“I thought all this contemplation might have provided a bit of insight.”
“Into what?”
“Into your situation with Sam. Maybe I’m just a meddling mother interested in Sam. If so, I’m sorry.”
“It’s a confusing situation.”
They talked for an hour and ended with Anna’s poem, which she had not recited since junior college. Spring had her repeat it.
“And you are close with your mother now?” she asked.
“I think so.”
“When you wrote this poem you seemed to be flirting with a feeling that you don’t really express.”
“I never liked day care. The place smelled bad and they ignored me.”
“And what did your mother say?”
“About what?”
“Day care.”
“We’ve never discussed it.”
“What if you one day showed her the poem?”
“It’s no big deal. After all these years it would be mean. Don’t you think?”
“There is a Tilok story that I would like to tell you and I would like to tell it to you while you wait for Sam.”
“I’m not admitting to waiting for Sam in a silk robe and a nightgown.” Anna smiled.
Grady was thinking about Clint and the strange exhilaration of getting to know her father. And his strange nature. Clint was out in the guest house, Anna’s room was to the right of her, and to the left was her father’s, and nothing had ever felt quite so bizarre. She hated to admit it, but she wasn’t sure how to actually build a relationship with her father and she was equally confounded by a man like Clint. There probably wasn’t a large chance that Clint didn’t know about the strip club and that, in a way, made it easier, because if they became friends she would need to tell him before they became lovers.
On the other hand, she wondered if any invitation to friendship that she might venture would be tainted by a thousand other invitations, a thousand other clever lines echoing like old words in a prison hall.
In this beautiful house she wished for her Panzy, the ultimate feline source of comfort. She’d seen that each of the rooms was equipped with a computer and access to the Internet. She could check her AOL account for any messages from the Critter Sitter. The rules set down by Sam for e-mails and the Internet, however, were clear. She was not to access her computer at the apartment because it might be traced. Also she knew she had to view her e-mail through the previewing function and could not per se open it. Under no circumstances could she send an e-mail anywhere, nor could she enter a chat room of any kind. Curious, she turned on the machine and used the password taped to the inside of the Microsoft Guide.
She punched an AOL icon, dialed in, and used her screen name and password. Aside from the junk mail, she had two messages: one from Guy and one from the Critter Sitter, with an urgent subject line. The heat of adrenaline-fueled worry coursed through her body as she thought about Panzy. Maybe sick. Maybe dying. She could not call anyone anywhere except Jill and her other friends at Sam’s office without special clearance, and then the answer would probably be negative. Although certain it wouldn’t hurt, she decided not to even preview the e-mail without asking Sam. It would only take a minute to find him. As she rose, she saw her father standing in the doorway, looking a little uneasy.
“Jason,” she said, still not used to calling him Dad. “You don’t look well.”
“The Nannites. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to see me like this, but I just wanted to look at you for a moment. To see that there is some good in the world.”
“Anna will give you some oil.”
“Yes. I’ll find her.”
“Anna says Nutka will be here soon and she can give you a regular massage.”
“They keep saying that” He raised his hand. “What are you doing?”
“I miss my cat.”
“Panzy, right?”
“Yeah. I am worried about her. I was going to find Sam to ask him something.”
“About cats?”
“Not exactly. I need to get into some e-mail. I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Sure. The Nannites aren’t going anywhere. Neither am I. The little bastards.”
Jason desperately needed Nutka. But Anna could give him oil and that would cure the Nannite nerves. He also needed the board that they were now putting together so he could work equations, and he needed his computer. Grady was his only consolation. He had never wanted to get near her for fear the Nannites would commence their plague. But now she was here and it wasn’t his doing and he wanted to know her.
He walked over to the computer and squinted at the screen. AOL. An in-box of sorts. Someplace called the Critter Sitter had sent an urgent e-mail regarding Panzy. No wonder Grady had been distraught. Clicking the mouse, he opened it.
Need immediate treatment authorization for Panzy. We have detected a large sarcoma tumor in her abdomen. Surgery may save Panzy if performed immediately. Please respond by e-mail so that we have a record of your authorization.
If it were his pet, Pasha, he knew what he would do. He wrote:
Take all necessary steps to save Panzy. You have my full authorization for any and all treatments.
He sent it and felt better immediately. Then he got an idea. Perhaps he could call Grace Technologies and access his own e-mail. It would be fun to send Chellis a message. He clicked out of AOL and thought how he might access the satellite. Then he considered all of the weird goings-on and how Sam and Anna had traveled and seemed to be hiding. Better to wait and discuss it with Anna.
“Grady, listen carefully. No way do you access your e-mail. You are going into AOL over an eight hundred line?” Sam asked.
“Yeah.”
“Did you open anything or send anything?”
“No, I would never do that without asking.”
“If it is a trap, if they’ve figured out about your cat, the second you open that e-mail they’ll know you’ve called the account and that could be the beginning of the end for us. Responding with your own e-mail would without question give away our location unless we did a whole lot of programming that hasn’t been done here.”
“They can find that out?”
“A corporation like Grace would make up some bullshit story and they would be able to easily discover the local carrier that put that eight hundred call through. AOL has to keep track of all eight hundred calls for billing purposes. The local carrier will know the physical address of the phone that placed the call. Or in this case the modem. We use these techniques all the time.”
“God, Big Brother.”
“I’ll send someone to check on your cat. Don’t worry about it.”
“There is no way I can read that e-mail?”
“Too risky even to do that. Let’s not take chances.”
Grady returned to her room and found her computer displaying the desktop icons and her AOL screen gone from the monitor. Certainly her father knew about computers, so he probably went off on the Internet or something. It was just as well. She wouldn’t have to look at that e-mail again. She shut down the computer and looked at the clock. She would read the book that Anna had given her. Oddly she seemed to find herself the subject of every chapter. It was called Where Did He Go? Where Did She Go?
Thirty-seven
Anna found Sam bent over a desk strewn with maps of the house and grounds.
His room was large to accommodate three walls full of oil paintings, a king-size bed with a massive oak headboard, and a big-screen television mounted in a mahogany entertainment center. Although the room had several lights, Sam worked by a single desk lamp, and so the cream and faux gold walls were softened and enriched by the man-made twilight.
“Secluded homes often don’t make good safe houses. Bad guys can hide in the woods.”
She nodded, looking at the maps.
“But this place is perfect. We are in the middle of a two-acre lawn manicured with flower beds and low-lying shrubbery. There is a fence all the way round, three dogs, and good electronic security. It’s the summer retreat for a contractor who builds nuclear plants and he likes his peace and doesn’t want to be disturbed by environmental activists.”