by Ward Wagher
Larry sighed. “Well, I asked. Thanks for your time.” He stood up.
Arlien held up his hands. “Listen, I am sorry to dump this on you, but really must consider a different line of work. It’s the best advice I can give you.”
Larry nodded. “You’re right, and I appreciate your being honest with me. But, it is a little hard to take.”
“Go back to your lodging, have a good dinner, and think about it, young man,” Arlien said. “I do not want to push you into doing something you really do not want. Whatever you do, you must do it with a full heart.”
Maggie stood up with him. “Thanks for your time.”
He waved a hand. “Think nothing of it. I know this wasn’t pleasant for you, Mr. Berthold, but, I always try to be as honest as possible.”
As they stepped out of the building, into the snow, the trolley rolled to a stop in front. Without a word, Larry climbed aboard, and Maggie followed. They rode in silence back to the hotel. Larry pulled out his computer and sat down in the lobby of the hotel. Maggie sat down next to him and opened her computer. They worked for a while before Larry spoke.
“Well, here’s one thing. A note from someone named Arthur Winkleman in Indianapolis. He is asking for more information on my background.”
“That’s good news, I guess,” Maggie said. “But we do not have the means to get there.”
“There’s that, I guess. I think tomorrow I should go visit the power plant. I’ve got to find something, and I don’t want to go home to Montreal.”
“Today was a little weird,” she said.
“Mrs. Weidenholz?”
“Exactly,” she said. “If that wasn’t Mrs. Willow I think I would eat my hat.”
“We don’t want you to do that,” Larry said. “But the resemblance was remarkable.”
“So, what do you think?”
Larry looked over at Maggie. “Did you know that the word Weidenholz is German for Willow?”
“That is too weird,” she said. “What is going on?”
“I don’t know, Mags. I looked at the trolley map when we were riding back here. The route that goes to the college runs on out to the power plant. I think on our way to the plant tomorrow, I would like to stop in for another visit.”
“Why?”
He shook his head. “I don’t really know. But, I feel like I should.”
“Okay,” she agreed. “That’s tomorrow. What are we going to do for the rest of today?”
“Dig through my research.”
“You aren’t giving that up?” she asked.
“Would you?”
“I guess not,” she replied.
“And what about your Climatology?” he continued.
“As pleasant as Dr. Arlien seemed to be, he was really rude,” Maggie said. “I’m more determined than ever to stick with it.”
“That’s sort of what I was thinking, too,” Larry said. “What he said really didn’t make sense. I can’t believe everything I’ve read about Clenèt was wrong. I got to thinking about it, and I thought I would ask him about some of the articles about this stuff.”
“And you want to answer whoever that is in Indianapolis.”
“That, too.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tuesday dawned cold and clear. Feathers of frost crawled along the edges of the hotel windows and Maggie shivered as she waited for Larry to walk down to breakfast with her. Larry carried his computer, intending to look at it over breakfast. It was really too cold in the room to spend time outside of the blankets.
“I think I really like all this pork at breakfast time,” Larry said.
“It is easy to get used to,” Maggie said. “The bacon is particularly good.”
She watched as Larry’s attention shifted from the buffet to the computer screen. His eyes opened wider and his mouth dropped open.
“Mags, look at this,” he said as he swung the computer screen around to where she could see it.
He watched her eyes move back and forth as she read the screen. She looked up at him. “Is this for real?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. It looks genuine, but you know the old saying about when something looks too good to be true.”
“But we gotta check it out,” she said.
“Wow!” he said. “Two tickets by air to Indianapolis. And, what he has provided for travel expenses would take care of us for a month.”
“Yes, but, who is this Winkleman?” she asked. “It sounds a little weird to me.”
“It sounds a lot weird to me,”
“We can check the validation on the tickets and the expense money, Larry,” she said.
He nodded. “Yes, we should do that. It’s just that I have never heard of this guy.”
“Maybe we could go ask Dr. Arlien if he knows anything about this Arthur Winkleman.”
“That’s a good idea. And we also need to check when the next flight to Indianapolis leaves here.”
“Looks like we have something to do today, then,” Maggie said.
“I really do hope that this Winkleman fellow is on the up and up,” Larry said. “If I find out someone has been pulling my chain, I will be really unhappy.”
“And disappointed,” Maggie added.
“Right.”
They continued eating in silence as each was deep in thought. After clearing their plates, they looked at each other.
“There’s a bank across the street,” Maggie said.
“Yes, I know. And I’m almost afraid to check the funding.”
“Come on, Larry, let’s go grab our coats and check. Can you access the air service on the Global Net and see if the tickets are good?”
“Yes, I can do that,” he said.
Larry rapidly typed on the keyboard and then watched the screen.
“Okay, the tickets are good.”
“Great, let’s head over to the bank. Then we can go see Dr. Arlien.”
