“Step into the living room, please,” she said.
The living room contained modern furniture, and, like the foyer, was thickly carpeted. An Oriental design swirled this way and that through the carpet, but Nick noticed the carpet design was the only Oriental thing in the room.
Mrs. Loo motioned Killmaster to the fragile-looking divan, and took a chair opposite him. “I think I told the others everything I know.”
“I’m sure you did,” Nick said, breaking his grin for the first time. “But this is for my own conscience. John and I worked closely together. I’d hate to think he did this because of something I said or did.”
“I don’t think so,” Mrs. Loo said.
Like most housewives, Mrs. Loo wore pants. On top she had on a man’s shirt too large for her. Nick liked baggy shirts on women, especially the kind that buttoned down the front. He disliked pants on women. They belonged in dresses or skirts.
Serious now, the grin completely gone, he said, “Can you think of any reason why John would want to defect?”
“No,” she said. “But if it will set your mind at ease, I doubt if it had anything to do with you.”
“Then it must have been something here at home.”
“I really couldn’t say.” Mrs. Loo had become nervous. She sat with her legs tucked under her, and kept twisting the wedding band around her finger.
The glasses Nick wore felt heavy on the bridge of his nose. But they reminded him of who he was pretending to be. In a situation like this it would be too easy to start asking questions like Nick Carter. He crossed his legs and rubbed his chin. “I can’t get over the feeling that somehow I caused all this. John liked his work. He was devoted to you and the boy. What reason could he have had for Mrs. Loo said a bit impatiently, “Whatever his reasons, I’m sure they were personal.”
“Of course,” Nick knew she was trying to conclude this conversation. But he wasn’t quite ready yet. “Did anything happen here at home in the last few days?”
“What do you mean?” Her eyes narrowed and she studied him closely. She was on her guard.
“Marriage problems,” Nick said bluntly.
Her lips tightened. “Mr. Wilson, I don’t think that is any of your business. Whatever reason my husband has for wanting to defect can be found at NASA, not here.”
She was growing angry. That was all right with Nick. Angry people sometimes said things they wouldn’t normally say. “Do you know what he was working on at NASA?”
“Of course not. He never talked about his work.”
If she didn’t know anything about his work, then what made her blame NASA for his wanting to defect? Was it because she felt their marriage was so good it had to be his work? Nick decided to pursue another line. “If John does defect, will you and the boy join him?”
Mrs. Loo straightened her legs and sat stiffly in the chair. The palms of her hands were sweating. She alternated between rubbing her hands and twisting the ring. She had checked her anger, but she was still nervous. “No,” she said calmly. “I’m an American. My place is here.”
“What will you do, then?”
“Divorce him. Try to find another life for me and the boy.”
“I see.” Hawk had been right. Nick wasn’t going to learn anything here. For some reason Mrs. Loo was on her guard.
“Well, I won’t take up any more of your time.” He stood, thankful for the chance. “May I use your phone to call a taxi?”
“Of course.” Mrs. Loo seemed to relax a little. Nick could almost see the tension go out of her face.
As Killmaster was about to reach for the phone he heard a door slam somewhere toward the back of the house. A few seconds later a boy came bounding into the living room.
“Mom, I…” The boy saw Nick and froze. He shot a quick glance toward his mother.
“Mike,” Mrs. Loo said, nervous again. “This is Mr. Wilson. He worked with your father. He’s here to ask questions about your father. Do you understand, Mike? He is here to ask questions about your father.” She had emphasized those last words.
“I understand,” Mike said. He looked up at Nick, his eyes holding the same guarded look as his mother’s.
Nick gave the boy a friendly smile. “Hello, Mike.”
“Hello.” Tiny beads of sweat dotted his forehead. A baseball glove hung from his belt. The resemblance to his mother was obvious.
“Getting a little early practice?” Nick asked, pointing to the glove.
“Yes, sir.”
Nick took a chance. He took two steps so that he stood between the boy and his mother. “Tell me, Mike,” he said. “Do you know why your father left?”
The boy shut his eyes. “My father left because of his work.” It sounded well rehearsed.
“Did you get along with your father?”
“Yes, sir.”
Mrs. Loo stood. “I think you had better leave,” she said to Nick.
Killmaster nodded. He picked up the phone, called for a taxi. When he had hung up, he faced the pair. Something was wrong here. They both knew more than they were telling. Nick guessed it was one of two things. Either they were both going to join the professor, or they were the cause of his defection. One thing was certain, he wasn’t going to learn anything from them. They didn’t believe or trust him. All they would tell him were their canned, rehearsed speeches.
Nick decided to leave them with a mild shock. “Mrs. Loo, I’m flying to Hong Kong to talk with John. Any messages?”
She blinked once, and for an instant her facial expression changed. But the instant passed and the guarded look returned. “No messages,” she said.
The taxi pulled up outside and honked. Nick started for the door. “No need to show me the way out.” He felt them watching him until he closed the door behind him. Outside, in the heat once again, he felt rather than saw the curtain being pulled aside from the window. They watched him as the taxi pulled away from the curb.
In the muggy heat once again, rolling toward the airport, Nick removed his thick, horn-rimmed glasses. He was not used to glasses. The gelatin padding around his waist, formed to look like part of his skin, was like a plastic bag around him. No air got to his skin, and he found himself sweating heavily. The heat in Florida was not like the heat in Mexico.
Nick’s mind was filled with unanswered questions. They were a strange pair, those two. Not once during the visit had Mrs. Loo said that she wanted her husband back. And she had no message for him. That meant she was probably joining him later. But that didn’t sound right either. Their attitude suggested that as far as they were concerned he was already gone, and for good. No, there was something else, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
CHAPTER THREE
Killmaster had to change planes twice, once in Miami and again in Los Angeles, before he caught a direct flight to Hong Kong. Once over the Pacific, he tried to relax, to get some sleep. But again this was not to be; he could feel the fine hair on the back of his neck bristle again. A chill ran through him as before. He was being watched.
Nick stood and walked slowly down the aisle toward the rest rooms, his eyes scanning faces on each side of him. The plane was more than half-filled with Orientals. Some slept, others stared out their dark windows, still others glanced at him idly as he passed. None turned to look at him after he had gone by, and none had the look of a watcher. Once inside the rest room, Nick splashed cold water on his face. In the mirror he looked at the reflection of his handsome features, deeply tanned by the Mexican sun. Was it his imagination? He knew better. Someone on the plane was watching him, all right. Had the watcher been with him in Orlando? Miami? Los Angeles? Where had Nick picked him up? He wasn’t going to find the answer looking at his face in the mirror.