Gravity Rising (The Parallel Multiverse Book 2)

by Ward Wagher

  “You will notice my flat is much neater.”

  “That’s because you wear the same clothes every day,” he said with a grin.

  She shoved him, and he toppled over on the bed.

  “See what I mean?” he asked.

  “Now, what?”

  “I’m in bed again. You needn’t have bothered to make it up. Waste of effort.”

  “Larry Berthold, I am about this far from just walking out of here and leaving you to your own barbarism!”

  “Naah. You love me too much.”

  “Ha!” she yelled. “You can just finish fixing dinner, yourself, Mister.”

  He popped up off the bed. “Come on, Mags. You know I’m just kidding.”

  “Do you two fight like this all the time?”

  They both turned at the sound of the voice. Philip Guidard was sitting on the sofa watching the byplay.

  “How did you get in?” Larry asked. “The door was locked.”

  “Oh, I have my ways. Am I too early? I could come back later.”

  Maggie skipped across the room. “Not at all. Dinner is about ready. I was just having words with mush-brain here. You may have noticed he doesn’t understand a lot.”

  “Hey!” Larry complained.

  “I believe I shall not get involved in this discussion. It might result in my personal injury, and I would not want that.”

  “See?” Larry said. “Aren’t you sorry you started this?”

  “I started this?” she asked incredulously, poking herself in the chest.

  “Please, please,” Guidard said. “Tonight, I will be the one to ask the questions.”

  “Okay, then,” she said. “Larry can set the table.”

  Since the small dinette had only two chairs, Larry slid it around so that he could sit on the arm of the sofa while Maggie and Guidard had the chairs. Guidard had a manner that put them at ease, and the meal was very comfortable.

  “The Paladin shared with me the email you sent him,” Guidard said to Maggie. “I, of course, studied it carefully. Did you smell anything funny when you entered Larry’s flat yesterday morning?”

  “Yes, I did,” she said, “although I was more concerned about Larry. He looked dreadful.”

  “What was the smell?”

  “Nothing like I had experienced before. I can’t even describe it. It was different.”

  “And Larry was sick.”

  “He had just awakened when I came in. He was holding his head in his hands. Shortly after that, he was ill. I got the waste basket to him just in time. It was rather violent.”

  Guidard nodded. “That does sound bad. Lawrence, did this feel like an intestinal virus?”

  “Not at all. More like what I have heard about migraines. I had probably the worst headache of my life. Then suddenly my stomach went into motion.”

  “Do you have migraines in your family?”

  “No, not that I know of. If that’s what this was, I hope I never have another. It was awful.”

  “And it was Mrs. Willow that said the odor was from sleepy gas?” he asked.

  Maggie nodded. “That’s what she said. At the time I was so concerned about Larry I didn’t think to ask about what she said. Later she told me I didn’t need to know.”

  “And nobody was in your flat during the night, Larry?”

  Larry shook his head. “I don’t know. I sleep soundly. So, it was very possible someone came in and I didn’t hear them.”

  “Mrs. Willow said that whoever it was probably shot him with the sleepy gas because he woke up during their visit. She said that anybody dosed with the stuff wouldn’t remember what happened.”

  “Do you suppose Mrs. Willow had something to do with it?” Guidard asked.

  Larry scratched his head. “Nothing that old bag does surprises me. Although, she has never been actively hostile. I mean, nobody takes liberties with her. She’s downright scary. I can’t think of a reason she would do something like that, but I suppose that doesn’t mean anything.”

  “She really seems to look out for the students,” Maggie said. “She can be mean at times, but when people have problems, she is always there to help.”

  “So, who else is out to get you, Larry?” Guidard asked.

  “I didn’t think anybody was after me until all this stuff started to happen.”

  “It seems like Mrs. Willow showed up every time we needed guidance or help,” Maggie said. “Or whoever that was in Columbia, and then later in the farmhouse. I have sort of thought she helped work things out so that Larry would connect with Arthur Winkleman.”

