"Uh-huh."
"Jesus Christ," Kelly muttered. "I sure as hell hope that's not what's on his mind."
Waterman looked as if he were about to cry. "It could be. He could be ready to sell us all down the river, just to avoid fighting."
"Hell! You know what that means, don't you?" Kelly looked genuinely distressed now.
"What?"
"I'm gonna have to go to Frank Colt and get him to review all our emergency contingency plans—behind Chefs back."
"If that's what's gotta be done ..."
Kelly grimaced. "I hate to go around Chet. He's a nice guy and all that." His frown deepened. "And I hate like hell having to work with Colt."
"If you've got to, you've got to," Waterman said.
Kelly nodded unhappily. "I've got to."
More people jammed into the party. Others left. For a long time Kinsman could see neither Jill nor Landau in the roaring, jammed, body-heated apartment. He spotted Kelly and Waterman talking solemnly together off in a corner, looking grimmer with each word. Then Jill and the Russian appeared. The apartment started to get a little less crowded, People were drifting homeward.
Kinsman threaded his way carefully through the living 381 room and back into the bedroom, marveling at how well and steadily he could walk. Colt lay sprawled on the bed now with a bosomy redhead alongside him, propped on a pair of pillows. She was wearing a wine-red party dress, low in front and slit-skirted. One of the newcomers, Kinsman realized,
Jill and Landau came into the bedroom, the Russian standing protectively beside her.
Colt gave them a long look. "Ain't gonna be easy for you two, y'know," he said. His drink was perched precariously on his stomach, his hands were clasped behind his head. Only someone who knew him as well as Kinsman did would realize how drunk he was.
"I was married once to a girl who looked kinda light. She wasn't white, but try telling that to some drunk Florida rednecks." Colt's voice was absolutely flat, no emotion detectable. Like a pathologist reciting the details of an autopsy.
"We are intelligent people here," Landau said. "Jill and I can live in Lunagrad without difficulties."
"You mean your security people will let her in? Without worrying that she might be a spy? I just don't believe it."
Jill said, "We can live here."
"Then / have to try to find out if he's spying on us," Colt shot back.
"Come on, Frank," Kinsman said, knowing that his speech was slightly slurred. "Don't piss on the wedding cake."
