Into The Out Of

by Alan Dean Foster

  "I already told you that I can't tell you."

  She was eyeing him shrewdly. "Would it be useful to someone in Olkeloki's situation?"

  "No. Yes. I don't know, Merry." Useful to Olkeloki? How? He was a professional informer, able to move without detection among dangerous, unbalanced people, able to gain their trust until the time came to betray them, to render them harmless. Did that make sense? Was it enough to tie him to an old man from Africa and all that had transpired?

  Merry saw the uncertainty and confusion in his face. She swallowed and forced a smile.

  "You have a lovely little place here. During the riot you as much as asked me out."

  So much for subtlety, he thought.

  "I'm guessing you're not married," she asked him.

  "No, I'm not married."

  "Ever been?"

  "Twice." He could see that surprised her. "What do you think about that?"

  "I don't think anything about it. Neither of them worked out, huh?"

  "They both tried. First Susan and then Jessica. Susan lasted two years, Jessica two and a half. No kids. I wasn't ever home long enough to make kids a viable proposition. That was part of the problem, maybe the largest part. Pretty tough to make a life with somebody when they're always getting phone calls in the middle of the night telling them they have to go away for months on end. When they call home but can't tell you where they are or what they're doing or when they might be able to come home. A lot of couples have trouble making dinner conversation. I hardly ever made dinner." The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. "Susan always thought I had a mistress."

  "Did you?"

  "No. Wish I had. It might have made things better. Jessica never thought that. She tried real hard, Jessy did. I loved that woman, you know? We might even have been able to work it out. Trouble was she was too much like me."

  "How do you mean?"

  "One day I came home and she was gone. I guess she felt it was her turn to take off for a while. Only she never came back."

  "I'm sorry," Merry said quietly.

  "So am I. What about you? Surely someone as pretty as you has been married at least once?"

  "Simple flattery's the best kind. No, but I'm," she almost said 'engaged,' decided she wasn't in the mood to lie, "going with a special guy. Four years now."

  "Four years? What the hell's wrong with him?"

  "Nothing's wrong with him," she said sharply. "It's just—it's just not the right time yet, that's all."

  "Four years?" Oak repeated, muting his astonishment a little. "What's he want? To make sure you don't have some gross orthodontic disease or something?"

  "When two people are thinking of a commitment for life they have to be sure of themselves." Oh shit, she thought. "Hey, I didn't mean…"

  "Skip it."

  "What I'm trying to say is that sometimes intentions don't always match up with results. We'll get married one of these days, when we both agree the time's right. I'm sure."

  "You're sure?"

  "Sure I'm sure. I have to be sure." Something small broke inside her and the Other Words came tumbling out, the words she often thought but never said aloud. "You know what I'd like to be, besides sure? I'd like to be engaged." She held out her right hand. "One crummy little cheapo ring, that's what I'd like."

  Olkeloki interrupted her before she could really get started.

  "This house is safe. I think we can spend the night here, but tomorrow we must go."

  Oak pushed himself up from the old chair. "You're asking me to accept a fundamental change in my world view. That's a lot to ask."

  "Surely after what you have seen and experienced today you believe?"

  "I can't say what I believe. I'm not sure what I believe right now. I have pretty much accepted one thing, though. You're in some kind of trouble."

  "If that is all you can believe for now, that will be enough. I am in trouble, yes. You are in trouble, Merry Sharrow is in trouble, the whole world is in trouble."

  "I don't know about the whole world and I'm not sure about Ms. Sharrow and myself," he said impatiently. "But I can see that you need help." He didn't add that he still wasn't sure what kind of help the old man needed. "I don't like the way old folks get pushed around these days. Was always taught to respect my elders and all that stuff. Always took it seriously. So if you're in some kind of trouble and you're convinced I can help, well…" He extended a hand.

  Olkeloki's handshake was surprisingly strong. "Thank you, Joshua Oak. It may be that with your assistance we can do this thing. And with Merry Sharrow's aid as well."

