Prizes (37 page)

My God, he thought to himself, this can’t be possible. The woman is about to be single again, and she asks me point-blank about my … eligibility. Why did she wait so long?

“Yes,” he replied. “And I’ve got the most wonderful daughter.”

“Oh, how I envy you.” She sighed theatrically. “I’d give up the keys to the kingdom—even the keys to the studio—to have a darling little girl like yours.”

“Well,” Sandy responded, as he reveled in the attention she was paying him, “it won’t be easy, but you’re bound to find somebody worthy of you. You must be under a lot of stress at the moment,” he offered.

“How extremely sensitive and considerate of you to say that, Sandy. You’re right. I’m in a great deal of mental anguish. It’s wonderful to be able to talk to someone who goes as far back as you do. I mean, there are no real friendships here in Hollywood. Only alliances of expediency.”

Gosh, she has a lovely turn of phrase, Sandy thought to himself, not realizing that her words were apt as a description of her own behavior.

There was an abrupt silence. Then Sandy heard some voices in the background.

She returned apologetically to their conversation. “Sandy, listen. Redford’s just burst in demanding to see me about script changes. I’ve got to cut this marvelous conversation short. Why don’t we talk again?”

“Sure, sure, any time,” Sandy responded, the only lapdog with tenure in physics at a major university.

“I’ll put you on to my assistant, Michael, who’ll take your numbers. Thanks again for calling—and loads of love to your wife and lovely daughter.”

Sandy thought it best not to give Michael his home phone number, but indicated that, especially as he spent most of his life in the lab, he could be reached there.

“Gee, Mr. Raven,” Michael remarked deferentially, “how does it feel to be saving mankind the way you are?”

The question had never been put to Sandy in quite that way, but he owed this respectful humanitarian a confirmation of his commitment to science. “It’s rough, Michael, but the job’s got to be done.”

“Amen, Mr. Raven. Oh, by the way, I’m terribly sorry I confused you with that clown of a producer.”

Sandy could take it from Rochelle, but he saw no reason not to inform this underling with quiet irony, “That’s okay. He’s only my father.”

Sandy was so upset afterward that, defying the dictates of the Cambridge police, not to mention ordinary common sense—he went out and walked on the moonlit banks of the Charles River.

What had begun as a spontaneous gesture of greetings for old times’ sake had concluded with an enormous emotional upheaval.

Though he felt he had put Michael in his place, he was still terribly hurt by the way the arrogant young creep had spoken about Sidney.

And though Rochelle had acted enormously affectionate during their phone conversation, he had no illusions
that their relationship was anything more than platonic. Still, it was obviously not something he could discuss with Judy. For then he would have to admit that just hearing Rochelle’s voice could still evoke in him pangs of regret.

38
 

“Excuse me, Professor.”

Karl Pracht peeked over a copy of
Science,
removed his feet from the desk and acknowledged his unexpected visitor.

“Ah, the good Mr. da Costa. Nice to see you. Where’s Isabel?”

“In the library,” Ray answered cautiously. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, just being cordial. I mean, the two of you are inseparable, so I assumed …”

He’s putting me down, Raymond thought darkly. He’s one of those bozos who think all I am is an intellectual parasite.

“Come in for God’s sake,” Pracht urged affably, motioning him toward a chair.

“Actually, I’d prefer to stand, if you don’t mind.”

Ray’s veiled hostility somewhat baffled Karl. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” he inquired.

“You mean you have no idea?” Raymond asked sarcastically as he closed the door.

“Frankly, no,” Pracht answered. “Unless you’re finally
accepting my offer to be a development engineer in our department.”

Ray’s suspicions were confirmed. The arrogant bastard was trying to buy him off.

“I’ve always thought you were hiding your light under a bushel,” Karl went on, pleasantly. “From everything I’ve heard from my colleagues in San Diego, you really livened up the place.”

“Thank you.” Ray brushed off the compliment like an unwanted thread from his shoulder. “But that’s not why I’m here. Can we talk man-to-man?”

Pracht smiled. “Well, the Women’s Studies department would prefer we say ‘person-to-person.’ But we can chat in confidence. Is this about Isabel? I’ve noticed she’s been looking a little peaked and frazzled lately.”

Ray stared at the professor, unblinking. “Just tell me one thing, Karl,” he said, deliberately savoring what he regarded as disrespectful use of the man’s first name. “Has Isabel kept you up-to-date on her research?”

“Of course. I’m her adviser. Why—”

“Then you know,” Raymond interrupted.

Karl Pracht leaned across his desk with a look of be-musement on his face.

“For God’s sake, da Costa, can you stop speaking in half-baked innuendos and tell me what you’re driving at?”

“Well, we could begin with the four forces and Einstein’s theory of equivalence.”

At this point he had expected Pracht to interject and mention the so-called Fifth Force—and his own contribution to the field. But the physicist was clearly playing cat and mouse. Perhaps to find out how much Raymond knew.

“Fine,” he agreed, “let’s start there.”

“According to your reputation,” Ray continued, “you’re of the school that believes in the existence of a Fifth Force.”

“I’ve published a few papers on the subject,” Pracht conceded.

“But never a fully blown exposition, never a complete soup-to-nuts discussion of the whole question …”

It wasn’t what Raymond was saying, but the bizarrely intense manner in which he was saying it, that caused Pracht—a normally placid individual—to lose his temper.

