The book described how the gazelles, upon sighting the cheetah, would prong 10 feet straight up in the air, high above the level of the grass, muscular popcorn, displaying their health and impressive strength, each striving to not be the one selected. The cheetah would watch, judging minute differences, then disappear into the grass, slinking forward in the direction of the one who looked the weakest.

Returning the book the next morning, she stepped into the building at a point when she knew all three men were inside. Opening the screen door, she saw them sitting at the table, drinking coffee and examining computer printouts (in the background, the dot matrix printer zipped back and forth, hammering at the paper, the furious buzz of modern technology).

As she walked in, the book in her hand, the men turned to look at her. Something about Eh and Blum’s gaze, intent and assessing, reminded her of the cheetah.

Sliding the book into place on the shelf, she remembered Netty, the waitress at the Tampa club who tended to get harassed the most by the men. Netty walked with a slight slouch and she startled easily. Not the best looking, but the most hesitant. The woman who looked the weakest.

Standing at the bookshelf, Cora glanced over her shoulder. Eh was staring at her.

For the first time, she wondered how he perceived her. Frequently she was uncertain what was being said and how to respond. She would look from face to face, confused.

So, she straightened her spine, widened her shoulders and pulled her chin up to see what effect it would have.

Eh cocked his head, his brow furrowed.

She set off toward the exit, doing her best to stride, to broadcast that she was tough and capable and not a gazelle.

Eh watched.

Over the next few days, she found the more she walked this way around him, the more perplexed he looked.

* * *

Above water, the dolphins made noise occasionally, but underwater they vocalized nearly constantly, the breadth and volume of the sounds so much more impressive and haunting. She thought the range of these noises was something the men should hear.

So, while the three of them were eating lunch on the balcony, she climbed the stairs. As she walked toward them, she worked to look tough. She imitated as best she could a man plowing through the world, someone with a sense of his own value, someone who would fight back hard if attacked. She moved with a firm step, her arms swinging, her head up. The men watched her, squinting, clearly noticing some difference.

She imagined she was one of them, a man with no branks in his mouth. She spoke in a clipped factual voice—The dolphins make different noises underwater than they do in the air.

Tibbet said—And . . . ?

She held her body tight, her back straight and regarded the men with a level stare.—Hearing them might help you learn about them.