the Third Twin (1996)

Jack Budgen shuffled his papers unnecessarily. “We thank both parties for enabling this hearing to be conducted with dignity.” He paused solemnly. “Our decision is unanimous. We recommend to the senate of this university that Dr. Jean Ferrami be dismissed. Thank you.”

Jeannie buried her head in her hands.

40

WHEN AT LAST JEANNIE WAS ALONE, SHE THREW HERSELF ON her bed and cried.

She cried for a long time. She pounded her pillows, shouted at the wall, and uttered the filthiest words she knew; then she buried her face in the quilt and cried some more. Her sheets were wet with tears and streaked black with mascara.

After a while she got up and washed her face and put coffee on. “It’s not like you’ve got cancer,” she said to herself. “Come on, shape up.” But it was hard. She was not going to die, okay, but she had lost everything she lived for.

She thought of herself at twenty-one. She had graduated summa cum laude and won the Mayfair Lites Challenge in the same year. She saw herself on the court, holding the cup high in the traditional gesture of triumph. The world had been at her feet. When she looked back she felt as if a different person had held up that trophy.

She sat on the couch drinking coffee. Her father, that old bastard, had stolen her TV, so she could not even watch dumbsoap operas to take her mind off her misery. She would have pigged out on chocolate if she had any. She thought of booze but decided it would make her more depressed. Shopping? She would probably burst into tears in the fitting room, and anyway she was now even more broke than before.

At around two o’clock the phone rang.

Jeannie ignored it.

However, the caller was persistent, and she got fed up with listening to the ring, so in the end she picked it up.

It was Steve. After the hearing he had gone back to Washington for a meeting with his lawyer. “I’m at the law office now,” he said. “We want you to take legal action against Jones Falls for recovery of your FBI list. My family will pay the costs. They think it will be worth it for the chance of finding the third twin.”

Jeannie said: “I don’t give a shit about the third twin.”

There was a pause, then he said: “It’s important to me.”

She sighed. With all my troubles, I’m supposed to worry about Steve? Then she caught herself. He worried about me, didn’t he? She felt ashamed. “Steve, forgive me,” she said. “I’m feeling sorry for myself. Of course I’ll help you. What do I have to do?”

“Nothing. The lawyer will go to court, provided you give your permission.”

She began to think again. “Isn’t it a little dangerous? I mean, I presume JFU will have to be notified of our application. Then Berrington will know where the list is. And he’ll get to it before we do.”

“Damn, you’re right. Let me tell him that.”

A moment later another voice came on the phone. “Dr. Ferrami, this is Runciman Brewer, we’re on a conference link with Steve now. Where exactly is this data?”

“In my desk drawer, on a floppy disk marked SHOPPING.LST.”

“We can apply for access to your office without specifying what we’re looking for.”

“Then I think they might just wipe everything off my computer and all my disks.”

“I just don’t have a better idea.”

Steve said: “What we need is a burglar.”

Jeannie said: “Oh, my God.”

“What?”

Daddy.

The lawyer said: “What is it, Dr. Ferrami?”

“Can you hold off on this court application?” Jeannie said.

“Yes. We probably couldn’t get rolling before Monday, anyway. Why?”

“I just had an idea. Let me see if I can work it out. If not, we’ll go down the legal road next week. Steve?”

“Still here.”

“Call me later.”

“You bet.”

Jeannie hung up.

Daddy could get into her office.

He was at Patty’s house now. He was broke, so he wasn’t going anywhere. And he owed her. Oh, boy, did he owe her.

If she could find the third twin Steve would be cleared. And if she could prove to the world what Berrington and his friends had done in the seventies, maybe she would get her job back.

Could she ask her father to do this? It was against the law. He could end up in jail if things went wrong. He took that risk constantly, of course; but this time it would be her fault.

She told herself they would not get caught.

The doorbell rang. She lifted the handset. “Yes.”

“Jeannie?”

It was a familiar voice. “Yes,” she said. “Who’s this?”

“Will Temple.”

“Will?”

“I sent you two E-mails, didn’t you get them?”

What the hell was Will Temple doing here? “Come in,” she said, and she pressed the button.

He came up the stairs wearing tan chinos and a navy blue polo shirt. His hair was shorter, and although he still had the fair beard she had loved so much, instead of growing wild and bushy it was now a neatly trimmed goatee. The heiress had tidied him up.

She could not bring herself to let him kiss her cheek; he had hurt her too badly. She put out her hand to shake. “This is a surprise,” she said. “I haven’t been able to retrieve my E-mail for a couple of days.”