Season Of Strangers Part 27

Her throat hurt, ached and ached and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. "How can you say that? He isn't even human."

"Patrick was human, and in his own way I think he cared for you. But he never looked at you the way this man does. He never cared enough to be true to you. I couldn't figure it out. It didn't fit with the Patrick I knew. But if Patrick is partly this other person, this Commander Zarkazian, it all makes an odd kind of sense."

Julie's shoulders sagged. "G.o.d, I wish it did."

Laura reached out and gripped her hand. "You have to talk to him. You said he didn't kill Patrick. You said he wanted to explain. Aren't you the least bit curious what he might have to say?"

The mug clattered noisily against the table. Julie looked her square in the face. "I can't believe I'm hearing this. I'm his experiment, for G.o.d's sake. What can he possibly have to say?"

"If he's in love with you, maybe he isn't really so different. Not deep down inside."

For the longest time Julie didn't answer. Her voice was locked in her throat and even if she could have spoken, she wouldn't have known what to say.

"I'm frightened, Laura." She felt Laura's warm fingers close rea.s.suringly around her hand.

"I know you are. So am I. Talk to him, Julie. If not for your own sake, do it for mine. Can you imagine how desperate I am to learn more about them? How I wish I could make them understand the terrible things they're doing to me and to the others?"

"I-I never thought of it that way."

"You have to do it, Julie. It's important. More important than anything you've ever done before."

"What if he's dangerous or something?"

"You don't believe that. At least you didn't or you wouldn't have fallen in love with him. Give him the chance he's asked for. Listen to what he has to say."

Julie fell silent. Of all the advice she might have expected her sister to give, this was surely not it. What Laura said made sense, more sense than up until now she had given her sister credit for having. But she wasn't ready to face him yet. She needed time to think. To pull herself together.

Whatever he had to say, it couldn't change the fact that her affair with Patrick Donovan was over. Julie needed time to resign herself to the heartbreaking loss she felt every time she closed her eyes and saw Patrick's beloved face.

Tony Sandini leaned his heavy, big-boned frame back against the curved red vinyl seat in the corner booth at Banducci's Ristorante, his favorite local hole in the wall. Ralph Ceccarelli and Jake Naworski sat across from him, Ralph immaculately dressed as usual, Jake rumpled and looking like he had just crawled out of a four-dollar flophouse somewhere.

Tony snapped his blunt fingers and called the waiter over, a little man with a bald head and little pig eyes. When the waiter reached the table, covered by the mandatory red-checked cloth, Tony shoved his empty salad plate toward him and ordered another bottle of Chianti.

He was out on the West Coast mixing a little business with pleasure. After lunch he would return to his fancy suite at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel and the svelte little blonde who would be waiting. He had met her on his last trip out, an airline stew with a taste for the better things in life.

She had just enough moxie and just enough brains to attract his interest-and an a.s.s and t.i.ts to hold it past the first two times he had screwed her.

But that was for later. Business came first. It always did.

"Tell me about the Brookhaven deal," he said to the men. "You spoke to Donovan, got everything worked out?"

"Yeah, boss," said Naworski. "We took care of it just like you said."

"He'll do as he's told," Ceccarelli added. "He doesn't want his pretty face mashed in and he's smart enough to know that's exactly what he'll get if he doesn't do his part."

Or worse, Tony silently added. He wasn't about to let pretty-boy Patrick Donovan off the hook till he'd repaid every dime he owed, no matter what it took. "Things seem like they're movin' kinda slow. You talked to that Bonham woman lately?"

"Donovan's supposed to meet with her this week,"

Jake said. "That guy could charm a nun out of her drawers. Them teachers'll be eatin' outta his hand."

"Jake's right," Ceccarelli agreed. "With Donovan backing the sale of those notes, the deal's as good as done."

"Good. I want this whole thing wrapped up as soon as you can get it done. Once the money's in, Westwind can take the fall. Just make sure there's no way they'll be able to connect the company to me."

"No problem, boss."

"And keep an eye on Donovan. There's something about that guy that bothers me."

"It's his conscience," Ceccarelli grumbled. "Donovan's got one and he's the kinda guy who can let it get in his way."

"See that he doesn't," Tony warned, digging into the plate of linguini and eggplant parmigiana the waiter had just set in front of him. The aroma drifted up and his mouth started to water. G.o.d, he loved this place. Food was almost as good as his mama's.

As they ate, Tony's thoughts returned to the blonde he would be s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g after lunch. The image gave him a slight erection and he only ate half what he usually put away.

He chuckled to himself. He'd f.u.c.k Patrick Donovan real good, too, if the b.a.s.t.a.r.d even thought about s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g him over.

Tony laughed as he finished his tiramisu.

