“Not much,” Joyce admitted. “We may know more when we get a look at the dead bat. Cell structure, possible microbial weaknesses, circulation and respiration-to tell us how much sleep and food the big bats need.
“Dr. Joyce,” Weeks said, “will you be available when we do the autopsy on the big bat?”
“Actually,” Joyce said, “unless anyone has any objections, I was going to suggest that you let me handle it.”
Weeks shoved his hands into the pockets of his white windbreaker. He looked at Joyce. “Al?”
“We have a long-standing relationship with Dr. Berkowitz at the Central Park Zoo,” Doyle said.
“Berkowitz isnot a bat person,” Joyce huffed.
Weeks said, “The long relationship aside, would you personally have any problem with Dr. Joyce conducting the autopsy?”
Doyle’s thin lips and heavy eyebrows dipped in disapproval. “I’d have no problem with herbeing there-”
“Mr. Doyle,” Joyce said, “I’ve done microdissections on more than seventy different species of bats. I know what to look for and how to get it without damaging the surrounding tissue.”
“Al,” Weeks said, “Dr. Joyce has been the point person on this situation from the get-go.I’d like her to conduct the autopsy and write the report. Can we do that?”
Gentry was watching with interest. Weeks hadn’t left Doyle much room to maneuver.
Doyle said, “Berkowitz probably won’t let us use the zoo facility.”
“That’s not a problem,” Joyce said quickly. “I’d be taking the bat to Professor Lowery’s laboratory at the Museum of Natural History. I’d also want him to work with me on this.”
“Professor Kane Lowery?” Doyle sniffed.
“That’s right.”
“He’s very good.”
“Right again.”
“Then we’re all okay?” Weeks said. “Let me know, because I’ve got to run.”
Doyle nodded once. “We’ll bring the bat to Professor Lowery’s laboratory. But your report goes to me, Dr. Joyce, and I take it from there. And you don’t talk to the press.”
“I don’t care about the press,” she said.
Still standing off to the side, Gentry frowned.
“Excellent,” Weeks said. “Thank you, Al. Thank you both.”
Weeks went over to talk to the mayor, who was watching the ironworkers rig lifelines before walking up the cables. He was trailed by a small string of deputies who held reports about bat activity from around the city. From what Gentry could overhear, the worst problem at the moment was dogs going wild whenever bats flew past windows or went down chimneys. Weeks said he could live with that.
Doyle walked over to the DOT personnel at the bridge. Gentry came over to Joyce. She was looking across the river. The lights of the bridge were sparkling on its dark surface.
Gentry looked at Nancy. Her black hair was twisting away from her neck, riding the wind. There was a moment when her courage, her mind, her determination, her eyes, the smoothness of her skin, the delicate curve of her shoulders, her slender fingers, the way she stood with her feet pointing outward slightly-when everything came together and made his breath catch in his throat. It was a moment such as Gentry had never experienced.
“I can probably scare you up some coffee or a windbreaker if you want,” he said.
“No thanks.” She was frowning. “That bastard Doyle let me have the bat as soon as I put Lowery in the picture.”
“At least you have it.”
“Yeah, but it’s still a boys’ club.”
“I’m still not sure I agree with that. Doyle jumped at your Lowery reference because it gave him a way out. Who could refuse letting a scientist of his stature examine the bat? He can sell that to Berkowitz and to the press. Anyway, like I said back at the apartment, Weeks is on your side.”
“That’s true, at least.” She looked at Gentry. “You know what I’d really like?”
“What?”
“I’d like to sit down somewhere and close my eyes.”
“I think we can arrange that,” he said. “There are a couple of ESU REP trucks on the corner of Front Street. They’re probably going to hang around in case they’re needed for rescues or a bat attack. I’m sure no one would mind if you stretched out in one of them.”
“Great,” she said. “I just want to call President Lowery first and let him know I’ll be coming in.”
“Withyour trophy,” Gentry said. “Make sure he knows that.”
“He’ll know.”
She went to the closest truck. Gentry introduced her to the officers and she made her call from there. When she was finished, the ESU personnel were delighted to have her crash there. One of the younger officers, having heard of her exploits, declared his love for Joyce and asked if she would entertain a marriage proposal.
Gentry said, “Sorry, officer, but you’ll have to take a number and wait in line.”
Nancy didn’t respond as she climbed into the backseat and lay down.
Gentry felt a little bad. After he said it, he realized he hadn’t entirely been joking.
It took just over four hours to get the bat off the bridge. Once it was down and bundled in canvas-its wings carefully folded over-Doyle supervised its loading into an ESU Construction Accident Response Vehicle. Inside the wide CARV, the bat was laid out on a pair of four-person inflatable rafts. The rafts were arranged in two rows of two to cushion the creature. It was secured there with a 220-foot-long 5/8-inch lifeline.
Kathy Leung tried to get herself and her muscular camera operator T-Bone Harrold past the police barricade. She was turned back. Until the bat was down and the cables had been checked out, no one was going near the bridge. Then she tried to get Gentry’s attention by shouting over. He pretended not to hear her. He didn’t like ignoring anyone or helping to shut down the press. Four years ago, in one of those freak incidents that happens only in real life,New York Times crime reporter Sam Lawrence had scored an interview with Akira Mizuno up in Connecticut. Gentry was in the room when Lawrence arrived. The two of them used to bump into each other once or twice a week at the Lord Camelot diner on Forty-fifth Street and Eighth Avenue, just a few blocks from theTimes. Lawrence would have had a hell of a story if he’d chosen to blow Gentry’s cover. But he didn’t. Things like that would give the press a good name if people ever heard about them.
Only when the bat was down, only when Doyle was finished with it, did Gentry go over and wake Nancy. He was a little light-headed from not having slept. But he’d wanted to make sure that Doyle didn’t give the bat to Berkowitz while she slept. Doyle was the kind of clever bureaucrat who wouldn’t hesitate to tell Weeks, “Securitycame first. I couldn’t find her so we took the bat to Berkowitz’s lab.” When the big bat had come down, Gentry had gone over to the ESU drivers and personally made certain that they knew where to go.
Nancy hadn’t moved from where she’d fallen across the seat of the REP truck. Gentry looked at her. Behind him, across the East River, the sun began to lighten the skies.
Gentry had no trouble seeing the girl in the woman. He hadn’t always seen that in his wife or some of the other women he’d been with. But he saw it in Nancy. Despite the occasional bursts of indignation and anger, there was a sweetness that life hadn’t squeezed from her.
He leaned into the truck, his hand on the back of the front seat. He reached down and lightly shook her arm.
She awoke with a jolt. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Gentry said quietly. “We’ve got the bat down. We’re ready to head up to the museum.”
“Right.” She sat up and looked at her watch. “Almost six-thirty. That was pretty quick.”
“You feel any better?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Much.”
Joyce swung her long legs from the seat. Gentry backed away from the truck and she slid out.
“Are we supposed to notify Professor Lowery?” Gentry asked.