Authors: Gene Wolfe
Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Horror, #Romance, #Science Fiction, #Action & Adventure
Cassie nodded.
“Then I’ll try, with your permission.”
As he was scrubbing his face with her washcloth, she said, “You’re working for Wally now, aren’t you?”
“Yes. For Bill Reis. I’m not a permanent employee, you understand. I’m a consultant, as I was earlier at a much lower figure.”
Something new had occurred to Cassie. “Suppose this room’s bugged?”
Gideon looked up from his ablutions. “I’ve been assuming it was. By whom, do you think?”
“The FBI.”
He chuckled softly. “That certainly feels better. Do I look like my old self again?”
“Yes. All right if I kiss you?”
For once he was speechless.
Half an hour later, in a caramel coupe he had just rented, he said, “This should be safe. May I explain about the bug?”
Cassie nodded.
“First, there was one. I destroyed it some time ago. People who want to bug a room often plant two bugs, one being fairly obvious. There was a wise man not too long ago who used to talk about needles and haystacks.”
“Finding one, you mean?”
“Finding several. He said that if you told most people to find a needle in a haystack, they looked until they found a needle. Then they stopped. He
would search the entire haystack, trying to find all the needles. I won’t boast that I’m like him, but I try to be—sometimes, at least. I’ve been looking for other bugs ever since I found the first one. I haven’t found them, which means they’re good if they’re there. Of course it’s always possible that new bugs were planted after my last search. Thus I tried to be circumspect. I also unplugged your phone as soon as I came into the room.”
She turned to stare at him. “I didn’t see that.”
“You were looking at your new camera, and I tried not to be obvious. That’s all that stage magic is, more often than not—a thought-through attempt not to be obvious. I disconnected your phone because a telephone is one of the very best places to put a bug, and there are special phones that will let someone listen to the room even if the phone isn’t in use.”
“What about magic?”
Although his eyes never left the empty street they were traversing, he grinned. “I didn’t think you’d think of that.”
Her hand found his thigh. “I get lucky sometimes. I’m not smart, but luck can be just as good.”
“Better. Yes, it could be done. I have good reason to believe that Reis can’t do it, but I could be wrong. He got all his powers on Woldercan, or so I think. . . .”
“Only you’re not sure?”
“Correct. I’m not sure he got everything there. He learned to turn base materials to gold there; there can be no doubt of that. Everything I know about his operation indicates he’s using their method. The art of vanishing has been known here for thousands of years, however.”
“Really?”
Gideon nodded solemnly. “Yes. Really. A hundred and fifty-odd years ago there was a man called Cranston who was quite famous for it. But it’s also known on Woldercan, and I think it most likely that’s where Reis picked it up. If he were using their method of listening from far away, I’d have detected him. Would have or should have.”
“He wouldn’t like my kissing you,” Cassie said thoughtfully. “Correct. Or at least I don’t think he would. That’s why I got you out of there fast.”
“Can I change the subject? Where are we going?”
“To a nice place I know where I can buy you dinner. Or a snack at least, if you don’t want dinner. I’m hungry, I confess, and there’s no one I’d rather
look at and talk to while I eat. After that I’ll take you back to your hotel. You can pack tonight. Or in the morning, if you’d prefer. We’ll leave after lunch.”
“You’re the person Wally said would come for me, aren’t you?” Gideon nodded.
“I thought so. When you said ‘gold’ the third time I caught on, or thought I did. Only I thought Wally wanted to kill you, so I didn’t think it could be you.”
“An excellent reason for choosing me.”
“I know we’re going to Wally, but where is that? Where are we going?”
“We’ll land at Kololahi, on Great Takanga. I don’t suppose you’re familiar with the Takanga Group. It’s a remote Pacific island chain.”
Cassie shook her head. “I—” She hesitated. “I was about to say I’d never even heard of it.”
“There’s no reason why you should. It produces a few pearls and some copra, and serves as a vacation spot for Australians who are really serious about getting away from it all. Beyond that . . .” Gideon shrugged.
“Have you been there?”
“No.” He braked and turned down a side road. “Can you drive? I should have asked sooner.”
“Yes. Can’t everybody?”
