Ericsson is moaning, too, he wants to stand up but his legs won't obey. He is swearing violently and loudly.
     "Give me a hand for Pete's sake, you imbecile!"
     Arany holds out his hand automatically and helps the captain up. He deliberately tries to avoid looking at Delacroix, but out of the corner of his eye he sees a slim hand. The tapering fingers contract and let go of the gun.
     They hear the sound of running feet approaching from below. Nunzio's commando arrives to the scene in fatigues and fighting spirit. In the small courtyard below bees are buzzing around the rosebush. The doors and windows in the corridor remain aloof, silent.
CHAPTER 33
Her body was beautiful. She was beautiful when she discarded her clothes, when she was wriggling under my weight, when I turned her slightly so that I could enjoy the sight of her long thighs and caress them while I was making love to her. But she was most beautiful when taking a shower. Cocooned in steam and caressed by hot water her skin glowed with a rosy hue. She looked so young and innocent. The tiny drops of water covered her like a sheer dress that let her knees, thighs or breasts appear only for a few seconds. Sometimes her whole body became visible quite suddenly while she was soaping herself in a carefree, seductive way.
     The curtain of water concealed the few telltale marks of her age, as well. Her flat belly had already started to sag a bit and her buttocks, her wonderful, rounded fanny had become fuller and even more wonderful. I loved this woman and I loved all the changes in her body, I adored the tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes because they made me feel protective about her.
     But here, under the steaming jet of water she always looked different. I was looking at a gorgeous mystery-woman. It was inconceivable that a few minutes earlier this beauty had been lying in my arms, that she was now washing off the traces of our lovemaking.
     She had been waiting for me when I got home. She had been waiting for hours, not in the street as she had that remarkable first time, but in the shelter of my apartment. She tidied up, washed the dirty dishes, then, as the hours dragged on, she started to pace up and down while listening to the news broadcast. She had known I was there at the bank. Later she told me she had simply felt it in her bones and couldn't stay at home.
     She had to wait for a long time. It was quite late when I arrived at last, utterly weary and worn out. The commando had almost shot me. Had Ericsson not been there God knows what could have happened. They surrounded me and before I knew where I was three machine guns were leveled at me. They had knocked the gun out of my hand, turned me around, searched me, then forced me down, so I found myself lying on that damned black rubber matting again. My spine was literally cracking when one of the brutes kneeled on my back and taking a fistful of hair pulled my head backwards. He had kept me down in this position until Nunzio got there.
     Who knows what might have happened, had Ericsson not been there? But he was there. He kept cursing and muttering threats. But more important, he had stationed himself in front of me.
     My back and my neck hurt like hell. So did my face. It must have hit the floor pretty hard when I was thrown down. But then Nunzio turned up and I was allowed to get up. I looked around slowly, taking my time. I saw the brutal, bloodthirsty eyes, the stupid faces, the guns pointed at me. Quick as lightning I hit out, then I was suddenly overcome by fear again. It was only momentarily brushed aside by my anger but returned in a flash. The commando, who had kept me down was moaning on the floor. His face was bloody. I knew his type well. Full of bogus camaraderie. It might be useful on the battlefield, but in these circumstances it was as pathetic as the solidarity of Delacroix's gang in the brush at the nightclub.
     I was lucky because Ericsson had planted himself in front of me to shield me. Swearing eloquently, he had told them how he would get them fired from the force. Then Nunzio had managed to get a word in, and they lowered their guns at last.
     We were taken to the precinct and made our report. They had kept us at it for hours. We had to put everything in writing, then report directly to the commissioner, then to cops I didn't even know. They had been hard with us, but at least they had some coffee and sandwiches delivered. Their questions seemed to flow on endlessly. What business we had in that building, how come I knew about the rear entrance, how come I was privy to Delacroix's plan. It continued this way for hours.