Val pulled the Porsche into the parking garage and just sat there staring through the windshield. He had been driving for hours, trying to clear his head, trying to find some way out. Nothing had come to him. All he felt now was numb.

It took several moments in the deep leather seat before he felt the vibration of the small communications device in his pocket. Pulling it out, he slid open the lid and began to read the transmission. It came from Calas Panidyne, a live feed of the High Council meeting that he had entirely forgotten about.

d.a.m.n! He had been so fatigued after transportation to the last council meeting, it had been decided this was a safer procedure. With his thought in turmoil over Julie, the meeting had completely slipped his mind.

Val replied that he was receiving the transmission clearly and would be happy to respond to any questions the council might have.

As highest ranking of the ten members in the group, Calas Panidyne began the session. Val was only mildly surprised when he started by stating that Val had made entirely too little progress during his time on Earth.

One of the ministers disagreed. The transmission read: Commander Zarkazian is one of the most highly regarded scientists on Toril. The a.s.signment he has undertaken is not only perilous but difficult in the extreme. In a world heretofore unknown to him, it is only natural his progress would be hard to measure. I for one have found the information he has been sending infinitely enlightening. I have begun to understand the people of Earth as I never have before.

And the rest of you? Panidyne asked. Do all of you feel that way?

A female council member responded. I certainly do, but I am concerned for the commander's safety. No one has undergone Unification for such an extended period of time. I think the sooner he is returned aboard the Ansor, the less chance there is that something may go wrong.

Panidyne agreed. As a matter of fact, I noticed several behavioral changes in Commander Zarkazian when he was last aboard. At the time I ignored them, but now, as you say, his safety may warrant a quicker end to his mission.

The council member's reply held a note of sarcasm, Which of course has nothing to do with the fact you would like to bring the Ferris female back aboard the ship for more testing.

Val's stomach knotted. Panidyne was fierce in his quest for knowledge, even more fierce than Val.

It would seem the most expedient way to accomplish our mission.

But as the commander has several times pointed out, it is also extremely hazardous for the woman.

Panidyne made no reply. Instead, his transmission read, Your comments, Commander?

Val took a deep breath, knowing how important this was. They already had his most current report, which had been sent from his apartment yesterday afternoon. Reporting to the council during their session was strictly a formality, yet it couldn't be dispensed with. And somehow transmitting live gave him the opportunity to explain matters that were difficult to express in a formal report.

Cracking open the journal that lay on the seat beside him, Val reviewed events to the present date, omitting only the confrontation he'd had with Julie.

One of the council members transmitted the moment he had finished. All of us have been properly impressed, Commander, with the information you have gathered. But some of us, including First Council Panidyne, feel your have not sufficiently succeeded in your original a.s.signment-finding out why the subject under study, as well as a number of others before her, were able to resist our highly sophisticated scanning equipment. First Council Panidyne suggests your return and a resumption of testing on the Ferris subject, and many of us concur. No.

We are concerned for your safety, Panidyne replied. Unification for this length of time is bound to have certain side effects. None of us know exactly what they are. We suggest you end your mission and let us bring the woman back aboard.

I said no! The symbols flashed across the small screen with the impact of a blow. You will not bring Julie Ferris back aboard this ship. You will not destroy her or any other human being like her.

No reply appeared on the screen. He knew they sat there stunned. No one on Toril showed any sort of emotion, any sign of anger, and even though they couldn't see him, it was clear how strongly he felt.

There will be no need for such an action, Val added, hoping it would lessen his harsh words. I have come to know the subject more intimately than any other being I have ever encountered. I can tell you what is different about her-about the other Earth subjects who have been able to resist the probe. What these people have in common, what makes them so different, is a thing they call determination. It isn't a word Torillians know. It means to be adamant, to a.s.sert one's will in the face of any and all adversity. It means having a strength of purpose so strong it can overcome any obstacle in its path. Combine that determination with courage, perhaps a bit of faith, and you have a force to be reckoned with, a power beyond anything a Torillian has ever been faced with.

The council made no comment and Val's very human heart beat painfully his chest.

I have come to understand this word determination as the rest of you cannot. I can feel it even now, thrumming through my body, giving me the strength to send this. That determination is driving me to speak when before I would have remained silent. It gives me the will to oppose you when every fiber of my being, every cell in my body has been schooled against it. It tells me I have to convince you the testing of humans must be stopped, that the destruction of people's lives isn't worth the high cost of the knowledge we are obtaining.

Val sat there behind the wheel, willing them to understand, wishing he had made the journey and stood before them in person. If I have learned anything at all during my time on Earth, it is that humanity-in all its diverse forms-is too precious to be tampered with. It is not our right to do so any more than it is another life-form's right to tamper with ours.

