As her spirits sank from despondency to black despair, she remembered the disk with the FBI data. She rummaged through the contents of the plastic sack, but there were no floppy disks. Her results, the backbone of her defense, were locked inside the room.

She pounded futilely on the door with her fist. A pa.s.sing student who took her statistics cla.s.s gave her a startled look and said: "Can I help you, Professor?"

She recalled his name. "Hi, Ben. You could kick down this G.o.dd.a.m.n door."

He studied the door, looking dubious.

"I didn't mean it," she said. "I'm fine, thanks."

He shrugged and walked on.

There was no point standing and staring at the locked door. She picked up the plastic bag and walked into the lab. Lisa was at her desk, keying data into a computer. "I've been fired," Jeannie said.

Lisa stared at her. "What?" "What?"

"They locked me out of my office and dumped my stuff in this f.u.c.king garbage bag."

"I don't believe it!"

Jeannie took her briefcase out of the bag and extracted the New York Times. New York Times. "It's on account of this." "It's on account of this."

Lisa read the first two paragraphs and said: "But this is bulls.h.i.t."

Jeannie sat down. "I know. So why is Berrington pretending to take it seriously?"

"You think he's pretending?"

"I'm sure of it. He's too smart to let himself be rattled by this kind of c.r.a.p. He has some other agenda." Jeannie drummed her feet on the floor, helpless with frustration. "He's ready to do anything, he's really going out on a limb with this...there must be something big at stake for him." Perhaps she would find the answer in the medical records of the Aventine Clinic in Philadelphia. She checked her watch. She was due there at two P.M P.M.: she had to leave soon.

Lisa still could not take in the news. "They can't just fire fire you," she said indignantly. you," she said indignantly.

"There's a disciplinary hearing tomorrow morning."

"My G.o.d, they're serious."

"They sure are."

"Is there anything I can do?"

There was, but Jeannie was afraid to ask. She looked appraisingly at Lisa. Lisa was wearing a high-necked blouse with a loose sweater over it, despite the hot weather: she was covering up her body, a reaction to the rape, no doubt. She still looked solemn, like someone recently bereaved.

Would her friendship prove as fragile as Ghita's? Jeannie was terrified of the answer. If Lisa let her down who would she have left? But she had to put her to the test, even though this was the worst possible time. "You could try to get into my office," she said hesitantly. "The results from the FBI are in there."

Lisa did not answer right away. "Did they change your lock, or something?"

"It's easier than that. They alter the code electronically so that your card no longer works. I won't be able to get into the building after hours either, I'll bet."

"It's hard to take this in, it's happened so quickly."

Jeannie hated pressuring Lisa to take risks. She racked her brains for a way out. "Maybe I could get in myself. A cleaner might let me in, but my guess is that the lock will no longer respond to their cards either. If I'm not using the room it won't need cleaning anyway. But security must be able to get in."

"They won't help you. They'll know you've been locked out deliberately."

"That's true," Jeannie said. "They might let you in, though. You could say you needed something from my office."

Lisa looked thoughtful.

"I hate to ask you," Jeannie said.

Then Lisa's expression changed. "h.e.l.l, yes," she said at last. "Of course I'll try it."

Jeannie felt choked up. "Thanks," she said. She bit her lip. "You're a friend." She reached across the desk and squeezed Lisa's hand.

Lisa was embarra.s.sed by Jeannie's emotion. "Where in your office is the FBI list?" she said practically.

"The information is on a floppy disk labeled SHOPPING.LST, in a box of floppies in my desk drawer."

"Got it." Lisa frowned. "I can't understand why they're so against you."

"It all started with Steve Logan," Jeannie said. "Ever since Berrington saw him here, there has been trouble. But I think I may be on the way to understanding why." She stood up.

"What are you going to do now?" said Lisa.

"I'm going to Philadelphia."

32.

