his son was about to be shot. He cried out: "No!"
The old man moved a fraction of a second too late. Harvey's bound arms knocked the pistol out of his hands. The bodyguard leaped for it and snatched it up from the carpet. Standing up, he pointed it at the old man.
Berrington breathed again.
The old man slowly raised his arms in the air.
The bodyguard picked up the room phone. "Hotel security to room eight twenty-one," he said. "There's a guest here with a gun."
Berrington looked around the room. There was no sign of Jeannie.
Jeannie emerged from the elevator, wearing her white blouse and black skirt and carrying a tray of tea she had ordered from room service. Her heart was beating like a bass drum. Walking at a brisk, waitressy pace, she entered the Regency Room.
In the little lobby, two women with checklists sat behind tables. A hotel security guard stood near, chatting to them. Presumably no one was supposed to get in without an invitation, but Jeannie was betting they would not question a waitress with a tray. She forced herself to smile at the guard as she headed for the inner door.
"Hey!" he said.
She turned at the door.
"They have plenty of coffee and beverages in there."
"This is jasmine tea, a special request."
"Who for?"
She thought fast. "Senator Proust." She prayed he was there. "Okay, go ahead."
She smiled again, opened the door, and walked into the conference room.
At the far end, three men in suits were sitting behind a table on a raised dais. In front of them was a pile of legal documents. One of the men was making a formal speech. The audience consisted of about forty people with notebooks, miniature cassette tape recorders, and handheld television cameras.
Jeannie walked to the front. Standing beside the dais was a woman in a black suit and designer glasses. She wore a badge saying
Caren Beamish
Total Communications!
She was the publicist Jeannie had seen earlier, assembling the backdrop. She looked curiously at Jeannie but did not try to stop her, assuming - as Jeannie had intended - that someone had ordered something from room service.
The men on the dais had name cards in front of them. She recognized Senator Proust on the right. On the left was Preston Barck. The one in the middle, who was speaking, was Michael Madigan. "Genetico is not just an exciting biotechnology company," he was saying in a boring tone.
Jeannie smiled and put down the tray in front of him. He looked mildly surprised and stopped in his speech for a moment.
Jeannie turned to the audience. "I have a very special announcement," she said.
Steve was sitting on the bathroom floor with his left hand handcuffed to the drainpipe of the bathroom washbasin, feeling angry and desperate. Berrington had found him out a few seconds before his time ran out. Now he was searching for Jeannie and might ruin the entire plan if he found her. Steve had to get away to warn her.
The pipe was attached at its top end to the drain of the basin. It turned in an S-bend, then disappeared into the wall. Contorting his body, Steve got his foot on the pipe, drew it back, and kicked. The entire plumbing fitting shuddered. He kicked again. The mortar around the pipe where it entered the wall began to crumble. He kicked several more times. The mortar fell away, but the pipe was strong.
Frustrated, he peered up to where the pipe joined the washbasin. Maybe that join was weaker. He grasped the pipe with both hands and shook it frenziedly. Once again everything trembled but nothing broke.
He looked at the S-bend. There was a knurled collar around the pipe just above the bend. Plumbers unscrewed it when they had to clean out the bend, he knew, but they used a tool. He got his left hand to the collar, gripped it as hard as he could, and tried to turn it. His fingers slipped and he grazed his knuckles painfully.
He tapped the underside of the sink. It was made of some kind of artificial marble, quite strong. He looked again at the place where the pipe connected with the drain. If he could break that seal, he might be able to pull the pipe out. Then he could easily slip the handcuff over the end and be free.
He changed his position, drew back his foot, and started kicking again.
Jeannie said: "Twenty-three years ago, Genetico carried out illegal and irresponsible experiments on eight unsuspecting American women." Her