Sarah was listening to this exchange, thinking Bradley wasn't really hearing what Kenner had to say. As if to prove her thoughts, Bradley continued: "Well? Aren't you saying that the environment needs no protection from us? Isn't that what you arereally saying?"
Kenner said, "No," in a way that suggested that the conversation was over.
Sarah thought: Ted really is a fool. He has a severely limited understanding of what he is talking about. Ted was an actor with a script, at a loss if the conversation moved away from scripted lines.
She turned away and looked toward the front of the cabin. She saw Peter talking to Jennifer, their heads together. There was a sort of intimacy in their gestures that was instantly recognizable.
She was glad when the pilot announced they were landing in Los Angeles.
VAN NUYS
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 12
11:22 P. M.
Sanjong Thapa was waiting at the airport, looking worried. He and Kenner got immediately into a car and drove off. Sarah went home to her apartment. Bradley climbed into an SUV limo and left with an irritable wave. He was already on his cell phone. Peter Evans drove Jennifer to her car, which was back in Culver City. There was an awkward moment saying good-bye. He wanted to kiss her but sensed some reserve, and didn't. She promised she would call him in the morning.
He drove home, thinking of her. Sarah did not enter his mind.
It was almost midnight when Evans got back to his apartment. He was very tired and was stripping off his shirt when the phone rang. It was Janis, the exercise instructor. "Where have youbeen, you cute thing?"
"Traveling," he said.
"I have called youevery single day, " she said. "Sometimes more. Sometimes every hour."
"Uh-huh. What's up?"
"My boyfriend broke up with me."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Evans said. "Was it very--"
"Can I come over?" she said.
He sighed. "You know, Janis, I'm really tired..."
"I need to talk to you. I promise I won't stay, if you don't want me to. I'm only about a block away. Five minutes?"
He sighed again, louder this time. "Janis, tonight is not--"
"Okay, good, see you in five."
Click.
He sighed. He took his shirt off and tossed it in the hamper. She never listened, that was the trouble. He decided that when she got to his apartment, he would just tell her to leave. That's all. Just go.
Or then again, maybe he wouldn't.
Janis was uncomplicated. He was ready for an uncomplicated exchange. He pulled off his shoes and dropped them on the floor. On the other hand, he didn't want Janis around in the morning if Jennifer called. Would Jennifer call? She said she would. Did Jennifer know his home number? He wasn't sure. Maybe not.
He decided to take a shower. He might not hear Janis in the shower, so he unlocked the front door for her and headed for the bathroom. The hallway was dark and he had just a fleeting glimpse of a dark shadow before something hit him on the head, very hard. Evans yelled. The pain was intense, making him gasp, and he fell to his knees. He groaned. Someone hit him again, this time in the ear, and he fell over on his side.
Disoriented, he found himself staring at a pair of feet in dirty socks. He was being dragged into the living room. He was dropped unceremoniously on the floor. There were three men, moving around him. They had dark masks over their faces, like ski masks. One of them stepped on both his arms, pinning him down, flat on his back. Another one sat on his legs and said, "Don't talk. Don't move." A growly menacing voice.
Evans couldn't move anyway. He still felt disoriented. He looked around for the third man. He heard sloshing water. He glimpsed what looked like a plastic baggie.
"Hold him good." The third man spoke in a whisper. He crouched by Evans's shoulder, pulled up the shirtsleeve, exposing the flesh of his arm. He was wheezing softly behind the black mask. In the same whisper, he said, "You know what this is?"
He held up the baggie. The water was cloudy. Evans saw what looked like a fleshy ball, and in a panic he thought,Oh God, they cut somebody'sballs off. But then he saw the ball moving, undulating. It was brown with white spots, about the size of a golf ball.
"You know?" the man said.
Evans shook his head.
"You will," the man whispered, and unzipped the baggie. He pushed it against the underside of Evans's arm. Evans felt wetness. The man was manipulating the baggie, squeezing the ball. Evans was trying to see, but it was hard to see exactly what was--
The ball moved. It spread, extended what looked like wings. No, not wings. It was a tiny octopus! Tiny! It could not have weighed more than a few ounces. Brownish with white rings. The man was squeezing the baggie, compressing it, pushing the little octopus toward the flesh of Evans's arm.
And then he understood.
Evans moaned and began to struggle, trying to move against his captors, but they had him firmly, and he felt the touch of the octopus, a kind of sticky sensation, like cellophane or Sticky Putty or something. He lifted his head in horror and saw that the man was snapping the baggie with his finger, trying to goad the octopus, which had wrapped itself against the skin of Evans's arm, and in a flash the rings on the octopus changed from white to blue.