He listened some more at the wall. Behind him, Andra giggled, suddenly. He glanced at her. "What—?"
"I just thought—What if your father's on the other side, listening to hear what you're doing. I'm just picturing two grown men, frowning in earnest concentration, their ears separated by a few inches of plastic, and it's funny."
"Not if you're correct, it isn't," said Lloyd, and Andra stopped smiling. "As soon as he hears you, the jig's up."
"Maybe—" She leaned forward with eager hope. "Maybe it would be a good thing, Lloyd. He's a powerful man in the Hive. If he knew your problem, he could use his influence to do something, couldn't he?"
"My father loves me, sure," said Lloyd, with a wry quirk to his lips. "But I don't think he loves anything so much as his position in our society. My consorting with a fugitive might put the kibosh on the next election."
Just then the phone rang and Lloyd couldn't avoid knocking Andra to the floor in his effort to get the receiver off the hook before the bell could shatter the silence once more.
"Hello?" he said, extending an upright palm toward Andra to beg her continued silence.
"Lloyd?" said a subdued, tense female voice.
"Grace!" he said, remembering his promise to come by with her card. "What—What do you want?"
"I've got to see you, Lloyd," she said. "About last night."