“Oh damn—I’ve got to get my swimsuit.”
“That’s not fair—I don’t have one,” said Christina.
Bobby smiled. “We’ll have to improvise.” Without wasting any time, he began to remove his clothes and motioned for her to do likewise.
“Hey buddy. There’s no free show here,” she said.
“Oh come on.”
Christina waited for Bobby to get completely nude and enjoyed his self-consciousness as she walked over to him fully clothed. Sauntering around him in mock inspection, she said, “Not quite a Chippendale- but not bad for a 6-time Nobel winner.”
Bobby blushed. “Now it’s your turn,” he said, as he waved his hand signaling that she should get on with it.
“No,” she replied. “I think I’ll just jump into the pool with all my clothes on like they do in those old movies.”
Seeing the disappointment instantly register on Bobby’s face, Christina laughed, “Look at you. You’re like a little kid who arrived at the candy store just as the ‘closed’ sign got hung on the door.” Unbuttoning her skirt, she let it fall to the tile floor. She removed her halter top in one seamless movement. Walking over to the deep end of the pool, she dipped her foot into the water to test its temperature. Then, looking at Bobby, she teasingly stripped off her panties. Bobby watched mesmerized.
“I’ve seen a lot of good looking women in my time, but you’re in a whole different league. You’re a freaking goddess.”
“Bobby, stop trying to butter me up and let’s go swimming.” She dove in, her svelte form cleaving the water without a splash. Gliding effortlessly underneath its glimmering surface for the entire length of the pool, she looked luminescent in the underwater lights. When she surfaced, her emerald eyes glowed, and her long dark hair hung straight back, close to her head like the helmet of an ancient female warrior.
Standing up in shallow water, only a few feet away from Bobby, her strong back was arced, her breasts projected forward, and her dancer’s thighs flexed gracefully, as the droplets of water on her skin reflected the Caribbean moonlight. Bobby waded in next to her.
50
Sleeping poolside on a double chaise-lounge, Bobby and Christina didn’t awaken until almost noon. When they walked back up to the mansion, they were greeted by Susan and Anna who were sitting on the patio. Bobby made the introductions.
“Susan, Anna—I’d like you to meet Dr. Christina Moore. Christina—this is Susan, my right arm and very close friend, —and Anna, her wife, and also my good friend.” Christina looked mortified, standing there barefooted, hair unkempt, no make-up, wearing a rumpled terry robe. This was not how she wanted to meet Bobby’s surrogate family for the first time.
“It’s such a pleasure to meet you both,” said Christina. “I’ve heard so much about you. But I really have to apologize for my appearance. It’s been a crazy twelve hours.”
“Sweetie—when you look like you do, you never have to apologize for your appearance. Bobby said you were gorgeous and you are,” said Anna smiling broadly.
“Don’t be silly,” Susan said. “You’re dressed for the beach. I’ve been wondering when we’d get to meet you. Why don’t we all have lunch together a little later.”
“I really should go back to the hotel to get some clean clothes.”
“Don’t worry about that,” said Susan. “Your outfit from last night has already been dry cleaned and put into one of the guest rooms by the Villa staff. Believe it or not, they have their own dry cleaning machine here.”
“That’s amazing,” said Christina.
“This place is like a six star hotel,” said Anna.
As Susan escorted Christina to her room, she said, “You’ll have to tell me all about yourself later. Did you have a good time last night?”
“We had an amazing time,” Christina said, beaming.
“That’s terrific. I haven’t seen Bobby this happy—ever.”
“He’s so different from anything I ever imagined,” said Christina.
“Bobby has many facets. He’s a complex person. You’re bringing out something wonderful in him that’s been buried. But you’ll find everything out in your own time. Bobby doesn’t like me talking about him.”
The guest room that the Villa staff had put Christina’s things in was a huge corner bedroom with views out to the ocean. Christina let her robe drop to the floor and stood in front of the full length mirror looking at herself. “He called me a goddess. No one ever called me a goddess,” she said softly to herself. She smiled as she traced her body with her fingers.
51
Sitting in his office, Calvin Perrone examined the large stack of eight by ten photographs on his desk one more time. There were at least fifty of them, taken at all times of the night and day at various locations, but all were of uniformly good quality. He sealed them in a manila envelope. He then walked out of his office, went over to the far left elevator, and went through the procedure that he now was familiar with to see the director. He handed Varneys the envelope, who removed the photographs and methodically studied each one while Perrone sat in silence for almost twenty minutes. “This is all of them?” Varneys asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you have audio tapes?”
Perrone nodded. “All conversations in the house, its vehicles, phones, the pool area, the beach cabana and when they were sitting on the beach chairs.”
“Did you bring me complete transcripts of the tapes?”
Perrone pursed his lips as he handed a second envelope to Varneys.
Varneys drummed his fingers on his desk. “Did you listen to the tapes?”
“Yes.”
Varneys eyebrows raised. “And your opinion?”
“A worthwhile read for you, sir.”
“The surveillance will continue for the duration of the trip?”