“You know, Ray,” he said, fast reaching the boiling point, “I’ve done my best to try to like you—and it hasn’t been easy. Because, frankly, I find you untrusting, unpleasant, and uptight.”

Good, Ray thought, we’re going to get to the nitty-gritty. “You’re entitled to your exalted opinion,” he commented, for the first time ever addressing the scientist in an arrogant tone. “And while we exchange home truths, I’ve never been very fond of you either. Even less so of that hoodlum you call a son.”

“You leave Jerry out of this,” Pracht snapped angrily. And then a thought struck him. “Or is he what this is all about?”

“Well, I can’t say I was overjoyed by his interest in my daughter.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” the physicist answered. “I thought the two youngsters were well-suited to one another.”

“I can’t agree with you. In fact, if you must know, I’ve forbidden Isabel to speak to him.”

“I’ve inferred as much,” Pracht answered. “And now that I know you’re not here to discuss your daughter’s dowry, why don’t we get down to brass tacks. Just what is it you want of me, Mr. da Costa?”

“I want you to publish my daughter’s paper,” Ray demanded.

“I’m not the editor of a journal.” The physicist smiled ingenuously.

“Stop playing the innocent,” Ray demanded. “If you were to recommend an essay of Isabel’s, it would be
guaranteed publication anywhere. We both know that, Karl. And we both know you’d do everything in your power to suppress the masterful demolition job she’s done on your cockeyed theory.”

“Are you sure?” he asked with a slight grin.

“You don’t seem like a hara-kiri type to me. And what university would want you after Isabel’s essay blows you out of the water?”

“I think I’ll survive, Ray,” Pracht allowed quietly, with a look of disdain.

“You mean MIT would still want you?” Ray asked bluntly.

Fed up with this pussyfooting around, the professor lost his temper, rose quickly, reached into his middle drawer, pulled out a letter and slapped it onto the table.

“Read this, you sick bastard. It’s my appointment at MIT as of July first, 1988—no strings attached. That means if I forget how much two and two are between now and then, I’ll still be the Winthrop Professor of Physics.”

“A pretty empty title when Isabel’s paper comes out, don’t you think?”

Pracht did not comment. Ray was sure he had him cornered. He played his trump card. “Listen, Karl, I’m willing to make a deal.”

“A ‘deal’?” Pracht’s tone was more curious than offended. “Who gets what?”

“You get six months’ grace …” Ray began.

“And you?”

“We get rid of your cub when you take him to Boston.”

“No way. Besides, why should I disturb his life? Jerry’s his own man, and seems to be finding his way out here. He’s got a good job and a good coaching relationship with Paco. I feel bad enough that I messed up his childhood with my academic bullying. I’m not about to make the same mistake again.” Pracht then added,
with a tone of contempt, “Anyway, I’d never do anything like that for you.”

“But you might do it for yourself,” Ray responded sarcastically. “My deal is still on the table. He goes to Boston with you, and you get another six months on the top rung of the profession. Now, what do you think?”

Pracht studied Ray’s expression like an ornithologist looking at an odd bird.

“Mister, what I think is that you belong in a loony bin. I only hope some day Isabel discovers what a creep you are.”

“You’re ducking the question,” Raymond continued aggressively. “Do we have a deal or not?”

For a split second there was silence, during which Pracht’s gaze burned into Raymond’s brain. “No, sir, we do not.”

“Did I hear you right?” Ray demanded with astonishment.

“I think so. And since that winds up all we have to say to one another, I’d be grateful if you’d get the hell out of my office.”

Ray regathered his forces and repeated his menace. “Okay, buster. I’m going to personally fax Isabel’s data to every major scientific publication in the world. You can’t possibly have a lock on everyone. Some editor somewhere will realize that it’s solid gold and print it immediately.”

By now Pracht had grown sick and tired of this fencing. “Don’t waste your money, da Costa. It’ll only make you more of a laughingstock than you already are. For your information, the minute I saw her calculations I called up Dudley Evans, the editor of
The Physical Review.
He accepted Isabel’s paper on my word alone.”

Raymond was speechless.

“You see,” the professor explained, “the first concern of a real physicist is to learn more about the universe. It’s great if he can be a pioneer in discovering new knowledge, but that’s secondary. The point is, we’re all
richer for what Isabel has done,” Karl Pracht stated passionately, “
even
you—you selfish, bungling bastard.”

39
 

Fortunately, there was one financial resource that Adam had not reckoned on. Anya’s modest salary as a lab employee suddenly gained significance. Moreover, thanks to Dmitri’s perverse “generosity,” they had a roof over their heads. Leaky, but a roof nonetheless.

Still, for Adam the emotional compensation more than justified his financial loss. Now he could be with Anya openly, walk over to her station in the lab at any time and give her a hug.

He had always known that she was intelligent, but now he could appreciate her scientific acumen to the fullest. And whatever she had not absorbed from her omnivorous reading, he could fill in.

Heather was their house guest the next weekend. For some inexplicable reason, she adored their rickety apartment and enjoyed sleeping on the new convertible sofa they had purchased to replace the sagging couch.

She had liked Anya instantly. Among other things, Anya had an unerring instinct for talking to younger people. Far from making Heather feel like a child, she soon had her feeling like a friend and equal.

“Your father’s a great teacher,” Anya enthused to Heather.

“No,” he told his daughter, “Anya’s a great pupil.”

Heather laughed. “Well, at least you both agree that the other’s ‘great.’ ”