"Peter." She was surprised. She'd thought of him repeatedly during the afternoon, but had never expected him to materialize at her door. She touched her hair and remembered she was completely without makeup.
"You look fresh and scrubbed and very much like a girl who needs a good movie," he said, as if reading her thoughts. "How about that popcorn?" He edged past her into the apartment.
"Well, I hadn't made any plans." She hesitated. What would it hurt to watch a movie? "Okay." Her nerves were still raw from her talk with Rayburn. The truth was, she was more than glad to see Peter. He could make her feel secure when no one else could.
Peter built a blazing fire while she listened to the sound of popping kernels in the microwave. "Old-time popcorn was so much harder, and I don't think it tastes any better," she said. "You'd be hard put to get me to admit to modern improvements in a lot of traditions, but microwave popcorn is a definite step forward for mankind."
Peter put the fire screen back into place. He settled down on the sofa and took a large handful of the buttery corn. "I won't argue that point." Picking up the remote control, he flipped on the movie. "So let's relax."
The credits had barely finished when the telephone rang.
"Tell them to call back," he teased her, but watched her alertly as she took the call.
"I will," she promised, lifting the receiver, "after this call."
"Why, Magdalena, how are you?" She raised her eyebrows at Peter, and he flicked the movie to Mute.
"Tomorrow evening? Yes, I could manage that. Charles Breck has agreed to meet with me. Of course, I'll tell Peter," she said. She replaced the receiver before she looked at him.
"As you heard, I have an appointment with Breck tomorrow. Magdalena Caruso arranged it. He thinks I'm some undercover animal rights radical." There was no amusement, only worry on her face.
"Where's the meeting?" Peter asked.
"I don't know. I'm to go over to Magdalena's, and she'll take me from there. She asked me to tell you. And she said if we aren't back by eight, that you should— " She stopped.
"I should what?"
Eleanor looked up. For the first time, Peter saw the depth of her worry in her eyes and felt a nasty twinge of guilt.
"That you should notify the authorities and find us a very good lawyer. She said we'd need one."
Chapter Eight
Eleanor wiped her palms on her wool slacks. A lingering, unpleasant odor came from the empty cages all around her.
"The research here was vital," Charles Breck was saying. "The break-in and violation of federal security is intolerable." He looked directly at Magdalena Caruso as he spoke.
"Prove it, Breck," she responded, not the least bit ruffled. "I've got a doctor's certificate that says I can't walk long distances or run. I'd be a fool to break into a research lab in my physical condition."
"Your ability to act the fool has never ceased to amaze me." Breck's tone was severe, as was his expression.
"What type of research was conducted here?" Eleanor asked. She felt completely at odds with her surroundings, and in contrast to her expectations, Breck acted as if she were one of Magdalena's associates. He acted as if she might be armed and violent, and Magdalena was doing nothing to counteract that impression!
"We weren't really engaged in research," Cal Vrenner, the white-coated scientist, said smoothly. "At the stage of the break-in, we were really more of a training center. Obedience." He smiled at her.
"Dogs and cats?" she asked. Familiar was at the back of her mind, and she could hardly look at the cages with the mesh wire bottoms. For an animal with padded feet that type of cage would be sheer torture.
"A little more sophisticated," Vrenner said.
"You seem proud of your work, Vrenner. Maybe we could see a little demonstration of what you're training." Magdalena's voice held only contempt. "What's the penalty for disobedience? A slap? A kick? Maybe an injection of drain cleaner?"
"That's enough of that, Magdalena," Breck told her. "Cal has been involved in a small project that we at the CIA are very interested in seeing happily completed. And you'll be glad to know that it involves no cruelty."
"I don't believe it."
Magdalena's gaze challenged Vrenner, and Eleanor felt a new appreciation of the short woman. She had once said she was capable of anything to save an animal, and Eleanor now understood how far that meant she'd go. Magdalena hated Vrenner. She hated him with a raw passion that could turn into violence. She must have despised him the first minute she'd laid eyes on him.
"Get the ape," Breck said, breaking the tension that flowed between Magdalena and Vrenner. He straightened the coat of his dark suit.
