The Continent Makers and Other Tales of the Viagens (26 page)

###

Two days later, the slot ran all the way round the window frame. Graham grasped the bars and heaved. The whole thing rocked towards him a couple of centimeters with crunching sounds. As it came, plaster dribbled down below the inside of the window frame. However, the frame refused to come any further. By feeling around outside, Graham, who had never before concerned himself with the construction of windows, discovered that the pieces of wood that ran around the outside of the frame would prevent the window from coming any further towards him. They would therefore have to be removed.

Graham, going over his instruments again, decided that his T-square offered the most promising possibilities. The titanium crosshead had fairly sharp ends. Of course the square wouldn’t be worth much as a drawing instrument after being used as a pry bar, but that couldn’t be helped. He got to work.

By the next day, all four sections of the outer frame had been pried loose, twisted off, and drawn back through the bars to be hidden under Graham’s mattress. He hoped that the denuded condition of the window frame would not be too obvious from the outside.

Then he pulled on the bars again. This time the frame came in as far as he wanted it to.

He’d better not go out now, though. He had been thinking hard what to do when he got the window loose: to make a dash for liberty, trying to find the nearest public telephone to call Sklar; to reach Jeru-Bhetiru to warn her of what he was doing, or to try to get her out too; to make a clean getaway, or to phone Sklar and then to sneak back into his room before they discovered his absence . . .

He finally decided to make at least an effort to get Jeru-Bhetiru out at the same time he escaped himself. For, if he went alone and they discovered his escape before he succeeded in bringing the forces of the law down on the place, almost anything might happen. They might kill the girl for the hell of it; or she might be killed in the battle; or they might, on learning of his absence, flee, taking her with them as they had done from the house in the Bronx.

Graham therefore cleaned up the plaster dust on the floor and waited until Edwards came for his dinner tray. Edwards said: “How you coming along with those figures, huh? The boss is getting a little impatient.”

“I should have the answers in a couple of days,” replied Graham.

###

Late that night, Graham waited until the man on watch had appeared and then disappeared from in front of the house. Then he heaved cautiously on the bars until the window came out completely. The combination of window, frame, and bars was heavier than he expected, so much so that his muscles stood out in knots from the strain of lowering the assembly gently to the floor. Fortunately, the soundproofing of the house helped him here; if it muffled sounds on their way to his room from elsewhere in the house, it also muffled sounds headed in the opposite direction.

Then he pocketed his drawing compass and swung a leg over the window sill. Luckily for him, the slope of the lower roof was a mere thirty degrees so he felt he could crawl around on it without a lifeline.

Next to his own window another gaped blackly. Was that room inhabited by one of the gang, and if so would the fellow be watching for him?

There was no way of telling short of putting his head into the room or calling out a challenge, neither of which acts struck Graham as the sort of thing a sensible young scientist would do. Therefore he crawled down towards the lower edge of the roof, sprawled like a spider on the shingles, and inched his way past the window.

Still no sound. His scalp itched from the several days’ growth of hair under the helmet, but there was no possible way of scratching it through the silver.

He crept back up the slope to Jeru-Bhetiru’s window and rapped softly on the glass.

“Gorodon?” came a sharp whisper.

“Yes. T-take this.” He passed her the compass. “D’you think you can reach out with it and dig at the plaster when they’re not watching, enough to loosen the whole window?”

“I do not know,” she said. “Let me try.” And she reached out and began pecking as he had done.

It soon became obvious, however, that she had neither the strength nor the reach to do as quick a job as he had done. Moreover the point of the compass had been worn down from the previous operation. Graham said: “At that rate, it’ll take six months to get the window loose, and I can’t stall these bleeps that long.”

“Could you not come out every night and dig a little?”

“That would be just as bad, and they’d probably catch me in the act sooner or later. In fact the man on watch now ought to be prowling around the front of the house again any minute.”

“What, then?”

They were silent for many seconds. Finally Graham said: “If I could get you into my room, we could both go out my window. I wonder if you could get one of the gang to bring you around?”

“I do not know. That Edwards is not what you call very sympathetic.”

