An Evil Guest (40 page)

She screamed and sobbed and choked, and pounded the little table that held Madame Pavlatos’s tray with futile fists, while Madame Pavlatos (that austere mistress of a thousand millions) comforted her like a mother.

The
Athena
landed Cassie at Cairns, where she lived less than happily in a shelter for homeless women until the United States Government was persuaded to bring her home. Herbie, it transpired, had morphed into an undersecretary in the Department of Education. He had a friend in the Department of State and may have harbored a sneaking affection for the wife who had divorced him not quite ten years ago. So the thing was done.

T
HE
airport was the one in which Zelda Youmans’s small pink hopper had once landed. It seemed almost unchanged, a lack of instability that struck Cassie as nothing less than miraculous. How could a little knot of mere buildings have changed so little, when she had changed so much?

Barclays scanned her retinas, and so established her identity. “You’ll need new checks, I suppose,” the bank officer said.

Cassie nodded.

“You have a box. We’ve been paying the rent from your account. That’s standard here.”

Thinking of her lost apartment and all the possessions that had mysteriously disappeared with it, Cassie said, “I wish everyone were that thoughtful.”

“Thanks.” The bank officer smiled. “Will you need a new key?”

She nodded again.

“If you require immediate access to your box, we can break into it today.” Embarrassed, he paused. “There’s a substantial fee for that. Five hundred dollars. I don’t control these things, you understand.”

“That won’t be necessary.” She sighed. “I’ll have a lot to do as soon as I get the checks.”

“A credit card? I can give you one of those, too.” The bank officer’s fingers danced over the keyboard.

“Yes. Please. I have to buy new clothes and find a place to stay. A hotel room for tonight, and an apartment as soon as I can find one. Furniture.”

“You lost everything.” He looked sympathetic.

“Everything except my life. I even lost my friends, because I don’t want them to see me like this. Is that crazy?”

“I don’t think so.”

“There was a nice little woman who used to work for me. Her name is Margaret Briggs.”

He waited.

“I passed her. Walking, I mean. I took the bus from the airport, and it let me out at the Blake. So I walked over. It’s three blocks, I think.”

“Yes. It is.”

“Margaret was walking the other way. I stopped for a minute and sort of stared at her. She just kept going. I know she didn’t know who I was.”

“There are beauticians . . . I’m afraid I don’t know much about those things.”

“I do.” Cassie managed to smile. “I’ll go to them, but it won’t be enough.”

The bank officer’s printer was birthing temporary checks. He turned to it, glad of the distraction. “A new key the usual way will take a week or so, but the charge is only twenty-five dollars. We’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“I don’t have a phone,” Cassie told him. “That’s the first thing I’m going to get.”

H
ER
new apartment was old and small, yet she found it very pleasant indeed after the shelter. It was clean and cheap, and had just been repainted. Best of all it was on the east side of Kingsport, across town from her old one. There, when she had finished breakfast on the fourth day, she patted her lips, got out her new cell phone, and made the call she had planned for so many months.

“Miskatonic University. How may we help you?”

“I’m looking for a man who teaches there. I hope you can help me find him.” They were lines she had rehearsed a thousand times. “His name is Gideon Chase. Dr. Gideon Chase.”

“Oh, don’t you know? We’re so proud!”

She sucked air. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Dr. Chase is on indefinite leave of absence. Our catalog this semester absolutely trumpets it. Our faculty member, the chair of our Department of Modern Gramarye, has been appointed ambassador to Woldercan. The whole school’s proud enough to burst.”

S
ELLING
the bracelet took far longer than Cassie had anticipated; but when the sale was final at last, she found herself (as an awed manager at Barclays informed her) the wealthiest woman in the state. At which point it was time for another call. She entered a number she had gotten from Directory Assistance the day before.

“Klauser residence.”

“May I speak to Mr. Klauser?”

“I’m afraid not. He’s sleeping right now.” (A reedy voice in the background protested.)

