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.A dead photocopier can take five or more minutes to warm up.While I waited for this one, I hunted in the hallway for a bathroom.The women’s room was next to the stairwell.I was just opening the door when I heard someone coming up the stairs.I couldn’t very well go back to turn off the machine; nor did I wish to be found standing in the hallway with a fistful of Friendship files.I moved into the bathroom, not turning on the light.The footsteps came past me without halting and headed down the hall.A man, by the weight of the tread.I cracked the door and looked out.It was Peter.Why the hell was he coming into the hospital this time of night?I watched tensely while he inserted his key in the lock.He turned it absentmindedly, couldn’t get the door open, frowned at the lock and turned the key again.His thin shoulders shrugged and he went inside.I saw the bars of light come on around the edges of the door.I waited for what seemed an endless amount of time.Would he call security when he found his own office unlocked as well?I ran through “Batti, batti” from Dow Giovanni-that takes me about five minutes.I carefully mouthed the words twice.Ten minutes and no action.Ignoring the impulse that had sent me to the bathroom to begin with, I slunk down the hallway, retrieved the key to the photocopier and went back down the stairs to the main wing of the hospital.I went briskly down the corridor to the main entrance, got into the car and circled around the building until I found the staff parking lot.In the suburbs., if you work you drive to get there.The parking area was filled with the night shift’s cars.I couldn’t drive into the area without a plastic card to open the gates, but I went in on foot and finally located Peter’s car at the far end.I returned to the car and moved it down the road where it would be inconspicuous, but where I could see the lot entrance.At three o’clock, Peter finally emerged.I watched him into the lot, waited until the Maxima came out, and followed it at a discreet distance until I was sure he was heading for home.My silk shirt was again wet with sweat.You are so dumb, I admonished myself.Why will you persist in wearing silk on difficult errands in midsummer?By this point I was past caring whether anyone intercepted me.I boldly made my way back to Peter’s office wing.It was still deserted.Once more, I used his secretary’s key to bring the Xerox machine to life.When the “ready” light was on, I copied the papers, stuck them in my portfolio, reopened Peter’s office, and restored what I’d taken.As I hung the keys I’d borrowed back on the little hooks by the secretary’s desk, I saw what had brought him into his office: work on his amniotic-embolism conference.A note in his cramped handwriting lay on top of a stack of papers: “Okay now for typesetting and 35 mm.Sorry to bring it down to the wire for you.” The conference was this coming Friday-he’d left his poor secretary with two working days to get his slides together.On impulse I picked up samples of the brightly colored brochures and stuffed them with the other papers into my now-bulging portfolio.I carefully locked the doors behind me and left.It was time for whiskey, bath, and bed.Near the entrance to the tollway I found a Marriott, which even at this late hour was willing to provide me with all three.I took a double Black Label from the bar up to my room.By the time I’d finished soaking in the narrow tub I’d drunk all the whiskey.Practice makes perfect in these precision-timed exercises.I fell into bed and slept the perfect sleep of the honest laborer.Chapter Twenty-Six - The Fading TrailI woke up at eleven, refreshed and relaxed.I lay stretching in the king-size bed for several minutes, not wanting to break my mood of lazy well-being.They say completing a successful criminal enterprise often leaves this feeling in its wake-the people I used to represent for the county weren’t successful, so I never saw it firsthand.At last I swung out of bed and went into the bathroom to wash.The walls were covered with mirrors, offering me a complete and unappetizing view of my stomach and hips- time to lay off the pancakes and double orders of bacon.I sent down to room service for fresh fruit, yogurt, and coffee before phoning Lotty at the clinic.“Vic! I’ve been debating the last half hour whether I should ring Murray Ryerson.Are you all right?”“Yes, yes.I’m fine [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]