Rafe sighed. "All right. I'll take you off the hook you've impaled yourself on. I know it's an AA meeting."
Lisl was shocked—and furious.
"You know? You've known all along?"
"I followed him here a couple of weeks ago."
"Then why this cloak-and-dagger charade stuff tonight?"
"Because if I'd told you last week that he's an alcoholic, would you have believed me?"
"Yes," she said immediately, then thought about it. "No. I guess not."
"Exactly. That's why I had to let you find out for yourself. Now there's no question in your mind that he belongs with them instead of us."
"On the contrary. The very fact that he's overcome his alcoholism is proof that he is a Prime. If he weren't, he'd be drunk in a gutter somewhere instead of on the Darnell faculty."
They started walking again.
"I don't know about that. If you think about it you'll see that he really hasn't beaten his problem with alcohol, he's merely found a way to hide from it. He's organized his life in such a way that he never comes within arm's reach of liquor, which is why you've never seen him at faculty parties. That's not conquering the problem, that's running from it. It's the coward's way."
"That's not fair. Alcohol is a toxin for him. I've read that a good percentage of alcoholics have different brain chemistries than the rest of us, and that alcohol does things to them that it doesn't do to you or me. It's not cowardice to avoid something that's poison to your system."
"If he were a Prime, he'd be able to surround himself with liquor and not touch a drop. Or better yet, he'd be able to control himself—have a drink or two and then switch to ginger ale. But he's not a Prime."
"Prime, shmime," Lisl said, wearying of the subject. "Who cares whether Ev is or isn't? What's the point?"
"Very simply, Lisl," he said slowly, and she could hear real anger in his voice, "the point is this: Everett Sanders is your intellectual inferior, yet he is going to move ahead of you in the department simply because he is a man. It's the same pattern as always. They move one of their own ahead and leave you behind where they can still get the benefit of your work and brains and innovation yet give the credit and status to a lesser mind. It infuriates me every time I see it happen and I will not permit it to happen to you!"
"Easy, Rafe. You don't know if that's going to happen. There's no sense in getting yourself all riled up when—"
"Lisl, it's already been decided."
The words struck her like a blow. She stumbled against Rafe as her feet refused to walk any further.
"What? How can you say that?"
"I overheard your pal Sanders talking to Dr. Masterson at lunch last month—"
"Last month? And you didn't tell me?"
She could see his face in the glow of the streetlight. His expression was tortured.
"I didn't know how to tell you. I knew it would hurt you. I… I was afraid it would crush your spirit."
For the first time since she'd met him, Rafe seemed unsure of himself. And all because of his feelings for her. At any other time it would have warmed Lisl, but the good feeling was swept away by the arctic wind of her growing anger.
"What exactly did they say?"
"I caught only part of it, but I heard the chairman saying that he hoped your paper wasn't very good, because if it was he'd have to do some fast talking to explain to you why he was giving Ev tenure instead of you. He asked Sanders if he had any suggestions on how to let you down easy so you wouldn't start applying to other universities."
"What did Ev say?"
"I don't know. I was too angry to listen. It was right after that I started auditing Sanders's classes. I wanted to do something but I didn't know what. At least I didn't then. I know now."
"What?" Lisl said eagerly. She felt betrayed, hemmed in, and utterly helpless. If Rafe knew a way out, she'd take it.
"Follow me."
He took her hand and led her across the street toward an apartment building. She recognized it immediately.
"Ev's place? What are we going to—?"
"Just trust me. You'll see."
Using the duplicates of Ev's keys, he led her inside and up to the apartment.
"Isn't this a little risky? I mean, he could come back at any minute."
"Those meetings average a good two hours or more." He opened the door and led her to the kitchen counter where he turned and faced her. "We've got plenty of time."
"For what?"
Rage reached inside his jacket pocket and held out a slim glass tube.
"For this."
She took it and held it up to the light. A test tube, filled with clear fluid. It looked like water but Lisl knew it wasn't. Suddenly she was uneasy.
"What is it, Rafe?"
"Pull the stopper and sniff."
She did. There was a very faint odor, too faint to identify.
"I don't know…"
"Absolute ethanol. Pure alcohol. Nearly odorless, almost tasteless when mixed with fruit juice."
"Oh, no," she said as she felt her stomach begin to tighten. "You can't be serious."
Rafe went to the refrigerator and brought back an open half gallon of orange juice. He placed it on the counter between them.
"I've never been more serious in my whole life. Pour it in, Lisl."
"No. I can't do that to Ev!"
"Why not?"
"Because it's poison for him!"
"It's only an ounce, Lisl. Two tablespoons."
"That doesn't matter. Even a drop could start chemical reactions in his brain and knock him off the wagon. We could be sending him off on a real bender."
Rafe shrugged. "If that's what he wants, then so be it."
"Rafe, it'll have nothing to do with what he wants—he won't be able to control it!"
"If he's a Prime, he will be able to control it. If he's one of us he'll be able to shake off two tablespoons of ethanol and stay on track. And if he can do that, maybe he should get tenure. But if he can't…"
"We could be ruining his life."
Rafe shook his head. "That's a bit melodramatic, don't you think? He knows the problem. He's controlled it before. Even if he's not a Prime, he can control it again. But if he does go on a bender, it will open Masterson's eyes—and the university administration's, as well—to the caliber of the man they've handpicked for tenure over you."
"It's not fair, Rafe."
Rafe's eyes grew cold, flinty.
"Fair? What's fair? You've been playing by the rules, devoting your spare time to this paper, thinking you really had a shot at the spot while all the while the choice has already been made. Can't you just hear Ev going to Masterson and whining, 'You're not really thinking of giving the position to her, are you?' And meanwhile you're going to Masterson for advice and he's thinking what a sucker you are! Don't talk to me about fair, Lisl!"
He opened the mouth of the cardboard container and pushed it toward her.
"Pour."
"Maybe I should drink it myself—about half a dozen of them would help me right now."
"No drugs, Lisl," Rafe said, leaning over her shoulder, speaking softly into her ear. "Nothing to muffle the inhibitions that people like Sanders and Masterson and your parents and all the rest have conditioned into you. You must face those inhibitions, Lisl, and you must subdue them, beat them into the mud until they are powerless to hold you back. You must be strong, you must toss away all excuses. Never blame your actions on outside influences. No excuses, no scapegoats—'It was the drugs.' 'It was the booze.' It must be you and you alone—nothing between you and what you do. And you must be proud, Lisl. No shame. Ever."
The diamond-shaped opening yawned before her. She tried to be cool, be rational about this, but the thought of Masterson encouraging her to write her paper even though he had already made his decision stoked the fiery anger that had begun to blaze within her. And Ev—Ev was in on it.