“Will you tell him I called? My name’s Fiona Casey, and I was a friend of . . .” Something seemed to have taken Cassie by the throat. “Of the late William Reis. Please explain that I’m going to Woldercan, and I want very much to speak with Mr. Klauser before I leave.”

“Wait a moment.”

There was a long silence, during which Cassie smiled to herself and
stared out her kitchen window. The sky was blue, and the steep roofs and sometimes ornate chimney pots of the old buildings in this part of town were a pleasant reminder of Kingsport’s colonial origins.

“Ms. Casey?”

“Yes, I’m still here.”

“Mr. Klauser is anxious to meet you. He, ah—” The speaker’s voice sank to a whisper. “He isn’t at all well. Please don’t tire him.”

“I’ll try not to,” Cassie said, resolving to tire him if necessary. “What would be a good time?”

“He lunches at eleven thirty. After that he must rest for at least two hours. I would say—ah—three. Would that suit you?”

“I’ll be there tomorrow about three. A friend of mine . . .” (this was stretching it, but Cassie stretched) “told me you were in Myersville. I know that must be right because it’s where Directory Assistance found you. Are you in town?”

“Oh, yes. Eleven fourteen Bushong Boulevard. The cross street is Taylor.”

Cassie scribbled on a paper napkin.

“You’ll have no trouble finding it. It’s the big white house on the corner.”

S
O
it was. Cassie rang the bell and told a short, stout woman with a hard, dark face that she had come to see Mr. Klauser.

“He don’t see people.”

Thankful for her sensible shoes, Cassie put her foot in the door. “I have an appointment. Three o’clock this afternoon.”

“He don’t see nobody.”

“He’ll see me,” Cassie said, and pushed.

“¡Fuera!”

“Phooey yourself!” Cassie pushed harder.

Something banged and clattered inside, and the short, stout woman gave up. The door opened, and Cassie saw an elderly man in a wheelchair. He appeared to be preparing to throw a fork.

“Mr. Klauser? I’m Fiona Casey.”

“I know who you are.” It was the reedy voice she had heard. “Let her in, Maria.”

Cassie advanced, stepping over a plate that had held eggs and around an overturned tray. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Mr. Klauser. You were Bill’s best friend. He didn’t have many, but he thought the world of you.”

Klauser accepted the hand she offered. His own was thin and felt pitifully weak. “Push me into the living room, please. Maria will clean this up.”

Cassie got behind the chair and pushed, steering around an overturned coffee mug. “I made an appointment, Mr. Klauser. With another lady. I really did.”

“That was Roxane. Told you to come at three?”

“Yes. She did.” It was a large living room with a high ceiling and a light coating of dust on every level surface.

“Nasty trick,” Klauser muttered. “She gets off at two.”

Recalling the tray, Cassie said, “I was told you’d be through with lunch.”

“Roxane cooks what the doctor orders. Maria cooks what I tell her to. Besides, she’s a better cook.”

“Did you really throw that tray to make her let me in?”

“Ha! Of course I did. Only way to get her attention. Over there, if you please, so I can see the big maple. You won’t mind having your back to the light, Miss Casey?”

She positioned his chair. “Not at all.”

Her own was large and comfortable without being soft. “I like this,” she said.

“So did I. I got it in Russia and had it shipped back.” For a moment Klauser looked so sad that Cassie wanted to hug him. “I’m afraid it’s a long story. You wouldn’t want to hear it, and I don’t want to tell it. Cassiopeia mourns for her children.”

Cassie nodded. “That’s right. She does.”

“You weren’t disconcerted by the change in subject.”

She shrugged. “Neither were you.”

“Bill Reis was planning to marry a young woman named Cassiopeia Casey. I got a wedding invitation, the usual thing. You stuck it in the computer and saw pictures of them smooching. She was a luscious redhead. About your height.”

Cassie said, “A little taller.”

“Half an inch I would allow. Are you her mother?”

“No. I—I’m a relative. I would prefer not to go into our relationship.”

“Meaning?”

Cassie smiled. “Meaning I’d lie, and I don’t want to lie to you, Mr. Klauser.”

“I was Ambassador Klauser once.”

