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stashed for emergencies. Cheryl put on running shorts and a halter top and
sneakers and departed.
The power bars were dry and mealy, but Darcy ate them slowly and with great
relish.
Still shiny from the shower, Cheryl led Darcy to Luisa s room, after checking
to see the hall was empty. They decided to call out for pizza, which Darcy had
seen in commercials for years. She had always wondered if it really tasted as good
as it was made to seem. Now she was going to find out. They asked her what kind
she liked.  Whatever you like, she said.  It makes no difference to me. They
ordered two.
Luisa was relieved that Darcy had stayed in all day. She brought the ominous
news that posters of the  missing person kind had been put up in the student
center and around campus, featuring a fairly decent picture of her, looking wan
and dazed. Luisa had one of the posters with her that she had liberated from the
theater building. Darcy recognized the booth in the interrogation room in El
Paso where they had taken her fingerprints and other measurements. Her heart
sank once again. These people badly wanted her back, and here she was, practi-
cally out in the open and ripe for the grabbing, in effect.
 Woo! said Cheryl, impressed.  You famous, girl! What can we do, Lou?
 I ve been thinking about that, replied Luisa.  I have an idea. After we eat,
let s call Mandy and see what we can come up with.
The pizza was stupendous, or maybe it was just her hunger, but Darcy
couldn t remember eating with more pleasure. She had to restrain herself from
eating more than her share, though Cheryl and Luisa cheerfully allowed her all
she could eat. She was stuffed. She decided she loved mozarella.
Luisa telephoned Mandy and asked her if she could help them on a  profes-
sional matter requiring  some secrecy. In a few minutes, the pink-haired girl
from the previous night appeared at the door, looking decidedly more interested
than she had the night before.  What s up? she asked.
 Hey, Luisa greeted her.  Did you see those posters about Darcy on campus
today? Mandy nodded, wide-eyed.  You didn t tell anyone you d seen her, did
you, like I asked you not to? Mandy shook her head slowly. She loved secrets. A
conspiracy was even better a finger in someone s eye, no matter who, what
could be better?
 OK, good, Luisa went on.  We need to disguise Darcy. Who better than
you? She turned to Darcy.  Mandy is a theater major like me. She does all our
Al Past
40
stage makeup. She s an ace at it! She can make you into a little old lady, if that s
what is needed!
She looked out the blinds.  OK, it s pretty dark now. Let s ease over to the
drama building and see what we can find in the costume room.
Two hours later, Darcy had been replaced by a young Hispanic girl with black
braids and a darker, less angular face. She was equipped with a backpack, but
instead of books it contained a small selection of skirts, pants, shirts, scarves,
makeup, and selected accessories. Mandy made her practice walking more slowly
and self-consciously. She already knew how to take in her surroundings without
appearing to look in all directions.
The change felt remarkable. For the first time in days she almost felt at ease.
As a test to give her a little confidence they walked to the student center and
bought soft drinks and sat around a table with other students all around them.
No one gave her a third glance, although a couple boys gave her a second glance.
 Woo-hoo! exulted Cheryl when they got back to the room.  That was cool!
Mandy, you really are a genius! Mandy beamed. It was true.
Mandy regarded her work coolly.  I ll lend you a text book on stage makeup.
You ll be able to change your appearance to suit yourself. You re the perfect per-
son for it. You can be young, old, Hispanic, Caucasian, even male if you want.
Darcy blushed under her new makeup. Mandy was buxom as a movie star, and
Darcy was the opposite. She knew the culture she was in the middle of prized
magnitude, pectorially speaking, and up to now she had imagined she was sup-
posed to feel deficient in that area. But maybe instead she was fortunate. She
smiled. A man! If it came to that, so be it. No one was looking for a man!
C H A P T E R 12
The good news was that Agent Robert Aldridge wasn t as big an asshole as Special
Agent Smelly had been expecting. Not only did he look like a prototypical FBI
agent, trim, well-dressed, with short, neatly trimmed black hair, he even looked
like a bureau chief, with a quiet, commanding air and a way of looking directly at
people that seemed to penetrate layers deep.  Call me Bob, he had said when
they met, but it came across as a no-nonsense gesture rather than an attempt at
friendliness. He was clearly devoted to the FBI, and Special Agent Smelly allowed
himself to hope that Aldridge might run a tight, efficient operation that would
actually zero in on their little missing alien.
True, Aldridge was all the time dropping big names from the Bureau and
Washington, and yes, he was a pit bull about their present case, but he had reason
for his monomania, as he explained. According to him, most of the analysts at the
Bureau were inclined to think that their missing woman was the real mccoy.
There was no other way to explain the few incontrovertible facts they had. And
given that, the CIA was trying to nose into the deal, the DIA was alarmed over
the possible interplanetary aspects of the affair (the only time that had even hap-
pened), and word had even reached the President, whose demonstrable inno-
cence of complex human affairs did not require breaching in order for him to
realize that this was possibly an earthshaking case, pun not intended, Sir (as if [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]