“Especially when you become a whistle-blower, yes?”
“Especially then. The power companies desperately need for the public to believe they have the dragon firmly in the cave. Anyone intimately acquainted with the dragon knows better.”
“As the Japanese just found out.”
“Yes,” he said. “A monster earthquake overwhelms the design; then a tsunami drowns the backup systems.”
“The Japanese are a very clever people,” she said. “One would have expected a better outcome.”
“At some point in commercial power, your shareholders force you to balance cost versus redundancy. The Japanese got it wrong.”
She gave a wry smile at that. “My life is a matter of balance, I suppose,” she said. “Lately I haven’t done a very good job of that, either. Hence this morning’s meeting.”
He nodded. “Believe it or not, I’m going to have to do something very similar. When Adrian disappeared my personal life was suspended.”
“Except that, in your case, she might come back.”
He nodded. “No closure,” he said.
“Closure is overrated, Mr. Hall.”
“Maybe,” he said, “but in my case, the lawsuit resulted in my never having to work again. The truth is, however, that after this trip I suppose I’m going to have to do what you’re doing: get back into the swim.”
“The industry would let you back in?”
“No chance,” he laughed. “I could possibly go back to working for the government, except for the fact that the bureaucracy just loves a whistle-blower.”
He got a real smile that time. He could still detect a bittersweet aura in her face and lips, but it was a smile worth waiting for. She saw him looking, and looked down at the table, embarrassed, and then smiled again, a more gentle expression this time. Behind her, David saw the bartender grinning widely at him. Go get her, tiger.
“Tell me about your work, Mr. Hall. What does a nuclear engineer do?”
“First, it’s time to call me David.”
“Perhaps.”
“No, it’s David.”
She spoke his name, softly, still looking down at the table. He leaned back in his chair and saluted her with his glass. “See?” he said. “That wasn’t hard. What shall I call you?”
“Dr. Ressner?” she suggested, her face a study in innocence.
He told her about his engineering career over dinner, up to the point where he opened the can of worms on missing nuclear material.
“Where had it gone?” she asked.
“The funny thing is, I only got as far as proving that there was a large quantity of heavy water unaccounted for. Once the NRC got into it, I discovered that I was no longer in the loop, as we say. Once the company terminated me, I was really out in the cold. I have no idea where it went.”
“In the loop. Out in the cold. I have much to learn about American idiom.”
“If you could hear us talking in the office, it would sound like alphabet soup.”
She sipped her wine, an iced Carmel white, letting her lips linger on the rim of the glass. She held the glass in both hands, her elbows on the table, which accentuated her lush figure. A tiny drop of condensation was forming on the bottom of the wineglass, gathering heft and curvature, threatening to drop strategically into that heavenly cleft, and he found that he was having trouble staying… focused, yeah, that was the word. He had noticed that her manner had changed during the course of dinner, the stoic, ultraserious academic blossoming into an entrancing woman who might be making up her mind about something. Or him.
“Anyway, it worked out, in the end. The big problem now is what to do next.”
The drop finally let go, but she tipped the bottom of the glass forward just enough to keep from getting wet. It still took an effort not to follow the drop.
“Have you never wanted to do something more, I don’t know, adventurous?” she asked.
Now he had to really control his face. He wanted to laugh out loud. Or cry. Part of him was once again dying to reveal what he was actually doing here. Why? To impress her? He realized he wanted this woman to like him.
“About the only adventure I get is through diving. Didn’t you tell me you were a diver?”
“Yes, but not for some years now. Nothing too challenging: shallow-water dives off the coast. Things like the Caesarea Maritima dives you are doing. Back when… when I was still married. Dov was an excellent diver. I was technically competent, but not addicted, like Dov. He went everywhere to dive.”
“I’ve become something of an addict. Did it scare you?”
“I was not so much frightened as uneasy. I felt we did not belong down there. Too much imagination, Dov said. So once he was gone, I put my equipment away. Looking back, I did the scuba mostly to please him, to be with him, I think.”
Equipment. Another idea surfaced in his mind: Tell her now and take her along. Then he shelved the notion just about as fast as he’d thought of it.
“Yes, well, I understand that feeling,” he said, finishing his wine, “and sometimes things come into view down there that reinforce the notion of whose place it really is. That’s the adventure, I suppose. We live in such a controlled environment these days that we almost have to create risks to experience life.”
She nodded slowly, but her eyes were no longer quite focused. He started to say something but then held back, keeping quiet while she communed with some comforting reverie from the past. Then, with a start, she came back.
“Sorry,” she said, putting down her glass and fidgeting with her napkin.
“I understand,” he said. “Really, I do. Listen, I was thinking: As you said, I’m going to spend two more days diving at Caesarea. Would you want to come along? I realize tomorrow’s short notice, but perhaps Wednesday?”
She gave him a mildly surprised look across the table, a look that said, Why are you asking me?
“Look, I hope I’m not being insensitive. You just told me that diving was something you did with your husband, but you’re also trying to make a break with that past, to start doing things despite the fact that your husband is gone. Not to mention the fact that I would very much enjoy your company. Everything’s arranged. You still have your gear — why not?”
“Well, I do have a job, Mr. — David. I’m a professor, remember?”
“Sure, but you go see your chairman and tell him what you’re doing, and why. There’s no way he can tell you no. Especially after I call and offer him generous bribes.”
She smiled again, eyes down. He was getting to really like that smile. Then she nodded. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do. They’ll have to refresh my qualifications.”
“I’ll have the dive shop take care of that. Bring your PADI card. They’ll do a quick review and then check you out in the harbor at Caesarea — it’s usually flat water. The weather’s supposed to be great, and we’re not going beyond ten meters down anyway. Do you have a buoyancy control device?”
“No, those came along after I stopped. We used weights.”
“I’ll have them bring one out. This is great. Now, how about we get our check and maybe take a walk on the beach. I think I ate too much.”
The waiter slipped out of the dining room long enough to make a quick call on his cell phone. A man’s voice answered.
“International Planning.”
The waiter gave his name. The man told him to wait, and then he was connected with his controller.
“They have just left,” he said, turning his head as a couple of tourists came out of the dining room and walked right by him. “I think they are going for a walk on the beach.”