“Of course.”
A miniscule smile appeared on Varneys’ face as he said, “Well, it looks like our boy is getting the rest and relaxation he needed. And how do things stand overall?”
Perrone’s brow furrowed. “We’re picking up an escalated danger level. His malaria cure is the final straw for some of the fanatics. And there’s other information we’re coming across which is disturbing.”
Varneys resumed his finger drumming. “Like what?”
“The pharmaceutical industry.”
“Anything concrete?”
“No.”
Varneys pointed his right forefinger at Perrone like it was a gun. “Watch that one. There’s been trouble with them before. Are you satisfied with his safety in St. Thomas?”
“He hasn’t been out of our sight for a moment.”
“And you implemented our discussions?”
Perrone nodded emphatically. “With him and the Corwin lady out of the way, we were able to get the Prides Crossing facility and his Boston apartment totally covered.”
52
“So, Christina, I understand you had an unusual dual major in college,” Susan said, as she, Bobby, Christina and Anna enjoyed lunch on the mansion’s veranda overlooking the ocean.
“I love dancing and playing piano, so I had an opportunity to really develop those skills, but at the end of the day, I’m more talented at math and science so that’s what I pursued in grad school.”
Bobby said, “I’ve seen Christina dance. So if she’s better in the sciences –it’s time for me to hang it up.”
“Yeah right,” said Christina.
“I bet she’s poetry in motion,” said Anna smiling as she looked at Christina.
“Why did you do your Ph.D in math and not—was it chem—that you also studied at Stanford?” asked Susan.
“Math is my favorite. It’s always given me a sense of order. It grounds me. I actually find it calming
.”
“What was your thesis about?” asked Susan.
Bobby interrupted. “Christina—please excuse the interrogation. Susan’s been reading, ‘Gestapo for Dummies’ and it’s having an effect on her.”
Christina laughed. “My NSA fellowship assigned me to Professor Wilem Berkenthal. I worked with him at Stanford on his negative sequential gravitation theory, which was a major breakthrough and my thesis dealt with aspects of that.”
“His theory doesn’t work,” said Bobby.
“What? What do you mean?” said Christina.
“His theory breaks down. If he’d extrapolated it the way he should have, he’d see this.”
“Why didn’t you tell him? He’s devoted his life to this.”
“That’s not what I do.”
Christina glared at Bobby, her mouth pressed into a straight line. Seeing this, Susan came to his rescue.
“You have to understand how Bobby spends his time. He doesn’t do any work in the pure or theoretical sciences. Everything has to be directly applicable to disease research. He never digresses.”
“That’s right,” said Bobby, eager to add to the damage control. “So even if I happen to come across something that someone is doing in the theoretical area which I realize is wrong, I can’t get engaged. One distraction leads to another. I made my choices long ago on what I do.”
“And the results speak for themselves,” Susan said.
Christina smiled as she put her hand on Bobby’s. “I get it. That makes sense. I was just surprised about Dr. Berkenthal, that’s all. I killed myself working for him. I was putting in fourteen hour days.”
“Are you close with your mom?” asked Anna, changing the subject.
“We’re very close now. You’d love her. She’s this wonderfully warm and artsy lady. She’s so full of life. She’s like a gypsy.”
“Did she every remarry?” Susan asked. “Bobby mentioned that your father died when you were very young. I’m sorry—am I getting too personal?”
Christina looked away and then stared down at her plate. “She did remarry—when I was nine. But she finally left him when I was fourteen and then things got a lot better between us.”
“Not a good choice she made in number two, I gather?” asked Susan.
Christina was silent as she pushed her food around on the plate.
The remaining few days of Christina’s stay in St. Thomas were dreamily relaxing, with she and Bobby exploring the Island and sampling its many beaches. On her last night, before dinner, she and Bobby joined Susan and Anna for cocktails at Azur Reve. As Bobby and Christina walked into the outdoor living room, both of them dressed for the evening, they were a stunningly attractive couple. Bobby held Christina lightly around the waist. He was beaming and Christina glowed. It was obvious that there was a magic between them.
“My my,” Anna said. “You two look like movie stars.”
“You certainly are a beautiful couple,” said Susan.
As they all sipped on cocktails and nibbled on the delicious canapés that the staff had put out, Susan asked Christina, “So what are you working on in Rhode Island?”
“I have a grant to work at Brown on topology and number theory with Dieter Dierks. He’s a visiting professor from the University of Bonn.”
“Are you excited about it?”
Christina nodded as she reached for a stuffed mushroom. “It should be interesting.”
Susan inhaled the rest of her rum cocktail through the small straw. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you move to Boston and come work at the lab?”
The color drained out of Christina’s face. “You mean Bobby’s lab?”
“Exactly,” said Susan, grinning. Bobby looked panicked. Christina saw his uneasiness. Bobby glared at Susan and nodded in the direction of the kitchen.
“Would you excuse us for a moment please?” said Bobby.
Once inside the kitchen, Bobby pounced on Susan. “Are you crazy? Why did you do that?”
