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So it was that, asnews of her interest spread and she thus came to their attention,meetings were held, and discussions undertaken, to determine if Mrs.Marsden should be admitted to the inner sanctum of their confidence. Itwas encouraging, they concluded, that she dressed her baby in pink andhired a nanny, but was that enough? What was her long-term goal?It was decided that they should watch her carefully, scrutinize herchild-rearing conduct, and at a later time, if she was deemed suitablematerial, they would approach her.--"It appears she may intend to raise the boy as a girl," said one woman,as she sipped her frozen daiquiri.There were seven of them on this occasion, lounging under a patio awningbeside a glittering blue swimming pool in the back yard of one of theirnumber, a plate of sandwiches and a frosty pitcher before them on thetable. It was high summer; the heat of the sun was intense, but a coolbreeze, chilled by the central air conditioning, fanned outward from aconcealed. He’d always fancied himself devilishly handsome and couldn’t understand how others possibly missed it. After some prodding at his short hair with his fingertips, nothing moved or changed. Running a hand over his whiskers indicated a shave. Not on a weekend, he decreed, not for Petra! Elke maybe. He brushed his teeth with a finger, rinsed and spat. His toothbrush was in his overnight kit too far away. In his locker he’d taken great pains to hide a bottle of cheap whiskey for duty weekend consumption. The whiskey would purify his breath. Too, he’d share generously with Petra. After a detour to the lockers, he traversed walkways separating the ugly faceless buildings toward the back gate. Brandt stopped in the shadows for a fortifying drink. Since he hadn’t seen a soul he strolled on with bottle in hand instead of tucked in his jacket. Ahead lay the gate, quiet, empty. A car clattered down the lane behind the wall. Brandt heard the clattering cease and saw headlamps extinguished. He.
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