"Of course," Vrenner agreed with a modest amount of deference. "I'll be right back."
As soon as he was out of the room, Breck rounded on Magdalena. "Watch your step," he warned her. "Vrenner is a dedicated scientist, but he has a temper. You could push him too far."
"I'd love to be on the other end of an assault charge from that man," Magdalena fumed. "And if you're implying he'd slug a woman, what must he do to these animals when there's no one around to control him!"
Vrenner returned before Breck could respond. He led a small female orangutan on a silver leash. The collar around her neck was jeweled.
"Curtsy," Vrenner commanded.
The ape executed a perfect curtsy, sweeping her head almost to the floor in front of Magdalena.
"Kiss hand," Vrenner said.
Magdalena's hand was clutched by the monkey and kissed.
The plump woman grasped the ape's hand and held it, turning it over to reveal a series of sores, some of them heavily scabbed.
"What is this?" Magdalena demanded.
"Unfortunately, in trying to give the ape some freedom from her cage, she was left unsupervised. She decided to play with a Bunsen burner that was lighted. The burns weren't deep. We've made sure she had veterinary care," Vrenner said. There was no apology in his voice, but rather a note of careful pride. "We take care of our animals, Mrs. Caruso, whether you want to believe that or not."
"I don't believe it," she said flatly. "My guess is that you burned the monkey, administering some sort of reprimand."
"Prove it!" Vrenner challenged her.
"I wish I could," Magdalena answered.
"How is the ape's training coming along?" Breck interjected.
"Beautifully. She'll be ready for the ceremony day."
"I'm delighted," he said. Turning to Magdalena, he explained further. "She's a gift to a foreign leader, a man known for his fondness of apes and his kind treatment. An old friend of mine, Frederick Nottingham, wanted to give the ape as a gift, and I agreed to help him find suitable training. She's going to be a surprise, and if her training continues successfully, maybe an asset. What with the curtsy and all, I think she'll be a smash success, don't you agree?"
"I don't agree with anything that goes on in this building," Magdalena said. "If I had my way, I'd take the ape with me to some reputable trainer."
"Are you implying that I'm not reputable?" Vrenner demanded.
"I'm not implying anything," Magdalena answered coolly. "I'm saying it outright. You're scum, Vrenner. I know your reputation, even if Charles is too thickheaded to look at the facts. I despise you and your cohorts, and whenever I get the chance, however it comes, I intend to destroy your little business. Proper training doesn't require physical pain. I know you."
The tension in the room was electric. For a wild moment, Eleanor thought Magdalena might pull out a gun and shoot the scientist. Or vice versa.
Breck stepped between the two. "Enough. I thought I could show you and your associate— " he stared at Eleanor "— some positive work. I can see now that the effort was wasted. We'd better leave."
"What about the ape?" The words were out of Eleanor's mouth before she could stop herself. Breck's cold look told her that she was damned in his eyes.
"She's perfectly fine." Breck's tone was harsh; he put a hand onto El
eanor's shoulder and started to push. "I hoped you'd at least understand the necessity of animal use. After all, you've done your own research with communications."
Eleanor balked. "What are you talking about?"
Breck looked at Vrenner. The scientist shook his head. "Excuse me, I misspoke. The car is waiting."
"Where are the rest of the animals?" Eleanor pointed to the empty cages. "You don't keep cats or dogs in this type of cage, do you? The mesh hurts their paws."
"I knew you had it in you," Magdalena said, nodding approval.
"I don't have anything in me. I'm not on anybody's side in this, but some things aren't to be tolerated." She shook herself free of Breck's hand. "And I'm not to be pushed around like some criminal element."
"Out of here!" Breck commanded. "Both of you! Magdalena, this is the last time. Don't call me, don't expect any advice or assistance. I'm finished with you. I'm sure now that you are responsible for the break-in here, and I believe Dr. Duncan was also involved."
"Believe what you want to," Eleanor retorted. Now her own temper had risen to a dangerous level. "The lab is funded by federal monies, I suppose. Well, maybe this is something the taxpayers should look into."