He knew what they were thinking, that he was no longer the being they knew, that he was behaving like someone from another world.

Which in fact, he was.

He was no longer simply Val Zarkazian. He doubted he ever would be again.

The screen lit up. Your concerns have been noted. Thank you for your comments, Commander.

The screen went dark. Val hoped the council would remember that their purpose in coming had never been to do harm to the people of Earth.

He thought of the council members, both male and female, he had worked with for dozens of years. They seemed unfamiliar to him now, as foreign as Patrick's penthouse apartment had once seemed. By now the members knew that something about him had changed. Silently he cursed. The fact that he was angry and frustrated showed him how different he actually had become.

Val wondered if that change would enable his colleagues to see what he had been so desperately trying to make them understand.

Julie phoned Laura as soon as she had showered and dressed the next morning. It was earlier than usual. She hadn't been to bed at all last night, had if fact barely slept for the past three days.

At that early hour, Laura's voice sounded groggy and strained. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Wake up, sleepyhead. Get out of bed and get dressed. Yesterday I closed a big fat escrow and today we're going to spend the money."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about shopping. You know, shop till you drop? Never say die till the stores are closed?"

"Shopping? Julie, have you gone insane?"

"The whole world's insane. No one knows that better than you and me. All I want is a day-just one single day-to forget how crazy the whole world is."

Laura went silent. If Julie had hoped to hide the misery her jovial words were meant to disguise she must have failed mightily.

"If that's what you want," her sister said softly, "then that's what we'll do."

And so they had the valet at the Beverly Wilshire park Julie's Mercedes and Laura's aging Volkswagen bug, and set off down the sidewalk. The sun was out, but a stiff wind shoved papers along the street. It looked as if a storm was moving in. Shouldering their way through the crowd of Sat.u.r.day shoppers, they made their way toward the front doors of Saks Fifth Avenue on Wilshire.

As they pa.s.sed through the cosmetics department, the fragrance of Bulgari drifted across the counter. Julie had always liked the exotic scent, but today it made her sick to her stomach.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Laura asked as they reached the second floor, her pretty features drawn with worry. "You don't look so good."

Julie tried to smile but it came out forced. "You always did know how to cheer a person up."

Laura rolled her eyes as Julie pasted on a smile and headed for the escalator. An hour later, they had bought three new outfits apiece, including a leaf-green silk skirt and blouse for Laura and a cranberry-red Chanel suit for Julie. They bought half a dozen pairs of Ferragamo shoes, lacy bras and panties, bags, hose and cosmetics.

Laura hefted the heavy shopping bag sitting on the marble floor at her feet. "All right, where to next?"

"Let's put this stuff in the car and just start walking. We'll head down Rodeo Drive, see what looks interesting." Both women's arms overflowed with packages.

Julie could barely see above the stack she held in front of her as they walked back to the car.

"Rodeo Drive? That's pretty pricey, isn't it?"

"What difference does it make? We just bought half the stuff in Saks."

"Saks is one thing. Rodeo Drive is something else."

"I told you money wasn't an object. I said we were going to buy anything we wanted. That's exactly what I intend to do."

"Julie, this is crazy."

"That's what you said when I called."

They went into Gucci, but didn't buy anything, Laura rolling her eyes and confiding to the salesgirl she wasn't really the Gucci type. Then they hit Valentino and Tiffany's, and wound up in a dressing room at La Mode trying on outrageously expensive evening gowns.

Standing in front of a tall oval mirror, Julie smoothed the bodice of a floor-length navy blue silk gown trimmed in matching dark blue sequins. It had narrow straps, a slimming waistline, and a long, slender skirt split up the side to mid-thigh. Except for the hem, which would have to be shortened, the dress fit as though it were made for her.

"Wow, sis, that dress looks absolutely terrific." She frowned. "Tell me you're not going to buy it."

Julie flashed an overbright smile. "Why not? You just told me it looks terrific."

"Come on, Jules. You've never bought a nine-thousand-dollar dress in your life."

Julie ran her fingers over the delicate silk. A slight tremor shook her hand. "Lately my life has changed." She turned sideways, surveying herself in the mirror. The gown was truly remarkable, setting off her dark red hair and green eyes, not to mention what it did for her figure.

But as she stared at herself in the mirror, all she could think was where would she wear it? Owen Mallory could take her to the kind of places where people wore gowns like these. Patrick would have taken her if she had wanted to go.

But Patrick was no longer there.

Something burned behind her eyes. She was looking at her reflection but her image began to blur and she could no longer make out the beautiful lines and curves. Hot tears welled, began to trickle down her cheeks.

She felt Laura's arm around her shoulders. "Let's go home, okay?"

"I have to talk to him."