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surprising Steve by his frankness. "On the other hand, in a case like this people vote their self-interest, and all those committee members are senior professors. They'll find it hard to support a youngster against someone of their own group, regardless of the arguments."

"They are all intellectuals," Steve said. "They're committed to rationality."

Quinn nodded. "You might be right," he said. He gave Steve a speculative look then said: "Have you any idea what this is really about?"

"What do you mean?" Steve said cautiously.

"Berrington is obviously terrified of something, and it isn't bad publicity. I wondered if you and Dr. Ferrami might know what."

"I believe we do," Steve said. "But we can't prove it, yet."

"Keep trying," Quinn said. He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it. "God forbid that Jim Proust should be president." He turned away.

What about that, Steve thought; a closet liberal.

Jack Budgen appeared in the entrance and made a summoning gesture. Steve took Jeannie's arm and they went back in.

He studied the faces of the committee. Jack Budgen met his eye. Jane Edelsborough gave him a little smile.

That was a good sign. His hopes soared.

They all sat down.

Jack Budgen shuffled his papers unnecessarily. "We thank both parties for enabling this hearing to be conducted with dignity." He paused solemnly. "Our decision is unanimous. We recommend to the senate of this university that Dr. Jean Ferrami be dismissed. Thank you."

Jeannie buried her head in her hands.

Chapter 40

WHEN AT LAST JEANNIE WAS ALONE, SHE THREW HERSELF ON her bed and cried.

She cried for a long time. She pounded her pillows, shouted at the wall, and uttered the filthiest words she knew; then she buried her face in the quilt and cried some more. Her sheets were wet with tears and streaked black with mascara.

After a while she got up and washed her face and put coffee on. "It's not like you've got cancer," she said to herself. "Come on, shape up." But it was hard. She was not going to die, okay, but she had lost everything she lived for.

She thought of herself at twenty-one. She had graduated summa cum laude and won the Mayfair Lites Challenge in the same year. She saw herself on the court, holding the cup high in the traditional gesture of triumph. The world had been at her feet. When she looked back she felt as if a different person had held up that trophy.

She sat on the couch drinking coffee. Her father, that old bastard, had stolen her TV, so she could not even watch dumbsoap operas to take her mind off her misery. She would have pigged out on chocolate if she had any. She thought of booze but decided it would make her more depressed. Shopping? She would probably burst into tears in the fitting room, and anyway she was now even more broke than before.

At around two o'clock the phone rang.

Jeannie ignored it.

However, the caller was persistent, and she got fed up with listening to the ring, so in the end she picked it up.

It was Steve. After the hearing he had gone back to Washington for a meeting with his lawyer. "I'm at the law office now," he said. "We want you to take legal action against Jones Falls for recovery of your FBI list. My family will pay the costs. They think it will be worth it for the chance of finding the third twin."

Jeannie said: "I don't give a shit about the third twin."

There was a pause, then he said: "It's important to me."

She sighed. With all my troubles, I'm supposed to worry about Steve? Then she caught herself. He worried about me, didn't he? She felt ashamed. "Steve, forgive me," she said. "I'm feeling sorry for myself. Of course I'll help you. What do I have to do?"

"Nothing. The lawyer will go to court, provided you give your permission."

She began to think again. "Isn't it a little dangerous? I mean, I presume JFU will have to be notified of our application. Then Berrington will know where the list is. And he'll get to it before we do."

"Damn, you're right. Let me tell him that."

A moment later another voice came on the phone. "Dr. Ferrami, this is Runciman Brewer, we're on a conference link with Steve now. Where exactly is this data?"

"In my desk drawer, on a floppy disk marked SHOPPING.LST."

"We can apply for access to your office without specifying what we're looking for."

"Then I think they might just wipe everything off my computer and all my