out of bed and went to the entry phone. "h.e.l.lo?"

"It's Ghita, wake up and let me in."

Ghita lived in Baltimore and worked at FBI headquarters in Was.h.i.+ngton. She must be on her way to the office for an early start, Jeannie thought. She pressed the b.u.t.ton that opened the door.

Jeannie pulled on an oversize T-s.h.i.+rt that reached almost to her knees; it was decent enough for a girlfriend. Ghita came up the stairs, the picture of a fast-rising corporate executive in a navy linen suit, black hair cut in a bob, stud earrings, large lightweight gla.s.ses, New York Times New York Times under her arm. "What the h.e.l.l is going on?" Ghita said without preamble. under her arm. "What the h.e.l.l is going on?" Ghita said without preamble.

Jeannie said: "I don't know, I just woke up." This was going to be bad news, she could tell.

"My boss called me at home late last night and told me to have nothing more to do with you."

"No!" She needed the FBI results to show that her method worked, despite the puzzle of Steven and Dennis. "d.a.m.n! Did he say why?"

"Claimed your methods infringed people's privacy."

"Unusual for the FBI to worry about a little thing like that."

"It seems the New York Times New York Times feels the same way." Ghita showed Jeannie the newspaper. On the front page was an article headed feels the same way." Ghita showed Jeannie the newspaper. On the front page was an article headed GENE RESEARCH ETHICS:.

DOUBTS, FEARS AND A SQUABBLE.

Jeannie was afraid the "squabble" was a reference to her own situation, and she was right.

Jean Ferrami is a determined young woman. Against the wishes of her scientific colleagues and the president of Jones Falls University in Baltimore, Md., she stubbornly insists on continuing to scan medical records, looking for twins."I've got a contract," she says. "They can't give me orders." And doubts about the ethics of her work will not shake her resolve.

Jeannie had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. "My G.o.d, this is awful," she said.

The report then moved on to another topic, research on human embryos; and Jeannie had to turn to page nineteen before she found another reference to herself.

A new headache for college authorities has been created by the case of Dr. Jean Ferrami of the psychology department at Jones Falls. Although the university president, Dr. Maurice Obell, and leading psychologist Prof. Berrington Jones both agree her work is unethical, she refuses to stop-and there may be nothing they can do to compel her.

Jeannie read to the end, but the newspaper did not report her insistence that her work was ethically blameless. The focus was entirely on the drama of her defiance.

It was shocking and painful to be attacked this way. She felt hurt and outraged at the same time, the way she had when a thief had knocked her flying and s.n.a.t.c.hed her billfold in a supermarket in Minneapolis years ago. Even though she knew the reporter was malicious and unscrupulous, she was ashamed, as if she had really done wrong. And she felt exposed, held up to the scorn of the nation.

"I may have trouble finding anyone anyone who will let me scan a database now," she said despondently. "Do you want some coffee? I need something to cheer me up. Not many days start as badly as this." who will let me scan a database now," she said despondently. "Do you want some coffee? I need something to cheer me up. Not many days start as badly as this."

"I'm sorry, Jeannie, but I'm in trouble too, for getting the Bureau involved."

As Jeannie started the coffee machine, she was struck by a thought. "This article is unfair, but if your boss spoke to you last night, it can't have been the newspaper that prompted his call."

"Maybe he knew the article was coming."

"I wonder who tipped him off?"

"He didn't say exactly, but he told me he had had a phone call from Capitol Hill."

Jeannie frowned. "It sounds as if this is political. Why the h.e.l.l would a congressman or senator be interested enough in what I'm doing to tell the FBI not to work with me?"

"Maybe it was just a friendly warning from someone who knew about the article."

Jeannie shook her head. "The article doesn't mention the Bureau. n.o.body else knows I'm working on FBI files. I didn't even tell Berrington."

"I'll try to find out who the call came from."

Jeannie looked in her freezer. "Have you had breakfast? I have cinnamon buns."

"No, thanks."

"I guess I'm not hungry either." She closed the refrigerator door. She felt despairing. Was there nothing she could do? "Ghita, I don't suppose you could run my scan without your boss's knowledge?"

She did not have much hope that Ghita would agree. But the answer surprised her. Ghita frowned and said: "Didn't you get my E-mail yesterday?"

"I left early. What did it say?"

"That I was going to run your scan last night."

"And did you?"

"Yes. That's why I've come to see you. I did it last night, before he called me."

Suddenly Jeannie was hopeful again. "What? And you have the results?"