Implant. Part 33

"So you are going to help him look younger." '"No. Actually, I'm going to remove his eyelids completely so he'll have this ghastly bug-eyed look." Her heart jumped. He wasn't serious . . . was he?

"Dun , .

can, don't even" "Only kidding. Look, the president himself wants me to do it, so I'm doing it. As a rule I don't correct a single-feature defect like this, but the rest of his face is fairly younglooking, so I'm making an exception." He grinned. "And trust me, this is not a freebie."

"Who's a.s.sisting? " Oliver had already told her it would be Dr.

VanDuyne, but she thought she should cover for him by asking .

Duncan leaned forward. "That's why I called you in here. I'd like you to a.s.sist." Gin blinked. The words rocked her. What in heaven was going on?" Me? " "Yes, you. VanDuyne, the president's personal physician, has offered to a.s.sist. He'd probably be okay, but the more I think about it, the more I want someone who's worked with me. You've done dozens of these lid lifts with me. So, if you haven't already made plans for Friday . . . " "No . . . no plans."

"Good. I'd also like you to handle recovery. VanDuyne was going to, but again you're more experienced. I'd feel better if you were on hand to watch over things.

" "Sure, ' Gin said, still off balance. She struggled to get her bearings, fought not to be awed. "I'll be glad to."

"Excellent. I intend to add a fat surgical a.s.sistant's fee to the bill which will go directly to you." Gin was going to be a.s.sisting on the president of the United States, and be well paid for it. Talk about having your cake and . . .

But even more disorienting was that Duncan had asked her to a.s.sist him.

How could he be planning any harm if he wanted her right there in OR and in recovery?

Had all her suspicions been for nothing?

No, not all. That vial of TPD still loomed in the background, but Gin began to feel the tension uncoil within her, felt her neck and shoulder muscles relax as if the weight of the world had been lifted from them.

She half listened as he went on about the anesthesiologist from Bethesda, the security measures, and the need for absolute discretion.

"You can't tell anyone, not your best friend, not your parents, not even your boyfriend in the FBI."

"We're just friends, " she said.

Although even that might be pus.h.i.+ng things at this point.

"Whatever. Only the Secret Service and the four doctors in OR-1 on Friday morning will know about this. We're scheduled for seven-thirty.

The president and VanDuyne will arrive at six-thirty. You, Oliver, and the anesthesiologist will be here at six. I'll come at five to open up for the Secret Service so they can secure the premisesI believe that's the expression they used. Any problem with that? " "None at all. ""Wonderful. Oliver, by the way, is nearly delirious about this. Wants to celebrate in advance. I think it's rather silly but if we don't do something to mark the occasion he just might explode. Since we all have to be up early on Friday, and since Oliver loves Italian food, I've reserved us a table at Galileo tonight. Oliver and I would both very much like for you to join us." Galileo. G.o.d, the four-star restaurant where the president took his Hollywood friends when they were in town. Gin was beginning to get excited herself.

"How could I say no to Galileo? " "I'll pick up Oliver and we'll be by at half past seven to pick you up." He rose. "And now, unless you have any questions, I suggest we both get back to work." Feeling slightly dazed, Gin nodded, rose, and made her way to the hall.

Life was certainly full of surprises.

Duncan watched Gin go, then poured himself another cup of coffee.

That went rather well, he thought grimly. Too well.

Under different circ.u.mstances he might find this sort of cat-and-mouse game stimulating. But not with this particular mouse. Plus, everything was rigged in his favor, he knew what she knew, but she hadn't the slightest notion that he was on to her.

Gin was beginning to trust him again. And he was going to use that to cut her off at the knees.

He didn't much like himself today.

He spotted a sliver of black plastic and plucked it from the carpet. A remnant of the videoca.s.sette he'd smashed last night. After that little tantrum, he'd picked up the pieces, discarded them, and slipped a new ca.s.sette into the camera. Then, with his emotions locked away where they could not interfere, he'd sat down, a.s.sessed the cards he'd been dealt, and worked out the best way to play his hand.

First, he'd lock up the TPD in his desk drawer again and see that Gin did not get another chance to pick the lock.

Then he'd take the offensive. She'd learned about the presidentsomething he'd been desperate to keep secret. The worst thing to do then would be to retreat. That would confirm that he had something to hide. So do the opposite, the unexpected. Don't lock her out. Welcome her in. Show his handbut only those cards that have already been exposed Which was exactly what he had done. He'd sounded so 0, open this morning, he'd almost scared himself.

<,"t the="" result,="" gin="" was="" not="" only="" thoroughly="" off="" balance,="" but="" literally="" starstruck="" at="" the="" opportunity="" to="" a.s.sist="" on="" the="" .="">

She was honored, for G.o.d's sake.