After a short wait the bank converted the e-chain funds to hard currency. Because there was no single polity ruling North America, banks in each city converted the virtual coins from e-chain into a mix of silver and gold coins. British currency was widely accepted, but people preferred to put their hands on precious metals. Larry had a small stack of gold pieces as well as some silver dollars and smaller coins. The coinage was a mix of old United States currency, Quebequois money, and British tender.
They boarded the trolley for the trip across town. Larry intended to talk to someone at the power plant, in case the trip to Indianapolis fell through. More people were on the streets today, and they saw crews removing more of the snow.
He leaned over to Maggie. “The climate changed, and people deal with it.”
She sighed. “That’s why I want to rehabilitate my field. I mean, yes, an awful lot of people died after the Carrington event, perhaps even a majority of the population. But, look how the land has recovered.”
“What do you think the planetary population is at this time?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I have heard estimates of anywhere between fifty million and three-hundred million.”
“And it hit eight billion before.”
“That’s hard to believe,” she said. “Where would they put all those people?”
“Well, our continent seems pretty empty,” Larry replied. “I can’t imagine what it was like during the pandemics.”
“I’m glad things are peaceful now.”
“Other than getting locked outside in the snow,” Larry grumped.
Maggie elbowed him in the side. “Don’t start. Things are looking up.”
“Yes, and here’s the college.”
They stepped off of the trolley and quickly walked across the sidewalk and into the lobby of Carolina College. At the desk in the lobby sat a thin, middle-aged blond woman.
“Kin ah hep y’all?” she asked.
“Uh, yes,” Larry began, “is Dr. Arlien available?”
The lady looked puzzled. “Ah, mus’ be a mistake. Ain�
�t no Dr. Awliens heah.”
“Well, of course, there is,” Maggie interrupted. “We talked to him here, yesterday. Mrs. Weidenholz was at your desk, and Dr. Arlien took us to his office for a meeting.”
The lady frowned. “Ahm afraid that’s impossible. The college was closed yesta’day for holiday. Nobody was heah.”
Larry stared at the lady, who was also growing uncomfortable.
“I guess we must’ve gotten the wrong building, by mistake,” he said.
Maggie looked back and forth between Larry and the lady at the desk but could think of nothing to say.
“Uh, sorry to bother you,” Larry said.
He grabbed her hand and walked quickly out of the building.
“Larry, what was that all about? Did we dream that yesterday?”
“I think we need to get out of this town, Mags. Too many weird things going on.”
They rode the trolley in silence back to the hotel, then quickly trotted up the steps to their second-floor room. After walking into the room, Maggie shut the door and locked it. She turned to face Larry and leaned against the door.
“Okay, I am now convinced,” she said. “There are a lot of weird things going on, and I don’t like it.”
“I don’t like it either,” he said, “but, I’m glad you finally understand what I have been saying.”
She glared at him. “Oh, I understood. I just didn’t want to admit it to you. So, what do we do now?”
“We go to Indianapolis. I’m done here.”
“When?”
“Whenever the next flight leaves,” he said.
§ § §
The ancient airliner lumbered into the air with a weariness that reflected its age. Even the deep bellow of the turbofans did not cover the mixed cacophony of rattles, creaks, and groans that accompanied the aged airframe.
Maggie grasped Larry’s hand tightly as they watched the ground drop away. “I hope we didn’t make a mistake taking this trip.”
“Relax. Any airplane can fall out of the sky.”
“Stop that!” She released his hand and grasped the armrests instead. “You are not funny.”
“Sorry.”
Larry busied himself with pulling out his computer. The flight was not long, but maybe he could accomplish somewhat. He had checked the flight schedules from the hotel, and discovered the weekly flight to Indianapolis was leaving that afternoon. He spent some of his travel funds to hire a driver to take them to the grandiosely styled Carolina International Travel Portal.
The southeastern region seemed to be better organized than Boston. The well-maintained road to the airport was cleared of snow. The ever-present debris that characterized the cities of Boston and Cambridge was not apparent here. He decided the culture here was not any flakier than his own. The people just talked funny.
The flight was short – an hour or less, and they settled onto the broad expanse of runways of the Indianapolis airport. It looked like an oasis in a desert of snow. Successive storms had left a carpet of snow that almost completely obliterated the landmarks. Larry thought that it must’ve taken heroic efforts to keep the airport clear in the winter. The plains did little to slow down the onslaught.
The brakes on the landing gear generated a long, drawn-out screech as the pilot tried to gently ease the tired airliner to a stop.
“Well,” Larry said, “they say that any landing you can walk away from...”
“Will you shut up?” Maggie snapped at him. “You have never had a sense of humor, and it’s gotten worse.”
“Right. I stand corrected.”
They subsided for a few moments as Maggie looked out the window.
“It looks really cold out there,” Maggie said as the airliner taxied to the terminal.
“Judging from the way the ground crew is dressed, it really is cold,” Larry replied. “I hope someone is meeting us.”
“You mean you don’t know?” she asked.
“I sent a note over the Global Net that we were coming, but there was no time for a reply. I guess if no one is here at the airport, we have the funds to get transportation into town and get lodging.”