     I felt like death when I got home at last. Then Celia had answered the door. All I could see in her eyes was anxiety, immense relief and love. She caressed my cheek slowly, and I buried my face in her soft hair, her neck and felt at peace at last.
     We made love. Later I went to watch her take a shower and couldn't decide if I was only dreaming then, or had been dreaming everything that happened during the day.
     This floating sense of dreaminess was shattered by the shrill ringing of the phone. My brother was calling. He never gives his name, I had to pick up on his voice. This habit is even more aggravating because he always gets down to business immediately. If he got the wrong number he would start pouring information into the ears of some unsuspecting stranger. But that would never happen to him.
     "Hello, kid. Congratulations. I saw you on TV."
     "Congratulations for what?" I grumbled. "Do you think it's such a glorious feeling to kill someone?"
     He wasn't fazed. He is just as used to my grumbling as I am to his conceit.
     "Why don't you call Mom? She's worried as hell. She tried to call you in the afternoon but you didn't answer and didn't return her calls. Didn't you get your messages?"
     As a matter of fact, I hadn't listened to the answering machine. My glance was riveted on the bathroom door. Celia stood there, wearing my bathrobe. Her hair was wet, she was still drying it with a towel. She moved in a way that was innocent and seductive at the same time. If I hadn't felt spent, I would have wanted to make love to her again. It was mostly my soul longing for her, but the desire was so strong it almost hurt. She smiled her fresh, youthful smile, sat next to me and put her feet up on the coffee table. The thick robe was opened slightly. I caught a flash of her thighs, her pink nipples. She is mine, I gloated. She was mine a little while ago, I could do anything to her and will be able to do it any time again.
     Lewis didn't expect an answer, it wouldn't be in keeping with his character. He just passed the message on to me, the rest should be my responsibility. But he didn't hang up yet.
     "I've checked up on your Q-virus," he bellowed into the receiver. I'm pressing the receiver as close to my ear as possible but I was aware of the fact that Celia overhears our conversation. I saw her body tense almost imperceptibly. She seemed almost as relaxed as she was a minute ago, but then she looked like a flower, soft, silky, vulnerable and beautiful. Suddenly she was giving the impression of a beast ready to spring.
     "Listen, Lewis, I can't â¦" but I couldn't even finish the sentence. It's not so easy to stop my brother once he gets started. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that Celia had had enough. She stood up and drew the belt of the robe tightly around her waist. Goodbye naked breasts and thighs, all I'm allowed to see is her angry and stubborn back.
     "It is rumored that Baruch could trace it," Lewis was going on, full speed. "An acquaintance of mine gave me a tip about the Department of Defense. They are supposed to finance the experiments and it's obvious that they wouldn't part with the money if Baruch was still at the theorizing stage."
     There are hundreds of things I wanted to ask, but I was hindered by that hurt little back stationed at the window. It was already dark outside. The bathroom door was open, a shaft of light oozed into the room, but otherwise it was dark, too. My bathrobe is of a darkish color, so Celia's figure almost blended with the dark rectangle of the window. I didn't really see her, but I felt her presence.
     Fortunately, I didn't have to ask too much, Lewis did some mind reading.
     "Now, you don't have to tell me. The Department of Defense has been known to squander money on obviously crazy projects. Maybe Baruch didn't have to do much persuading. Just think it over! If we could inoculate our soldiers to make them more aggressive, and at the same time infect the enemy and sap their desire to fight, there's no earthly reason why we shouldn't do so. It's a great idea, better than the A-bomb. But you know what? I'll believe it when I see it." Lewis thinks it's a good joke and chuckles as heartily as only stupid and conceited people can. Though he isn't stupid. He used to be at the top of his class.
     I hung up. Celia stood stiffly. She didn't react when I started to caress her neck. She pretended I wasn't there. She didn't have to say a word, her hurt pride and anger were almost palpable. If only I could communicate my feelings without clumsy words! What message would I send her? You little fool, my fingers would tell the smooth skin of her nape, I was only curious, you shouldn't get offended, come, I love you, let me pamper you.
