"If you're not asleep, can we take a couple more minutes to talk?"
"Of course." I sat up and reached for the light switch, but she said,
"Must we have the lights? The Moon is very bright."
"Sure." I sat on the edge of the couch and reached for a cigarette.
"Can I offer you a deal, Rena?"
"What sort of deal?"
"A horsetrade. You think the Company is corrupt and your father is not
a casualty, right?"
"Correct, Tom."
"And I think the Company is not corrupt and your father has radiation
poisoning. One of us has to be wrong, right?"
"Correct, Tom."
"Let's find out. There are ways of testing for radiation-sickness. I'll
go into the clinic in the morning and get the answer."
She also lifted up on one elbow, peering at me, her long hair braided
down her back. "Will you?"
"Sure. And we'll make bets on it, Rena. If you are wrong--if your
father has radiation poisoning--I want you to tell me everything
there is to tell about the riot today and the people behind it. If I'm
wrong--" I swallowed--"if I'm wrong, I'll get your father out of there
for you. Somehow. I promise it, Rena."
There was absolute silence for a long time. Then she swung out of the
bed and hurried over to me, her hands on mine. She looked at me and
again I saw tears. "Will you do that, Tom?" she asked, hardly audible.
"Why, sure," I said awkwardly. "But you have to promise--"
"I promise!"
She was staring at me, at arm's length. And then something happened.
She wasn't staring and she wasn't at arm's length.
Kissing her was like tasting candied violets; and the Moon made
her lovelier than anything human; and the bellboy had not been so
presumptuous, after all, when he left us the champagne.