Arthur Clarke - Cradle

“This stew is fabulous,” Carol remarked to Ellen. “Would you mind giving me the recipe?”

Ellen was delighted. “Certainly, dear,” she said, “it would be my pleasure.” Carol remembered Dale’s reference to Ellen’s behavior at the MOI awards dinner and wondered if there was, indeed, any sexual component to the warmth Ellen was displaying. I don’t see it, Carol decided. This is just a lonely and profoundly disturbed woman. I don’t feel one iota of sexual tension.

“You’ve been asking the questions all evening, Miss Dawson,” Homer was saying. “Now why don’t we ask you a few?” He had been surprisingly pleasant and subdued since the bizarre preprandial shark feeding. They must be normal sometimes, Carol thought. Otherwise they couldn’t survive. But who knows when Mr. Hyde will show up again.

“Ya,” Greta said. It was the first time she had spoken directly to Carol during the meal. “Homer told me you were with Dr. Dale. You are lovers, no?”

You don’t beat around the bush, do you Greta. Carol partially evaded the question. “Dale Michaels and I are very good friends. We spend quite a lot of time together, both socially and professionally.”

“He is a smart man,” Greta said. Those clear eyes stared at Carol and a smile played at the corner of Greta’s lips. What is she trying to tell me?

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of a sharp alarm. Carol knew immediately that something had gone wrong. “What in the world is that?” Carol asked innocently as the strident alarm continued with its loud bursts.

Homer and Greta were already up from the table. “Excuse us,” Homer said, “it’s our burglar alarm. Probably an error. We’ll go check it out.”

They hurried out of the dining room, leaving Carol and Ellen alone, and headed down a nearby hallway. I must follow them and find out what’s going on, Carol thought, her heart and mind racing together. She sneaked a peek at her watch. It was five minutes past ten o’clock. They should have finished by now. “I’m going to the rest room,” she said to Ellen. “Don’t bother,” she added, as Ellen started to explain the directions. “I’m sure I can find it myself.”

Carol walked quickly into the hall and listened for sounds of Homer and Greta. Moving very quietly, she followed them until she was just outside a large den on the opposite side of the house. The door to the den was ajar. “It will focus in a second,” she heard Homer say. There was a pause. “Shit,” he shouted, “it looks like the gold bars are already gone. They must have moved very fast… The picture is really not very clear. Here, you take a look.”

“Ya,” said Greta. “The bars are gone, I think… But Homer, the gold would be very heavy. Maybe the thieves are trapped in the tunnel… Timmy could search for them.”

“That would fix the bastards,” Homer’s nervous laugh sent chills down Carol’s spine. She back pedaled slowly until she had retreated to the main foyer of the house. She heard an outside door slam in the direction of the den. They’ve gone out to turn the sharks loose. Jesus. I must warn Nick and Troy.

Carol walked into the nearest bathroom in the hallway, pushed the door closed, and turned on the water faucet. Then she flushed the commode and untaped the small walkie-talkie that was hidden inside her shirt. She put the unit right next to her mouth. “Mayday, mayday,” she said. “They know you’re there. You are in danger.” She repeated the message and then pushed the button that would automatically recycle the communication several more times. I certainly hope this damn thing works, she thought.

She started to affix the tiny unit to the inside of her blouse again. While she was taping it down, she happened to look in the mirror. Her heart nearly stopped. Ellen was standing in the doorway, staring at her, the baleful glare in her eyes indicating that she had seen and heard everything. She took a step toward Carol.

“Just hold it right there, Ellen,” Carol said. Carol put her hands up. “I have no quarrel with you.” The fat woman hesitated. “Homer and Greta only use you anyway,” Carol added softly, “why don’t you leave them and make a life for yourself?”

Anger broke across Ellen’s face. Her eyes narrowed, her cheeks reddened, and she raised her huge fists to threaten Carol. “It’s none of your damn business how I live my life,” she said menacingly. She moved again in Carol’s direction.

Carol grabbed the thick metal towel rack beside her and pulled with all her might. The bar sprung free from the wall, dumping two peach bath towels and a wooden end piece on the linoleum floor. Carol brandished the bar over her head. “Don’t make me hit you,” she said. “Just move aside and get out of my way.”

Ellen did not slow down. Carol aimed carefully and struck her hard, on the right shoulder. The heavy woman collapsed.

“Greta,” she wailed in a monstrous voice, “Greta, help me.”

Still waving the bar from the towel rack, Carol walked carefully around Ellen and backed toward the door. Once in the hall, she sprinted to the family room and headed for the front door. Right beside the wet bar she was tackled from behind. Carol fell forward, hard, and smashed her nose on the carpet. She tried to squirm out of Greta’s arms but it was impossible. She was pinned. A few drops of blood trickled out of Carol’s nose and fell on the carpet.

Both women were breathing heavily. Carol managed to turn her body around so that she was facing Greta. She struggled vainly to free herself. Greta’s strong arms slammed Carol’s wrists against the floor. Greta bent down until her face was only inches away from Carol’s. “You were trying to get away, ya, and just why vere you in such a hurry.”

There was something feral in Greta’s eyes. On impulse, Carol lifted her head and kissed Greta, full on the lips. Startled, her assailant’s arms momentarily relaxed. That was all Carol needed. Gathering all her strength, she smashed the bottom of her palm into the side of Greta’s head. Greta was stunned. Carol pushed her off and made a dash for the door.

Carol was already calculating when she ran out the front door and down the steps. Greta will be up in an instant, she thought. I won’t have time to open the car door. I might as well run for it.

The German woman was only fifteen yards behind her, and gaining fast, when Carol turned onto the lane that led from Homer’s house to the Pelican Resort. For ten years I have run three times a week. But this is the only time my life has ever depended on it. She tried to accelerate. Greta continued to close the gap. Carol was certain she was going to be caught at any minute. Once she thought she felt Greta’s hand on her blouse.

But after two hundred yards Greta began to drop back. When she was a quarter of a mile from Homer’s driveway Carol dared to look over her shoulder. Her pursuer was clearly struggling and was now fifty yards behind her. Carol felt a renewed burst of energy. I’m going to make it, she thought. I’m actually going to escape.

Greta slowed to a walk. Eventually Carol did too, but not until she was almost to the restaurant. Even then she continued to look back, to try to find her antagonist in the moonlight. Now I’ll call a taxi, she was thinking, And go over to Nick’s apartment. I hope that the two of them heard my warning and are safe.

She could no longer see Greta. She stopped and strained her eyes. She must have turned back, Carol thought. While she was looking back down the lane, a pair of very strong hands grabbed her shoulders. She spun around and stared into the laughing eyes of Lieutenant Richard Todd.

HE had purposely waited until all the rest of the actors had left the dressing room. The package itself was inconspicuous, about the size of a large bar of soap, wrapped in white paper with a dark red ribbon. You don’t even know if it’s from her, Winters thought as he pulled the bow on the ribbon. The commander was full of anticipation. The show had been even better tonight. And in the bedroom scene he had felt, for just a second, the touch of Tiffani’s tongue against his lips. She didn’t have to do that, Winters told himself, suspending for a moment all vestiges of guilt.