“No, but we’re going to switch cars here, and when we return I’ll need you to drive this one back to the rental agency. Just follow me, and I’ll show you where it is. After that, I’ll drive you to your hotel.”
The side road had, perhaps, been a highway of some importance at the turn of the century. Its pavement was cracked now; dark weeds and shrubs sprouted from the cracks. One of the desolate buildings they passed might have been a body shop fifty years ago. Another had, just possibly, housed poultry.
“Spooky!” Cassie whispered it, and spoke mostly to herself.
“It’s a decayed agricultural area,” Gideon said. “There are a lot of them.”
She nodded. “I suppose all this was wilderness once.”
“It was, and in the long history of Earth that was only the blinking of an eye. Now it’s largely wilderness again. Would you like to hear a wolf howl?”
“No.” Cassie shivered. “I saw one already today, and once was enough. Ebony must have told you.”
“A little, yes. Wolves were never the most dangerous animals here. Grizzly bears denned here, as they do again. Go back a few blinks further, and you’d find lions.”
“This is North America, Dr. Chase. Are you trying to fool me?”
“Panthera leo atrox has been extinct for no more than eight thousand years. He was still around within living memory, in other words. He may return—or something like him may.” Suddenly, their coupe swerved to the right, and Gideon wrenched the wheel.
“What are you doing?”
“Making a U-turn, of course. It seemed wise to scout ahead a little before stopping.” He jammed the accelerator to the floor, throwing Cassie back into her seat as he added, “And if we’re being followed, we may find out like this.”
She was too frightened to ask any more questions until they screamed to a stop at the abandoned body shop. As he left the car she managed, “Do you know what’s in there?”
He did not reply. A few seconds later, a bleary yellow light flickered inside. And died away.
A door closed, a metallic bang that made her think of Ebony and jail.
There had been no sound of an engine starting, but a black sedan, oddly angled and a good deal larger than the coupe in which she sat, rolled through a ruined doorway. When Gideon opened its door, no light kindled inside.
He motioned to her. She left the coupe and took his arm as he guided her toward the passenger side of the black sedan. “You know,” she whispered, “I’d almost forgotten this.”
“Let’s hope others have forgotten it as well.”
“Aren’t we going to dinner? You said we were.”
“We are,” he told her, “at the Silent Woman.”
Then she was in the black car, snuggling into downy-soft upholstery she found she remembered very well. The black car itself was speeding—and jolting—along the ruined highway.
Until it was not. There were stars (and nothing but stars) beyond its windows. They crept along the glass as though the car were rolling in the sky. “Am I supposed to be afraid?” she asked.
“Certainly not. Are you?”
“Nope. This car of yours is a hopper, too.”
“Certainly it is. I’m surprised you didn’t guess it earlier.”
“I didn’t know you could do that.”
“You can’t, legally.”
“Since it is, couldn’t we have hopped to that mountain in Canada?”
“We could have, and I intended to. But I wanted to get out of the city—away from all the settled areas—before I went up.”
“You said you were watched, or you thought you were.”
Gideon nodded.
“You were. It was the man you sent to get me at the ice cream store.”
“You’re right. May I ask how you found out?”
“I didn’t, really. But he’s Detective Lieutenant Something—”
“Aaberg.”
“And the mayor called him to tell him to be nice to me. After he let me go, I started wondering why the mayor cared, and it had to be because Wally had phoned him. So if he could do that—”
The stars jumped. And steadied.
“He said he had been watching my building to protect me. That didn’t make a lot of sense. What did was that he wanted to catch you.”
“You’re correct. As I was saying, I had to get away from the city where someone might have seen us. Then you woke, so I had to drive. I didn’t know how far I could trust you back then.”
“You trust me more now?”
“I have to. I love you too much not to.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. You already trust me much more than you have reason to. The least I can do is to trust you every bit as much.”
“What if you’re wrong? Or I am?”
“You know the answer. You’re not wrong about me, though. Am I wrong about you?”
For a minute or more, Cassie stared out at the stars, and at treetops growing at a pace that slackened moment by moment as the onboard computer slowed the descent of the black hopper. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “I hope not.”