BERRINGTON STARED OUT OF THE WINDOW OF HIS OFFICE. NO one was using the tennis court this morning. His imagination pictured Jeannie there. He had seen her on the first or second day of the semester, racing across the court in her short skirt, brown legs pumping, white shoes flashing.... He had fallen for her then. He frowned, wondering why he had been so struck by her athleticism. Seeing women play sports was not a special turn-on for him. He never watched one was using the tennis court this morning. His imagination pictured Jeannie there. He had seen her on the first or second day of the semester, racing across the court in her short skirt, brown legs pumping, white shoes flashing.... He had fallen for her then. He frowned, wondering why he had been so struck by her athleticism. Seeing women play sports was not a special turn-on for him. He never watched American Gladiators, American Gladiators, unlike Professor Gormley in Egyptology, who had every show on videotapes and reran them, according to rumor, late at night in his den at home. But when Jeannie played tennis she achieved a special grace. It was like watching a lion break into a sprint in a nature film; the muscles flowed beneath the skin, the hair flew in the slipstream, and the body moved, stopped, turned, and moved again with astonishing, supernatural suddenness. It was mesmerizing to watch, and he had been captivated. Now she was threatening everything he had worked for all his life, yet he still wished he could watch her play tennis one more time. unlike Professor Gormley in Egyptology, who had every show on videotapes and reran them, according to rumor, late at night in his den at home. But when Jeannie played tennis she achieved a special grace. It was like watching a lion break into a sprint in a nature film; the muscles flowed beneath the skin, the hair flew in the slipstream, and the body moved, stopped, turned, and moved again with astonishing, supernatural suddenness. It was mesmerizing to watch, and he had been captivated. Now she was threatening everything he had worked for all his life, yet he still wished he could watch her play tennis one more time.

It was maddening that he could not simply dismiss her, even though her salary was essentially paid by him. Jones Falls University was her employer, and Genetico had already given them the money. A college could not fire faculty the way a restaurant could fire an incompetent waiter. That was why he had to go through this rigmarole.

"The h.e.l.l with her," he said aloud, and he went back to his desk.

This morning's interview had proceeded smoothly, until the revelation about Jack Budgen. Berrington had got Maurice good and riled in advance and had neatly prevented any rapprochement. But it was bad news that the chair of the discipline committee was to be Jeannie's tennis partner. Berrington had not checked this out in advance; he had a.s.sumed he would have some influence over the choice of chair, and he had been dismayed to learn that the appointment was a done thing.

There was a grave danger Jack would see Jeannie's side of the story.

He scratched his head worriedly. Berrington never socialized with, his academic colleagues-he preferred the more glamorous company of political and media types. But he knew Jack Budgen's background. Jack had retired from professional tennis at the age of thirty and returned to college to get his doctorate. Already too old to begin a career in chemistry, his subject, he had become an administrator. Running the university's complex of libraries and balancing the conflicting demands of rival departments required a tactful and obliging nature, and Jack did it well.

How could Jack be swayed? He was not a devious man: quite the reverse-his easygoing nature went along with a kind of naivete. He would be offended if Berrington lobbied him openly or blatantly offered some kind of bribe. But it might be possible to influence him discreetly.

Berrington himself had accepted a bribe once. He still felt knots in his guts whenever he thought of it. It had happened early in his career, before he had become a full professor. A woman undergraduate had been caught cheating-paying another student to write her term paper. Her name was Judy Gilmore and she was really cute. She ought to have been expelled from the university, but the head of the department had the power to impose a lesser punishment. Judy had come to Berrington's office to "talk about the problem." She had crossed and uncrossed her legs, and gazed mournfully into his eyes, and bent forward so that he could look down the front of her shirt and glimpse a lacy bra.s.siere. He had been sympathetic and had promised to intercede for her. She had cried and thanked him, then taken his hand, then kissed him on the lips, and finally she had unzipped his fly.

She had never suggested a deal. She had not offered him s.e.x before he had agreed to help her, and after they had screwed on the floor she had calmly dressed and combed her hair and kissed him and left. But the next day he had persuaded the department head to let her off with a warning.

He had taken the bribe because he had been able to tell himself it was not a bribe. Judy had asked him for help, he had agreed, she had fallen for his charms, and they had made love. As time went by he had come to see this as pure sophistry. The offer of s.e.x had been implicit in her manner, and when he had promised her what she asked she had wisely sealed the bargain. He liked to think of himself as a principled man, and he had done something absolutely shameful.

Bribing someone was almost as bad as taking a bribe. All the same, he would bribe Jack Budgen if he could. The thought made him grimace in disgust, but it had to be done. He was desperate.

He would do it the way Judy had: by giving Jack the opportunity to kid himself about it.

Berrington thought for a few minutes more, then he picked up the phone and called Jack.

"Thanks for sending me a copy of your memo about the biophysics library extension," he began.

There was a startled pause. "Oh, yes. That was a while ago-but I'm glad you found time to read it."

Berrington had barely glanced at the doc.u.ment. "I think your proposal has a lot of merit. I'm just calling to say that I'll back you when it comes before the appropriations board."

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

"In fact, I might be able to persuade Genetico to put up part of the funding."

Jack seized on that idea eagerly. "We could call it the Genetico Biophysics Library."

