Ring of Fire

Chapter 36

"I thought it was time for a new start," she said evasively.

"Don't snow me-I know OmniAdCom let you go. But if I were you, I'd be proud. You refused to let your standards sink to their level. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm big on principle."

"Did Wally tell you I left?"

"I've been checking up on you. And I didn't need a bicentennial ring to do it, either." He ran his finger down a sheet of paper in the folder. "Fourteen years in the business, a slew of industry awards, proven results with your campaigns. In short, smart, effective communication that delivers for your clients. That's you," he said, looking up at her.

"It sounds better when you say it."

"Of course, a lot of your success came attached to Wally Gibbs and Food Barn. I should handicap you for that, but I won't. I have a feeling I know where the real credit lies."

"Before you go any farther, let me formally apologize for ever introducing you to Wally in the first place. It didn't turn out like I imagined at all."

"I should hope not. But let's bury the past-or at least put it in a dwarf. Bottom line is: I can't go through another search right now." He leaned forward gravely and clasped his hands. "Are you willing to relocate?"

Randi was flooded with anticipation. She was done with advertising, but teaching it was another matter. In its academic form, it was still pure, noble and untainted. Not like the bloated, gaseous whore she had left in Chicago.

Before she could respond, the dean held up a cautionary finger. "On one condition, that is."

She bit her lip. "What?"

"Stay out of the jewelry business."

After sealing her future with a handshake, Randi joined Archer back at the motel. He was sprawled on on the king size bed, halfway through a seven-dollar Toblerone.

"I talked to Pappas," she said, hopping on the bed and straddling his waist. "Between Wally literally taking the fall for Project Argus and the Army wanting to downplay the fact that a civilian geek like you could pirate their satellite frequency, you are off the ol' hookeroo."

"What about you?"

Pappas said she might get by with paying a token fine, or at the most a suspended sentence, but those discussions had yet to occur. Much of what Project Argus consisted of danced outside the parameters of any existing laws. "Unwitting accomplice. I'll give them whatever they ask for and they'll go easy on me. Pappas says it'll be looked at as a victimless crime. Except for Wally, of course."

"And Andy Hansen," Archer added.

"And Sara Richards," she sighed.

Randi related her job offer to Archer and asked how he'd feel about her leaving Chicago. At this point, he was the only thing keeping her there. His reply surprised her.

"Think there's anything for me down here? Those long winters are starting to get old."

They spent the rest of the afternoon lying side-by-side, polishing off the mini-bar and speculating on their new lives in the south. They agreed to stay in Pinehaven until the next day, so they could attend the jeweler's funeral. A review of the unclaimed rings' footage revealed that Wally was indeed in the shop at the time of George's death, though he didn't appear to be directly responsible. A crime of omission, as Wally might have said.

Randi thought back on poor George, whom she'd never known, and Andy Hansen and Sara Richards and Wally. But was Project Argus really to blame? Then again, the warped vision of one man had done far more damage in the past. Maybe the real blessing was that so few people had been lost. She remembered her first creative director, a rotund, magenta-faced alcoholic about the age she was now. It was her first week on the job, fresh out of college, when he staggered by her cubicle one morning, slouched in her doorway and took a mighty swig through a straw from a tall, capped foam cup everyone in the office knew to be one part orange juice, two parts vodka.