Eater. Part 22

"Your wife could be taken to one of the shelters."

"Which are?"

"The hot ticket. How come you don't know?"

"I have been rather busy."

"A global system, using the old shelters put up to protect national a.s.set people in case of nuclear war."

"Which this promises to be."

"Right, hadn't thought of it that way. Anyway, we stocked these up, got them running. Spot for your wife in one of ours, the best."

"If I..."

"Do your duty."

"I might remind you that I am not required to feel any patriotic sentiment."

"Yeah, but you're one of us."

"And I have a job you do not seem to properly appreciate. I work for the world now."

"And for us. The U is making this all happen for you-and fast."

"I am aware of that. And Mr. Arno knows I shall cooperate."

"Just wanted you to know she can have the spot-"

"So long as I am a good boy."

"Uh huh. Want me to have her picked up?"

A long pause. A small, malicious part of him visualized how irked she would be, to be incarcerated among such types as these. On the other hand, she would be safer, and he did have feelings for her. He loved her, in a way he had been incapable of conveying very well. Not a night pa.s.sed, even in these circ.u.mstances, when he did not wonder how she was getting on.

He made himself stop thinking of that. Seconds mattered here, decisions that could affect everything of importance to him. "Yes, I believe so."

"Good decision. We'll give her top-flight treatment, believe me."

"Will there be a flight involved?"

"Huh? Oh, will we bring her here?"

"Versus, say, getting her into the parallel U.K. citadel."

"Well, I don't know, but-" He reached for his portable, punched two numbers, and was speaking into it before Kingsley could tell him to not bother.

Kingsley sat thinking rapidly. Obviously some faction in the U Agency wanted him well in hand. A split in the U.S. government itself? An all-encompa.s.sing emergency could provoke extreme reactions in nations as well as in people. The President had been edgy and had referred glancingly to a division in the advice he was getting. By coming into such advanced policy disputes late, Kingsley became a p.a.w.n readily conscripted with a touch of leverage. The U Agency was more accustomed to using muscle.

Taking deep breaths, a decision percolated up from within, tightening his stomach muscles with a tingling antic.i.p.ation. He recalled from schoolyard sc.r.a.pes that the best way of dealing with a punch was to duck it. Very well.

Only after Herb had rung off did he realize that the rea.s.suring report Herb was giving them, smiling all the while, would work in nicely. Herb's superiors would take it that matters were going well. That would, in turn, give Kingsley more time to act once they were on the ground.

Herb gave a rea.s.suring nod. "They say sure, we can move her over here."

"Actually, I'd rather she were in England. The installation is out toward Wales, I believe, and that is country she has always appreciated."

Herb frowned. "Afraid it's done, friend."

"Not changeable?"

"I really don't want to go back and keep switching-"

"Very well. I understand."

Though he had not planned matters this way, this tiny sign was just what he needed to resolve him to a course of action. Now if only he could bring it off.

"We want to be on your side in this thing, y'know," Herb said.

As if it had a sense of timing, the helicopter began its yowling descent. The world had a habit of forcing his hand, of late. "All right. Done."

They landed in one of the great pools of light that dotted Dulles. Most of the airport had been closed off for national security reasons for weeks now. Aircraft of every description, many military, took off in a continual background yowl.

Their party got out and walked quickly into the terminal. The usual Dulles pa.s.senger transports worked the truncated civilian part of the field, moving like ponderous, big-windowed apartments on wheels.

The U Agency type stuck with him as he made his way upstairs. There was a special check-in counter for people traveling on government craft. His special flight to Hawaii was to leave in less than an hour. Herb announced, "Y'know, I might just come along on that same jet, if there's room."

"Oh?" Herb did not seem to doubt that there would be a seat for him. This sudden decision was more confirmation of Kingsley's working hypothesis. The plan he had improvised was unfolding from his unconscious. There was something tensely delicious in allowing it to do so in its own good sweet time.

The big executive jet for their group was already in place at the end of a pa.s.senger ramp, guarded by two conspicuously armed Army men. Such a plane was wasteful, but mandatory in the pecking order. Protocol officers babbled at him while he watched the crowd, but no one came forward to join the U Agency fellow. Very good Very good.

Perhaps half an hour before boarding, but there was much to do. "Unbearable in here, isn't it?" Kingsley began, his heart thudding at this opening p.a.w.n move.

"Yeah, they overheat these places."

"Let's get a breath, shall we?"

Herb thought a second too long, perhaps realizing that there was no plausible reason to object. "Sure, sure."

They went out a side door and down a corridor, Kingsley furiously trying to remember times before when he had wandered through this terminal. After a false lead, he found a door that opened out onto a broad parapet, the sort of useless ornament to the building where no one actually went. Sure enough, there was no one looking at the waning sunset. Planes buzzed on the field about twenty feet below. Kingsley put his briefcase down and made a show of sucking in a lungful of moist air.

"We can go around to the other side, should be able to see the burning in D.C.," Herb volunteered, his voice mellow in good-buddy mode.

"That should be a sight. Still out of control?"

"Yup. Got the National Guard in now."

"Pity."

"People just plain going crazy, is what it is."

Idly Kingsley walked along into a more shadowy zone. Herb tagged after. Kingsley thought again through his chain of logic and could see no flaw in it. Still Still..."I presume she can leave the facility in the U.K. whenever she likes?"

Herb did not pause. "Oh, sure."

Clear enough, then. A trap being set, disguised as a plum. Herb was a remarkably inept liar.

"See that big one? What sort is it?" He pointed out onto the field.

