IV
On the day of his discharge his skin was still tender but the burns had healed. He felt weak but that was not surprising in view of the number of days he had spent in bed. The department managed without him and when difficulties developed he relayed brief orders through Randy. She was his buffer. He didn’t want to take part in running the plant until he had more insight on Soleri.
He learned many things, but there were technicalities to be mastered which he was sure he could pick up faster on the outside. The doctor wanted to send a nurse with him but he refused, finally consenting to have Randy accompany him. Perhaps he was taking a needless risk. But he was convinced he could handle Randy.
It was dark when they left the factory hospital, and took the elevator to the roof. He leaned on Randy somewhat more than he had to. It was a pleasure and a distraction. But he remained on his guard notwithstanding.
Randy was not a secretary at all. The files had revealed that much. Soleri had been so anxious to find out what was holding up the project that he had hired a first-rate psychologist and had put her in a position where she could work without being suspected. The psychologist was Randy. She wouldn’t fool easy. And that, in a sense, was a challenge. If he could get by her he could convince anyone.
An aircab was waiting. He leaned very close to her as she helped him in. He was almost sure that his empathy should tell him something and it did. Her eyes darkened, and she became obviously disturbed by his nearness. He settled back in the cab and waited.
The driver turned about, and asked: “Where to?”
He pretended not to hear. The driver repeated the question and Randy gave him the address. The information itself didn’t tell him much but his sensitivity filled in the missing details. She had been to the apartment many times, and stayed late.
They didn’t talk much on the way. The cab flitted over the city lights with a steady droning. He became uneasy. She too was sensing a strangeness in him. He regretted his decision to have her accompany him, and resolved to send her home as soon as he could reasonably do so.
They landed on the roof of a tall apartment building. She paid the driver and told him not to wait. No chance for subtlety there.
“I’m quite all right,” he said as she helped him out. “It was just a momentary touch of dizziness.”
“I know,” she said. “But you’re not going to get away. I intend to make sure you’re all right.” And that was that.
Soleri’s apartment was on the twentieth floor. It was elaborate and large, and furnished with exquisite taste. He approved of Soleri’s taste—in more than one respect. He sat down and looked it over.
“Glad to be back?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Sit and rest. I’ll punch dinner. Anything special?”
“Nothing special. Whatever you want.” She touched his arm as she went into the kitchen. He wished she hadn’t. He had enough to contend with without that.
Presently she came back. “We’ll have something light and nourishing in a few minutes,” she said.
She went to the recording system and began examining the calls that had come in during Soleri’s absence. He had to remind himself that it was an absence. Officially Soleri hadn’t died.
He watched her intently. He wished her eyes weren’t brown and wonderful.
“Anything important?” he said with an effort.
“A message from Andrew Taft. I told him you were hurt but not badly. He wants you to visit him next week.”
Andrew Taft was president of TRANSPORTATION. Everyone knew that. But there wasn’t anything in the files to give him a lead as to the duration or extent of their friendship. Perhaps Soleri had known Taft from boyhood. He didn’t want to put his newly acquired personality to such a severe test before he could be more certain of the facts.
“Make an excuse for me,” he said.
She looked at him inquiringly. “Do you think you should? Eleanor will be there. She heard about the accident and is coming in from Mars.”
He might have known there would be some such complication. Soleri was a powerful and attractive man and there had been more than one woman in his life. It was another unexpected pitfall, a further challenge to his wariness. He grimaced. “Eleanor’s a nice girl but she means nothing to me,” he said.
“Oh?” Randy’s lips tightened. “Is that why you’re going to marry her?”
At the moment he hated Soleri, empathy or not. If it had been at all possible he would have dropped the pretense. But he couldn’t—and he had to depend solely on his abnormal sensitivity. He told Randy what she wanted to hear.
“You know how it is,” he said blandly. “I’ve got to get that motor built. It’s costing far more than we expected. Somebody’s got to play company politics.”
She seemed a trifle mollified. “You needn’t tell me. I’ve had a thorough grounding in business psychology.” She moved quickly past him. “Dinner’s ready,” she said. “You’ve got to build up your strength—for company politics.”
He would have preferred silence but Randy insisted on holding up both ends of the conversation. Nothing important was discussed, but it gave him a chance to break down her defenses, and get to know her better.
After dinner they sat over a drink, and talked. Much of his empathy was tied up in the difficult task of simply duplicating Soleri. He couldn’t get through to her with the accuracy he would have liked. But he did succeed in turning the conversation from Eleanor. She was willing. After the first flash of hatred she was completely willing to forget the girl existed.
She looked at the clock. “Time for bed,” she said.
It was awkward. He started to get up, avoiding her eyes. “I guess so,” he said, letting her assist him, thrilled by her nearness.
There was nothing else he could do. She was attractive and he wanted her for himself. But she was desperately and unhappily in love with Soleri. He couldn’t let her know.
“Randy,” he whispered softly as she clung to him. Laura seemed suddenly unreal and very far away, and he wished he’d never heard of Eleanor.
Later he awakened to find her lying beside him, tense and still. She hadn’t been sleeping. In a surge of apprehension he wondered if she had discovered the truth about him.
“Is anything the matter?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Is that why you’re not sleeping?”
“Well, there is. I was thinking,” she said. “It was what I saw when I ran into the office right after the explosion. The smoke was very thick and you were lying behind what was left of the desk. For an instant I wondered which one of you had died.”
“How could you tell?” he said. “I was badly burned. My face—”
“Your eyes are brown,” she said. “Brown. Anyway I knew. You couldn’t die.”
“Try to forget about it,” he said. “That nightmare is over. I’m alive.”
“And so is Eleanor.”
He sighed, wishing again that he could tell her everything. But Soleri would never deny the romance-shattering reality that stood between them. “You’ve always known about her.”
“So I have.” She moved closer to him. “I’m content with this brief dream of happiness.”
That was better. He caressed her lightly, tenderly. “It’s all right,” he said soothingly. “Nothing has changed between us.”
“I know, darling,” she murmured. He thought he heard her laugh before she went to sleep.
At last he fell asleep.