  Oak glanced back at her. "You're not coming!"

  "Spare me the false gallantry. What did you think I was going to do? Go back to Seattle? Besides, what's it matter to you? Remember, we just met this morning."

  Teasing me, Oak thought. Somehow this old dude's talked us both into accompanying him to Africa and she's sitting there on my couch teasing me. Damn but she's pretty when she smiles like that. No, not pretty. Beautiful. Damn.

  "She must come with us," Olkeloki declared. "The triangle must be complete."

  "Why me? If half of what you're carrying around in that leather sack is real you could hire yourself a dozen well-armed mercenaries to follow you anywhere. I could give you phone numbers to call."

  "Numbers are not important. The corners of the triangle must be filled by those who have been marked. Myself, Merry Sharrow, you."

  "Bull. I haven't been marked."

  Olkeloki ignored the disclaimer. "You were made known to me."

  Oak sighed resignedly. "I already said I'd try to help you. Where are we headed?"

  "Kenya. We cannot fly through Dar es Salaam, which would be quicker. There were shetani watching the airport when I left. They can take the form of only certain kinds of people, but they mimic policemen very well. I am sure they saw me leave. They will be waiting for me to return. We would never get out of the city alive.

  "So we will fool them. We will go to Maasailand from Kenya, from the north. Once we have mixed with the northern peoples we will not be as conspicuous."

  "Easy for you to say. Don't you think Merry and I will stand out a little?"

  "I do not. Oh, you mean because of your skin? The shetani are color-blind. They peer much deeper into a person to identify him. If they are given the chance to see inside any of us they will see the danger to themselves and take steps to eliminate it. But I believe we can avoid them once we are on the ground. I fear the Chuni shetani while we are in flight.

  "Do not despair. All is not against us. The shetani fight among themselves as much as they do with human beings. Also, they are not well organized, which is why they have never been more than a nuisance before this. But if they cross through in such numbers mere disorganization will not stop them."

  "Crazy, this is crazy." Oak smiled to himself. This morning he'd been soured on life by the indifference of yet another self-serving subcommittee. Subsequently he'd lived through two waking nightmares in an ordinary downtown office building. Now he found himself in his own home, his inner sanctum, having agreed to accompany a salesclerk from Seattle and an old man in trouble halfway around the world to do battle with a bunch of ghosts. Only—ghosts didn't run beneath restaurant tables or punch holes in the tops of elevators.

  "I'm going to do everything I can to help," Merry was saying, as much to herself as to Olkeloki. "Everybody's always saying that I never try anything different. Well, I've always wanted to see Africa."

  "It is a truly beautiful place," Olkeloki assured her, "as long as the shetani are kept under control."

  She turned to Oak, met his stare evenly. "Whatever's waiting for us over there, at least it won't be boring. Besides, I'll be back here in ten days."

  "Why ten days?"

  "That's when my vacation's up. If I'm not back in ten days I'll lose my job."

  He looked over at Olkeloki, his tone jaunty. "How about it, old man? Can we save the world in ten days?"

  "We can but try
."

  "Merry, you're sure you know what you're getting into here? East Africa isn't Washington. We have riots, they have wars. Restaurants here close at nine, over there people starve. I don't know for sure what kind of trouble our friend here is in but I don't think it's a joke."

  "This may come as something of a shock to you, Josh, but I'm a big girl now. I've lived on my own six years, owned my own house for the last four, and I camp out alone in the wilderness all the time."

  "Wilderness, right. You get in trouble, you call a park ranger."

  "Billions of people will never know enough to thank you for what you are doing, Joshua Oak," said Olkeloki. "I am grateful for your help. The presence of a Burton in Africa is always respected."

  "I wish you'd quit bringing that up. For the last time, I don't know anything about the guy and I doubt either of my parents did either. I'm coming along to help you out, that's all. Let's leave it at that."

  That maddening smile again. "As you wish."

