and realized how little I actually know. That's when I began noticing things like your eyes and the quiet way that you move. I had heard that you were friendly with criminals-but then you had written some articles on criminology and were teaching a course on the subject. So it seemed in order at the time I heard it. Now I see you move through my rooms with a knife in your hand, presumably ready to kill an intruder. No book is worth a human life. Our agreement is off. Tell me what you did to get them."
"No," he said.
"I must know."
"You staged that scene when we walked in here just to see what I'd do, didn't you?"
She blushed.
Now I suppose she'll try to blackmail me into marrying her, he thought, if she thinks she can make this thing big enough.
"All right," he said, jamming his hands into his pockets and turning to stare out the window. "I found out who did it and had a talk with him. During the misunderstanding that followed, his nose got broken. He had the poor grace to bleed on the books. I couldn't get it all off."
"Oh," he heard her say; and then he turned and studied her face.
"That's all," he said.
He stepped forward then and kissed her. After a moment, she relaxed against him. For a time he massaged her back and shoulders, moved his hands to her buttocks.
Distraction complete, he decided, moving up along her rib cage and inward, slowly, toward the buttons of her blouse.
"I'm sorry." She sighed.
"That's all right," he said, unfastening them. "That's all right."
Later, while staring at a pillow through the curtain of her hair and analyzing his reactions to earlier events, he felt once again the nearing presence, this time so close that it almost seemed as if he were being watched. He glanced quickly about the room but saw nothing.
Listening to the sounds of traffic on the street below, he determined to be about his business soon, say in the space of a cigarette.
There came a sonic boom from overhead that rattled the window like a sudden hand.
Clouds, slowly gathering, obscured the sun somewhat. Knowing he was early, he parked his vehicle in the faculty lot and removed his heavy briefcase from the rear. The trunk of the car contained three heavy traveling bags.
He turned and began walking toward the far end of the campus. He felt a need to keep moving, to be ready to run if necessary. He thought of Morningstar at that moment, watching rocks and clouds and birds, feeling winds, rains, lightnings, and he wondered whether that one was instantly aware of every move he was making. He felt this to be so, and he wished that his friend were at hand to counsel him now. Did he know-or had he known for a long while- the outcome of what he was about to attempt?
The leaves and grasses had taken on that faint incandescence which sometimes precedes a storm. It was still quite warm, but now the heat was tempered by a light breeze from the north. The campus was almost deserted. He passed a group of students seated about the base of a fountain, comparing notes on an examination they had just taken. He thought he recognized two of them from his Introduction to Cultural Anthropology of several semesters back, but they did not look up as he went by.
As he passed Drake Hall, he heard his name called out.
"John! Doctor Shade!"
Halting, he saw the short, heavy figure of the young instructor Poindexter emerge from the doorway. The man's first name was also John, but since he had been a newcomer to their card group they had come to refer to him by his last name rather than confuse conversation.
Jack made himself smile as the man approached and nodded a greeting.
"Hi, Poindexter. I thought you'd be off recuperating by now."
"I still have some damn lab exams to grade," he said, breathing heavily. "I decided I wanted a cup of something hot, and the minute I closed the door to my office I knew what I'd done. The keys are on my desk and the door locks when it closes. There's nobody else in the building and the front office is
"No," he said.
"I must know."
"You staged that scene when we walked in here just to see what I'd do, didn't you?"
She blushed.
Now I suppose she'll try to blackmail me into marrying her, he thought, if she thinks she can make this thing big enough.
"All right," he said, jamming his hands into his pockets and turning to stare out the window. "I found out who did it and had a talk with him. During the misunderstanding that followed, his nose got broken. He had the poor grace to bleed on the books. I couldn't get it all off."
"Oh," he heard her say; and then he turned and studied her face.
"That's all," he said.
He stepped forward then and kissed her. After a moment, she relaxed against him. For a time he massaged her back and shoulders, moved his hands to her buttocks.
Distraction complete, he decided, moving up along her rib cage and inward, slowly, toward the buttons of her blouse.
"I'm sorry." She sighed.
"That's all right," he said, unfastening them. "That's all right."
Later, while staring at a pillow through the curtain of her hair and analyzing his reactions to earlier events, he felt once again the nearing presence, this time so close that it almost seemed as if he were being watched. He glanced quickly about the room but saw nothing.
Listening to the sounds of traffic on the street below, he determined to be about his business soon, say in the space of a cigarette.
There came a sonic boom from overhead that rattled the window like a sudden hand.
Clouds, slowly gathering, obscured the sun somewhat. Knowing he was early, he parked his vehicle in the faculty lot and removed his heavy briefcase from the rear. The trunk of the car contained three heavy traveling bags.
He turned and began walking toward the far end of the campus. He felt a need to keep moving, to be ready to run if necessary. He thought of Morningstar at that moment, watching rocks and clouds and birds, feeling winds, rains, lightnings, and he wondered whether that one was instantly aware of every move he was making. He felt this to be so, and he wished that his friend were at hand to counsel him now. Did he know-or had he known for a long while- the outcome of what he was about to attempt?
The leaves and grasses had taken on that faint incandescence which sometimes precedes a storm. It was still quite warm, but now the heat was tempered by a light breeze from the north. The campus was almost deserted. He passed a group of students seated about the base of a fountain, comparing notes on an examination they had just taken. He thought he recognized two of them from his Introduction to Cultural Anthropology of several semesters back, but they did not look up as he went by.
As he passed Drake Hall, he heard his name called out.
"John! Doctor Shade!"
Halting, he saw the short, heavy figure of the young instructor Poindexter emerge from the doorway. The man's first name was also John, but since he had been a newcomer to their card group they had come to refer to him by his last name rather than confuse conversation.
Jack made himself smile as the man approached and nodded a greeting.
"Hi, Poindexter. I thought you'd be off recuperating by now."
"I still have some damn lab exams to grade," he said, breathing heavily. "I decided I wanted a cup of something hot, and the minute I closed the door to my office I knew what I'd done. The keys are on my desk and the door locks when it closes. There's nobody else in the building and the front office is
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