She caught Oscar's arm, and he turned to her. "Walk and talk." she whispered. He nodded his assent and continued slowly down the hall, murmuring notes to an invisible personal assistant.
Then from behind the door was the sound of whistling, and more footsteps. These were not the slow, shuffling movements of a sick man. These were crisp, brisk sounds.
Just then a guest rounded the corner into the hallway, and Jaime instantly launched into an act meant to demonstrate she was having difficulty with the strap of her sandal.
"Mr. Goldman," she called, hobbling in his direction. "Sorry…I missed what you said…my shoe…"
Flinging his hands in the air, he affected impatience. "Miss Sumner…" he reproved. He waited as she hobbled to catch up to him, and then continued, "As I was saying…"
Jaime didn't hear a word. Her mind was racing.
When they reached her room, she unlocked the door and grabbed his sleeve. Practically dragging him in with her, she whispered, "He walked in his room. I heard him. He was walking around!"
"What?" Oscar hissed incredulously.
She nodded firmly. "Footsteps!"
Oscar frowned. "Well… he might be able to walk a little bit, but he has advanced MS, Jaime – I doubt he's running laps in his room."
"Oscar, this was not a shuffle. It was healthy sounding. Cheerful too."
"Healthy sounding?" he repeated, his tone skeptical. "Maybe the maid was in the room with him…or somebody else. Maybe he brought someone with him."
She contemplated arguing further, but decided instead to cut to the chase. "I think we should get out of here."
"What?! I can't do that!"
Jaime regarded him with irritation. "Remember what happened the last time you didn't take my hearing seriously? Big mess, remember?"
This remark clearly stung him. It had been a close call for all of them, and ironically, it had involved Dr. Franklin's "son" Carl, and a whole lot of his robot siblings.
"How could I forget? But do you really expect me to tell the President that I aborted the negotiations because you thought he sounded healthy?" He grasped her shoulders and tried to project an attitude of calm and reason. "Now look, Jaime. Let's not fly off the handle. We'll stay for this second meeting – to see if we can get it to play in our favor? And if there's something underhanded going on, we'll get insight as to what it is."
"No way, Oscar! Why don't you just stick your foot in that leg hold trap and see if the jaws close around your ankle? Look – you're you – which makes you vulnerable, and you've got these papers. And what about Rudy?" she added hotly, "are you going to get on the phone and sell Rudy down the river?"
Anger flashed in his eyes, and he stiffened and took his hands from her shoulders. "Well now what do you think? Do you suppose I'm just going to tell him that Rudy is our most valuable asset, and that his presence at the OSI is not negotiable - so that I can make it clear to him that the bionics program is successful? Would you like me to tell him all about you, just so he knows Rudy is a great scientist? "
Jaime bit her lip. She had rushed to judgement.
"I've got some phone calls to make." Oscar grumbled, heading for the door.
"Wait – Oscar." she said, catching him by the arm. "I'm sorry. I'm being a jerk. I have a ton of faith in you – I really do. I just get a little…lippy… when I'm worried."
"I know." Oscar replied, softening slightly, if reluctantly.
"You can tell me to go to hell anytime, you know." she said, fiddling apologetically with his lapel. "You don't have to put up with me the way you do."
"Actually," he admitted, "You are a pain in the ass, but you keep me straight. It's one of the things I love about you."
Jaime noted his use of the word 'love'. She smiled ruefully, and he kissed her. "I really do have to go make those phone calls."
"Wait…" she said, leaning against the door to prevent him from leaving. "What about what I heard?"
He sighed and stared at the ceiling a moment, suppressing irritation. "I don't know what to make of that, Babe. All I know is that we did a thorough check on him. I have to believe my own intelligence. There has to be another explanation. Now, would you excuse me?"
Jaime reluctantly stood back from the door. Maybe he was right – maybe there was another explanation.
Oscar returned to his room and called Russ, who set into motion a small team of Czech intelligence specialists. They had just two hours to find out who Kazimir Prochazka was. It would be impossible to check him out thoroughly, but they might at least attain some broad strokes of information. Before hanging up, Oscar asked Russ once again if Intelligence was firm on Prochazka's validity.
"Eighty percent, Oscar. That's a pretty good endorsement from those guys."
Oscar lay back on the too soft hotel bed and stared at the ceiling. He should have been reviewing that meeting carefully- combing through every moment to see if his own instincts were anything like Jaime's, but somehow he couldn't keep his mind from slipping back to the subject of the woman herself. Thinking about Jaime when he was supposed to be thinking of other things was becoming a genuine problem for him. The plain fact was that he was always deeply unsettled after being with her. When he left her earlier, it was under the usual guise that he had business too important to ignore, but in reality every fiber of him screamed to stay. He thought of her lying in that rumpled bed, tousled and flushed, incredibly sexy and impossibly adorable – and this time, just a little sad. He wondered for the thousandth time if he were taking advantage of her – the thought made him wince in discomfort. In his own defense, he reminded himself that she was an independent woman – perhaps the most independent woman he had ever met, and she didn't want or need a man like him horning in on her life, making demands or limiting her in any way. She had him exactly where she wanted him. Many times over he had beaten down a burning jealousy when she went off with some guy or other right under his nose. She always came back, but it gutted him every time. So who was taking advantage of whom?