  “I don’t think that included me nearly freezing to death when all the door locks jammed.”

  “Tell me about that,” Guidard directed.

  Larry related his experience of being stranded outside in the snow without an overcoat. Guidard asked several probing questions and brought back memories of things Larry had not noticed at the time. He was a skilled questioner.

  “I think I would agree with Maggie,” Guidard said. “Mrs. Willow is mostly friendly if a little crabby. That means there is another player we have not identified.”

  “And whoever it is is still out there,” Larry said. “I don’t like that at all.”

  “Let us suppose that is true,” Guidard said. “What would be the purpose in what they were trying to do?

  “I don’t know,” Larry said. “One thing that has confused me is how my stipend was originally canceled. It was a grant from the Quebec town council. But, I never received any kind of notification from them. It was Fluffy who told me it had been revoked.”

  “Fluffy?” Guidard asked, his eyebrows raising.

  “Dr. Jerzy Pournelle. If you meet him, you will know why everybody calls him Fluffy.”

  “To his face?”

  “I don’t think so,” Maggie said. “At least, I never had the nerve to do something like that.”

  “To clear things up,” Guidard said, “the Quebec town council did not terminate your stipend, Larry. They received a resignation email from you.”

  “What?” Larry stood up. “I never wrote anything like that! I would have been crazy to do something like that. And, Fluffy knew about it before I did. What’s going on here?”

  “That’s what we need to find out,” Philip Guidard said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “Always good to get away from our little neighborhood once in a while,” Seb Sylvester commented as he wheeled his car around a corner.

  In spite of the unrelenting cold weather, some of the snow in the streets had managed to melt into slush and then refresh. It took careful driving to keep the car from dancing in the frozen ruts and taking them in undesired directions.

  “I don’t know how you find these little stores, Seb,” Maggie said. “The prices around MIT are always high. I really appreciate your taking us along.”

  Larry sat in the back this time and said nothing as he looked out the car windows. He enjoyed these outings for the change of pace, although he also did not mind paying less for his groceries.

  “I think the grocers around the institute like to take advantage of their captive population. Not many people can afford a car, so they are stuck.”

  “Do you get much comment from the other students?” she asked.

  “I try not to say much,” Sylvester replied. “People will decide that it’s not fair for me to get discounted food, and somehow it will all be my fault.”

  “Seriously?”

  “People are funny,” he continued. “A lot of them already look down their noses at me because I have a car.”

  “Even though you paid for it by yourself?” Maggie asked. “I would think they would admire that.”

  “Actually, I would probably get less comment if my parents had bought it for me. And don’t get me started on what they say about my job.”

  “You have a good job,” Larry said.

  “Right. That’s what I think. Most of the students are here on one stipend or another. They someh
ow reach the conclusion that menial work is below them.”

  “I thought you had a stipend,” Larry said. “Pardon me if I’m getting nosy.”

  “Oh, no problem. You two are my friends. My stipend is from my father. I try to work as much as I can so I’m a smaller burden on my parents. We are relatively well off, but not that well off.”

  “And the Marriott wants to hire you after you graduate, right?” Maggie said. “I mean, that’s a coup right there.”

  Sylvester grimaced as he twitched the steering wheel to bump the car into another set of ruts. “I really would like to do research in cybernetics, and maybe work for one of the computer manufacturers. However, Marriott has made me a very nice offer. I would be working on their systems. Plus, I’m learning an interesting business.”

  “You could do a lot with your cybernetics doctorate,” Larry said.

  “I could, assuming I found a job. You may have noticed they are scarce around here.”

  Maggie turned around in the seat to look at Larry. She mouthed the word, Arthur. Larry shrugged.

  “If you don’t mind, Seb,” Maggie said, “I will mention you to our benefactor in Indianapolis. I don’t know that he is necessarily looking for a cyberneticist, but you never know.”

