besides,' Carol slowed down just a bit, starting to feel a little embarrassed about her outburst, 'I have already paid for the charter and you know how hard it is to straighten out these computer credit card accounts.'
'Oooeee, Professor,' Troy grinned wickedly and winked at Carol. 'Isn't she something else?' He stopped and became serious. 'Look, Nick, we need the money, both of us. And I would be happy to help her. We can take off some of the excess diving gear if it's necessary to balance the weight.'
Nick walked back to the folding chair and the television. He took another drink from his beer and did not turn around to look at Carol and Troy. 'All right,' he said, somewhat reluctantly. 'Get started. But if we're not ready to sail by one o'clock it's no deal.' The basketball players swam in front of his eyes. Harvard had tied the game again. But this time he wasn't watching. He was thinking about Carol's outburst. I wonder if she's right. I wonder if I do think that women are inferior. Or worse.
THURSDAY Chapter 5
COMMANDER Vernon Winters was trembling when he hung up the phone. He felt as if he had just seen a ghost. He threw his apple core in the wastebasket and reached in his pocket for one of his Pall Malls. Without thinking, he stood up and walked across the room to the large bay window that opened onto the grassy courtyard of the main administration building. Lunch hour had just finished at the U.S. Naval Air Station. The crowds of young men and women heading either toward or away from the cafeteria had died out. A solitary young ensign was sitting on the grass reading a book, his back against a large tree.
Commander Winters lit his nonfilter cigarette and inhaled deeply. He expelled the smoke with a rush and quickly took another breath. 'Hey, Indiana,' the voice had said two minutes before, 'this is Randy. Remember me?' As if he could ever forget that nasal baritone. And then, without waiting for an answer, the voice had materialized into an earnest face on the video monitor. Admiral Randolph Hilliard was sitting behind his desk in a large Pentagon office. 'Good,' he continued, 'now we can see each other.'
Hilliard had paused for a moment and then leaned forward toward the camera. 'I was glad to hear that Duckett put you in charge of this Panther business. It could be nasty. We must find out what happened, quickly and with no publicity. Both the secretary and I are counting on you.'
What had he said in response to the admiral? Commander Winters couldn't remember, but he assumed that it must have been all right. And he did remember the last few words, when Admiral Hilliard had said that he would call back for an update after the meeting on Friday afternoon. Winters had not heard that voice for almost eight years but the recognition was instantaneous. And the memories that flooded forth were just a few milliseconds behind.
The commander took another drag from his cigarette and turned away from the window. He walked slowly across the room. His eyes slid across but did not see the lovely, soft print of the Renoir painting, 'Deux Jeunes Filles au Piano,' that was the most prominent object on his office wall. It was his favorite painting. His wife and son had given him the special large reproduction for his fortieth birthday; usually several times a week he would stand in front of it and admire the beautiful composition. But two graceful young girls working on their afternoon piano lessons were not the order for the day.
Vernon Winters sat back down at his desk and buried his face in his hands. Here if comes again, he thought, I can't hold it back now, not after seeing Randy and hearing that voice. He looked around and then stubbed out the cigarette in the large ashtray on his desk. For a few moments he played aimlessly with the two small framed photographs on his desk (one was a portrait of a pale twelve-year-old boy together with a plain woman in her early forties; the other was a cast photo from the Key West Players production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, dated March 1993, in which Winters was dressed in a summer business suit). At length the commander put the photographs aside, leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and succumbed to the powerful pull of