He repeated the mantra - one of these days, she would say goodbye for good, and when she did, he would kiss her cheek, smile, and wish her luck, even if it killed him to do it.
Just ten minutes before the second meeting Russ finally called to tell him that there was indeed a Kazimir Prochazka living in Prague – an artist who was becoming infamous for his critiques of the government. The Prague contact suggested that if he wasn't extracted soon, he would likely land in more trouble than he could handle. Russ figured it would take several months to arrange to get him out, but that it could be done. Oscar hung up the phone feeling satisfied. Surely helping the brother would soothe Dr. Prochazka enough to tolerate the presence of Rudy.
He knocked on Jaime's door at five minutes to five, and they walked to the meeting room in silence. She tried hard to be calm even though the alarm bells were rattling in her head.
Prochazka was already there, anxiously rolling his wheelchair backward and forward. Oscar noted to himself that the wheelchair seemed a novelty to him – something to play with. He glanced at the small man's legs and dismissed the thought – they were painfully thin.
No sooner had Oscar shut the door and he and Jaime seated themselves, than Prochazka spoke. His tone was flat and weary. "I'm afraid time for negotiation is over, Mr. Goldman."
For a single moment Oscar held the crazy thought that Prochazka had read his mind and rejected what he was about to offer, but that thought evaporated when an armed man stepped from the washroom, and another burst from the closet.
Regarding the guns pointed at his chest, Oscar sighed, as though this sort of problem cropped up every day. "At least you understand now why I couldn't trust you with those papers."
"It doesn't make any difference. My people were always torn between the having me infiltrate the OSI, or simply getting the papers and developing the weather control device properly at home. I'm afraid they picked the latter." Prochazka's attitude was not smug, or angry, or sneering. Instead he seemed relieved to have the opportunity to be honest. Now he could speak openly, one professional to another.
"So I see." Oscar glanced at Jaime, who was wide eyed and a little quivery. For a moment he was concerned, until he realized she was putting it on, and then it was all he could to not to smile in admiration.
"And then there's you, of course. They have long wanted to take you out of circulation, Mr. Goldman. 'Cut the head off the snake', they say."
"Flattered, I'm sure. And who are your people?"
"I am Czech." he shrugged. "Always Czech."
"Thus Soviet."
"One day I hope not, but for now, yes."
"So what about your… brother?" Oscar asked, though he already knew the answer.
"He is an agent of course." Prochazka said, with another shrug. "I don't have a brother." He wheeled around to face Jaime, who at that moment was wishing she could voluntarily break into a sweat. Miss Sumner had been sitting very quietly, her posture stiff, her breath shallow.
"Miss Sumner – I'm so sorry." he said kindly. "I did try to keep you out of this. If it's any comfort, you might just end up in Siberia. I will do my best to see that's all that happens to you."
"Let her go." Oscar interjected. "She doesn't deserve to get caught up in all this."
"Oh, please, Mr. Goldman. You know perfectly well I can't do that. I'm afraid you should have taken a job in a Doctor's office, Miss Sumner." Turning his attention back to Oscar, he said, "Let's get down to business. The first thing I need, of course, is the Franklin papers. Please tell me where they are."
"Forget it." Oscar snapped.
"Please," Prochazka sighed. "let's dispense with formalities. You and I both know the next thing to happen is a swift pistol whipping for you, followed by dire threats to Miss Sumner's safety and virtue. Then your head will hurt, and you will feel so guilty when these men do cruel things to her. So, please lets move right past that step."
Oscar clamped his mouth shut and glared. Jaime glanced at Prochazka, torn between maintaining her front as the quivery Miss Sumner and trying to talk some sense into this man. He seemed to be going through the motions – surely he could be swayed.
"All right." Oscar spat. "They're in the safe in my room. The combination is left three times to fifty one, right twice to seven, left once to twenty seven, right to eight."
Jaime clenched her fist in frustration. Oscar was giving up too easily - but she'd be damned if she was going to let those papers fall into the wrong hands.
"I will go myself." Prochazka said. "If you are not telling the truth, we will have to begin to explore those formalities." He turned to one of the gunmen and barked to him in Czech. The man stepped forward and jammed his weapon into Oscar's forehead. "Key please." Prochazka said.
Very slowly, Oscar withdrew the hotel key from his jacket pocket and handed it to the scientist, who then quickly rolled toward the door.
"Doctor – " Jaime blurted, causing him to halt, "You don't really want to do this, do you? You don't have to go through with it – you can still do the right thing –we can help you."
He regarded her with a kind of amused pity. "Do the right thing?" he snorted, "And I suppose you know exactly what that is, don't you? Here's something for you to contemplate, my lovely young friend. Your idea of the right thing and my idea of the right thing are probably nothing alike. You may have your 'truth, justice and the American way', or whatever it is. I don't want it."
"But – " Jaime protested, half rising from her chair. She was thinking of what he had said earlier about being transformed by a beautiful place…if she could only make him remember that! The second armed man immediately lunged at her, and she dropped back to her seat. Prochazka left the room in silence.