As Herb followed the line Kingsley checked again in both directions along the parapet. No one in view. The parapet's guard rail was of raised concrete with a thick lip, suitable for leaning on. This Herb proceeded to do, gazing out at the moving airplanes.

Kingsley had taken a course in judo long ago and had been trying to remember some of it over the last few minutes. Frustratingly, the only item he could call up was the instructor's admonition that the body body had to learn the moves, not the nasty old, unreliable had to learn the moves, not the nasty old, unreliable mind mind.

Fair enough, he thought, stooping slightly to grab the belt at Herb's back. Now the difficult part Now the difficult part. As Herb turned, Kingsley took a firm hold of the back of the man's suit and s.h.i.+rt collar. He dropped farther and turned himself, bending his knees to take Herb's weight. As he pulled the man over onto his back, he heard a strangled exclamation, "Wha-"

He felt the weight come fully onto his back and a fist slammed into his left ribs. The pain made him suck in air. Kingsley turned farther, lifted with the one burst of energy he had. The other fist pounded at him. "Help-"

This shout Kingsley cut off by straightening up suddenly and twisting. This heaved Herb over the guard rail. The body went partway over, then the suit coat caught in the railing somehow. "Help-"

Kingsley found the wadded coat cloth that was exerting just enough strength to keep Herb's scrabbling hands and feet on the parapet's lip. He shoved at the body and it was gone. A soft thump came from below. He leaned over. Herb lay on his side about fifteen feet below. A trickle of blood had started down his brow and ran onto the tarmac.

There seemed to be no loading crew nearby and no sign that anyone had seen. On the other hand, Kingsley could not see the ground floor of the terminal, tucked back below the parapet. Herb did not move.

He trotted back to his briefcase, picked it up, and started walking in a perfectly ordinary fas.h.i.+on. Airplane roars matched his hammering heart. He succ.u.mbed to the temptation to look over the parapet again. Still no movement from Herb.

But now a woman in overalls was running toward the body from the right. She called out something that an airplane takeoff drowned out. In the bright light, she looked up at Kingsley and he jerked his head back, probably too late to avoid being identified. d.a.m.n d.a.m.n. Stupid, of course, once one was committed, to look back.

He walked quickly back inside and past the gate where his airplane would soon begin boarding. This part of it he had not fully thought out, but he knew it was a good idea to get out of the government-controlled part of the terminal. This proved simple, as all the security measures were directed to screening out the opposite flow. He walked through some guards and down an escalator.

At the American Airlines counter, he saw a flight for Hawaii leaving within the hour. To Oahu, not the Big Island, but that was a small inconvenience. He did not dally at the counter, where anyone could see him, and instead found his way to the Admirals' Club, where he had a lifetime members.h.i.+p.

He had often enjoyed the perks of this club, but never so much as now. Here he had no difficulty booking onto the flight, so long as he was willing to go first-cla.s.s. If sailing on the If sailing on the t.i.tanic, t.i.tanic, why not why not? he thought a bit wildly.

He knew the airlines kept their own bookings of first-cla.s.s. There was a fair chance that even the U Agency, should it be searching soon, would not find access to those files right away. A chance, at least.

He went straight along to the private telephone rooms they kept down a deeply carpeted corridor and dialed. He found himself holding his breath, This would all prove to be a ludicrous, dangerous waste unless- "h.e.l.lo?" A fuzzy voice. "Hope you've got a good reason to-"

"I do. Listen quickly." He had to rely on her recognizing his voice. His name might touch off one of those listening programs governments used to target calls. "You're to pack a bag, enough for a week, and leave the house immediately."

"What? Why would I-"

"Because you are in danger. Some people are going to try to round you up. I'd suggest going to a friend's, someone they cannot easily trace."

"But what's this about? Why would they-"

"To use you as hostage. Once they have you, I'd do what they want."

"Who is this 'they'?"

"That's the dicey part. I don't know, not precisely."

"Then why should I-"

"There are forces at work here I do not fully understand."

She was fully awake now. "It's pretty d.a.m.ned arrogant-"

"No doubt, but pointless to debate now. Just move. Go to a hotel to get your bearings if you want."

"Whozzat?" a male voice came from the background.

"Quiet," she said quickly. Then, to let the speaker know, she added, "Kingsley, I don't follow your orders any longer."

"I hope that you've kept matters reasonably discreet?"

"What? Oh, what the h.e.l.l, I don't care if you know. Yes, I've been quiet about him, if you must-"

"And your newfound friend has a place?"

"Well, of course, he's not a street person-oh, I see."

"Yes. Hole up there for tonight, probably safer than being in a nearby hotel registry."

"I haven't said that I would-"

"There isn't time to have a pleasant little debate about this. I just injured a man, perhaps killed him, all to make this telephone call."

"What?" The newfound friend was saying something in the background again.

"I can't talk much longer. Be out of the house inside half an hour."

"But I don't know...I...What's this about-"

"You might actually be safer in a shelter, old girl, but I can't have them using you against me."

"My G.o.d, do you think things are going to get-"

"I don't know how badly we might fare, but others with more power are covering a lot of different bets. You and I are very minor figures in all this, but we may share the fate of a church mouse who sleeps with a restless elephant. Best to be elsewhere."

"I still don't-"

"Go to the boyfriend's. Don't tell me where it is. They might have had the foresight to tap this phone."

"He's not a 'boyfriend,' he's much more-"

"No time for that. Go. I'd advise a nice trip to someplace in the country. Then get a secure lodging for the week to come."

"d.a.m.n it, I-"