Whiplash
Page 120
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
"Not a problem," Savich said.
Erin said, "Let me add my thanks. Since Dr. Kender promised me he'll never mention my name again, I guess I'm clear of all this, too. Bowie told me you all had made it official that the Culovort papers came to you anonymously."
"I wouldn't like Georgie to have to visit you in jail," Bowie said. "I hope this will be your last foray into the criminal world."
"Only the straight and narrow for me from now on," Erin said. She drank down the last of her tea, checked her watch. "It's past Georgie's bedtime. Bowie-"
He was frowning. "I forgot to pick up some stuff. Have you got a store nearby?"
While Savich told Bowie where to find the Shop 'N Go, Sherlock said to Erin, "Mr. Maitland seems to think the DOJ will force Laboratoires Ancondor and Schiffer Hartwin to make restitution to the cancer patients who had to switch to Eloxium when the Culovort ran out."
"I don't believe it."
Sherlock grinned. "Mr. Maitland says the French will publicly blame us for the Culovort shortage, but privately, they'll slam Claude Renard really hard. We're talking huge fines here, maybe hefty enough that the industry will stop their corporate shenanigans for a while."
"I doubt it," Erin said, "they'll just get more careful."
When they'd gotten Sean down for the night, a major undertaking since he was so wired, Savich said to Sherlock, "Erin said she'd keep Georgie with her until Sean was out, then move her into his room."
"Probably a good idea. All Sean could talk about was Georgie. He said he might marry her instead of Marty. He's thinking hard about it. I told him Georgie was an older woman, that she might not believe he's serious. He smiled at me and said it was good she was older, that meant she could teach him things. Because he's five years old, I knew he didn't realize that what he'd said would make a mother's hair stand on end."
Savich laughed and moved over to lie against her. She rested her head on his chest, and he stroked his hand over her curly hair, winding the curls around his finger. "It was too close," he said, "just too close. It was like last time when you got shot. You could have died and I wasn't even there."
She lightly butted her head against his chin. "Bowie and Erin came blasting in to save the day. It's over and I'm okay. It's Kesselring who got shot up."
"You were very lucky Jane Ann and Mick were amateurs, and it didn't occur to them to check for an ankle gun. So many things could have happened."
"Isn't that true of just about everything in life? Dillon, we do the best we can, and keep moving forward. It's what we do. It's who we are, both of us."
"How are the cuts on your hands and wrists from sawing away on that duct tape?"
"Just fine." What he needed, she realized, was distraction, and so she slipped her hand down over his stomach. "Just little cuts, Dillon. Nothing more." Another couple of inches and he was thoroughly distracted.
There is a dark wind blowing. The camels shuffle about, pulling on their leads, ducking their heads up and down, making the plaintive sounds camels make when they know something is wrong. The women press close to them even though the camels' breath is foul and their bites sharp. The women don't care because the camels are real and solid in a world that has become something they can no longer understand. They don't know that camels never bite when they are terrified, that they are struck dumb, even their feet stop moving, their humps stop swaying. Terrified camels hunker down. The camels are relieved the women are so close.
The women can't see, can't hear, can only feel the dark wind blowing, stinging their faces, and they know the wind is bringing something very bad. They wait. The camels wait with them. There is nothing else to do. But wait.
"Okay, kiddo," Erin continued in a whisper so as not to wake up Sean and Astro, "that's the beginning of our story. You chew that over before you go to sleep. I expect you to continue the story tomorrow night, all right?"
"Let me do it now, Erin, I know what the dark wind is bringing, let me tell you now."
"Shush, sweetie, you don't want to wake them up, particularly Astro, he'll spend the next hour licking off your face." Erin brushed Georgie's hair off her forehead, leaned down, and kissed her small nose. "No more of our mysterious story tonight, it's time for you to sleep and dream about dancing in Swan Lake and that beautiful second arabesque you're going to hold flawlessly before you fly into a sweeping glissade."