"Good idea. I'll speak to them about it." Berrington wanted Jack to bring up the subject of Jeannie. Maybe they could get to her via tennis. "How was your summer?" he said. "Did you get to Wimbledon?'

"Not this year. Too much work."

"That's too bad." With trepidation, he pretended he was about to hang up. "Talk to you later."

As he had hoped, Jack forestalled him. "Uh, Berry, what do you think about this c.r.a.p in the newspapers? About Jeannie?"

Berrington concealed his relief and spoke dismissively. "Oh, that-tempest in a teapot."

"I've been trying to call her, but she's not in her office."

"Don't worry about Genetico," Berrington said, although Jack had not mentioned the company. "They're relaxed about the whole thing. Fortunately, Maurice Obeli has acted quickly and decisively."

"You mean the disciplinary hearing."

"I imagine that will be a formality. She's embarra.s.sing the university, she's refused to stop, and she's gone to the press. I doubt she'll even trouble to defend herself. I've told the people at Genetico that we have the situation under control. At present there's no threat to the college's relationship with them."

"That's good."

"Of course, if the committee should take Jeannie's side against Maurice, for some reason, we'd be in trouble. But I don't think that's very likely-do you?" Berrington held his breath.

"You know I'm chair of the committee?"

Jack had evaded the question. d.a.m.n you. d.a.m.n you. "Yes, and I'm very pleased there's such a cool head in charge of the proceedings." He mentioned a shaven-headed professor of philosophy. "If Malcolm Barnet had been chair, G.o.d knows what might have happened." "Yes, and I'm very pleased there's such a cool head in charge of the proceedings." He mentioned a shaven-headed professor of philosophy. "If Malcolm Barnet had been chair, G.o.d knows what might have happened."

Jack laughed. "The senate has more sense. They wouldn't put Malcolm in charge of the parking committee-he'd try to use it as an instrument of social change."

"But with you in charge I a.s.sume the committee will support the president."

Once again Jack's reply was tantalizingly ambivalent. "Not all the committee members are predictable."

You b.a.s.t.a.r.d, are you doing this to torment me? "But the chair is not a loose cannon, I'm sure of that." Berrington wiped a droplet of sweat from his forehead. "But the chair is not a loose cannon, I'm sure of that." Berrington wiped a droplet of sweat from his forehead.

There was a pause. "Berry, it would be wrong for me to prejudge the issue..."

The h.e.l.l with you!

"...but I think I can say that Genetico need not worry about this."

At last! "Thank you, Jack. I appreciate it." "Thank you, Jack. I appreciate it."

"Strictly between the two of us, of course."

"Naturally."

"Then I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye." Berrington hung up. Jesus, that was hard! Jesus, that was hard!

Did Jack really not know he had just been bribed? Did he kid himself about it? Of did he understand perfectly well, but simply pretend not to?

It did not matter, so long as he steered the committee the right way.

That might not be the end of it, of course. The committee's decision had to be ratified by a meeting of the full senate. At some point Jeannie might hire a hotshot lawyer and start to sue the university for all kinds of compensation. The case could drag on for years. But her investigations would be halted, and that was all that mattered.

However, the committee's decision was not yet in the bag. If things went wrong tomorrow morning, Jeannie could be back at her desk by midday, hot on the trail of Genetico's guilty secrets. Berrington shuddered: G.o.d forbid. He pulled a scratch pad to him and wrote down the names of the committee members.

Jack Budgen-Library Tenniel Biddenham-History of Art Milton Powers-Mathematics Mark Trader-Anthropology Jane Edelsborough-Physics Biddenham, Powers, and Trader were conventional men, long-standing professors whose careers were bound up with Jones Falls and its continued prestige and prosperity. They could be relied upon to support the university president, Berrington felt sure. The dark horse was the woman, Jane Edelsborough.

He would deal with her next.

33.

DRIVING TO P PHILADELPHIA ON I-95, J I-95, JEANNIE FOUND HERSELF thinking about Steve Logan again. thinking about Steve Logan again.

She had kissed him good-bye last night, in the visitors' parking lot on the Jones Falls campus. She found herself regretting that the kiss had been so fleeting. His lips were full and dry, his skin warm. She quite liked the idea of doing it again.

Why was she prejudiced against him because of his age? What was so great about older men? Will Temple, aged thirty-nine, had dropped her for an empty-headed heiress. So much for maturity.

She pressed the Seek b.u.t.ton on her radio, looking for a good station, and got Nirvana playing "Come As You Are." Whenever she thought about dating a man her own age, or younger, she got a scared feeling, a bit like the frisson of danger that went with a Nirvana track. Older men were rea.s.suring; they knew what to do.