“Something like that,” Lou snapped.
“So what?” Sutherland replied. “Suppose the newsman believes you. Suppose, even, he gets to broadcast the story and the world government doesn’t stop him. What happens? Some government officials say that he’s wrong, he’s sensation-mongering. They say that we’re a small group of scientists who’ve been brought here for a special project. End of story. The world doesn’t care about twenty-five scientists. We’re not news. We’re not important people—like Tri-V stars or soccer players.”
“Now wait, Charles,” Dr. Kaufman said, his eyes brightening. “Christopher may have something. After all, they have tried to do this quickly and quietly. Maybe some publicity would break up this whole affair—”
Sutherland made a sour face. “Look at it objectively. We’re just a handful of scientists—”
“Oh!” Lou remembered. “They got Dr. Kirby, too.”
“Kirby? From Columbia?”
Nodding, Lou answered, “They had him in New York. They were taking him here.”
“But he’s not here in this villa.”
Sutherland waved a finger at them. “You see? There’s more to it than just us. I thought so. We’re only a part of a bigger picture. And the world government is behind this, whatever it is. Publicity isn’t going to hurt them. Either they’ll clamp down on any news about this, or they’ve already figured out what to tell the newsmen.”
“Then what can we do?” Kaufman demanded.
“Nothing.” Sutherland shrugged. “We wait and see what happens. That’s all we can do.”
Dr. Richardson suddenly asked, “Say, what about Big George? Is he…”
“I saw him this morning… yesterday, that is,” Lou said. “He was scared, but I guess somebody’s taking care of him. I hope…”
“They can’t stick him in a zoo,” Greg said. “He’ll die of loneliness.”
“Or fright.”
“Maybe we can ask…”
The door from the hall opened and Lou turned to see Mrs. Kaufman standing there, her portly frame tightly wrapped in a nightrobe.
“I finally got the children to sleep,” she said to her husband. “Are you coming up soon?”
With a sigh, Dr. Kaufman answered, “In a few minutes, dear.”
She nodded and shut the door. Lou stood there by the table, open-mouthed.
Greg said, “Didn’t you know! The wives and children were brought here too. For every married member of the staff. It’s a family affair.”
9
Greg let Lou bunk in with him, in a spacious bedroom on the top floor of the villa. They left the air conditioning off and the balcony doors open. The murmur of the surf quickly lulled them to sleep.
The morning was bright and cloudless. Lou found some clothes in the bedroom closet that fit him: a gaudy disposable shirt and a pair of shorts. It was warm enough to go barefoot.
“There’s a Sicilian house staff that will get you more clothes. All you have to do is ask,” Greg told him as they went downstairs. “And, man, can they cook! We may not know why we’re here, but they’re sure treating us right.”
The morning was spent exchanging rumors. They were being drafted by the world government for some ultra-secret project. No, there was war brewing between the United States and China and the world government was pulling out the top scientists on both sides to save them from being killed. Nonsense, war is impossible with all nations disarmed; the world government wouldn’t allow a war to break out. The real story is that there’s an epidemic of unknown origin at the Mars base, and we’re going to be sent there to find a cure before it wipes out everybody on Mars. Nuts! My brother-in-law’s at Mars base and I just got a lasergram from him last week.
The rumors and speculations spiraled hotter and wilder as the sun climbed through the morning sky. But nobody mentioned the simplest explanation: that the government had decided to prevent the work on genetic engineering from being completed. That was too close to home, too plainly possible and painful to be mentioned.
Just before lunchtime, Lou was prowling along the patio that looked out to sea. Several of the older men and their wives were sunning themselves. Lou just couldn’t sit still. There had to be something he could do, something.
Greg came trotting up the stone stairway that led from the patio to the beach, down below.
“There you are,” he said to Lou. “Listen, I’ve been exploring. Down at the bottom of this picturesque cliff is a picturesque beach. And some of the younger wives and older daughters have found some very picturesque swimming suits and are frolicking on the beach. Beautiful scenery. Including the boss’ oldest daughter. How about it?”
The memory of Bonnie stabbed into Lou’s mind. “No… thanks. I don’t feel like it.”
Greg shrugged. “Okay, suit yourself. I’ll be down there chasing… uh, the waves. If anybody’s looking for me.”
“Sure.” Lou turned and started pacing the length of the patio again, trying to think of something useful to do. But he kept seeing Bonnie, crying, scared, and desperate, more afraid of Lou’s own anger than anything else, he realized now.
I ought to try to get in touch with her. Tell her it’s okay, I’m not sore at her.
He got up and went into the house, looking for one of the housekeeping staff. Instead he found Kaufman and Sutherland.
“Have you seen Greg Belsen?” Kaufman asked. “They’ve just told us there’s going to be a meeting to explain what this is all about, and we can bring three people. Where is he?”
Lou was about to answer when he remembered that Kaufman’s daughter was on the beach. “Greg’s… uh, he was here a while ago. I don’t know where he is now.”
Sutherland made a sour face. “The car’s right outside, they want us now.”
“I’ll go,” Lou heard himself say.
“You?”
“I’ll sit in for Greg.”
“But…”
“Unless you want to look around for somebody else.”
Kaufman glanced unhappily at Sutherland, who was eyeing Lou’s vivid shirt and shorts. The two older men were also in sports clothes, but their colors were dark and conservative.
“I could change in two minutes,” Lou offered.
“No time to change,” Kaufman said. “The car’s waiting for us. Come on.”
With only a slight grin of satisfaction, Lou went with them to the car. There were two men in the front of the car, both wearing brown uniforms without markings of any kind. They both looked dark, swarthy. And they said nothing.
In the back seat, Sutherland frowned as the car pulled away from the villa. “What do you think this is all about?”
Dr. Kaufman shook his head. “Whatever it is, it will probably be more fantastic than any of the rumors that have been going around.”
They drove for nearly an hour down a winding dusty road. Most of the time the road threaded between hills, and there was little to see except the greenery whizzing by. But once in a while they would top a rise and view the sun-dazzled sea stretching off on one side of them, and rich fields of olives and citrus groves on the other side.
Thick clouds began to pile up as they drove on, and by the time they passed the gate of another old villa with its uniformed guards standing at attention, the clouds towered darkly overhead, grumbling and flickering with lightning. It seemed almost as dark as evening, although it was still early afternoon.
There were dozens of cars parked in front of the villa’s main entrance. And inside, the old house was filled with men and women, milling around aimlessly, buzzing with conversation.
Lou, Kaufman, and Sutherland stood just inside the front door, gaping at the unexpected crowd.
“That’s Margolin, from the Paris Academy,” Dr. Kaufman said. “What’s he doing here?”