Desiree Fleming wondered why she wasn’t. Both she and Sam. Why they were not deeply puzzled her.
They were taken to a plush motel near an edge of the city. Gerald escorted them into a large unit. Desiree heard the sedan move away. She inventoried the expensive furnishings. She listened hard. She would have accepted almost any sound.
She had expected to be greeted by people. Gerald’s friends. But there seemed to be no one. Two open doors ahead of her showed off bedrooms. There was a third door. To her left. It was closed.
Behind Desiree, Gerald called out, “Marnie?”
The closed door opened. A woman stood framed. She looked any age between forty and fifty-five, a preserved woman with a good figure. Her hair was blue rinse and piled high on top of her head. Her skin was smooth, contained a pinkish tint. Her face had been made up by an expert. A tiny smile played at the corners of her painted lips. She looked like a woman who never frowned.
Finally she said, “Hello.” Her voice was low-pitched, modulated. Her eyes flicked to Sam. “Doctor,” she said in greeting. The eyes danced back to Desiree and examined thoroughly. She laughed softly. It was a bubbly sound. She looked at Gerald, continued to be amused. “Mr. Holly is training them young these days, it seems.”
“Doesn’t it?” Gerald said.
“Quite attractive.”
“Amen.”
“You’ve examined her?”
“She’s clean.”
“And Doctor Herchenfelder?”
Gerald said nothing. Desiree heard the shuffle of his feet. The woman’s eyes were briefly cold, briefly brilliant and hard, but the smile remained on her lips, and the eyes abruptly became soft again.
“You blundered, Gerald,” she admonished.
“But he’s an egghead.”
“Examine him, please.”
Gerald went over Sam with his hands. Sam started to protest. “Hey, what the devil—”
Gerald slammed a fist into Sam’s middle, doubling the scientist, then he straightened Sam again.
“Stand quiet,” Gerald ordered. He finished his examination, turned on the woman. “Nothing. Only a money belt. He’s wearing a money belt.”
“Examine it,” said the woman.
Gerald ripped the shirt bottom from the top of Sam’s trousers, removed the belt. Sam started to reach, then seemed to reconsider. He dropped his arm and stood rooted. His breathing was harsh, his eyes behind the black-rimmed glasses a bit glossy. Desiree caught his eyes, shook her head, attempted to tell him to remain quiet.
Gerald went through the money belt, pitched it to the woman. She examined it, pitched it back. Gerald stuffed it in the scientist’s coat pocket.
“All right. Put them in the middle bedroom, Gerald,” the woman said.
Gerald escorted them. He stood in the doorway.
“Look out the window,” he said.
Desiree looked, saw the sedan. The hood was up and the olive-colored man with the hearing aid was bent over the motor.
“Frank there?” asked Gerald.
“He’s there,” said Desiree.
“He’ll be there. As long as you don’t raise hell, you’re free to roam the room. If you try anything foolish, if you make a lot of racket, you’ve had it. Understand?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He backed from the bedroom and closed the door quietly. Desiree listened for the snap of a lock and heard nothing.
Sam burst then, “My God, who are these people? What’s going on? Why are we here? Why—”
“Easy.” Desiree interrupted. She went to the large double bed, sat on the edge, crossed her knees. “We should be dead, but we’re not, so we’ve still got a chance.” Reflexively, she thumbed a garter strap under her skirt and along the top of her thigh. She had been minutely searched, but she still had the single weapon.
“Who are these people?” Sam repeated.
Desiree went to the window and it was as if the man outside felt her presence. He looked up from the motor, his narrow face blank, dark eyes hard. He didn’t move. She turned back.
“You can wager the last dollar in your money belt they don’t represent the United States Government. And put your shirttail in. I want the man I’m going to die with to be neat in appearance.”
He gasped. Then he wrapped the money belt around his middle, stuffed the shirttail into his trouser top. “Desiree, are these people agents of another government?”
“Now you’re with it, boy.”
“But that woman out there in the front room! She doesn’t look like an agent! And that man! He looks like any business man you might see on a street!”
“And me?” Desiree asked with a cocked eyebrow.
Sam became flustered. “Well—”
“I’m an agent, too, remember?” she said.
Sam went to the window. “What’s that man doing out there? Hey, he was our driver! Why is he working on—”
“He’s there to make sure we don’t go out the back way, Sam. And those two in the front room are where they are to make sure we don’t—”
“They can’t do this to us!” he exploded.
“You tell them that,” said Desiree. Then she sat on the edge of the bed again. “Look, Sam, something about all of this isn’t right. We should be dead.”
“Can’t you quit talking about dying? I’ve got a meeting to—”
“It’s the part that isn’t right. Why haven’t we been killed? Why didn’t Gerald kill us in the hotel? I don’t like it, Sam.”
“Well, I hope you won’t be offended, Miss Fleming, if I admit aloud that I, for one, am happy to still be alive.”
“Get off the high horse, Sam. We haven’t been killed for a reason. One, it could be because they didn’t want to clutter up the hotel with bodies. Two, it could be they don’t want any bodies left lying around — anywhere. We might be just going to disappear. Or three — Sam, I think I’ve got it!”
“What?”
“How much of the TX project are you carrying around inside your skull?”
He looked confused. Desiree pressed: “If someone was to pick your brain, pick you clean, could you give them enough information so they’d know what the TX project is, how it operates?”
“I could give them one phase, but I won’t.”
“And the other two phases? You don’t know anything at all about the work of Blue and Gray?”
“Well, certainly, I do—”
“What’s been your end of this project? Design? Function? What?”
“Function.”
“It’s your discoveries that will make the TX tick?”
“Yes,” he said slowly.
“And Blue and Gray? They’ve concentrated on design?”
“Design and trajectory.”
“You’ve been briefed on both?”
“Yes.”
“Could you design a TX by yourself?”
“No.”
“But could someone else, let’s say a team skilled in design, trajectory, function, take what you know about the TX shape and components and put together a working facsimile?”
“Well, it’s possible.”
“All right, now let’s reverse it. I assume you have discussed function with Blue and Gray.”
“To a degree.”
“From what you have passed along, could they design and successfully trigger a TX?”
“Absolutely not.”
“You are positive?”
“My work has involved gas, Miss Fleming. It’s—” He paused. His lips thinned. His jaw became set. “I’m not going to say anything more about it, to you or to anyone else.”
“Blue and Gray do not know enough about this gas to—”
“They do not.”
“Then that’s it, Sam. That’s why you and I are here. I don’t know where I’m going to be dumped, but I think you are going for a plane ride.”
He scowled.
“You may find yourself in Hanoi, Moscow, anywhere, in the next few days. Be prepared.”
“I won’t tell them a thing!”