63

Baltimore

Kaye opened the door to the condominium and walked in slowly. She kicked the heavy door shut with two bangs of her foot, then leaned into it with her hand to get it latched. She dropped her purse and valise on the chair and stood for a moment as if to get her bearings. She had not slept in twenty-eight hours.

It was late morning outside.

The phone message light blinked at her. She retrieved three messages. The first was from Judith Kushner, asking her to call back. The second was from Mitch, leaving an Albany phone number. The third was from Mitch also. “I’ve managed to get back to Baltimore, but it wasn’t easy. They won’t let me in the building to use the key you gave me. I tried Americol but the switchboard says they’re not transferring outside calls, or you’re not available, or something. I’m worried sick. It’s hell out here, Kaye. I’ll call in a few hours and see if you’re home.”

Kaye wiped her eyes and swore under her breath. She could hardly see straight. She felt as if she were stuck in molasses and no one would let her clean her shoes.

Americol had been surrounded by four thousand protesters for nine hours, shutting off traffic all around the building. Police had moved in and succeeded in roiling the crowds, breaking them into smaller and less controlled groups, and riots had broken out. Fires had been started, cars overturned.

“Where do I call, Mitch?” she murmured, taking the phone out of its recharging cradle. She was paging through the phone book, looking for the number of the YMCA, when the phone rang in her hand.

She fumbled it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Dark Intruder again. How are you?”

“Mitch, oh God, I’m okay, but I’m so tired.”

“I’ve been walking all over downtown. They burned part of the convention center.”

“I know. Where are you?”

“A block away. I can see your building and the Pepto-Bismol Tower.”

Kaye laughed. “Bromo-Seltzer. Blue, not pink.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want you here anymore. I mean, I don’t want to be with you here anymore. Mitch, I’m not making sense. I need you so badly. Please come. I want to pack and get out. The bodyguard is still here, but he’s down in the lobby. I’ll tell him to let you in.”

“I didn’t even try to get the job at SUNY,” Mitch said.

“I quit Americol and theTaskforce. We’re equal now.”

“We’re both bums?”

“Shiftless and rootless and with no visible means of support. Other than a large bank account.”

“Where will we go?” Mitch asked.

Kaye reached into her purse and pulled out the two small boxes containing SHEVA test kits. She had taken them from the common stores area on the seventh floor at Americol. “How about Seattle? You have an apartment in Seattle, don’t you?”

 “Yes.”

“Exquisite. I want you, Mitch. Let’s go live forever and ever in your bachelor apartment in Seattle.”

“You’re nuts. I’m coming right over.”

He hung up and she laughed in relief, then broke into sobs. She smoothed the phone against her cheek, realized how crazy that was, put it down. “I am really strung out,” she told herself, walking to the kitchen. She kicked off her shoes, pulled a Parrish print that had belonged to her mother from the wall, laid it on the dining room table, then all the other prints that belonged to her, her family, her past.

In the kitchen, she drew a glass of cold water from the refrigerator tap. “Screw luxury, screw security. Screw propriety.” She worked through a list often other items to screw, and at the end of the list came “goddamned stupid me.”

Then she remembered she had better let Benson know Mitch was coming.