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44<br />
THEN DUMBO, with perfect timing, popped his head into the room. “<strong>The</strong>y’re back, Sullivan. Zombie said<br />
—” He stopped. Obviously he’d interrupted an intimate moment. Thank God I hadn’t unbuttoned my<br />
shirt. I pulled my hands from Evan’s and stood up.<br />
“Did they find a canister?”<br />
Dumbo nodded. “<strong>The</strong>y’re putting it in the elevator now.” He looked at Evan. “Zombie said anytime<br />
you’re ready.”<br />
Evan nodded slowly. “Okay.” But he didn’t move. I didn’t move. Dumbo stood there for a few<br />
seconds.<br />
“Okay,” he said. Evan didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything. <strong>The</strong>n Dumbo said, “See you guys<br />
later—in Dubuque! Heh-heh.” He backed out of the room.<br />
I whirled on Evan. “All right. Remember what Ben said about the enigmatic alien thing?”<br />
<strong>The</strong>n Evan Walker did something I’d never seen him do—or heard him say, to be accurate.<br />
“Shit,” he said.<br />
Dumbo was back in the doorway, slack-jawed, red-eared, and in the grasp of a tall girl with a cascade<br />
of honey-blond hair and striking Norwegian-model-type features, piercing blue eyes, full, pouty,<br />
collagen-packed lips, and the willowy figure of a runway fashion princess.<br />
“Hello, Evan,” Cosmo Girl said. And of course her voice was deep and slightly scratchy like every<br />
seductive villainess ever conceived by Hollywood.<br />
“Hello, Grace,” Evan said.