Susan stepped close to him, whispering so she wouldn’t be overheard. “Because, I know you. Once you get back to Boston, you’ll fall into your old routine. She lives in Rhode Island. You live in the lab. You’ll land up never seeing her, and it will all just slip away.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” replied Bobby. But one thing that will really kill it, is if she comes to work at the lab and sees me in that environment. She doesn’t know that side of me.”
Susan shook her head. “Bobby—you are who you are. You can’t hide it. But I’m telling you—if she’s not physically present, you’ll blow this. I know what I’m doing.”
As soon as Bobby and Susan sat down again, Christina said, “Susan—that was an extremely generous idea you had, but I don’t think it would work.”
Bobby said nothing.
As midnight approached, Bobby and Christina sat together under a blanket on a large catamaran that sped through Magens Bay. Only five other passengers were onboard, and the boat was large enough so that everyone had their own private space. Bobby and Christina were unabashedly making out like teenagers. “This has been so wonderful. I wish I didn’t have to go back tomorrow,” she said.
Bobby held her close. “Would you like to work in my lab?”
“Who wouldn’t want to? Professionally I mean,” she replied.
“Forgetting the ‘professional’ thing?”
Christina didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. She snuggled closer to Bobby, her head cradled under his chin. “Would you want to have me around that much?” she asked.
Bobby squeezed her shoulder. “Are you kidding? I’d love it, but it worries me. The guy you’ve spent the last week with isn’t the person I really am. You’ve seen the best of me. I’m not really like this.”
Christina laughed. “You mean you are the child eating nerdy ogre that lives in a cave, like the legends say?”
Bobby lowered his voice. “Well—almost. I’m obsessive. I work constantly. I’m reclusive, in my own world, absent, prone to trances, plagued by nightmares, I drink too much, I’m short tempered —and the list goes on.”
“You haven’t accomplished what you have by being a laid-back bon vivant. I know that.”
Bobby stood up and leaned against the boat’s railing as he gazed at the moonlight reflecting on the water. After awhile, he faced her, his eyes watery. “I don’t want to lose you, Christina. I’m afraid that if you’re around me too much, that’s what will happen.”
“So by keeping me at a distance—you can maintain a façade, and we can have a superficial relationship? Is that what you want?”
Bobby slowly shook his head. “I want you, Christina. That’s all I know. ”
She walked over to him and stood just inches away, her eyes probing his. “What makes you think that the woman you’ve been with this week—is the way I am all the time? Have you thought about that? I’m a damn hard worker too. And I care about what I do, just like you. But we’re on holiday—so, of course, we’re relaxed. And by the way—don’t think I look like this all the time, because I don’t, so don’t get used to it.” A faint smile crossed Bobby’s face. “Now, I’m pretty perceptive when it comes to men. I’m not afraid of who you are. I think I know. And I think I’ll just get to love you more.”
Bobby’s face brightened. “Did you say ‘more’?” Christina smiled and cut him off as she brought her lips to his. “That’s right, silly.”
53
Colum McAlister was in a foul mood when he called Turnbull into his office. Standing in front of his wall of windows almost ninety stories above the streets of New York City, McAlister looked lost in thought as he stared out at what usually was an awesome view. But today, all he saw were sheets of rain slamming against the panes, as storm force winds relentlessly pummeled the skyscrape
r.
Turnbull entered the room and then stood patiently waiting for McAlister to acknowledge his presence. The other two executives already there, the Heads of Bushings’ Information Technology and Public Relations departments, were still reeling from McAlister’s tirade against them. They now sat quietly, waiting for the next salvo, and hoping they would escape the room without losing their jobs. McAlister turned around and faced them again, “So let me be sure I understand this. You’re telling me that you can’t get any traction in disseminating our viral internet campaign against Austin because it’s being blocked?”
“Someone’s detecting it and sabotaging the proliferation. They’re worming it into oblivion.”
“Who could do that?” asked McAlister.
“Only someone with extremely sophisticated monitoring capability and programming resources.”
“Who would have that? Someone in Austin’s office?”
“No way.”
“And it doesn’t matter who sends it off? You tried using our outside people?”
“Of course. It’s the content that’s detected. The interception is content based.”
With a wave of his hand, McAlister motioned them to leave, which they did as quickly as possible without appearing to run out of the room.
Turnbull stayed. “The Austin problem’s only getting worse, Marty. Nothing’s working to derail him. So far, none of the authorities will cooperate with us, and you just heard that he’s being shielded on the smear campaign—which is troubling for a variety of reasons.”
Turnbull’s red face was indicative of his blood pressure problem, which had grown worse in recent months. He mopped his oily forehead with a crumpled tissue that he pulled out of his pants pocket. “It’s not good, Colum. His malaria cure is vetting out perfectly in field tests, and now every scientist is glomming on to the methodology he laid out for them. All vector transmitted diseases will be a thing of the past within three years. He made it so easy for them it’s like shooting ducks in a barrel. Our share price is diving and the formal announcements haven’t even been made yet.”
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