"Stop talking like this. You're scaring me."

"I'm scaring me."

"At least we're not out there saying rakoshi are planning to take over the world, or responsible for everything bad that happens."

"No…not yet."

"Now cut that out," she said, landing a gentle punch on the chest. "We're different from them because we're not focusing on it. That awful experience happened, we've dealt with it, and we've put it behind us—believe me, I'm doing my best to forget it. But they make it the center of their lives; they extrapolate it into a worldview."

"Yeah. Why would anybody want to do that? Isn't reality complicated enough?"

"Maybe that's the problem," Gia said. "Most of the time I find reality too complicated. Something happens because of this, something else happens because of that, another thing happens because of a combination of this, that, and the other thing."

"And lots of times," Jack added, "things seem to happen for no damn reason at all."

"Exactly. But an all-encompassing conspiracy simplifies all of that. You don't have to wonder any more. You don't have to fit the pieces together—you've got it all figured out already. Everyone else might be in the dark, but you know the real skinny."

"Come to think of it, a lot of those SESOUPers do look kind of smug." Jack sighed. "But in spite of everything you've said, some of them almost remind me of…me."

"Get out."

"I'm serious. Consider: They're always looking over their shoulders, I'm always looking over mine."

"With good reason."

"Let me finish. They tend to be loners; until I met you, I was a loner—big time. They're outsiders, I'm an outsider."

"Way outside."

"They're considered weirdoes by mainstream society, I'll land in the joint if mainstream society ever finds out about me. Really, despite the fact that I'm keeping my mouth shut, how do I know I'm not just like them, or"—he held up his thumb and forefinger, a quarter inch apart "this far" from being one of them?"

"Because I say you're not," Gia said, then kissed him.

If only that was enough, he thought, closing his eyes and holding her tight against him, needing her warmth, her presence, her very existence. Gia was his anchor to reality, to sanity. Without her and Vicky, who knew what wild shore he might be sailing toward.

He glanced down once more at the reddened diagonal streaks of his scars and suddenly the image of Roma was before him, from the cocktail party last night, his three middle fingers hooked into rakoshi-like talons, raking the air between them along the exact angle of Jack's scars.

"What's wrong?" Gia said as Jack's spine stiffened reflexively.

"Nothing," he told her. "Muscle spasm."

He held her tighter to keep her from seeing his expression, knowing it would give away his shock, his bafflement.

Did Roma know? What had he said? How easily we forget. But Jack had not forgotten. And no way Roma could know.

Then why make that weird three-pronged gesture, at just the right angle? Jack could think of no other way to interpret it. Roma knows. But how?

Jack had no idea, but he intended to find out.

But if Roma knew about the rakoshi scars, did he also know about Gia and Vicky? Could he have followed Jack here?

He reached past Gia and ratcheted the hot water handle up another notch. The temperature in the shower seemed to have dropped a few degrees.

8

After arranging with Gia to give Vicky a little coaching on baseball later in the afternoon, Jack returned to the hotel. As he entered he thought he sensed the tension building in the atmosphere again. He looked around for Roma—Want to ask you a question or two, pal—but didn't see him. When he reached the second floor he spotted a Mutt and Jeff pair standing in the common area outside the meeting rooms: Lew and Evelyn. He headed their way.

Evelyn was anxiously rubbing her tiny, pudgy Little Lotta hands together. She looked upset.

"Something wrong?"

"We still haven't found Olive?" she said. "No one's seen her since the reception last night? I'm getting worried?"

"You've checked her room?

Lew said, "I've called, I've knocked. There's no answer."

"Maybe you should get the hotel to open it, just to make sure she's not in there in a coma or something," Jack said.

Evelyn's hand fluttered to her mouth. "Do you really think so? I never thought of that? But what if she just forgot? And she's out sightseeing or something? How will she feel when she finds out we've been searching her room?"

In any other case, Jack thought, the person in question probably would be touched by their concern. With this crew…it would all seem part of a sinister scheme.

"I think you've got to risk it."

Evelyn glanced at her watch. "I'll give her another hour? If I don't hear from her by then? I'm going to go to the management? I'll have them check? How does that sound?"

"Sounds like a plan," Jack said.

As Evelyn bustled away, Lew turned to Jack. "And I think I'll head back home for a while."

"All the way to Shoreham?"

"Yeah. I want to check and see if Mel might've come back, maybe left me a note or something," He blinked away tears. "First Mel, now Olive. I'm really scared. Anything new?"

"Nothing definite," Jack said, and saw Lew's face fall. "But maybe you can clear up something for me."

"Sure. Anything."

"Olive mentioned that Melanie had given her a set of computer disks. Why would Melanie do that?"

He shook his head. "I can't imagine. They weren't that close."

"Think she's making it up?"

"I couldn't say for sure. Maybe Olive is trying to make herself sound important. Or maybe Melanie did give them to her for safekeeping—you know, after she wiped out her GUT file. Perhaps she figured no one would think of Olive since she's a computerphobe."

"It's a thought," Jack said. "When Melanie shows up, we'll ask her."

"If she shows up." Lew took a deep, sighing breath. "I'll see you later," he said and walked off.

Jack decided to check his messages, then try to catch one of these panels…the elusive Miles Kenway was scheduled to moderate the next one. Jack wanted to get a line on him.

As he was heading for the lobby he noticed the red-haired guy sitting in his wheelchair in a doorway, staring at him again, just like last night. The intensity of the scrutiny bothered him.

What's so damn interesting? he wondered.

He used his calling card to check his voice mail. Just his father…again.

Okay, time to bite the bullet and call him. He found the number in his wallet and punched it in. He'd moved way down in Florida, someplace near Coral Gables with the Everglades practically in his backyard.

Dad was in. They made a little small talk—he always made sure you knew how nice and warm the weather was down there—then Jack got to the point.

"Are your travel plans pretty well set?"

"Yes," Dad said. "I've got my tickets and everything."

"Gee, that's too bad, because I'm going on a cruise for a couple of weeks and it falls right in the time you'll be up here."

A long silence on the Florida end of the line, during which hurt seeped through the receiver. Jack felt ropes of guilty perspiration begin to trickle down his face. Obviously Dad was trying to get closer to his wayward son in his sunset years, and Jack was giving him the cold shoulder.

I'm such a coward, he thought. A lousy lying coward.

Finally: "Cruise?" Dad said. "Where to?"

Oh, shit—where? "Alaska."

"Really? I've always wanted to cruise to Alaska, see those glaciers and all. I wish you'd said something. I would have gone with you. Maybe I can still arrange something."

Oh no! "Gee, Dad. It's fully booked."