  “Really? You would do that?” He stared at Maggie for a moment, and then quickly turned his attention back to the car, which was drifting towards the curb.

  “Sure,” she said. “It’s no problem. What are friends for?”

  “Most of the people around treat their contacts as if they are gold.”

  “When you think about it, the people around here are kind of nutty. Yes, I’m happy to mention you. We all might end up being surprised.”

  “I’ll take that in a good way, Mags,” Seb said wryly.

  “Of course,” she replied sweetly.

  “Look out, Seb,” Larry said, “she’s getting ready to stick the knife in.”

  “Not little Maggie.”

  She heard his tone of voice and growled at him. “And you need to watch out, Mister.”

  “See what I mean?” Larry interjected. “She’s like a cat. She will be nice and friendly for a while, and then stick her claws in.”

  “Don’t push it, Larry.”

  “And… here we are,” Sylvester said, changing the subject.

  Mulligan’s was not impressive. The small storefront was in a block of tumbledown buildings and looked as if it might collapse at any time. The inside showed no signs of order. Stacks of canned goods and fresh produce were intermingled with coolers containing meats and dairy products.

  “Hey Clyde,” Sylvester said as they walked through the door.

  “Keep that door closed,” the proprietor yelled at them. “Darned cold out.”

  “Right,” Seb said. “Got any good deals today?”

  “All my deals are good, today,” he shouted back. “What are ya lookin’ for?”

  “Fish, veggies, anything interesting,” Maggie said.

  “Feel free to look,” Clyde shouted again. “Hope ya brought money.”

  They worked their way down the first aisle. “Does he always shout?” Maggie whispered to Sylvester.

  He grinned. “Pretty much.”

  “This place is a dump,” Larry said quietly.

  “Yes but look at the prices.”

  “That’s hard to believe,” he replied. “And, the quality looks good, too.”

  “Yer probably looking at the last of the fresh vegetables,” Clyde shouted. “The harbor is starting to freeze over, and it costs too much to ship produce on the train.”

  Maggie picked out a couple of heads of lettuce and eased them into the string bag she carried. Larry spotted some apples and selected a half-dozen. He stopped at a barrel of dried beans and after some thought, he scooped some into a bag.

  “Got t’charge you for the bag, young man,” Clyde yelled.

  “Doesn’t miss anything, does he?” Larry asked.

  “And he doesn’t have merchandise walk off, either,” Seb responded.

  Larry moved to a cooler and looked down. “What do you think, Mags? We need to try some fish this time?”

  “Just in off the banks,” Clyde yelled. “Can’t miss with’em.”

  “Good enough for me,” Seb said as tore a piece of brown paper off the roll and wrapped a couple of the fish.”

  “I think that would be a good idea,” Maggie said. “I’d like some more ham, too.”

  “The ham is not great,” Clyde yelled. “Try the pork chops.”

  “I think I’d take his word for it,” Seb said. “He sells to the hotel, and they think pretty highly of him.”

  “Who’s going to buy the ham?” Maggie asked.

  “I have customers that’ll buy it because it’s cheap,” Clyde said. “They don’t care about the quality. If they want it, I’ll sell it.”

  Larry decided that, with everyone’s schedules, he was not likely to return to Mulligan’s for a while. That being the case, he stocked up. He struggled out to the car with four large cloth bags packed full of groceries. Maggie had two bags and struggled with them. Seb had a single bag, but he expected he could return any time.

  Seb guided the car over the crackling and crunching winter waste in the streets of Boston and Cambridge. The elderly car was a luxury model that was now very tired. But, it maintained its poise with silent grandeur, its passageway marked by the whine of the pumps controlling the fuel cell.

  “This is a nice vehicle, Seb,” Larry said.

  “Thanks. I think the old man that sold it to me was in too much of a hurry to get rid of it. It’s probably worth a lot more than I paid for it. On the other hand, what I paid was all I could afford.”

  “Don’t look a gift horse, and all that,” Maggie said.

