“Sounds like the name of a great Chinese movie. Zhang Ziyi would be in it.”

Mick said softly, “What’s wrong, Nina?”

He had asked, in that disinterested tone of his, as if she were an equation with an unknown variable he wanted to investigate. She decided, just like that, to tell him.

She said slowly, looking down at her glass, “The problem is that sometimes my work attracts violent people.”

“You can’t mean Gottlieb Braun.”

“No.”

“Who, then?”

“You know, I don’t want to talk about it, Mick. I want you to stay outside all that.”

“I understand.”

A long, comfortable silence ensued. Nina heaved a sigh.

“So here you are.”

“Trying to be useful.”

“You don’t look like a lawyer tonight.”

“Glad I can still surprise people now and then.”

“Lots of people?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you go out a lot?”

“Given my son and a twenty-four-hour job, I barely make it to the grocery store.”

“Who’s Bob’s father?”

“Bob’s father? Oh, a musician who lives in Germany.”

“Still married?”

Nina said, “We never married. But I have been married twice. And I just left a two-year relationship.”

Mick said, smiling, “I was intimidated before, but now I’m terrified. What happened with the marriages?”

“My first husband took up with a divorce lawyer. My second husband died.” Talking about Kurt, and Jack, and Collier, and Paul in this way made her uncomfortable. It didn’t seem dignified. Or maybe it was her complicated love life that sounded undignified. Since Mick’s love life was even more undignified, it didn’t matter as much.

They ate and talked on. Mick told her about his downfall at UC Berkeley, another student-teacher affair. He might be a hound for women, but he was funny and charming and understanding. She reflected that these qualities of Mick’s might have been exactly what had gotten him into his trouble.

During the tiramisu, Nina said, “I found two of the witnesses. You helped a lot.”

“Gottlieb Braun came through? You saw him?”

“I went to Boston.”

“Wow. I’m impressed. What’s he like?”

“Judging from the short time I spent with him, like something that makes a loud cracking noise and chips off the Antarctic Shelf.”

“That’s what I figured. Nothing personal, I’m sure, but a lot of mathematicians don’t understand why other people need to take up space on their plane. Erdös called nonmathematicians ‘trivials.’ And he was considered sociable for a mathematician. So you nailed your witnesses?”

“I managed two taps of the hammer. But I still have one more for the hammer, and I think he may be the most important one.”

“Another math student?”

“He dropped out of MIT in his first year of the Ph.D. program,” Nina said. “He was listed as a candidate two years ago. I can’t pick him up on the Web for the last two years.”

“He’s not publishing, then. Most of the papers are at least indexed on the Web.”

Nina said, “Excuse my ignorance, but what exactly are all those papers about? There seemed to be hundreds of thousands in all sorts of journals.”

“They’re proofs,” Mick said. “Proofs of hypotheses, extensions of specialty fields, refinements. There are about two hundred fifty thousand published each year.”

“What exactly is going on in math?” Nina said. “Are all kinds of developments occurring that I won’t hear about for five years?”

“You’ll never hear about them,” Mick said. “The profession wanders in the wilderness. Nobody’s had a new idea in number theory since Selberg years ago. The heyday of math was the seventeenth through the nineteenth centuries. Look at Riemann. He came up with his hypothesis about the primes in 1854. We desperately need a new Euler or Riemann to burst on the scene.”

“Are you being honest, or bitter?”

“Both. I haven’t got the skill or dedication to write a paper. But that’s okay. I’d rather see a student’s mouth drop open when she finally gets Pascal’s Triangle. I have to say, I’d be as happy as Gottlieb if somebody came up with a new idea.”

“What about computers?”

“Yeah. Computers. Well, the kiddies are on top of base two now, but the real impact is a new emphasis on experimentation in math rather than developing algorithms. Like the prime numbers. Computers meaninglessly spin them out, one by one. I think we have a couple billion listed now. What good is a random list? Machines waste time. They don’t prove anything. They create shopping lists. Am I boring you?”

“Not at all,” Nina said. “This ex-student…”

“Care to give me a name?”

“I can’t do that.”

“I might know the little slacker.”

“Maybe you can help me indirectly. Why would a young man who has been accepted into a Ph.D. program at MIT drop out?”

“Probably not money problems. MIT takes care of you at that point. Problems at home? Psych problems?” Mick stroked his chin reflectively. “By definition, he’s a whiz kid. Have you looked at the list of high-school national prize winners? Maybe he won something before college. Like the National Merit, or Westinghouse Science Talent Search Award. The runners-up will be listed on the Web. You think he’s the one who bought the books?”

“One chance out of three.”

“The American Institute of Mathematics had a Riemann seminar a couple of years ago. And there are summer institutes just for young scholars. The Ross Program at Ohio State. MIT has something, the, uh, Research Science Institute I think it’s called. Look up the teams in the USA Mathematical Olympiad. It’s like Jeopardy! for high schoolers, only harder. Here’s a napkin to write on.”

As he rattled off names, Nina wrote them down. “You mentioned psych issues,” she said. “What do you mean? Stress-induced problems?”

“Sure. It’s a rough time, the late teens. That’s when schizophrenia breaks out, especially in boys. I don’t know where to go with that. Medical records will be confidential, won’t they?”

“I wonder about this boy,” Nina said. “Maybe I can locate him through the other two, but they have an obstructive, odious lawyer all of a sudden.”

“Can I help? I’d like to know more about this,” Mick said.

“I wish I could talk more about it,” Nina said. “But…” The waiter brought the bill. Mick paid. They walked out under the stars, the forest looming.

“Late movie?” Mick said.

“I don’t think so.”

“Drink?”

“I’m sleepy already.”

“Drive up Echo Summit and neck on the lookout? Or Mount Rose, if you’re feeling particularly brave?”

Nina laughed. “Not tonight.”

“We sadly settle for an after-dinner mint, then.” He produced one.

“I think I should be getting back.” She was thinking about Bob, home alone, feeling panicky.

“Is it me?”

“Of course not. You know you’re attractive,” Nina said.

“Okay.” At her cabin, he jumped out, opened the door, and helped her out. They stood in the driveway.

Nina wondered if Bob was peeking out the window. “Thanks, Mick.”

“Any time. Let’s have a hug, okay?”

They embraced. Mick’s strong arms wrapped her tightly. His mouth sought hers and they kissed. His lips were soft, not demanding. Unfamiliar.

Fine. Unfamiliar was just fine.