Maybe he'd overestimated Gin.

He shook off the irritation and reviewed the last element of -- his plan, keeping Oliver out of this. Oliver usually took Wednesdays off and today was no exception. But just to be sure, he'd called him and told him that he mllst not, under any circ.u.mstances, mention their conversation of last night to Gin. Not until Duncan had a chance to talk to her today.

This was crucial because if Gin ever learned that Duncan was aware that she already knew about the president, his credibility would crumble, and with it, his plan.

Now he had only to keep them apart until dinner tonight.

After that, it wouldn't matter.

Duncan rubbed his tired, burning eyes. If only there were another way out of this. He'd walked the floor most of the night trying to come up with one. He couldn't.

A wave of nausea rippled across his stomach.

Lord, he wished this night were over.

The phone rang. It was Duncan.

'"Are you ready? " '"Of course I'm ready, " Gin said. "You said seven-thirty, didn't you? Don't tell me you haven't left yet. ' "I'm crossing the Ellington as we speak. I'll be there momentarily." The wonder of the cellular phone, Gin thought as she hung up.

She a.s.sumed from the call that Duncan didn't want her to keep him waiting. The Duke Ellington Bridge was less than minute away and no doubt he expected her to be standing downstairs in the vestibule when he arrived. Oliver would probably be glad to run up and escort her down, but why make him go to the trouble?

She checked herself one last time in the mirror. The little black dress Mama always told her to keep in her wardrobe certainly had come in handy today. When she'd returned from Louisiana she'd invested in a slinky little Donna Karan numbernicely fitted, with a jewel neckline.

She'd added a short string of pearls and pearl earrings. Simple but elegant. The perfect look for all those receptions on Capitol Hillshe'd dreamed of attending. So far the dress hadn't left the closet.

Tonight would be its coming out. At Galileo. Not too shabby a spot for its debut.

The forecast was wet so she threw her raincoat over her shoulders and headed downstairs. Duncan's black Mercedes pulled up a moment later.

He got out and opened the front pa.s.senger door for her. As she slid in she glanced in the back. Empty.

"Where's Oliver? " "A little under the weather. That stomach thing that's going around.

He sends his regrets and says, Galileo or not, he can't even think of food tonight." '"Oh, that's terrible. Let's call him right after dinner and see how he feels."

"I think he was going to crawl into bed and pull the covers over his head until morning."

"No one to take care of him? " She couldn't resist seizing the moment to satisfy her curiosity about Oliver. Have I no shame? "No friends to look in on him? ' "Oliver is one of the most self-sufficient people I know. He has a maid come in once a week, otherwise he's alone and .

. , quite happy to be so. No wife, no kids, no mistress, and no, he's not a h.o.m.os.e.xual." '"I never thought" , . "If you did, you wouldn't be the first."

"Poor Oliver. I feel bad for him. Didn't you say this dinner was his idea7" "I was going to call it off but he insisted that we not stand you up. So tonight I'll have to be myself and Oliver as well."

"Does that mean you're going to be eating for two? " "Yes.

With lots of garlic." Gin noticed that Duncan's smile seemed a little forced. He looked tense, his posture stiff. He seemed generally uneasy. Because of her?

Could it be he was uncomfortable taking a young female employee out to dinner?

But Duncan rarely gave a d.a.m.n what anyone else thought - of him.

The Mercedes cruised down Connecticut like a battles.h.i.+p on a lake.She'd never been in Duncan's car before. She felt invulnerable as she watched the shops and hotels along Connecticut roll past on the other side of the tinted gla.s.s. They cruised around Dupont Circle, then turned right onto M Street A left on Twenty-first Street and they were there.

"Galileo, " he said as they pulled into the garage next door. A simple maroon canopy jutted out from what looked like an officer building.

"Where the effete elite meet to eat." Gin decided to go him one better. "Where the voracious and edacious mendacious can wax loquacious while looking gracious, sedacious, and perspicacious. "

There. That was two or three better.

Duncan stared at her a moment, then said, "That, my dear, was a thing of beauty." But he wasn't smiling. His expression was strange.

Almost . . .

pained.

What's eating him tonight? she wondered.

Her before-dinner manhattan was perfect, the mezze lune di granachio was superb, the service impeccable, and the wine Duncan ordereda I 984 amaroneas smooth as silk. Galileo's spare decor was not what she'd expected. No heavy Mediterranean drapes and furniture.

Everything was light and understated. But the mood at their table was anything but light. At times the conversation actually dragged something she would have thought impossible in Duncan's presence. He didn't rant, didn't launch into a single tirade. Even when Larry King and Senator Rockefeller arrived and were seated three tables away, Duncan managed only a few disparaging remarks. At times she'd find him staring at her, his eyes intent on her face, other times he'd be a million miles away. He picked at his veal and barely sipped his wine, but kept refilling her gla.s.s. She wondered if he might be coming down with what Oliver had.

