Olivia came out of her room in exactly twenty minutes by the clock. There was something to be said for working with scientific personnel after all. I watched her descend the stairs and cross the lobby, gave her a minute or two in the lounge, and went in after her.
She'd taken the table I'd had earlier, over by the wall. I hesitated, discovering her there, and went over.
"Well, did you ever learn how long it took, ma'am?" I asked.
She looked up, startled, and frowned at me in a puzzled way. "How long?"
"The bar. To go around."
"Oh," she said quickly. "Oh, you're the man… I didn't recognize you."
"I was sorry to have to run off like that, earlier, but I saw somebody I didn't know was in town. Do you mind if I sit down, ma'am?"
"Why," she said, "why no. Not at all. Please do."
"We could clock it now," I said. "That fat man. We can see how long it takes before he gets back in front of us. Let me get you a drink…"
Well, you can take it from there. We went through the standard getting-acquainted routine. I trotted out the story of my coming from Denver and being a newspaperman there, and she told me about coming from Pensacola and doing something scientific and secret she wasn't allowed to talk about. She could, however, tell me, she said, if I was interested, about some phenomena she'd encountered in her work that weren't classified. Take weightlessness, for instance..
A couple of drinks later we were still talking weightlessness. "Of course, now that we've actually put men into space, we no longer have to simulate this particular situation, we can study it in actual practice," she said. She remembered something and looked up quickly. "Oh, damn, our fat man is gone! The experiment is ruined, I'm afraid, Mr. Corcoran."
"Let's try the brassy-blonde lady with the silver foxes. She looks pretty permanent; maybe she'll stay for a complete go-round. How about another drink?"
"Well, I shouldn't," she said a little uncertainly. "I'm afraid I'm just talking shop and boring you terribly. Well, maybe I will have just one more, if you don't think I'll be too intoxicated. I'm trusting you to keep track and not let me disgrace myself. Although I'm not at all sure you're a trustworthy person, Mr. Corcoran."
She was putting on a much better show than she had earlier in the evening. By this time she had the flushed, bright-eyed, vivacious, faintly disorganized look of the unpracticed lady drinker who's overdoing it. Anybody could tell her inhibitions were taking an awful beating. On more intimate terms now, we discussed my trustworthiness, or lack of it, at length and in laughing detail. I looked up to see the waiter standing by the table.
"One more of each," I said, shoving the empty glasses toward him.
"I'm sorry, sir." He gestured toward the bar, where the last man on duty was shutting up shop. We were alone in the lounge.
"Oh, dear," Olivia said. "Are they closing up? Do we have to go? We never did learn how long it takes to go around."
"The bar?" said the waiter. "It takes about fifteen minutes, ma'am."
I paid the bill, rose, and helped Olivia to get around the table the waiter pulled away from the bench.
She held my arm to steady herself. "I'm afraid I'm just a wee bit inebriated, Mr. Corcoran. It's a very interesting experiment. I've always wanted to try it-in the interest of science, of course-but I've always been afraid of making a fool of myself. Am I?"
"What, making a fool of yourself?" I said. "Not yet, Doc, but I'm still hoping."
"Now I'm sure you're not to be trusted!" She laughed, and stopped laughing. "Do I look all right? My hair isn't coming down, is it? I look like an utter witch with my hair down. Not that I'm any beauty with it up, don't think I have any illusions along those lines, it's really very kind of you to…" She stopped and drew a long breath, leaving the sentence unfinished. We were out in the lobby and they were locking the doors of the Carnival Room behind us. Olivia drew herself up and patted her hair, facing me. When she spoke again, her voice was brisk and businesslike and sober. "You've been very considerate, Mr. Corcoran, listening to the boring prattle of a lonely woman. No, you don't have to see me to my room. I'm perfectly all right."
I cleared my throat. "Well, I was kind of thinking of my room, ma'am. It seems a pity to break this up. I've got a bottle in my suitcase. We could continue the scientific experiment, er, in private."
It was funny. We were acting-with some help from the drinks, of course. We were going through the age-old motions of the pickup for the benefit of anyone who might be watching. And yet the tight, embarrassed little silence that followed my suggestion was real enough. Olivia's laugh was slow to come, and strained when it did come
"Oh, my dear man!" she murmured. "My dear man Are you going to flatter the unattractive lady intellectual by making a real pass? Isn't that carrying the Good Samaritan act pretty far?"
"We're going to have to do something about that inferiority complex, Doc," I said. "I don't like to hear good-looking woman running herself down."
"You know I'm drunk, deliciously drunk, and you're deliberately taking advantage of a foolish, intoxicated…Do I really want to be seduced, Mr. Corcoran?" I didn't say anything. We faced each other for some long seconds then she laughed again softly and recklessly. "Well, why not?" she asked, taking my arm again, in an intimate way "Why not?"
We stood very close in the elevator for the operator's benefit; we didn't speak because it wasn't necessary. W got out at the fifth floor, turned left, and walked arm in arm to my door. I put the key into the lock. With the door opening under my hand, I turned to look at my companion.
There was something I'd forgotten. I wondered if she had. There was one affectionate little scene still to be played for our public, if we had one, before we could escape into the privacy of the room and be our cool distant and professional selves once more.
I saw a sharp little glint in Olivia's eyes, and I knew she'd been wondering if I'd try to leave this particular chore undone. I reached out, took the glasses gently from her nose, folded them, and tucked them into the breast pocket of her jacket while she stood quite still facing me. Then I kissed her. It wasn't too difficult. The woman wasn't actually revolting, and I was moderately tight my self. She wasn't too clumsy, either. At least she knew where the noses went.
I had time to be a little surprised at this. After all, she didn't give the impression of having had much recent practice, if she'd ever had any. Then I sensed somebody behind me, and, releasing her, I turned, ready, and caught a glimpse of a man's face that might have been handsome if it hadn't been contorted with anger. It wasn't a face I'd ever seen before.
That changed the picture. I'd been expecting Kroch. I had to make a snap decision and I made it. Instead of going into action, I just stood there flat-footed and let a fist catch me on the jaw and knock me against the doorjamb. Another fist to my stomach doubled me up. A third fist-well, maybe my count wasn't quite accurate, maybe the guy had only two but it seemed like more-took me alongside the head and knocked me down.
IX
IT TOOK a bit of doing, of course. No man really likes to be used as a punching bag in front of a woman, even if she isn't quite Sophia Loren. There was even a certain risk, but an attacker who really means business seldom wastes his time and effort with the fists. You get so you can sense when there is real danger, and when the worst that can happen is getting your block knocked off in an amateurish way.
A moment after I'd hit the hail carpet, Olivia was kneeling beside me. Her hand touched my face, but her words weren't addressed to me.
"That was brave!" I heard her cry. "To attack a man from behind, without warning! That's just what I would have expected from you, Harold!"