Breck propelled both women out the door.
The car tore out of the parking lot with loose gravel spinning from beneath the wheels. Eleanor looked through the back window. The Behavioral Institute was a redbrick building tucked away in a small nook of isolation. It wasn't that far from her university, but it seemed like another planet.
"There's not even a tree nearby," she said aloud.
"To some people, trees aren't important. Cal Vrenner and his ilk are that type."
"What will happen to the monkey?" Eleanor asked.
"Not a damn thing!" Breck said, turning to them over the front seat. "I'm serving you both with a strong warning. If anything goes amiss at that lab again, I'm holding you responsible. Got it? It may take several weeks of interrogation before anyone decides that you have certain civil rights."
"That's a dire threat, Charles," Magdalena said. There wasn't a trace of concern in her voice. "As a former resident of the Washington city jail, I can only hope the federal facilities have a higher standard of cleanliness."
"You can be cute all you want to, Magdalena. But if you get in trouble again, it's your hide. Don't call me."
Magdalena started to respond, but Eleanor touched her hand and restrained her. There was no point in pushing the conversation any further. Breck was seething, and Magdalena was clearly itching for more hot words.
"Let us out at Brenniton's," Eleanor said suddenly. "I think I'd like to treat Mrs. Caruso to dinner."
"Eat hearty," Breck said; the car pulled to the curb in front of the busy restaurant. "And stay away from Vrenner," he warned as they exited.
"I do what I have to do," Magdalena answered. She slammed the door with unnecessary force.
"He's really angry with us now," Eleanor said to the older woman as they made their way to the matre d'. For the moment, she held back her own frustration with Magdalena.
"Not nearly as much as I am with him," Magdalena answered. "There was a time when I thought Charles might actually have a little soul in him. I can't believe he's paying Cal Vrenner for any type of governmental work. I'm not exaggerating, Eleanor. If Vrenner's the man I think he is, his reputation is so disgusting that even the larger chemical companies won't hire him. There was a fire about fifteen years ago at International Chem-Co." She stopped suddenly.
"And what happened?" Eleanor prompted. Magdalena looked shocked.
"A man who looked an awful lot like Vrenner was running the lab there. An assistant was implicated, and in a major fire many animals died. Nothing was ever proven." Magdalena's voice had lost its tone of conviction. She seemed to be thinking of something else as she talked. "It's a complex story."
"That's horrible," Eleanor said. "What happened to the assistant?"
"I don't know. He disappeared. I'm sure he never got another job in research. But that Vrenner person has continued, and now that I know he's here and working under federal contract, I intend to stop him."
The matre d' led them to a table near the window. Eleanor couldn't stop herself. She leaned over and took Magdalena's hand. "Be careful. Vrenner isn't a man to tamper with."
"I don't tamper. When I strike, I intend for it to be a fatal blow." Magdalena flipped her napkin and effectively changed the subject. "Especially now." She looked up with a quick smile. "What do you know about AFA?"
The acronym drew a complete blank. "Nothing. What is it?"
"Another animal group. I thought you might be a member."
Eleanor shook her head. "I have my own set of personal worries, one of which is that you set me up with Breck. You made no effort to make him believe I wasn't a member of your group."
Magdalena shrugged. "He already had his mind made up. There really wasn't anything I could do."
"Then why did I meet with him?"
"You never know." Magdalena shrugged. "How are the desserts here?"
"Maybe we shouldn't have come on so strong. I mean, how did you know the ape was injured by Vrenner? She could have burned herself, as he said."
"She could have," Magdalena agreed, "but I don't buy it. As I told you earlier, Vrenner's reputation precedes him."
Eleanor let the subject drop and ordered a glass of white wine and a light salad. "Excuse me," she said, rising. "I'm going to find a phone. I promised Peter I'd check in."
"Tell him to meet us here," Magdalena said, then smiled. "I don't think you'll have to twist his arm."
Eleanor shook her head and chuckled as she walked away. She had to hand it to Magdalena; she was a sharp cookie.
