Lyn asked herself the question again as she reclined in a bikini on a chaise by the pool and studied the house through the intervening flower beds and shrubs. Sverenssen, wearing sunglasses and clad in a pair of scarlet bathing trunks, was sitting a few feet away at an umbrellaed table drinking iced lemonade and talking with a man he had introduced as Larry. A blonde named Cheryl was basking face-down and naked on another chaise a short distance away, while two other girls, Sandy and Carol, were laughing and shouting in the pool with a Mediterranean-looking character by the name of Enrico. Sandy was topless, and the object of the mкlйe in progress was evidently to render her bottomless as well. Another couple had been around earlier, but had been gone for the last hour or so. It was Friday afternoon, and more people were expected to arrive as the evening wore on, plus a few the next morning. Sverenssen had described the occasion as "a pleasant get-together of some interesting friends" when Lyn called him on Thursday morning.
The only thing that seemed even slightly unusual about the house was the office wing, she decided as she looked at it. Sverenssen had stressed that it was not open to visitors when he showed her around earlier. That seemed reasonable enough, but something was different about it, she realized. This part of the building wasn’t built to the same airy and open design as the rest of the place, with yards of plate-glass windows and sliding glass doors that led through to the inside. Instead it was solid, with small windows set high off the ground. They looked thick and seemed more suited to keeping sunlight out, along with everything else. As she looked closer, she was sure that what had seemed at first to be ornamental trim across the windows was in fact carefully disguised bars guaranteed to exclude any possibility of entry-not just by burglars, but by a tank. There were no doors to the outside at all; the only access to the wing was from inside the house. If she hadn’t been looking specifically, she would never have noticed it, but the office wing, beneath its veneer of tiled designs and paint-work to match the rest of the house, was virtually a fortress.
The noise from the pool rose to a crescendo that culminated in a shriek as Enrico emerged from a flurry of water and bodies waving the lower half of Sandy’s swimsuit triumphantly over his head. "One down, one to go," he yelled.
"Not fair!" Sandy screamed. "I was drowning. That’s an unfair advantage."
"Carol’s turn," Enrico shouted.
"Like hell," Carol laughed. "That’s inequality. Sandy, give me a hand and let’s get the bastard." The commotion started all over again.
"It sounds as if they could use some help," Sverenssen said, turning his head to look across at Lyn. "Go ahead and join in. There aren’t any restrictions on how you enjoy yourself here, you know."
She let her head fall back on the raised end of the chaise and forced a smile. "Oh, sometimes spectator sports are just as much fun. Anyway, they seem to be managing okay. I’ll be the reserve division."
"She’s being smart and saving her energy," Larry said, speaking to Sverenssen and sending Lyn a broad wink. She did a good job of pretending not to notice.
"Very wise," Sverenssen said.
"The real fun starts later," Larry explained, grinning. Lyn managed a half-smile, at the same time wondering how she was going to handle that. "We’ll find you lots of new friends. They’re great people here."
"I can’t wait," Lyn said drily.
"Isn’t she charming," Sverenssen said, glancing at Larry and looking approvingly back at Lyn. "I met her in Washington, you know-a most fortunate encounter. She has people that she visits here in New York." It made her feel like a piece of merchandise, which was probably a pretty close assessment of her situation. She wasn’t especially surprised; if she hadn’t been prepared to play along for appearance’s sake, she wouldn’t have come in the first place.
"I get to Washington a lot," Larry said. "You work there or something?"
Lyn shook her head. "Uh uh. I’m with the Space Arm in Houston-computers, lasers, and people who talk numbers all day, but it’s a living."
"Ah, but we’re going to change that, aren’t we, Lyn," Sverenssen said. He looked at Larry. "As a matter of fact I was thinking of something in Washington that would suit her perfectly, and prove far more interesting, I’m sure. Do you remember Phil Grazenby? I had lunch with him one day while I was there recently, and he wants somebody bright and attractive to manage the new agency he’s opening. And he is talking about really worthwhile money."
"We’ll have to get together there if you make it," Larry said to Lyn. He made a face. "Aw, but that’s business, and it’s a long time away. Why wait until Washington? We can get to know each other right here. Are you here alone?"
"Yes, she’s free," Sverenssen murmured.
"That’s great!" Larry exclaimed. "Me too, and I’m the perfect guy for introducing new faces around here. Believe me, honey, you’ve made the right choice. You must have good taste. Tell you what-you can partner me in one of the games later. So we’ve got a deal, right?"
"I live for the present," Lyn said. "Suppose we let later take care of itself later, okay?" She stretched to squint up at the sun, then looked at Sverenssen. "Right now all I’m going to be good for is a case of radiation sickness if I don’t cover up. I’m going to go inside in the shade and put on something else until it cools down a bit. I’ll see you later?"
"By all means, my dear," Sverenssen said. "The last thing we want is for you to end up on the casualty list." Lyn unfolded herself from the chaise and walked toward the house. "I think you may have a little game of playing hard to get to win before-" she heard Sverenssen murmur. The rest was drowned out by another burst of screaming from the pool.
Cheryl raised her head and watched as Lyn disappeared between the shrubs. "You’ve got nothing to offer, Larry," she said. "Now I could show her a good time that’s really different."
"So what’s wrong with both of us?" Larry asked.
Lyn’s room contained twin king-size beds and was as luxuriously furnished and fitted as every other part of the house. She was supposed to be sharing it with somebody called Donna, who hadn’t arrived yet. Inside, she took off her bikini and put on a shirt and shorts. Then she stood by the window thinking for a while.
There was a datagrid screen in the room, but she didn’t want to make any calls since there was a good chance it was bugged. Anyway she didn’t need to if she wanted to get out because Clifford Benson’s people had aheady anticipated that. Inside her shoulder bag in the closet was a microelectronic transmitter that looked like a powder compact but would send out a signal when she unlocked a safety catch and pressed a disguised button. If she pressed it once, a CIA agent would call the house within seconds, posing as a brother with news of a family emergency and stating that a cab was on its way to collect her. If she pressed it three times, the two agents in the airmobile parked a mile down the road from the front gate would arrive in under half a minute, but that option was for use only if she got into real trouble. But she didn’t want to get out just yet. The house was empty and quieter than it would be at any time for the rest of the weekend. There would never be another chance like this for a look around the place with little risk of being disturbed. She sure-as-hell wasn’t going to chicken out after a couple of hours with nothing to report, she told herself.
She took a deep breath, bit her lip nervously, walked over to the door, inched it open, and listened. Everything seemed still. As she let herself out into the passage a half-stifled giggle came from behind the door opposite. She stopped for a second; there was no other sound, and she moved quietly on toward the central part of the house.