  “Right, and I don’t.” Seb glanced in the mirror. “Not to be alarmist or anything, but we had another car follow us all the way over to Mulligan’s. And it’s following us again.”

  “Do I want to turn around and look?” Larry asked.

  “Perhaps not.”

  Maggie leaned forward to peer through the right-side mirror. “I have not seen that car before, I think. And there’s not that many around.”

  “That’s what got my attention,” Seb said. “I suppose it could be a coincidence.”

  “But, you don’t think so,” Maggie said.

  “Right.”

  “Well, crud!” Larry said. “It just doesn’t stop, does it?”

  “What do you mean?” Seb asked.

  “Larry,” Maggie warned.

  “There are just too many weird things going on.”

  “I gotta admit, trouble seems to follow you around, Larry,” Seb said. “Are you saying there’s more to it than that?”

  Larry thought about Maggie’s warning, and so he spoke to try to disarm Seb’s suspicion. “You have to wonder, don’t you?”

  “Whatever,” Seb said. “I think that when we get to the parking lot we should all walk to the hall together. If they have robbery in mind that might deter them.”

  “Good idea,” Maggie said.

  Seb Sylvester had somehow managed to acquire one of the first-floor flats when he arrived at MIT. Those were considered prime real estate and there was a lot of competition for them. Larry staggered up to the fourth floor with his four bags of groceries. When he stepped out of the stairwell on his floor he turned to Maggie.

  “I guess I’m supposed to be cooking for you. I’ll get supper started.”

  “I’ll be down in a while,” Maggie said. “I need to put this stuff away, and I have another paragraph in mind that I need to type out in my dissertation.”

  “See you in a bit, then.”

  Larry eased the bags to the floor outside of his flat and dug the key out of his pocket. As he worked the key in the lock, he hoped there was never a fire in the building. The stupid lock would probably jam and he would die in there.

  He kicked the door open and grabbed the bags. Getting everything ins
ide, he kicked the door closed again, and then turned around. When he saw the slight figure sitting on the sofa, he physically jumped.

  “Holy Moly! What are you doing here?”

  “I thought I would invite myself to dinner again,” Philip Guidard said.

  “How did you get in, anyway? That lock is so decrepit I wouldn’t think it’s possible to jimmy it.”

  “I have my ways,” the little man said with a smile. “Besides, we need to talk.”

  “Maggie will be down in a bit,” Larry said.

  “I somehow assumed that would be the case. You were probably becoming hungry.”

  “Actually, it’s my turn to cook.”

  “Perhaps I should reconsider my invitation to myself,” Guidard said.

  “Thanks,” Larry said sarcastically. “I’ll have you know I am an accomplished cook.”

  “Hasn’t killed anyone yet with food poisoning,” Maggie said as she swept into the room. “Your door was unlocked, Larry.”

  “I’m not in bed asleep,” he replied. “Besides, I knew you were coming in.”

  She turned around and tried to twist the lock lever. “This thing is jammed.”

  “You have to play with it,” Larry said. “Here let me show you.”

  He walked over and wiggled the lever back and forth several times. The lock bar then snapped into place.

  Maggie looked at it suspiciously. “I hope there’s not a fire.”

  “Funny you should mention that.”

  She ignored his rejoinder and looked over at Guidard. “Glad you came back for a visit, Philip. I guess we got back just in time.”

  “Actually, he was in here when I came in,” Larry said.

  “So, you left your flat unlocked?”

  “No, I did not leave my flat unlocked,” he said. “He was sitting here when I unlocked the door and walked in.”

  She looked at Guidard. “So, what’s your trick?”

  “Oh, I have my ways.”

  “He’s being inscrutable, again, Mags.”

  “We need to break him of that habit.”

  “What’s for dinner?” Guidard asked.

  “Bread and water,” Maggie snapped.

  “I feel pampered, already,” he replied. “And who is baking the bread?”

  “The little red hen,” Maggie immediately said. “And you know how that story turned out.”