She wished she could get a grip on this jigsaw puzzle of a man. Every time she thought she had him figured, a new piece would pop up requiring her to rearrange everything and start over again.

She watched him stare into his half-full gla.s.s of wine for the longest TIME "Are you okay? " He looked up. "Hmmm? Yes. Fine." '"You seem down." He shrugged. "Just thinking about life, the twists and turns it takes you through. The cruel tricks it plays on you.""Some of the tricks are funny, " she said.

"Sometimes we back ourselves into corners, " he said, as if she hadn't spoken, "and we despise the means necessary to extricate ourselves. '

What was wrong with him tonight?

"Do you want dessert? " he said as the waiter was clearing the dinner plates.

"I don't think I could eat another thing. But I could go for some coffee."

"Leave the coffee to me, " he said. "I don't care if this is one of the best restaurants inside the beltway, their coffee can't hold a candle to mine. We'll have real coffee back at the office." She considered begging off, but realized she couldn't deny Duncan his coffee ritual. Maybe it would pull him out of his funk. Besides, it was only a few miles out of the way.

After Duncan paid the bill, Gin rose and felt a little wobbly. She realized that she'd consumed most of the amarone.

As she stood staring at the languid koi in the rock garden pool beyond Duncan's offwce window, Gin wondered if there was any place on earth she'd feel less comfortable than Duncan's officer. This was where she'd broken into his drawer, where just yesterday she'd been sneaking through his bookshelf. And here he was toiling a dozen feet away making her what he called the best coffee in the world.

She felt like such a rat.

But at least the prospect of some good coffee seemed to have cheered him up. Maybe that had been his problem all along tonightcaffeine withdrawal.

"At last, " he said, turning from his drip equipment with a steaming cup. "The perfect after-dinner coffee." Gin took it from him and sniffed. "Licorice? " "I know, I know. You must promise never to mention to anyone that I adulterated my own coffee. But I figured that after an evening of Italian food, I'd break down and add some sambuca.

' Gin sipped and repressed a grimace. Bitter. She could taste the coffee, and the licorice tang of the sambuca, but there was something else there, something she couldn't identify.

"Mmmm, " she said. "Unusual."

"A special black sambuca, " he told her, sipping his own. "Gives it a unique flavor. Drink up." Gin took another sip. Definitely not toher taste, but she couldn't very well dump it after he'd gone to the trouble of brewing it for her.

Rather than prolong the agony, she drank it quickly.

"Another cup? ' Duncan asked.

"No, thanks, " she said. "Between the manhattan, the wine, and the sambuca, I think I'm already over my limit." That was an understatement. She was definitely woozy now.

"Maybe I'd better take you home, " Duncan said.

"Maybe you'd better, " she said. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about. You're not driving, so what difference does it make? " A fine drizzle had begun to fall. In the Mercedes, the swirl of lights from the streets and pa.s.sing cars refracting through the myriad beads of water on the windows made her stomach begin a slow turn. She- squinted and breathe deeply. She would die before she'd throw up in Duncan's car.

He double-parked on Kalorama, took her keys, and walked her up to her apartment. He let her in, then stepped back onto the landing.

"Are you going to be all right? " "I'll be fine. Thanks for dinner.

And I'm sorry about . . . " "Don't give it another thought. I shouldn't have given you that doctored-up coffee." Something strange in his voice as he said that, but his face was unreadable Or was that because her vision was blurred?

"Good night, Duncan."

"Good night. Go right to bed." '"Don't worry about that."

As soon as he closed the door, Gin headed for the bathroom. But she didn't vomit. The nausea was still there, but now that the world around her was no longer in motion, it seemed to have eased.

She thought about taking a shower, then said to h.e.l.l with it. What she needed was sleep.

She took off her raincoat and threw it on a chair. She sat on the bed and peeled off her panty hose, then began working on the b.u.t.tons of her dress. Before she reached the last she flopped back and closed her eyes. Just for a second . . . no more than a minute . . . then she'd finish undressing . . .

THURSDAY MORNING GINA AWOKE WITH GLUE IN HER MOUTH, SAND IN HER eyes,and heavy metal pounding in her ears. She rolled out of bed and stumbled across the floor with her hand stretched toward the snooze b.u.t.ton. She always left her clock radio on a hard-core metal station.

Never failed to get her up. No way she could stay in bed with that stuff playing.

Only now she wished she'd spun the dial to something elseanything elsebefore pa.s.sing out last night. Noise equaled pain this morning, but speed metal went beyond pain into torture. The throbbing ba.s.s and drums were piercing straight through to the center of her brain. One of these groups should name itself Torquemada.