wouldn’t, their.” Bobby sighed.
“I’ve done a lot of research for UCI into backgrounds of prospective
faculty members, so I know the academic world can be as competitive and
vicious and dirty dirtier-than either politics or show business. I’m
not going to fight you on this. But we’ve got to reach an agreement
about when you can go public with it. I don’t want you doing anything
that would bring my client to the attention of the press until we’ve
resolved his case and are sure he’s… out of danger.
“And when will that be?” Manfred asked.
Bobby shrugged.
“A day or two. Maybe a week. I doubt it drag on much longer than
that.” The entomologist and geneticist beamed at each other, obviously
delighted. Manfred said,
“That’s no problem at all. We need much longer than that to finish
studying the specimen and preparing our first paper for publication, and
devise a straight way to deal with both the scientific community and the
media.” Bobby imagined that he heard one of the shallow drawers sliding
open in the case behind him, forced outward by the weight of a vile
torrent of giant, squirming Madagascar roaches.
“But I’ll take the three diamonds with me,” he said.
“They’re quite valuable, and they belong to my client.” Manfred and
Gavenall hesitated, made a token protest, but quickly agreed. Clint
took the stones and rewrapped them in the handkerchief. The scientists’
capitulation convinced Bobby there had been more than three diamonds in
the bug, probably at least five, leaving them with two stones to support
their thesis regarding the bug’s origins and purpose.
“We’ll want to meet your client, interview him,” Gavenall said.
“That’s up to him,” Bobby said.
“It’s essential. We must interview him.”
“That’s his decision,” Bobby said.
“You’ve gotten rid of what you wanted. Eventually he may agree, and
then you’ll have everything you’re after. But don’t push it now.” The
round man nodded.
“Fair enough. But tell me… where did he find the thing?”
“He doesn’t remember. He has amnesia.” The drawer behind him was open
now. He could hear the shells of the huge roaches clicking and scraping
together as they poured out of confinement and down the front of the
cabinet, swarming toward him.
“We really have to go,” he said.
“We don’t have another minute to spare.” He left the study quickly,
trying not to look as if he was bolting for his life.
Clint followed him, as did the two scientists, and at the front door,
Manfred said,
“I’m going to sound as if I ought to be writing stories for some
sensational tabloid, but if this is an alien artifact that came into
your client’s hands, do you think he could’ve gotten it inside a…
well, a spaceship? Those people who claim to have been abducted and
forced to undergo examinations aboard spaceships… they always seem to
go through a period of amnesia first, before learning the truth ‘
”
“Those people are crackpots or frauds,” Gavenall said sharply.
“We can’t let ourselves be associated with that sort of thing.” He
frowned, and the frown deepened into a scowl, and he said,
“Unless in this case it’s true.” Looking back at them from the stoop,
grateful to be outside, Bobby said, “Maybe it is. I’m at a point where
I’ll believe any thing till it’s disproved. But I’ll tell you this…
my feel is that whatever is happening to my client is something a
stranger than alien abduction.”
“A lot,” Clint agreed.
Without further elaboration, they went down the front was way to the
car. Bobby opened his door and stood for a moment reluctant to get into
Clint’s Chevy. The mild breeze wash down the Irvine hills felt so clean
after the stale air in M fred’s study.
He put one hand in his pocket, felt the three red diamond and said
softly,
“Bug shit.” When he finally got into the car and slammed the door,
barely resisted the urge to reach under his shirt to determine if the
things he still felt crawling on him were real.
Manfred and Gavenall stood on the front stoop, watching Bobby and Clint,
as if half expecting their car to tip back its rear bumper and shoot