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where he had tumbled, and scurried into a hollow between two of the cushions.
Sure enough, Vanessa turned, and a huge arm came down, causing Kevin to pull
back into the darkness of the hollow. She took the green folder and
straightened up the bag, speaking over her shoulder to her companion at the
same time.
I don t think he s going to change his mind about it, and we can t risk being
too pushy. Honestly, I ve made all the suggestions that I think would be
prudent.
Kevin had a glimpse of a man with yellow hair, wearing a red shirt, as Vanessa
turned away again. Then we ll have Phil go ahead and draw up a codicil. It s
probably the safest way, anyhow. . . .
It s your mom, Taki said illuminatingly.
No! Really? My God, it is! I d never have guessed. How do you figure these
things out, Taki?
Well, excuse me. Jeesh. . . .
The thing was to get away from the seat and the bag, the whole area where
people were likely to be moving. Beside the arm of the bench was a U.S. flag
furled about a polished wooden staff that stood attached to the wall by a
brass bracket.
Beyond was what looked like the end of a wooden wall cabinet, ornamented with
carvings and shell inlays. Kevin thought it might be possible to get up onto
the cabinet by climbing the folds of the flag. He exchanged the blade for his
other claw hand again, then set off, worming up behind the cushions to get to
the top of the seat back. The fabric afforded easy holds on both sides. His
biggest problem was with protuberances of the mec s body catching in the
threads.
Kevin waited until Vanessa had her back to him again, blocking the man s view,
and then raced along the top of the seat and leaped into a fold of the flag,
kicking the prong-tipped feet into the weave and gripping blindly with the
claws. The flag was made of flimsier material than the seat cover, with a
harder, finer-woven thread more difficult to grasp. He steadied himself, then
started climbing or, more accurately, floundering his way upward through a
near-vertical billow of stationary surf, unable to avoid making tremors that
he prayed wouldn t give him away. Taki, for once, seemed to appreciate his
predicament and kept quiet. Eventually, Kevin reached the top part of the mast
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where the folds became tighter and easier to wedge into, and made the last few
inches to the top of the cabinet by bridging across the angle between the end
and the wall.
The man with Vanessa was asking about new theoretical work on neural dynamics.
You stick to organizing the finances, Vanessa said. That s what you re
better at. Don t worry about the scientific side.
Leave that to me.
I was just curious.
I think you might find this more interesting.
What is it?
Open it and see. . . .
At last, Kevin had reached his haven. The top surface of the cabinet stretched
away before him safe and secure in shadow, high near the ceiling. Along its
length were carved heads and figurines, ornamental pieces in copper and brass,
decorative plates, and a couple of replica dueling pistols mounted on plaques.
To Kevin they looked like an avenue of gigantic sculptures staring down over
the void. He moved cautiously to the edge and settled in the darkness behind
the base of one of the figurines to observe the surroundings fully at last.
He wasn t good at estimating the ages of people over about thirty but the man
talking with Vanessa looked to be in the range that was usually selected for
sports equipment and fast-car commercials. Certainly, he had the looks. His
yellow hair was styled collar-length, covering the ears, eyes clear and
candid, tanned features, fine and strong-lined. He stood loose-
limbed and athletic, wearing a bright red short-sleeved shirt with white
edging, and white, lightweight, casual slacks. He was scanning through the
contents of the green folder and saying something about forecasts and
percentages that Kevin didn t follow.
The room itself, as Kevin had registered vaguely but not had time to think
more about until now, was low-ceilinged, with round-backed chairs and a
bulging couch, sculptures and art works set on tables or mounted in backlit
niches, and carpeting patterned in black, browns, and gold. A marble-topped
bar with mirrors behind stood below a long window at the far end, and across
from it, a glass-fronted cabinet exhibiting sculptures and crystal.
What do you make of this place? Kevin asked Taki.
I m not sure. A pretty nifty kind of house. . . .
It looks like it should have pointy arches and snake-charmer music, somehow.
Then Kevin noticed that the window partly visible behind the half-closed
drapes high on the wall opposite, through which he could see lights reflecting
off water, was rounded at the corners.
Wait, Taki s voice said. What was that? back to the right of where you re
looking now.
Where? Kevin moved his gaze back to the right.
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