“Well, maybe—tell him I’m your lover and you’re going crazy because you haven’t—uh—seen me for days, now. P-pour it on thick. Offer him your beautiful alabaster body if need be.”

“Offer him my
what?
I thought alabaster was a mineral.”

“Never mind; just use your feminine wiles to the utmost. You know what they are, don’t you?”

“I think I do. When should I do all this?” she said.

“The best time would be the middle of the afternoon, when there’s a crowd on the beach. If we get out my window, we’ll jump off the roof and make a run for the nudery over there.”

“What is a nudery?” she asked.

“An enclosure for folks who prefer to swim without suits. Every beach has one. I hope we can phone for help from there, and that there’ll be enough people around so they won’t dare try to chase us or shoot at us.”

“Very well. I will try.”

Now, Graham might have seized the opportunity to grasp Jeru-Bhetiru’s hand, press it to his lips, and swear his undying love in the Romeo manner. But it occurred to him that neither his love nor anything else about him would be undying for long if the gang’s watchman caught him at his tryst. Therefore he contented himself with saying simply: “S-swell. Night.”

He crawled back into his own room without incident. He was just heaving the windows back into place when he heard his door being unlocked. He gave the window a quick heave, driving it home with a resounding thump, and leaped into his chair just before the door opened. When Warschauer put his head into the room, Graham was poring over his calculations as studiously as could be.

“You all right?” asked Warschauer.

“Uh—yes, sure,” said Graham.

“I thought I heard something . . .”

“Maybe you did, but it wasn’t in here.” Graham became uncomfortably aware of the plaster dust that had fallen on the floor below the window as a result of his latest foray, and that he had not had time to clean up. Surely, Warschauer must see it too; to Graham’s overstimulated imagination it stood out like a ton of coal on a snowbank. He avoided looking in that direction.

“Well, okay, then,” said Warschauer vaguely, and disappeared.

Graham’s scalp itched worse than ever, but he did not dare take off the helmet to get at it. Not having any of the goo that Sklar had glued it on with, he was not sure he’d be able to replace it properly. At least, however, he could take out the splinters that his person had acquired from the roof shingles.

###

The next day crawled along like all the others. After lunch, Gordon Graham began cocking his ear for signs that Jeru-Bhetiru had sold Edwards on the idea of letting her visit her supposed lover. (Supposed? Hell, in the older and purer sense of the word he
was
her lover.)

The day, as luck would have it, was overcast, drawing few people to the beach. Shortly after lunch a brief shower drove even these few away. But during the next hour the cessation of the rain and a few wan sunbeams lured some of them back. Graham would have preferred to wait another day, but had no way of getting word to his fellow prisoner during the daylight hours. He regretted that he had not made the escape attempt contingent on good weather. But then they might hit a rainy spell and delay too long . . .

The hours crawled past. Still no sign of Jeru-Bhetiru, daughter of Jeré-Lagilé of Katai-Jhogorai.

Then the lock clicked and in came the girl, with Edwards right behind her.

“D-darling!” cried Graham, holding out his arms. They went into a clinch, and Graham found that the reports to the effect that Krishnans had taken up the Earthly custom of kissing were not at all exaggerated. Graham found that he didn’t have to pretend, and from the warmth of her reaction he hoped she didn’t either. If it were not for more urgent matters he could go on like this all afternoon . . .

He finally forced himself to look up from the last lingering kiss and said to Edwards: “Why don’t you—uh—just wait outside the door for a while?”

Edwards glanced at the bed with a slight smirk, then back at Graham. “Nope, gotta stay with you. The boss wouldn’t like it. Anything you want to do, you can do it in front of me.”

O yeah? thought Graham, remembering the ancient joke about the Frenchmen who were arguing over the definition of
sang-froid.
While wondering what to do next, he felt Jeru-Bhetiru stiffen in his arms. She was looking towards the window with an expression of terror.

“What is that?” she whispered, pushing Graham aside and running to the window.
“Surujo adhiko!
What is happening?”

“What’s that?” snapped Edwards, crowding after her.

