Free F Paul Wilson - Novel 04 by Deep as the Marrow (v2.1) Page A

she
said, still smiling. She pulled on his tie and drew his face down to hers.
“C’mere,” she murmured. “Gimme a kiss.” And kiss
her he did. On the lips. He loved the feel of those lips on his. He started
thinking about—
    The electronic warble of her phone
jumbled his thoughts. She picked up without breaking the kiss and held the
receiver to her ear. John heard an indecipherable staccato buzz.
    Terri pulled away from him.
“Go ahead,” she said into the receiver. “Oh, great! Yeah, put
him through.” She turned back to John. “I’ve got to take this.”
    “Sure,” he said.
“We still on for tonight?”
    Her expression became pained.
“Oh, I don’t think so. The boss has called a meeting and God knows
how long it’s going to run. I could be here till ten or eleven. Maybe later.”
    “I understand.”
    She smiled. “You’re an
angel. Let’s make it same time, same place tomorrow.”
    “You’ve got a
deal.”
    She smiled and turned back to the
phone. “Hello? Yes, this is she.” She blew John a silent kiss as he
waved and left her.
    He allowed himself a rueful smile
as he headed for the outside. If he hadn’t been in favor of this
decriminalization stuff before… he was really against it now.
     

16
     
    By the time Paulie returned the Lincoln to the bottom-level of the garage, the kid was sound asleep, thanks to the
Valium-laced candy. Great idea. Maybe he’d keep the leftovers for
himself.
    He wound around the entire lower
level, checking it out, looking for people leaving or retrieving their cars. He
found none. All quiet.
    He pulled to a stop behind the
panel truck, lining up his passenger-side rear door with its back end. Then he
got out, opened the panel truck’s rear doors, leaned through the Lincoln ’s
rear passenger door, and wrapped the kid in the blanket.
    Now the hairy part. Now something
could go wrong.
    He straightened up and scanned the
level again. No one in sight. He set his jaw and bent to it: quick—one,
two, three—he transferred a limp, kid-size, blanket wrapped bundle from
the car to the truck. He closed and locked the truck’s rear doors.
    He was breathing hard and not from
the exertion. Done. The worst was over. All he had to do now was leave the Lincoln in the panel truck’s spot. Mac would come by later and take care of the
car.
    He could relax. Just drive back to Falls
Church and transfer the kid to the house and—
Oh, shit! Poppy! He’d forgot about her. She was going to go bug-fuck nuts
when he showed up with this kid.
    The worst part over? Not even
close.
     
17
     
    It took John a while to extricate
himself front the area around the White House. When he finally reached HHS, he
had to wade through a seemingly endless gauntlet of friends, colleagues, and
vaguely remembered bureaucrats stretching from the lobby, into the elevator,
and down the halls, each with an opinion about last night’s announcement.
    Finally he reached the relative
sanctuary of his office.
    Phyllis, his secretary, handed him
a cup of coffee and said, “Where do you want me to begin?” She was
fiftyish, thin, with very black skin. She wore her hair in a short, frizzy
natural style that framed her narrow face. Despite regular lectures from John,
Phyllis still smoked—on the coldest day of the year she’d be out in
the courtyard on her break sucking on a butt. She rarely smiled and usually
looked as if she’d just bitten into a lemon. This morning she looked as
if she’d found a particularly sour one.
    “How about with anything that
hasn’t to do with decriminalization? Like OPC, maybe?” The main
thrust of his post here at HHS was a program called Operation Primary Care. Its
purpose was to stimulate medical schools to emphasize primary care in their
curricula and encourage medical students to enter family practice and general
internal medicine training programs. So far it was being well received.
    “Well…” she said
slowly, shuffling through the blue message slips in her