Michael Crichton - Binary

`The girl?' Graves was distracted, thinking about what Drew had said.

`The girl we picked up this morning.'

`Oh yes. Where is she?'

`They've got her downstairs. In the grand ballroom.'

Graves nodded and checked his watch. They'd held the girl for several hours already. `I'd better see her now,' he said. `What's her name?'

Lewis consulted his notes. `Cynthia Lembeck.'

`How does she seem?'

Lewis shrugged. `Nervous.'

Anyone would be nervous, Graves thought, who had to spend much time in the hotel's grand ballroom. It was a cavernous space with ornate walls and ceiling, but for some reason all the tables and chairs had been removed. The ballroom was empty except for a girl sitting in a fold-up chair near one wall, and a marshal standing nearby.

Graves went over to her.

Seen close, she was darkly tanned, conventionally pretty, and older than he had expected - in her late twenties or early thirties.

`Miss Lembeck?'

`Oh,' she said in surprise. `It's you.'

That stopped him. Stopped him cold. `You recognize me?'

`Well, just your face. I've seen your picture.'

`Where?'

`John's apartment.'

`I see.'

`Are you a friend of his?'

`Not exactly,' Graves said. `I work for the government.'

`Something to do with the Convention?'

`Not exactly.' He switched into a straightforward interrogation mode. `How long have you known Mr Wright, Miss Lembeck?'

`About a month.'

`How did you meet him?'

`Through friends.' She glanced from Graves to the marshal. `Have I done something wrong?'

`No, no. We just want to ask you some questions. What can you tell us about Mr Wright?'

`He's very nice,' she said. `We're engaged.'

`Oh?' That was a surprise.

`Yes. He bought me an apartment, just last week.'

`I see.'

`It's very nice. At least, it will be.'

The girl was not very bright, but she had a sweet sexiness that was unmistakable. Still, he couldn't imagine Wright marrying her. In the past he had married well-known women, celebrities.

`There's nothing there now,' the girl said. `They're moving furniture in today.'

`You must be excited.'

`Oh, I am. John's excited, too. But he has so much on his mind.'

`How do you mean?'

`Well, business things. He's very interested in politics, you know.'

`No, I didn't know that.'

`You didn't?' she seemed puzzled. `I thought - well, anyway, he is. And this morning, we had the news on the television, and they announced that the President was coming into town. Well, he got very upset, and started making telephone calls. A lot of them.'

`What sort of calls?'

`I don't know. They were long distance.'

`Did you hear any of them?'

`No.'

`Are you sure?s

'Well, I heard him ask the operator for area code 801. That's Washington, isn't it?'

`Yes,' Graves said. He knew that it wasn't, but he could check it later.

`He was very upset. And then later, he mentioned China. He doesn't like the President about China, you know.' She sighed. `He thinks it's very wrong.'

`I see. You say you've seen my picture -'

`Only last night,' she said. `That was the first time. I thought you were related to him or something. Because he has your picture up all over the place.'

`This happened last night?'

`Yes. But he was strange last night, anyway. Nervous.' `I see. What about?'

`I don't know. He's worried about business things. He said something about a shipment he's expecting.'

`What else was strange, last night?'

She hesitated, apparently embarrassed.

`Go on,' Graves said gently.

`Well, it was different last night. He was very. vigorous. He did it three times.'

`I see,' Graves said.

Outside the ballroom Lewis was in a phone booth, checking the area code. He came out and fell into step with Graves. `Eight oh one,' he said, `is Utah.'

`Any particular place?'

`No. The whole state is one area code.'

`Shit,' Graves said. `I wish we had a tap on his phone.' `Well, we did our best to get it,' Lewis reminded him. `Yeah,' Graves said. He sighed. `I never thought I'd hear myself complaining because we hadn't tapped a phone.'

`Things are different now,' Lewis said.

`They sure are.'

They went outside into the bright hot morning sun and climbed into the car. Lewis started the engine. `Where to?'

`Miss Lembeck's new apartment. The one Wright just rented.'

`Okay,' Lewis said.

When they arrived at the apartment building, they saw Wright's limousine parked in front. Behind the wheel George was reading a newspaper.

`Are we fully set up across the street?' Graves said.

`We should be,' Lewis said.

Graves nodded. `Wait here. I'll go see what they've found.'

The day before, they had set up a surveillance unit in the apartment building facing Wright's. Graves rode to the nineteenth floor, got out, and walked to Room 1905. He knocked once.

`Who is it?'

`Graves.'

The door was opened for him. He entered the room. It was small and bare except for equipment clustered around the windows. There were two sets of binoculars on tripods and three sets of cameras; four chairs; a directional microphone, also on a tripod; recording equipment; film canisters; heaped ashtrays. And a television set.

On the TV Walter Cronkite was saying, `- are trying to get a vote from the Alabama delegation, which is apparently still in caucus.' In the background a booming, echoing mechanical voice was saying, `Alabama

Alabama… Alabama…'

Graves ignored the TV. `What've you got?' he asked.

One of the three men in the room stepped away from the binoculars. `Have a look,' he said.

Graves looked.

From this vantage point he could see directly into one window of Wright's apartment on the nineteenth floor of the opposite building. There were no drapes on the window, which made it easy to see in. The room was bare except for four peculiar wooden structures standing in the centre of the floor.

`They had drapes on that window too,' the man said, `but they took them off half an hour ago.'

`From all the windows?'

`No. Just this one.'

Graves frowned. Why? Did they know they were being observed? Did they want to make it easier? Because that was what they had done. He could see Wright striding around the room, directing two other people. Wright was working in shirtsleeves.

`The window's open,' Graves said. `It must be hot as hell in there.'

`That's right,' the man said. `The window has been open ever since Wright showed up. An hour ago.'

`What're those wooden things on the floor?'

`Sawhorses,' the man said. `We figure they had paperhangers in there. Paperhangers use sawhorses. But there's something funny going on.'

`How do you mean?'

`Well, look at the sawhorses closely. They have indentations cut in them.'

Graves looked. He could see a broadly curved, U-shaped cut in each sawhorse.

'Why?'

`Beats me. They just cut them a while back.'

`You mean, specially?'

`That's right. They've been doing a lot of unusual things in there. Every so often Wright sticks his hand out the window, and he's got this whirling thing, like a kid's whirling top… He sticks his hand out there for a minute, then pulls it back.'

Graves looked away from the window. `Describe it exactly.'

`It has four arms,' the man said, `and at the end of each is a cup, to catch the wind. Sort of a weathervane. But there isn't much wind today.'

`Anemometer,' Graves said.

`A what?'

`It measures wind velocity.' Why should Wright want to know the wind velocity outside the window of his girl friend's apartment?,

`Why does he care about that?' the man said.

Graves shook his head and turned back to the window, examining the sawhorses through the binoculars. Each sawhorse with its single indentation in the crossbar.