ABOUT TO BANG DOWN the telephone, Price heard a click.
“Yes?” A cool, calculated monosyllable, one of Theo’s little affectations.
“Where the—” He looked at the staircase, looked down the hallway, furiously lowered his voice. “Where’ve you been?”
“When?” Another cool, round monosyllable. The jet-setter, very with-it.
“Never mind. I want to see you.”
“Well, I’ve got to—”
“I want to see you now. I want to see you in an hour and a half. At the—” Trying to think, he broke off. Someplace public, but not too public. Somewhere—
“You sound—” She, too, broke off. Momentarily her with-it persona, that cool, calm mask, had slipped. That, at least, was reassuring.
Reassuring?
He wasn’t thinking clearly. Reassuring! Christ!
“You sound agitated.” Cool, once more. Constantly, compulsively cool, first things first. Christ!
“That’s right, I’m agitated. You’re exactly right.” But he couldn’t say any more. Maria could be anywhere. And John, too, listening. When he was a kid, he’d listened to his parents constantly. Especially when they were on the phone, tethered by the cord, fair game.
“Ah—” Was this monosyllable meant to soothe him, steady him? Was that the game they were playing now?
“At the Sausalito yacht harbor,” he said. “Near that dolphin. That bronze dolphin.”
“Yes. All right. So—what—twelve-thirty?”
“Yes. Twelve-thirty. I’m leaving now.” He broke the connection.