“I hope not, too.” Gideon cleared his throat. “This place we’re going to is called the Silent Woman. Perhaps I said that.”
“I think so.”
“It doesn’t mean you’ve got to keep quiet, but be careful what you say. There are people there, and things there, too, who have sharp ears. The lowest whisper will be overheard by someone.”
“I’ll watch it. You laughed when I said the FBI might be bugging my dressing room. Why was that?”
“Because I’ve been cooperating with them—up to a point. If they were, I would surely have been told about it.”
“You’re on their side?”
The black sedan was settling through the trees.
“To a degree, yes.”
“You’re working for Wally, too?”
“So are you.” The computer eased them to the ground with the smallest possible bump. “I don’t think you’ll need your coat. Want to leave it in here?”
“If you say so.”
She had unbuttoned her coat already, and she slipped out of it when he opened the door for her. “Where are we?”
“Here.” He pointed. “See those colored lights? That’s the Silent Woman.”
“I get eighty thousand if we catch Wally and turn him over to the FBI. Is that right?”
“It is.” Gideon’s voice was just above a whisper.
“Please don’t be mad, Dr. Chase. But I’m not sure I want to do it.”
“Nor am I.”
“Really?” Cassie felt that a weight had been lifted from her heart.
“Yes. First because I’m working for him. I’m doing it now, I’m very well paid, and I may be working for him for some time to come. Ethically, I can’t possibly turn him in while I continue to accept his money.”
“I can see that. You’re a good, good man. I always knew it.”
“And second—you might as well hear this, too—because my negotiations with the government haven’t been going as well as I would like. The money’s fine, and so are the honors. There are strings on them both, however. Onerous restrictions on my future operations.”
“I see . . .”
“There are other complications, too. But here we are.”
The ancient inn looked older than Carnac, a structure of odd angles, many dormers, and inscrutable projections, small-windowed and secretive, its stone walls furred with black moss. Tables and chairs had been set outside beneath towering trees whose lower limbs bore strangely shaped lanterns, grass-green and sea-blue.
The ears of the bowing waiter summoned by a snap of Gideon’s fingers were hairy and sharp. “Madame. Monsieur. Will there be more?”
Gideon shook his head, and the waiter led them to a table for two.
The bill of fare was in a language Cassie failed to recognize, one that might possibly have been Russian or Greek, although she had the feeling that it was neither. She studied hers for a second or more before she put it down. “I can’t read this.”
“Don’t worry,” Gideon murmured. “I’ll suggest a few dishes.”
“He spoke English to us. Was it because he recognized you?”
“Possibly. Or because you look Irish. Or for some third reason. Do you think you might like a nice duck with truffles?”
Memories of Rusterman’s came flooding back. “You know what we ate. Wally and me.”
Gideon glanced up. “Actually, I didn’t. I simply thought you might like duck.”
She shook her head.
“The lentil soup is superb, believe me.”
“Tell me about your leg, Gid.”
He grinned. “That’s the first time you’ve called me Gid since I washed.”
“Hurray. You were in a lot of pain right after it happened, but you said it would be all right.”
“I thought that it would be. The antibiotic I’d been given didn’t work, however, and it became infected. I had a violent reaction to the next one—you’ll pardon me, I’m sure, if I don’t tell you who was treating me—and nearly died. After that I told them I wasn’t going to take any more. Other methods didn’t work either, and in a few days they had to amputate my leg below the knee.”
“You’re still wearing the wooden one you wore onstage.”
“Correct. I had reasons for remaining Gil Corby when I went to your dressing room, the first and foremost being that Gideon Chase had no business being backstage. Is that enough?”
“The man who hurt your leg . . . ?”
“Who shot me. There’s no reason you shouldn’t say it. I’d be happy to give you his name if I knew it. I don’t.”
“You talk about a man named John. He’s phoned you a couple of times, or I think that’s what you’ve said. Could he have been the man who shot you? Or one of his friends?”
Gideon shook his head. “I saw the man who shot me. He didn’t resemble John. It wasn’t his face or his body type. As for it being a friend of his, I doubt it very much. His friends are good shots, and this man wasn’t.”
“I see.” Cassie nodded.