Читать книгу The 13th Apostle - Richard Heller - Страница 19

A few minutes later

Office of Dr. Anton DeVris

“Hold on.” DeVris spoke into the empty room. After a few moments, he walked to his door, looked down the hall, then returned to his desk.

“Okay,” he announced. “He’s gone.”

The Director smiled to himself, then spoke into the air again.

“Sabbie, on your way in, bring me a cup of coffee.” Reaching down, he switched off the intercom that had been left on during Gil’s interview and waited.

A kick at the door announced her arrival. He rose, slowly walked to the door, and opened it.

“Inconsiderate bastard.” She shoved past him, one cup in each hand. “You could at least leave the door open so I don’t have to claw at it like a dog.”

He took his seat behind his great desk. “Scratch,” he corrected.

“Scratch?”

“Cats claw, dogs scratch,” DeVris said coolly. “Technically, you can’t claw like a dog.”

Sabbie slid DeVris’ cup to him across his desk, fast. She knew it would get a rise out of him, but he was certain she had no idea in what way.

She looked particularly beautiful; shiny hair, flushed cheeks.

“We need a new intercom,” she announced. “Everything sounded scratchy. It was like listening to an old phonograph record.”

“Need a recap?” DeVris asked.

“No, I heard enough. The guy’s a schmuck,” Sabbie concluded. “Dump him. Just tell CyberNet you’ve changed your mind. Worst comes to worst, you’ll lose your deposit. No big deal.”

“So you think he’s not capable of the job. Is that why you walked out on him at the restaurant?”

“That and because I thought we were being followed,” she replied. Her gaze never left his eyes. “Are you saying Ludlow and I should have stayed?” she challenged.

“Well, it’s not the best way to start off a working relationship.”

“So you’re going to keep him?” she asked incredulously.

DeVris hesitated. She was hiding something. Why was she pushing so hard?

“And who would you recommend in his place?” DeVris asked. “There’s nobody else and you know it.”

Sabbie stood abruptly and headed toward the door.

“You know what? Do what you want. I’d just like to know why in the hell you even bother to ask my opinion.”

Because methinks the lady doth protest too much. And because I’m trying to figure out if you’re more interested in screwing me figuratively or Mr. Pearson literally.

She was arrogant and opinionated. Had he not felt that he had to have her around, under whatever pretense was necessary, he would never have hired her. She was the best translator in the field. She had a working knowledge of Aramaic, Greek, Ancient Hebrew, and Classical Latin. She was tech savvy and a workaholic. A perfect assistant were it not for one undeniable fact.

Beneath her brilliance and her easy antagonistic joking was a hardness that DeVris never wanted to put to the test; a coldness that came from seeing the world without illusion and, perhaps, without hope. He had not known her before the assault and often wondered if, indeed, it was that violence that helped sculpt her unpretentious directness. The very quality he found so damn seductive.