Erin said, "Let me add my thanks. Since Dr. Kender promised me he'll never mention my name again, I guess I'm clear of all this, too. Bowie told me you all had made it official that the Culovort papers came to you anonymously."
"I wouldn't like Georgie to have to visit you in jail," Bowie said. "I hope this will be your last foray into the criminal world."
"Only the straight and narrow for me from now on," Erin said. She drank down the last of her tea, checked her watch. "It's past Georgie's bedtime. Bowie-"
He was frowning. "I forgot to pick up some stuff. Have you got a store nearby?"
While Savich told Bowie where to find the Shop 'N Go, Sherlock said to Erin, "Mr. Maitland seems to think the DOJ will force Laboratoires Ancondor and Schiffer Hartwin to make restitution to the cancer patients who had to switch to Eloxium when the Culovort ran out."
"I don't believe it."
Sherlock grinned. "Mr. Maitland says the French will publicly blame us for the Culovort shortage, but privately, they'll slam Claude Renard really hard. We're talking huge fines here, maybe hefty enough that the industry will stop their corporate shenanigans for a while."
"I doubt it," Erin said, "they'll just get more careful."
When they'd gotten Sean down for the night, a major undertaking since he was so wired, Savich said to Sherlock, "Erin said she'd keep Georgie with her until Sean was out, then move her into his room."
"Probably a good idea. All Sean could talk about was Georgie. He said he might marry her instead of Marty. He's thinking hard about it. I told him Georgie was an older woman, that she might not believe he's serious. He smiled at me and said it was good she was older, that meant she could teach him things. Because he's five years old, I knew he didn't realize that what he'd said would make a mother's hair stand on end."
Savich laughed and moved over to lie against her. She rested her head on his chest, and he stroked his hand over her curly hair, winding the curls around his finger. "It was too close," he said, "just too close. It was like last time when you got shot. You could have died and I wasn't even there."
She lightly butted her head against his chin. "Bowie and Erin came blasting in to save the day. It's over and I'm okay. It's Kesselring who got shot up."
"You were very lucky Jane Ann and Mick were amateurs, and it didn't occur to them to check for an ankle gun. So many things could have happened."
"Isn't that true of just about everything in life? Dillon, we do the best we can, and keep moving forward. It's what we do. It's who we are, both of us."
"How are the cuts on your hands and wrists from sawing away on that duct tape?"
"Just fine." What he needed, she realized, was distraction, and so she slipped her hand down over his stomach. "Just little cuts, Dillon. Nothing more." Another couple of inches and he was thoroughly distracted.
There is a dark wind blowing. The camels shuffle about, pulling on their leads, ducking their heads up and down, making the plaintive sounds camels make when they know something is wrong. The women press close to them even though the camels' breath is foul and their bites sharp. The women don't care because the camels are real and solid in a world that has become something they can no longer understand. They don't know that camels never bite when they are terrified, that they are struck dumb, even their feet stop moving, their humps stop swaying. Terrified camels hunker down. The camels are relieved the women are so close.
The women can't see, can't hear, can only feel the dark wind blowing, stinging their faces, and they know the wind is bringing something very bad. They wait. The camels wait with them. There is nothing else to do. But wait.
"Okay, kiddo," Erin continued in a whisper so as not to wake up Sean and Astro, "that's the beginning of our story. You chew that over before you go to sleep. I expect you to continue the story tomorrow night, all right?"
"Let me do it now, Erin, I know what the dark wind is bringing, let me tell you now."
"Shush, sweetie, you don't want to wake them up, particularly Astro, he'll spend the next hour licking off your face." Erin brushed Georgie's hair off her forehead, leaned down, and kissed her small nose. "No more of our mysterious story tonight, it's time for you to sleep and dream about dancing in Swan Lake and that beautiful second arabesque you're going to hold flawlessly before you fly into a sweeping glissade."
