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Designed Intent

Chapter 8

The Following Week

Monday

"Well, how was your first weekend alone?" Malcolm asked as he slid into the booth beside Gleason at the Windy City eatery in the Norris Student Center.

"Why, yes, please join me," she said to him sarcastically. "It was fine. I got so much done. What did you do?"

"Actually, I spent the weekend with my son."

Gleason's eyes shot up from her salad. "I didn't know you have a son. I, I didn't know you were married."

"Separated, we're separated."

They stared at each other for a long moment. "Tell me about your son."

"Tell me what you did to make you so happy this morning."

Gleason took the hint and they chatted about her weekend. They talked about classes and the article they were working on.

Gleason finished and headed to her afternoon class. The information about Malcolm's son had stunned her, as did the fact of his separation. It had never occurred to her that he might have been married. She pulled her phone and dialed Bobby's number, pressing the star button to go directly to his voicemail, "I love you, Bobby. I love you so much. I'll talk with you tonight," she said after the voice mail prompt.

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Tuesday Night

"Hi, Honey."

"Hi, Love. How are you?"

"Fine. I miss you. Are you still tired?"

"No, it was good to get caught up, Bobby. I feel so much better."

He listened to her and heard happiness. He missed her terribly, but he was going to make this work. "You sound good, Honey. Only three more days and then I will be there with you. I cannot wait."

"It will be so good to sleep next to you, Love. I miss you. I miss your body."

"You just want me for my body, don't you?" he said with a smile. He loved when she got frisky on the phone like this. It was so unlike her.

"Well, certain parts of your body. I am discerning, you know."

"And what parts would those be?"

"Oh, I think you know. Do I need to have you find them?" She was about to continue along this line when she remembered something, "Oh, Bobby, I almost forgot! Marco Antonelli is performing on campus this Saturday night. Why don't I see if I can get us tickets! It would be fun."

She was so excited, he had no idea who this Antonelli person was, but he did not care. This would make her happy, and he wanted her to be happy. "That sounds wonderful, Sweetheart. It will be like a date. Then we can get dinner afterward and then spend the night making love. Sound like a plan?"

"Yes, oh I am so excited. This will be so nice. We haven't done something like this. It will be fun. I can't wait."

"I love you, Gleason, so much."

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Wednesday

"Where would someone get a period printing press like that?" Eames asked her partner. They had put all of their effort into investigating the counterfeit books that were popping up all over the place now. Three more fakes had been reported over the weekend.

"I'm looking for that information right now. Hey, the guy from Antiquarian Books is coming by to talk about what he knows. He's the most reputable source in the city. He said he could be here at three-thirty."

"Good. You know, it's funny."

"What is?"

"All these experts on all these tiny little slivers of life. You know, this book guy, Gleason even with her ancient languages. Who even knew about this stuff?"

Bobby looked up from his computer screen and said, "I know a lot of people who know a lot of stuff about a lot of things. There is a lot to know out in the world, Eames. You should check it out sometime."

Eames was stunned. "What are you saying? Are you saying I'm stupid, that I don't know anything?"

"Eames, that is not what I said. I said, there is a lot to know and you might want to find out some stuff yourself. I did not say, or mean, you are stupid. I wouldn't say that and I certainly don't think that." Bobby felt bad thinking he made Alex feel bad. "Ok?"

Eames picked up her cup and walked toward the coffee room. Bobby watched her walk away and then he shot up to follow her. "Eames, are you upset?"

"Yes, Bobby! You intimated that I am stupid. No one is as smart as you are, for Chrissakes. Some of us have a normal IQ. We can't help not knowing stuff."

Bobby wasn't sure he agreed with that last bit, but he let it go. "Alex, I meant nothing. I certainly do not think you are stupid. Come on."

Eames watched him look at her with that pained, desperate look he gets. She knew he can't help the way he is, it's not his fault he's a genius freak. Actually, his mega-brain solved their cases. She knew she was fortunate to work with him, as he was fortunate to have her. She remembered when they had almost ended what they had together.

"All right. All right. Forget it. I overreacted."

"So we're ok?"

"Yes, we're ok."

They returned to their desks and slid back into the rhythm that made them so good.

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Thursday

Eames and Sledge ate at a place near Brookbine University. Students and families jammed the place. It was loud and cramped.

"Why did you think this was a good place to eat?" Eames said with some disgust.

"Hon, this place has the best fries. Wait until you see, they are the longest, hottest fries I have ever had. Like those fries we used to get at a fair when we were kids, remember? You are going to love 'em."

"Yeah, well, we'll see. How has Bishop been? Is she feeling better?"

"I guess. She's been really quiet, though. I think that biopsy scared her."

"Well, it should. Jesus, finding a lump like that." Eames shuddered.

Sledge leaned in and said softly, "You know, I think I should check you for anything out of the ordinary. Tonight, all over. With fingers and tongue. Just to be sure. You think so?"

Eames sat back and smiled at him. "I should check you, too."

"Oh, I'm counting on it. We need to look out for each other."

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Friday

"This is the fifth counterfeit so far," Deakins was getting antsy about this case, although he was antsy about every case. "What have you figured out about these books? Any pattern?"

The three met in the conference room with the five bogus books. Bobby stood at a piece of chart paper with five columns; he pointed and said, "Well, these are the titles, three are poetry and two are narrative. All five represent a period from 1742 through 1869. Each contains paper dyed with the same process, each is printed with the same ink, each is bound in the same way using a combination of horse glue and stitching with waxed twine, the marbling on the endpapers is the same – ,"

Deakins interrupted Bobby with, "Ok, so the same person or persons made them, what else?"

Bobby glanced at his partner and then sat, "Uh, the owners reported that they purchased the books from three different sources. We're going to start those interviews Monday. That will –,"

Deakins rubbed his face and said, "How many more of these do you think are out there?"

Eames picked up with, "There's no way of telling. We've put out a notice to all known collectors of books of this type and we've notified the two collector's societies in the country. As more folks become aware of these forgeries and they begin to have theirs authenticated, it stands to reason that more will be showing up."

"Craig in tech is searching online for sites that deal in rare first editions. None of these owners purchased online, however," Bobby added.

Deakins glanced at his watch and said, "I have a meeting with the brass in ten. Look, the Commissioner happens to be one of those collectors and he wants these people found. I know this is your weekend off, but you two are going to have to work straight through. He wants this closed by Wednesday. Keep busy."

Bobby stood as the Captain stood, "Uh, Captain, I'm flying to Chicago this afternoon. To be with Gleason."

"I'm sorry, Bobby, this comes from the top," and he turned and left.

Bobby sat down hard, stunned. Eames watched him, expecting him to launch into a rage. Surprisingly, he didn't. Bobby checked his watch and pulled his cell. He punched a few numbers with his left thumb, stood and walked slowly toward his desk.

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