     But I didn't speak. I stood behind her, torn between remorse and anger. A car was parked below the window. Both of us focused on it. The driver must have been clumsy, the thought crosses my mind, he should've turned the wheel at a sharper angle. I couldn't imagine what was going on in Celia's mind. The room was silent and this silence was getting more and more oppressive. Overcome with frustration and anger I started towards the bathroom.
     "Have you been spying on us?" Celia's voice stopped me at the door.
     I didn't move. The monotonous dripping of water, the pleasant steamy air, the lights all drew me irresistibly towards the bathroom. If only I could simply go in, shut the door and escape the coming argument, the long and awkward explanations. If only I could let warm water heal me, wash away my pain, my weariness and the disgusting memory of killing. But I couldn't, something kept me back. It might have been the fear that by the time I'd emerge from the bathroom Celia would be long gone and I'd never find her again.
     "I'm not spying on you. I was simply curious, so I asked my brother."
     I hated apologizing as if I had done something criminal. I thought of the strange laboratory, the coy and plump assistant, Baruch's worried face, the white mice and the mysterious blood tests.
     "Why didn't you ask me instead?"
     I didn't dare to look at her, I can't tell her that I suspect her, too.
     She turned away and started crying. I stepped toward her slowly, taking hold of her shoulders and drawing her closer. Her body was soft and pliant now. She cuddled up to me, I felt her hot tears on my shoulder, her hot kisses on my face. I ruffled her hair and wrapped my arms gently around her neck, as if I could keep her, dominate her more completely this way. But it was only for a second, and by the time I was thoroughly aroused she has already withdrawn. She sat in the armchair, her feet tucked beneath her. She was such a sexy little creature even with her eyes red from crying, her lips swollen, her face stubborn. She picked up a cigarette with trembling fingers and brushed her hair back from her face.
     "Why has only this aspect occurred to everyone?"
     I didn't have the faintest clue to what she's talking about. I stood in the middle of the room, a motionless, naked figure, his penis erect. Celia looked straight into my eyes. If her eyes weren't so sad and helpless I would have gone to her, taken her face in my hands and kissed her again.
     "People are only interested in what your brother's just told you."
     I realized that she must have heard everything. Sighing, I picked up my underwear.
     "So it's a weapon now, better than the A-bomb." Anger sizzled in her voice, I was embarrassed to hear it. "A new invention, which makes our soldiers more aggressive and the enemy surrenders in no time. That's all they need it for: Wars, killing, new conquests."
     "What else is it good for?" I reached for a cigarette. I deserved it. I'd deserved a drink, too.
     "Well, peace. Hasn't it occurred to you that once Martin finds the antiserum of Qvirus, everyone could get inoculated with it. Every single inhabitant of the Earth! It could be made one of the obligatory protective vaccines. And then wars would really cease to exist. There wouldn't be 'our soldiers' and 'their soldiers' any more."
     "Do you get your ideas from science fiction stories?" I was on my way to the kitchen for ice. I mixed a drink for Celia and she accepted it, but then she just sat there with sad eyes, shaking her head not even tasting it.
     I sat down, too, facing her. My sweaty back stuck to the cover of the armchair. There was some unholy racket in the flat above us. What the hell could they possibly be doing at this hour? I took a gulp, but the drink didn't agree with me, so I turned the glass around in my hands for a moment, then put it down on the arm of the chair, its habitual place. Some time I'll knock it over by accident and it'll serve me right.
     "No, I don't." Celia shook her head and looked at me with disgust. "When aggressiveness reaches a certain limit it automatically becomes an illness, which should be cured, because otherwise it might result in death."
     I didn't feel like quarrelling, but this got my goat.
     "And this is only a hypothesis, isn't it?"
     Celia leaned closer to me and looked me in the eyes. Her slender body was not seductive any more. This woman was cold, her words and look were icy.