  Merry watched their host out of the corner of an eye. A fine man, this slightly mysterious, soft-spoken Joshua Oak. She allowed herself to believe that he was coming along as much to look after her as to aid Olkeloki. It was an entirely romantic and entirely foolish notion, but one too delicious to discard. The farthest Donald had ever gone out of his way for her was when her Jeep had broken down late one night at the Seven-Eleven outside Tacoma and he'd struggled out of bed to come and pick her up.

  "So when do we leave?" Oak was asking.

  "Tomorrow morning we will fly to London. There we will change planes for Nairobi. If any shetani have picked up my trail we should be able to lose them while changing planes at Heathrow."

  "I'll have to get my things from my hotel room," Merry said thoughtfully. "How much should I take?"

  "As little as possible. One change of clothing only and what personal items you cannot do without. We will be moving quickly and lightly."

  "You can't buy hose in the middle of Africa, you know," Oak commented.

  "Gee, and I had that all figured out for myself."

  "I have a couple of small backpacks we can use. Be better than fooling with suitcases."

  Olkeloki looked pleased now that everything had been decided. "It would be best to spend the night here. They may follow my spoor back to my hotel, but I believe we lost them at the restaurant."

  "All right. Merry, you can have my bedroom. I've got a spare and I'll sleep on the hideabed." He glanced questioningly at Olkeloki.

  "Do not worry about me. I will sleep on the floor and keep watch, much as I used to watch my father's cattle. That is where I have been sleeping in my hotel. Your ilmeet beds are too soft for me. When I lie down upon one my spine feels as if it is turning to butter."

  "Won't be much of a party, but we'll make do. I'll send out for Chinese and maybe we can find something watchable on the tube."

  While the old man was "watching," Oak mused, maybe he and Merry could get to know each other a little better. Just a nice, quiet evening at home, he and Merry staring back at Johnny or David or CNN while this tall refugee from a Bela Lugosi film kept a lookout to make sure no monsters came to devour them until the last of the popcorn had been consumed.

  There was one more thing he had to do, though. He checked his watch. Just time enough for him to get through. He dialed a Washington number. The memory phone held twenty numbers, but not this one. It was too important to commit to an electronic memory which someone with the right kind of equipment could tap remotely.

  While the call went through he watched Merry Sharrow as she made her way around the kitchen. He could hear the sink running. A pleasant feminine voice trilled on the other end of the line.

  "Name?"

  "Joshua B. Oak."

  Pause. "Code?"

  He rattled off a string of letters and numbers and waited while she cross-checked with the inevitable computer. Finally, "To whom did you wish to speak?"

  "Assistant Director Kilbreck."

  "I'm sorry. I don't know if Mr. Kilbreck is available right now. May I take a message?"

  "Oh come on, Julianna," said Oak impatiently, "knock it off. Kilbreck's sitting there in his office reading a comic book or something. He's always there doing as little as possible between four and five, as sure as the sun comes up in the east and sets in the west. Put me through. It's important." To me, anyway, he added silently.

  "All right, keep your shirt on. I'll try and put you through." While he was waiting on the connection, Merry Sharrow came out of the kitchen. She'd washed her face and hands and was drying herself with one of his old towels. Olkeloki was occupying himself with the several shelves of books that took up one wall of the den. Oak still couldn't figure him out.

  "Oak, that you?" Kilbreck did not encourage familiarity between underlings and superiors. Still, his tone was friendly enough, if all business.

  "Afternoon, sir. You busy?"

  "Busy killing time, which never files any wrongful death suits. I saw the tape of your star turn before the subcommittee. You did well, though in the future it might be wise to keep a tighter rein on your personal opinions. Just because Senator Baker asked for them doesn't mean you had to be quite so voluble in your reply. But the Bureau is proud of you." Which was Kilbreck's way of saying that he was pleased.

  "Thank you, sir. Then you won't mind my taking a couple of weeks off. To tell you the truth, sir, I'm flat wore out. These last couple of years down south were pretty bad. I'd just like to disappear for a while, get my mind off Bureau business completely."

