A Heartbeat Away - Michael Palmer [157]
On the fifth or sixth day, they were surprised by the appearance of a thin, white and tan dog—thirty pounds or so, and an indefinable mix of breeds. He ambled between the palms, and settled down for an hour just off the foot of the Kluft Beyond Luxury Sublime mattress. He allowed himself to be patted, and nuzzled them without being intrusive. Then, in no particular hurry, he left the way he had come. The next day, he returned and departed in the same way … and the next.
On the tenth day, after breakfast and well before their visitor made his appearance, Angie moaned happily and nestled herself tightly against Griff’s chest.
“I haven’t asked you because you never brought it up,” she said, “but have you given any more thought to Allaire’s offer to have you take over as the director of the CDC?”
“It’s in Atlanta,” he replied.
“I know that, you big goof. I would move there if you took the job.”
He kissed her on the mouth.
“And I would move to Washington for you. In fact, that’s what I’m going to do if you want me to. It would only be for four years, but that will be enough time for you to finish your book and for us to decide if it’s appropriate for us to lend our gene pools to the world.”
This time she kissed him—long and deeply.
“Now that would be something to write about,” she said, beaming. “But what do you mean, four years?”
Griff’s tanned face crinkled in the grin that Angie loved the most.
“I’ve been saving something for you,” he said, “and this seems as good a time as any to spring it on you. I made a deal with Allaire.”
“A deal?”
“At the moment, he’s coping with a presidential-sized load of guilt, so I decided to take advantage of it. If you say yes, you’re looking at the newest member of the President’s Cabinet—the first secretary of the Department of Animal Welfare.”
Angie threw her arms around him.
“Oh, baby, that’s incredible! Absolutely wonderful news. Do you know what the job will entail?”
“I was sort of hoping you’d help me fill in the blanks on the trip home.”
“My brain’s already exploding. You can deal with cruelty and exotic pets, and zoo standards, and the feeding and housing of premarket hoofed livestock and chickens, and a tax credit for neutering and spaying, and of course experimentation, and—”
“Hey, not until the ride home.”
She held his face close to her own.
“Okay,” she said, “I’ll think of something we can do in the meanwhile. One thing, though.”
“Yes?”
“Have you considered that creation of this post will put you squarely at number eighteen on the ladder of presidential succession?”
* * *
THAT EVENING, Jarvis H’malea made his scheduled every-third-day visit to the inn. He seemed especially pleased that there was nothing either of his guests needed that he hadn’t already provided for them.
“Tell me something,” Griff asked, after the steward had shared some grilled sea bass and a delicious bottle of chardonnay with them on the verandah, “your dog has been a welcome visitor at this end of the island almost every day. What’s his name?”
“I have no idea,” H’malea replied. “And he’s not my dog. In fact, if he stays on Coco Island much longer, he’s going to be the death of me.”
“Explain,” Angie said. “Where could he possibly have come from?”
“A few days before you showed up, he showed up. Strolled into our house just like he always lived there. No boats are allowed inside the reef, and of course, no one other than guests are permitted on the island. But I can’t prevent boats from anchoring outside the reef. Almost certainly, the dog came from one of them. I sent several radio messages, and my wife has been listening for one ever since, but there’s been nothing. Not a word. And for the last four days there’s been no one anchoring.”
“So why is he going to be the death of you, Jarvis?” Angie asked.
“I can’t breathe when I’m within five feet of him. Some sort of