seems to.”
“Is he at home now?”
“A-yuh. But he’s not doing much of anything. No phone calls. No company. Typically ripping night at the Krenzler household. Or should we call him Banner?” Sitwell asked with an eyebrow raised.
“Whatever,” said Talbot, shrugging. “And, yeah, I know he’s not the most exciting guy in the world. Why do you think I worked so hard to get Betty into his life? Made sure she was offered a job at the same lab Banner was working at. Pulled strings to guarantee she was assigned to work with him. I practically did everything I could short of passing notes for them in study hall.”
With a bitter laugh, Sitwell said, “They pay me to listen in on people, Mr. Talbot, not to figure out why people do what they do. So I never gave it much thought.”
“It’s very simple,” Talbot told him. “We want to see what happens if Banner gets upset, as per the files his father kept on him. But Brucie keeps himself wrapped too tight. So we needed someone to get under his skin to get to him. And believe me, Sitwell, nobody, but nobody, can get under your skin quite like Betty Ross.”
“I’ll kill her,” growled Thunderbolt Ross, pacing his office. “No, on second thought, I’ll kill Talbot. No, on third thought, I’ll kill both of them. Save me time.”
Lieber stood there and watched the general move from one side of the office to the other without breaking stride. “Begging the general’s pardon, but why is Atheon’s interest in Lawrence Berkeley labs in any way the fault of the general’s daughter?”
“Because Atheon’s up to something, Lieber,” Ross said sharply. “Supposedly we all work for the same people, but something’s going on. I know it. And I’m having trouble thinking about it dispassionately because my daughter’s involved. If she hadn’t gone to work for those damned people, I wouldn’t have this problem!”
“But didn’t she used to date Talbot? Wouldn’t it be worse if she were married to him by now?”
Ross glared at him. “I don’t recall asking you to provide worst-case scenarios, Lieber. Dismissed.” Lieber tossed off a salute, which Ross quickly returned, and then quickly departed the office, leaving Ross to stew in his own annoyance and frustration.
Well, at least Talbot would be along shortly, and perhaps they could get this whole thing cleared up. Because if they didn’t, then there would be hell to pay, and Thunderbolt Ross intended to be standing there collecting the tolls.
in dreams, the
knowledge he seeks
are memories he
cannot grasp
Once Bruce Krenzler reached his house, he parked his bike and limped inside. He considered sliding into a bath and soaking his aching legs, but his mind couldn’t stop racing. He knew in a vague way that he was hungry, and the only reason he became at all aware that he had made himself dinner was because at one point—while tending a small Zen moss garden atop his makeshift desk—he suddenly realized that his stomach was full.
He put down the gardening tools, walked into the kitchen, and found an empty tray from a frozen dinner in the garbage can. Granted, a frozen dinner wasn’t the most memorable of suppers, but even so he couldn’t help but think he shouldn’t be so much in a world of his own that he would completely forget making and eating dinner within moments of having done so.
Then, as problems he’d been having with an equation suddenly presented themselves with possible answers, he pushed thoughts of his absentmindedness out of his brain. Within five minutes, he was back to wondering why he was no longer hungry, but was so busy scribbling figures, calculations, sketches, and DNA sequences onto scratch pads that he stopped thinking about it altogether.
After a while Bruce got up and stretched, scratching absently under his chin and wondering how long he’d been working. He’d gotten home around seven or so, and been at it . . . what? An hour? Two at most? He glanced at a
“Is he at home now?”
“A-yuh. But he’s not doing much of anything. No phone calls. No company. Typically ripping night at the Krenzler household. Or should we call him Banner?” Sitwell asked with an eyebrow raised.
“Whatever,” said Talbot, shrugging. “And, yeah, I know he’s not the most exciting guy in the world. Why do you think I worked so hard to get Betty into his life? Made sure she was offered a job at the same lab Banner was working at. Pulled strings to guarantee she was assigned to work with him. I practically did everything I could short of passing notes for them in study hall.”
With a bitter laugh, Sitwell said, “They pay me to listen in on people, Mr. Talbot, not to figure out why people do what they do. So I never gave it much thought.”
“It’s very simple,” Talbot told him. “We want to see what happens if Banner gets upset, as per the files his father kept on him. But Brucie keeps himself wrapped too tight. So we needed someone to get under his skin to get to him. And believe me, Sitwell, nobody, but nobody, can get under your skin quite like Betty Ross.”
“I’ll kill her,” growled Thunderbolt Ross, pacing his office. “No, on second thought, I’ll kill Talbot. No, on third thought, I’ll kill both of them. Save me time.”
Lieber stood there and watched the general move from one side of the office to the other without breaking stride. “Begging the general’s pardon, but why is Atheon’s interest in Lawrence Berkeley labs in any way the fault of the general’s daughter?”
“Because Atheon’s up to something, Lieber,” Ross said sharply. “Supposedly we all work for the same people, but something’s going on. I know it. And I’m having trouble thinking about it dispassionately because my daughter’s involved. If she hadn’t gone to work for those damned people, I wouldn’t have this problem!”
“But didn’t she used to date Talbot? Wouldn’t it be worse if she were married to him by now?”
Ross glared at him. “I don’t recall asking you to provide worst-case scenarios, Lieber. Dismissed.” Lieber tossed off a salute, which Ross quickly returned, and then quickly departed the office, leaving Ross to stew in his own annoyance and frustration.
Well, at least Talbot would be along shortly, and perhaps they could get this whole thing cleared up. Because if they didn’t, then there would be hell to pay, and Thunderbolt Ross intended to be standing there collecting the tolls.
in dreams, the
knowledge he seeks
are memories he
cannot grasp
Once Bruce Krenzler reached his house, he parked his bike and limped inside. He considered sliding into a bath and soaking his aching legs, but his mind couldn’t stop racing. He knew in a vague way that he was hungry, and the only reason he became at all aware that he had made himself dinner was because at one point—while tending a small Zen moss garden atop his makeshift desk—he suddenly realized that his stomach was full.
He put down the gardening tools, walked into the kitchen, and found an empty tray from a frozen dinner in the garbage can. Granted, a frozen dinner wasn’t the most memorable of suppers, but even so he couldn’t help but think he shouldn’t be so much in a world of his own that he would completely forget making and eating dinner within moments of having done so.
Then, as problems he’d been having with an equation suddenly presented themselves with possible answers, he pushed thoughts of his absentmindedness out of his brain. Within five minutes, he was back to wondering why he was no longer hungry, but was so busy scribbling figures, calculations, sketches, and DNA sequences onto scratch pads that he stopped thinking about it altogether.
After a while Bruce got up and stretched, scratching absently under his chin and wondering how long he’d been working. He’d gotten home around seven or so, and been at it . . . what? An hour? Two at most? He glanced at a
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