“You’re right, Ambassador. I should have been calling you that. I apologize.”

“Don’t worry, I understand, and I understand about the anticloning laws. Is Bill dead?”

Cassie nodded.

“Is that just what you’ve been told, or are you certain?”

“I had to call his son and tell him.” Cassie gulped. “Please don’t make me cry.”

“You liked Bill?”

She nodded again. “I liked him a lot.”

“What about the Casey girl? The one Bill was going to marry?”

“She’s gone, too.” Cassie hesitated. “She’s passed away, but I’m hoping to bring her back.”

“I believe I understand that as well. You won’t want to say anything more about it. What would you like to talk about? Why did you come up here? I assume you came up from Washington.”

“From Oakland. That’s not where I live—not where I’m living now.” Cassie glanced at her watch. “I left Oakland two hours ago.”

Klauser nodded. “You’ve got a hopper.”

“I do. Yes.”

“And you’re planning to hop to Woldercan.”

“That’s right. I want to leave as soon as possible, but first I’ll have to hop home to Kingsport and buy the things you’re going to tell me I ought to take with me.”

Klauser’s brow wrinkled. “I’m no hopper expert. . . .”

“Neither am I, Ambassador.”

“And I can’t tell you exactly how far it is, because I’m not an astronomer, either. Just that the distance is enormous. Inconceivable.”

“I know.”

“A few government hoppers can make the trip. A few of the biggest. Not many.”

“I know that, too, Ambassador. It’s how Dr. Chase got there.”

“Chase?” Klauser’s eyes narrowed. “Are you talking about Bob Chase? Our first ambassador? I replaced him, Miss Casey, and he’s been dead for years.”

Cassie shook her head. “His son has been appointed ambassador, Ambassador Klauser.”

“Really?”

She nodded.

“I remember him. Just a little fellow, but those eyes . . .”

“I know what you mean.”

“Tell me something honestly, Miss Casey. No lies. Promise?”

She smiled. “Promise. Honest Injun.”

“Is this some kind of nepotism?”

“Absolutely not. I know Dr. Chase quite well, Ambassador. You don’t have to believe me, but it’s the truth. Do you know him? At all?”

“I don’t. I haven’t seen him since he was a small boy.”

“If you did, you’d know that he wears a watch but never looks at it. He always knows what time it is.”

Slowly, Klauser nodded. “I can believe that.”

“It’s the truth. This is the truth, too. He knows a great deal about Woldercan. He’s studied it for years, and of course he has childhood memories. He’s a very able man, Ambassador. Ask around, and you’ll hear that over and over.”

“As able as Bill? Forget I said that. Old men are foolish, Miss Casey.”

“So are women.” Cassie fumbled in her purse for her handkerchief.

“Here. Take these.” Klauser tossed a packet of tissues into her lap.

“I c-can’t.” She tried to pass them back. “You must n-need them.”

“Try to understand, Miss Casey.” Klauser coughed. “Giving you those may be the last chivalrous act of my life, and I need one. I need a last chivalrous act far more than I need half a dozen paper handkerchiefs.” He waited for her to speak. “I want anchovy toast. I didn’t get to finish my eggs. Would you like something? Coffee? A drink?”

“Hot tea.” Cassie smiled through her tears.

“I’d love some hot tea, Ambassador.”

Klauser bawled for Maria to bring anchovy toast and two teas.

“May I tell you about my hopper, Ambassador? I’d love to show it to you, but you’d have to go out to the airport. It’s a Jimmy Galactic. Have you ever heard of those?”

“No. I’m afraid I don’t know much about hoppers.”

“It’s the biggest they make. The man who sold me mine said celebrities buy them so they can hop to places where they can’t be followed.” Cassie paused. “Mine is Lincoln green, and really beautiful. It’s seventy feet long and twenty-five feet high. Twenty-five—no, thirty. It’s thirty feet wide. I’m not good at remembering numbers, but I do remember those. It can go to Woldercan. The onboard computer told me—her name’s Aquilia. Don’t you think that’s lovely?”