Graham took in the scene with one all-inclusive glance, then snatched up his drawing board. Holding it edgewise to lessen its air resistance, he brought the edge down with all his strength on Edward’s red head. Edwards saw it coming out of the tail of his eye and started to whirl and reach for a shoulder holster, but too late. The wood met the man’s cranium with a sharp splintering sound. As Edwards folded up on the floor, Graham saw that the tough board was split by the force of the blow.

He pulled the body out of the way, without bothering to see whether there was still life in it, and seized the window bars. A straining heave, and the window came out.

“Come on,” he said softly. “Move quickly but quietly.” He slid over the sill of the opening and began crawling down the shingles.

“D-don’t jump off the edge. Take hold of the gutter with your hands like this, lower yourself to arm’s length, and let go. You’ll only have about a meter to drop.”

From the sandy yard of the Aurelio house, he caught her as she dropped. Then hand in hand, they ran down the walk to the beach. On the beach they turned left and raced for the stockade of the nudery.

At the entrance to the nudery they paused to draw a breath and look back at the Aurelio house. There was no sign of pursuit.

“I’m sure somebody in here has a phone,” Graham said. “Come on.”

The entrance to the enclosure consisted of a passage between two parallel board fences. The passage made an L around the corner of the nudery so that nobody standing outside could see in. They made the turn and found that the inner fence ran on a couple of meters beyond the corner and ended in a counter and a row of lockers. Behind the counter they could see a few sunless sunbathers sitting sadly on the sands.

“Hey,” said the man behind the counter. “You can’t go in there with clothes on! That’s indecent non-exposure! Gotta leave ’em in these lockers.”

“That’s all right,” said Graham. “I just wanted to fuff—to fuff—”

“You wanted to
what
?” said the man.

“To telephuff—”

He broke off and he and the man stared at one another in mutual recognition. The man was the member of The’erhiya’s band whom he knew so far only as “Hank.”

Before Graham could even tense his muscles for flight, Hank’s hand swooped down below the counter and came up again with a pistol. He held this pointed at the runaways, in such a position that his back hid it from the nuders.

“Not a move,” he said. “Just stay where you are.” Then he dialed in his own wristphone and spoke swiftly: “. . . well go look . . . yeah . . . got ’em . . . bring a trulp . . .”

Five minutes later, Gordon Graham and Jeru-Bhetiru were being marched back to the Aurelio house by Lundquist and Warschauer, each pointing a scarcely hidden weapon.

Back in the house they were conducted into the living room where The’erhiya and Adzik and the other man whose name Graham didn’t know awaited them.

“Well?” said Lundquist. “What about Jim?”

“He iss det,” said The’erhiya.

“Huh,” said Lundquist. “Well, we’ll take it out on these two.” He put his pistol on safety, and took hold of it by the barrel.

“No,” said The’erhiya, “we still neet him . . .”

But even as the reptile spoke, the pistol butt whipped through the air and hit Graham’s head with a muffled but distinctly metallic
bonk.
Graham saw stars and staggered, though the helmet and the thin layer of sponge rubber inside it saved him from the worst of the blow.

“Stop it!” said The’erhiya sharply. “Later, perhaps, but not now!”

Lundquist paused, staring intently at Graham. Finally the man muttered: “Something funny about this wunk’s head.” He stepped closer and rapped Graham’s skull with his knuckles. “Thought so.” He began digging around the edge of the epidermoid with his fingernails until he had pried up enough to get a good grip. After much tugging the helmet came off with sucking sounds.

Graham put a hand to his head. Now at least he could scratch. His scalp bore a short growth of stiff bristly hair, perhaps half a centimeter long, and all gooey from the adhesive Sklar had glued the helmet on with.

“So,” said The’erhiya. “Now we know why he has not giffen us any results. Now we have the information from One, he could only giff us a last-minute check. Not worth the risk. Kill them.”

Lundquist said: “You mean right now? Why not save ’em and have some fun out of it?”

“I do not wish to risk more delay. This man iss dancherous. Stronger than he looks. Shut the wintows and shoot them right now. If it makes you unhappy, I will get you a rabbit to torture.”