“There is that. The money and the air tickets make me feel a lot better about this.”
“If this turns out to be a blind alley, we will have the return ticket and money to get back to Montreal,” Larry said.
“Return to what?”
“What are the alternatives?” he asked.
“There’s enough money to grubstake us either here or in Columbia.”
“I’m not going back to Columbia after what happened yesterday,” Larry said. “And I think that Mrs. Weiden-whatever really was Mrs. Willow.”
“She sure gets around, doesn’t she?” Maggie commented.
“If she pops up again, we are going to have a talk with her.”
Maggie shook her head. “I don’t know, Larry. If she has been the cause of all of this, she could be incredibly dangerous.”
“But what motive? What is she trying to do?”
“We’re not going to solve that today,” Maggie said.
With another groan from the brakes, the airliner halted at the terminal, and the aircrew opened the doors. A gust of chill air stole through the cabin like a hunting panther. Larry and Maggie quickly shrugged into their coats before disembarking.
Maggie gasped as she began walking down the stairs from the plane. “It’s got to be twenty below,” she said.
Larry shuddered as he stepped out of the airliner. “At least. This is really unpleasant, and it’s only October.”
“Don’t remind me.”
The aircrew set the luggage out at the base of the stairs. Maggie and Larry located their come-alongs and began a quick walk to the terminal building. They stepped into a very pleasant degree of warmth as well as surprise. The terminal looked to be brand new. Larry identified the smell as fresh paint.
A dapper septuagenarian stood near the entrance holding a sign with the words Berthold & Bosstic neatly printed on the cardboard. They turned and walked towards him. As they got closer, they noted more details. The man wore a charcoal pin-stripe suit and carried a heavy winter coat over one arm. He was thin and had a substantial comb-over on his head. He sported a pencil-thin mustache and silver wire-rimmed glasses.
“Mr. Berthold and Ms. Bosstic,” he said in a thin, reedy voice. “Welcome to the Palatinate. I am your host, Arthur Winkleman.”
Larry nodded. “Mr. Winkleman, thank you for the invitation as well as the generous travel stipend.”
“You are very welcome. I expect to keep you very busy during your visit, and I desired to make it worth your while. But, come. I have rooms reserved at the best hotel in Indy. This will give you an hour or so to freshen up. Then we will have dinner.”
They followed him across the terminal and out the front door to where an obviously new car sat at the curb. It looked to Larry like another of the cars that were starting to be manufactured in Pleasantburg in Carolina.
The road into the town was plowed, but the surface was only partially paved, alternating stretches of macadam with gravel and then frost-heaved concrete. Winkleman carried on a monologue as he guided the car. He pointed out various landmarks, which mostly were not visible in the heavy snow. He was, however, obviously proud of his town.
He pulled into a circular drive and stopped under an awning in front of a set of glass doors.
“Welcome to the Marriott. We bagged them three years ago, and they just completed the building.
The hotel management was expecting them and had room keys prepared when they stepped up to the desk. Larry and Maggie each had a room. They were the nicest hotel rooms Larry had ever seen. And they were warm. Each room had its own bath, and Larry took the opportunity for a long, luxurious shower. After this, Larry was relaxed when he and Maggie arrived in the hotel restaurant for dinner.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The hotel restaurant displayed a glittering elegance Larry and Maggie had not seen before.
The eateries in Montreal, Boston and the Southeast were purely functional – a place to refuel the humans who inhabited those parts. Larry’s epiphany was that restaurants could be places to conduct business and entertain. He had not known something like this existed in the world.
Arthur Winkleman was again dapper and had added a carnation to his lapel. Apparently, the denizens of Indianapolis had a greenhouse somewhere, Maggie thought. Larry observed Winkleman carefully. He was the genial and considerate host. He took the time to explain the items on the menu. Larry ordered something called Beef Wellington. Maggie experimented with the chicken cordon bleu. This was different from simply chicken, fried or baked.
“I am so glad you were able to come for a visit,” Winkleman said as he sipped his wine. He wrestled with his plate of fettuccine Alfredo. “I always enjoy this dish, even though I can never figure out how to eat it without soiling my clothes.”
“You seem to be doing well, so far, Sir,” Larry said. “And thank you for the generous invitation. It was unexpected.”
Winkleman waved a hand. “Oh, I fancy myself a good judge of people. When I read your inquiry note, I decided that it would be worth a visit with you. I enjoy dabbling in the hard sciences, although I am purely an amateur.”
“What areas are you interested in, Sir?” Maggie asked.
“Well, my problem is that I am interested in too many things. I have never applied myself to becoming an expert in any single field because there are just too many interesting subjects to pursue. I have looked at chemistry and physics. I have also spent some time in climatology. With the atrocious winters we have over the upper Midwest, I have attempted to discern the causes.”
“Maggie is working on her doctorate in Climatology,” Larry said, nodding towards her. “She is usually modest about it, but I think she is very knowledgeable.”
“How convenient,” Winkleman said. “I shall also make an opportunity to discuss the field with you.”
