Fellowship of Fear (29 page)

"Mmm," Janet said, chewing her egg salad sandwich with such evident pleasure that Gideon, who was already eating a roast beef sandwich, searched his pockets for change to buy one. "Mmm, question," she said. "If Dr. Rufus went all the way to Sigonella and Torrejon anyway, why didn’t he have these kids bring the information directly to him, or go on base himself and have it delivered to him there? Why involve a middle man?"

John answered for Gideon. "Too much risk. The kids were amateurs. They’d be nervous, and an alert guard could tell something was wrong." He bit off a huge corner of his pastrami sandwich and chewed happily for a while until he could speak again. "And as for Rufus taking it off the base himself "—Gideon noted the dropping of the honorific title; one more indignity Dr. Rufus would have to get used to—"why take the risk when ol’ Gid could take it for him? There was always a chance the stuff would be found by a guard, after all."

"Does anyone have a quarter?" Gideon asked. Janet gave him one, and he went to the machine for an egg salad sandwich. He pulled unsuccessfully on the plastic wrapper, then tore at it with his teeth. A memory came suddenly to his mind, and he sat thoughtfully with the plastic wrapping in his mouth.

"Want some mustard to go with that?" Janet said. "Brings out the flavor."

He removed the wrapping. "I was just thinking about how Dr. Rufus snowed me. When I went in to see him and he calmly…and damn cleverly… sat there while I talked
him
into letting me take the Torrejon assignment. And all the time I was playing right smack into his hands."

They ate and drank quietly for a while. John finished his sandwich and milk, and brought coffee for them all. He sat down with a great sigh and looked straight at Gideon.

"Okay, Doc, lay it on me. I guess I can stand it now."

Gideon looked blankly at him.

"Marti," said John, "you ask him. I can’t bring myself to do it."

"Yowzah, Massa John," Marti said. "We’re all dying to know how you did it."

"Did what?" Gideon said.

"How you knew it was Dr. Rufus, you turkey!" Janet said.

Gideon laughed. "Oh no, you don’t. Every time I try to tell John about the marvels of modern scientific inference, he argues with me."

"No," John said, "I’ve learned my lesson, Doc. I promise I won’t say a thing."

Gideon had looked forward to this scene. He took his time, adding a little powdered creamer to his coffee, tasting it, and then carefully stirring in a little more.

"I’ll give him ten more seconds. Then I hit him," Janet said.

"I’ll tell you, but you’re not going to believe me," Gideon said, looking at John.

"I knew it, I knew it," said John, "I’m already sorry I asked."

"Do you remember," Gideon said, "how Dr. Rufus was sitting there telling the agent about what happened, and how amazed he’d been, and so on?"

All three of them eagerly nodded at the same time.

"How surprised he looked? Raised eyebrows, wrinkled brow, big eyes, mouth open and puffing away?"

They all nodded at once again, encouraging him to go on. It was like being in front of a good class.

"Well, that’s the classic expression of surprise, all right, except for three things: his upper eyelids were completely raised—"

"He was surprised," John said. "When you’re surprised, your eyes open up wide."

"No, and that’s my point. Most people think that surprise results in a pop-eyed stare. It doesn’t. It raises your upper eyelids only partway, like this."

"That looks like a pop-eyed stare to me." John said.

Gideon turned to Marti. "Didn’t I hear him say he wasn’t going to argue?"

"Shut up, Lau," she said. Then to Gideon, "You said there were three things."

"Yes. Number two: the lateral ends of his eyebrows were raised, as you’d expect, but the medial corners weren’t."

"I don’t follow. Demonstrate, please, Professor," Janet said.

"I can’t. Most people can’t voluntarily raise the medial corners of their eyebrows. That’s my point."

"Dammit, Doc," John said excitedly, his hands chopping away at the air. That’s the second time you’ve said that.
What’s
your point?"

"Will someone kindly control this person?" Gideon said.

"Goddammit, Doc—"

Gideon laughed and patted John’s arm. "My point is that Dr. Rufus’s surprise was fabricated. He was faking it." He sipped his cooling coffe. "He
knew
those men were going to come after me, and he
knew
about the book.
Ergo,
he was the spy."

John shook his head doubtfully. "I don’t know…"

"What’s point three?" asked Janet.

"That his facial expressions were asymmetrical; much more pronounced on the left side."

"I see," Janet. "So you assumed that the neurological pathways were subcortical in origin. Very clever, if I do say so myself. How—"

"Argh," Marti said. "I’m going bonkers. Will somebody let us poor mortals in on this?"

Gideon laughed. "There are two separate paths from the brain to the facial muscles, one for deliberate expressions and the other for involuntary ones. And they result in different faces. Involuntary expressions are usually very symmetrical. Deliberate ones are almost always more pronounced on the left side."

