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almost like a march.
    Should not have had that ouzo. Booze in the morning wasn't conducive to work. He left the keyboard on but stretched out on the couch, asking the room for Hermancina's rendition of the second movement of Beethoven's Pathétique. He closed his eyes and let the slow, stately passage fill him.
    The phone chimed, of course. He asked the music to hold and picked up the wand. "Buenos."
    The voice at the other end identified itself as People magazoid and asked whether Professor Bell was in.
    Norman didn't bother to point out that he was Professor Bell, too. "She's at work. She doesn't want to be disturbed."
    They asked for her number at work. "It's unlisted," he said, and hung up. Of course it wasn't unlisted, but a reporter ought to be able to figure that out.
    He pushed a button on the wand. "Rory's office," he said.
     

Aurora
    Rory sighed and picked up the wand. "Yeah?" She smiled at her husband's voice. "Oh, hi." He told her about the People magazoid call. "Well, if they don't track me down in the next half hour, this number won't work. At eleven-thirty they're going to start routing everything through some publicity office."
    He asked whether she was getting any work done. "No, we're just killing time before the big meeting. Barrett and Whittier live." University chancellor and dean of sciences, respectively. "Some government people beaming in." She checked her watch. "Five minutes. Anything interesting at the market?" He described the dinner menu and told her about meeting Suzy Q. and giving her a flower.
    "Poor damned thing. She's been on the street since I was a kid … yeah, I'll give you a call if I'm going to be late … 'dios."
    Pepe looked up from his work. "Who's on the street?"
    "Poor old woman named Suzy Q. Pushes a grocery cart around?"
    "I've seen a few of those."
    "She went to high school here with Norman. You don't remember Bolivia."
    "Rory. I was two years old then."
    "Sorry … anyhow, her first husband was a marine, went down there and won the war. But he came back with a time-bomb virus. She woke up one morning and he was dead, melted in a puddle around his own skeleton. She just came undone."
    "Jesus. I didn't know people brought it home with them."
    "It was rare. He must have gotten it right at the end of the war." She paused. "Pepe, what happens if there's a war now?"
    "To me?" She nodded. "Well, I'm still a Cuban citizen, even though I've been away for seven years. You know I've only got a blue card."
    "I know. Could they call you up? Cuba's not going to be neutral."
    "You know, I'm not sure?" He took off his glasses and polished them with a tissue. "When I left I was reservado, like inactive reserves here. You stay that way until age forty, or until you do active service. Or until they change the law, which they might have done without telling me."
    "But as a reservado you'd be safe. Especially living over here."
    "Truthfully, I don't know. But they'd have a hard time finding me. I'd be in Mexico mañana." He blinked through his glasses and imitated a broad Mexican accent: "¿Cuba? ¿Dónde está esta isla Cuba? Soy campesino mexicano solamente."
    "Sure. You sound like a campesino with a Ph.D."
    "Seriously, I'd go home and fight if the island herself was in danger. But I don't care about Europe."
    "Good. You know how Norman and I feel. I'd hate to lose you, but if you need help disappearing…"
    He held up a hand. " Gracias . Best not to talk about such things."
    "I suppose." Her wall chimed. "Meeting in two minutes, Room 301." Today it had the voice of Melissa Mercurio, a thirties movie personality. A seating diagram came up on the screen:

    "Oh, the governor," Rory said. "This will be a feast for the intellect."
    "I should know who Pauling is," Pepe said. "Sounds familiar. NSA?"
    "No, cabinet. He's the president's new science adviser. "Science and technology.'" She pushed a button and got a paper printout. "I don't know anything about him. Life sciences, I think. More politician