The restaurant was crowded, and she wove her way around the tables. That was a wonderful thing about Washington. She could go to the busiest places and never see a familiar face. It was such a contrast to the small mountain community where she'd grown up. Anonymity was a very comforting sensation.
As she turned right to find the ladies' room and a pay phone, she saw the tall, tailored body of Alva Rousel. The CIA agent was sitting alone at a small table at the window, his face hidden in a newspaper. The obvious attempt at concealment was so pathetic that Eleanor smiled. The man was tailing her, and everywhere she went, she caught on to him. Her first impulse was to go over and talk with him, but she stopped herself. She didn't want to confront the issue of Carter's past. But she was dying to find Betty Gillette and see what the two of them had talked about during Betty's question session.
One more thing to do tomorrow, she reminded herself as she turned into the ladies' room. A pay phone in the small alcove was available, and she made the call to Peter. He quickly offered to come to the restaurant and drive her and Magdalena home.
They'd finished dinner and were having coffee by the time Peter arrived, eager for an account of the evening's meeting.
"Eleanor was brilliant," Magdalena gushed. "She tried to make those rascals accountable for their conduct."
"I didn't," Eleanor protested. "I only asked a few questions. The place was, well, disreputable."
Peter raised his eyebrows. "Meaning?"
"There wasn't even a single tree," she said, realizing she sounded ridiculous. "And the orangutan had these sores on her hands." She didn't want to get into the business about Vrenner.
"Electric shock?" he asked. When he saw Eleanor's startled look, he regretted his sudden question.
Magdalena nodded. Her green eyes were sharp as a cat's, he noted.
"How did you know?" Eleanor asked Peter.
"Standard operating procedure for some labs and other so-called training facilities." He shrugged it off.
"The Behavioral Institute," Magdalena said. "The cages were empty. I didn't get much of a chance to tour the place. Typical setup, mesh cages on top of each other, that type of thing."
"I know it only too well," Peter said, shaking his head. He stood up. "I'd better get you ladies home. It
's late."
He assisted Magdalena to her feet. Outside the restaurant, a sheen of ice had touched the sidewalks. The wind sang around Eleanor's ears with a new bitterness as she slipped into the car. Something had transpired at the lab that she'd missed— something between Magdalena and Vrenner— and possibly Breck.
Magdalena made an issue of giving Peter her address as they moved into the traffic. Their eyes met and held in the rearview mirror for a moment.
"Hey, isn't that your friend from the university?" Peter pointed to the corner window seat.
Eleanor strained to catch a glimpse of the red-haired woman who sat at the table with Alva Rousel, but couldn't be certain if it was Betty or not. Traffic forced their car forward before Eleanor could get a good look.
"I couldn't tell if it was Betty, but I'm certain the man was Alva Rousel," Eleanor said, and for some reason the idea of the two of them dining together unnerved her. "I saw him earlier when I went to the ladies' room. He was hiding behind a newspaper, as if he'd been sent to tail me and needed a crummy disguise."
"Maybe he was just having dinner," Peter said. "That isn't an unreasonable assumption. Betty is an attractive woman, and from all I could gather, she's single."
"I suppose you're right," Eleanor agreed.
"But you don't like it, do you?" Magdalena asked from the back seat.
"No, I don't," Eleanor admitted, chuckling at her own irrationality. "And I don't know why."
"Woman's intuition," Magdalena said. "It's the best reason, and the only one you can't ever explain."
* * *
TUESDAY MORNING rain pelted Eleanor's bedroom window. She pulled the covers over her head and sighed. Only Familiar's insistent kneading convinced her that she had to get up. She checked the bedside clock and found that it was nearly nine.
"Ten days until Christmas," she said, awed by the reality. "I'd better do some serious shopping today."
Looking out the window, she knew she'd go instead to the university. She didn't have the fortitude to confront millions of shoppers on such a dreary day. She needed the comfort of her research, and she was dying to talk with Betty.
Peter had walked her to her door the night before, but she'd declined his offer to act as watchdog. There were things she needed to tell him, but last night hadn't been the proper occasion. She was still up in the air about her own feelings.
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