This time it was Corfe’s turn to be hit the wrong way. He heard it as if Michelle were trying to blame Eric. “Have you shown him the tape?” he asked challengingly.
“No, not yet.”
“Why not? Tell him the whole story. Don’t you think that might help make him more cooperative?”
“And don’t you think that maybe he’s going through enough at the moment as it is? Look, I had lunch with him on Wednesday with a view to broaching precisely this subject. But I hadn’t realized how dependent he is psychologically on Vanessa. It just didn’t strike me as the moment to go kicking that prop away too, after everything else that’s been going on this week.”
Corfe shook his head stolidly. “We’re not in a situation where we can afford luxuries like that. He’s got to find out eventually—or not at all if we’re too late.”
“Of course he has,” Michelle agreed. “But I’d rather it be at a time when he’s in some mood to be receptive instead of showing every sign of being ready to start a fight over it. It was you who came to me and asked for help with this, Doug. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me handle it in my own way.”
Corfe exhaled heavily and sat back. He was still prickly and far from satisfied, but it was equally clear that Michelle was not about to change her mind about anything just at the moment. Clearly, his coming here on impulse had done nothing to improve matters. But it had been something he’d needed to do at the time, as a safety valve. Michelle could very likely see that, but she wasn’t showing it. The thought crossed his mind of how satisfying it would be if he went ahead anyway on his own, with Kevin, and they did manage to come up with something valuable.
“Okay, if you don’t want to get involved, that’s fine,” he said. “Then I’m only going to ask you for one thing. Pretend I never talked to you, and just look the other way. If anything turns up that I think you ought to know about, you’ll know about it. Is that acceptable?”
Michelle looked at him uncertainly for a moment or two. “You don’t mean you’re still going to do it?”
“I already told you, a very good friend of mine’s looking to get killed. I’m not going to just sit around and do nothing. Nobody else is coming up with any ideas. We’ll be okay. You enjoy your holiday.” Corfe started to rise.
“We?” Michelle repeated. “You mean to include Kevin in this?”
“It was his idea, for heaven’s sake—his and Taki’s. How can I leave him out? Anyhow, it’ll need at least two operators. Some parts will probably need a couple of mecs working together.”
Michelle closed her eyes momentarily and sighed. “He’s smart and a lot more mature than average, but he’s still a kid, Doug. Do I really have to tell you that you can’t go involving him in something like this?”
“He won’t even need to be in the city. He can play his part from a remote coupler,” Corfe replied obstinately. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve already agreed, this isn’t anything to do with you anymore.”
“You do understand that what you’re talking about is totally illegal?” Michelle said. “Even if you did come up with something, you’d rule out any chance of ever being able to use it in court. It would never be admissible as evidence.”
Corfe paused at the door. “You’re missing the point. This isn’t for any court case. It’s for Eric. We’ve both tried to make him take this seriously, but it doesn’t do any good. Well, if it’s going to need something like this to convince him, then okay, I’ll risk it. Suppose something eventually did happen to him, and we still hadn’t done anything. How would I be supposed to feel about that?” Corfe looked back, but Michelle couldn’t answer. He left the office, closing the door behind him.
He crossed the outer room where a girl was typing at a screen while another took notes over a phone. Wendy, the receptionist, gave him a smile on his way out. A woman in a green coat and turban-shaped hat, looking impatient, was already rising to her feet as he passed through the waiting area. He came out of the main door of the Prettis & Lang offices and followed the corridor back to the elevators.