Читать книгу Vitals - Greg Bear - Страница 19

After a bad night’s sleep on the fourth floor of the Homeaway, just blocks from the Genetron Building and my rented lab, I opened the curtains. Across Lake Union, morning fog slid over the rusty tanks and pipes and broad lawn of Gasworks Park. I stood there for five minutes, feeling fortunate.

I was no Jonah. It wasn’t me that was hexed. I had survived, and that meant I was lucky, maybe even on the right track in this great scheme of things. Only the FBI and a couple of murders were in my way, and that pissed me off.

Rob would have recognized my mood instantly. Prince Hal was not getting his way.

A cell-phone rang on the nightstand. Data phones in the U.S. had been screwed up for weeks with viruses. I carried four with me, on four different systems, just to make sure: a PalmSec, an InfoBuddy, and two standard Nokias.

It was the PalmSec that was beeping. The pert little a.m. triple-tone told me two things, that I had a call, and that it was before noon. I flipped open the jacket, keyed in my unlock, and answered. ‘Cousins.’

‘Dr Cousins, Betty Shun. How are you?’

‘Dandy,’ I said, and regretted the flippancy.

‘We’re very sad here,’ she said. ‘We’ve lost a lot of friends.’

‘Yes. I know.’

‘We need to get together. I’ll bring along a man who also works for Owen. He wants to talk with you.’

‘When?’ I asked.

‘We’re in a car in front of your hotel. We’ll take you to the Crab Cart for breakfast.’

I had been given my marching orders. But I wanted to find out about my specimens. Time was running out.

As always.