"Doc," John said, "no disrespect intended, but is this a little theory of your own, or is there any scientific basis for it?"

"That’s an excellent question… finally. There’s plenty of evidence. Duchenne did some preliminary work on the facial muscles in the 1860s, and Izard was analyzing facial expressions in the 1920s in the U.S. But the main work’s being done by Ekman at UC—the University of California— and by Friesen. Ekman’s even talked to the CIA—"

"All right, all right, you win." John was quiet a few moments. Then he said, "Okay, I admit it. I’m impressed."

Gideon stood up and stretched. "And now that one and all have been astounded by feats of scientific legerdemain, why don’t we hit the road and get home?"

In the dark car, John turned on the ignition, then shut it off and turned to Gideon, his arm on the back of his seat.

"Here comes the rebuttal," Gideon said to no one. "I thought it was too easy."

"No rebuttal, Doc. I’m just not clear about everything yet. It doesn’t make sense that the Russians were trying to kill you. They were getting their information through you, right? So why would they want you dead, huh?"

"Yeah, huh?" said Marti.

Gideon smiled, although he knew no one could see it. "The need-to-know principle," he said softly. "The great standard of the espionage world. It just turns out that the Russians are as dumb as we are."

When he was silent for a few moments, Janet said, "If that was an explanation, I’m afraid I missed something."

"You know how NSD got mixed up?" Gideon said. "How Intelligence was protecting me because I was working for them, but Bureau Four was after me because they thought I was a spy?"

There were murmurs of assent.

"Well, the same thing—the exact same goddamn thing— happened to the Russians. Their espionage people knew I was their source, but espionage and counterespionage don’t talk to each other—just like us—and as far as counterespionage was concerned, I was a danger, an NSD operative."

"Which you were," John said.

"Which I was." He sighed. "Which I sure was. I was hunting like mad for the KGB source…and it was me. And I was searching everywhere for the dead drop…and I had it. ‘One for the books,’ Delvaux said."

"Huh," John said.

"Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat," said Marti.

   IMMERSED in the
International Herald Tribune
the next morning, Gideon started when a pair of hands were laid gently on his shoulders. "Janet!" he said. "Hi, sit down. You look great in yellow."

She took his empty cup to the coffeepot at the back of the faculty lounge and filled it, along with one for herself. She didn’t often wear summery frocks, but it was unseasonably warm. Her bare arms were brown and firm and very smooth.

He smiled at her when she returned and sat down.

"That’s not a smile; that’s a leer," she said. "I know leers, and that’s one."

"Hey, lady, can I lick your arm? Did anyone ever tell you you have extremely sexy arms?"

"I can’t handle any more compliments," she said. "I still haven’t gotten used to the one about the subtrochanteric what-ever-it-was."

"Trochanteric subcutaneous adipose tissue deposit. Mmm, that’s nice, too."

"What’s with you? You didn’t seem very interested last night. You were asleep before the lights were out."

"I was tired. I’m wide awake now." He reached out and stroked her arm.

She covered his hand with her own and squeezed it. With a quick glance around to make sure they were alone, she leaned forward and kissed him gently.

When they pulled back, a lump rose suddenly to his throat. "Ah, Janet, I’m afraid you’ve gotten to me, and I didn’t want to be gotten to. It’s going to be a long four days in Izmir without you."

Her eyes shining, she smiled at him. "Listen, I need to tell you about the staff meeting."

"It was a short one, wasn’t it? You were only in there half an hour."

"Yes, but big things happened. In the first place, Eric Bozzini is going to be acting chancellor until they get a replacement."

"Eric?" You’re kidding! That’s ridiculous."

"He’ll do fine," Janet said. "There’s more. First, I’m going to be acting logistics director. Acting acting director, I guess it is."

She seemed so pleased with the appointment that he congratulated her. "Is it a good position for you?"

She laughed with a tinkling, pealing laugh he had not heard before. He hoped he would hear it many times again. "Who cares about the position?" she said. "The point is, with the Russian thing off and the alert over, we go back to our normal schedule. Isn’t that great?"

"I guess so," he said, "but am I missing something?"

"You bet you are. It means that the logistics director has to get out of her office and start making field visits. And guess which base hasn’t been visited in two years?"

He sipped his coffee, giving himself time to determine whether he was feeling happy or anxious. He decided easily on happy. "It wouldn’t be Izmir?" he said.

"It sure would," she said, and then looked at him for a long time. "Is that all right?"

Her hands were clenched on the table. He covered them with his own, and she turned her palms up to clasp his fingers.

"Yes, that’s all right," he said, with a fine, painful tightness in his throat. "I guess I’m getting kind of used to you." He paused. "Did I ever tell you what beautiful
orbicularis oculi
you have?"

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