  "I'd say you're overdue, Joshua. As I recall you haven't taken off more than five consecutive days since you joined the Bureau."

  Kilbreck's recall was legendary among his agents. Oak wouldn't have been surprised if he'd quoted the exact vacation days his informer had taken off each year in the last ten. Or he might be utilizing his desktop computer to scroll through Oak's file.

  "By all means take some time off. A month if you wish. You certainly have enough time accrued and, as you know, we encourage those of our people who function in stressful capacities to relax whenever the opportunity arises."

  "What about that business up in New York?"

  "Nothing that can't wait, or be handled on a temporary basis by someone else. I'd rather have you fresh and eager to tackle something like that than surly and run-down. Are you going to stay around Washington or were you planning to relax further afield?"

  "Actually, sir, I thought I might spend some time in Britain. I've never been there and it's about time. I've always wanted to see Stonehenge and Westminster Abbey, places like that." Educational places. He could almost see Kilbreck nodding approvingly over the phone.

  "The Mrs. and I have been there several times. You'll like England. Do try to stay away from guided tours. You never meet anyone interesting that way." They both chuckled. If there was anything Joshua Oak had enjoyed a surfeit of the past ten years, it was encounters with interesting people. That was the thought Kilbreck was laughing at.

  Oak was chuckling at the image of Martin Kilbreck sitting in a country pub trying to mix with the local people. Kilbreck was about as relaxed in strange company as a telephone pole. The assistant director was an odd duck. He also happened to be one of the bravest and most decorated senior agents in the Bureau's history. Oak had learned early in his career that more often than not, the only brave men tended to look more like your neighborhood druggist than Conan the Barbarian.

  "When are you taking off?"

  "Tomorrow, sir."

  "Isn't that kind of abrupt?"

  "I don't see any point in hanging around. I've been feeling like I needed to get away for a number of months now. I just couldn't decide to where. England just kind of came up. Now that I've made up my mind to do it, I figure I'd better get on with it before I talk myself out of going."

  "Makes sense. You have a good time, Joshua, a good time. Get your mind off work for a while. We'll see about an assignment when you get back."

  "Ch
eck. Thanks, sir."

  "No need for thanks. You've more than earned your time off, Oak, more than earned it."

  Oak let out a sigh of relief as the receiver at the other end was disconnected. That hadn't gone badly at all. No difficult questions, no requests for forms filled out in triplicate. Now he could lean back and enjoy the forthcoming journey he was about to embark upon in the company of a naive total stranger from Seattle and a crazy old man from Africa.

  Sure he could.

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  10

  Near Burke Lake,

  Virginia—20 June

  The next morning Oak had the opportunity to show that in addition to being able to handle rioting Iranians and spirits that assaulted elevators he could also cook. The three of them sat around his small breakfast table eating and looking through the glass at the lush green woods behind his house.

  "You clean house, you decorate, you cook." Merry finished her toast. "You're not a typical bachelor, Joshua Oak."

  "Typical bachelors haven't had to live through two failed marriages. As for the way I live, I figure if you can't organize your private life, you can't organize your work, and if I can't organize my work, I'm… in trouble."

  So what is it you do for the government, Josh? she mused. Some super-secret spy agency no one's ever heard about? Are you the truth that's stranger than fiction? You make great coffee, and that's strange enough.

  He really was an interesting man. If only he were more open. Donald was open, and on occasion he could even be romantic, but he was definitely, decidedly not mysterious.

  Heretofore the only mystery in Merry Sharrow's life involved the window envelopes that showed up in her mailbox marked occupant.

  Olkeloki had downed a whole quart of milk from Mrs. Hernandez's stock. He refused to touch bacon or eggs, but he eagerly devoured a brace of breakfast "steaks" Oak found in the bottom of the freezer.

  "Except for cattle we eat no other meat save for an occasional sheep or goat slaughtered for ceremonial purposes. We kill no other grazing animals. The wild grazers are our trust."

  "But you kill lions," Merry reminded him.