by Ward Wagher
He pulled out his phone. “I asked them to shoot me a copy. Take a look.”
He held up his phone and she took it and looked closely. Coming down the hallway Larry walked, as though in a trance. Walking next to him was a short, stocky individual wearing a hood.
“That’s got to be Mrs. Willow,” Maggie said. “That’s the way she walks. Plus, I recognize that dress.”
“I wondered if that might be the case,” Winkleman said. “Since Philip is no longer with us, I was forced to turn this over to the city police. They are, perhaps, not as subtle as Philip was, but they are effective. Plus, they will be watching for someone matching Mrs. Willow’s description around the city.”
“So, you’re convinced it really is Mrs. Willow?” Maggie asked.
Winkleman frowned. “When you eliminate the most unlikely explanations, you are left with something that must be correct, whether or not it makes sense. Nevertheless, it does not feel right, somehow.”
A pair of doctors bustled into the room. One of them turned to Arthur.
“Excuse me, Paladin, might we ask that you continue your discussion out in the hallway. We need to conduct an examination.”
“Yes, of course. Maggie?”
She shook her head. “No, I am staying here.”
“I really need ot insist,” one of the doctors said.
“I am staying here,” she said with her teeth clenched. “I do not want anything else to happen to him.”
“I can assure you, he is quite safe here.”
“I thought he was safe at the hotel, too.”
“Let the girl stay,” Winkleman said. “Maggie, I will speak with you later.”
“Of course, Paladin,” the doctor said.
Maggie waved to the old man. “Thanks for coming, Arthur.”
“How could I not?” he said as he strode out of the room.
The doctor turned to Maggie. “We are going to draw blood. We need to analyze it directly to see what the equipment is not picking up. It appears he is gradually metabolizing it, and we would like a good sample before it completely goes away.”
“Will Larry recover once the drug is completely gone from his system?” she asked.
“I hope so. But, this is outside the realm of my experience. And nobody else here has seen anything like it. Once we get a scan of the blood sample, we will send the data to the Royal Institute of Medicine in London. Perhaps they have seen something like it.”
“Is there nothing else to do?” she asked.
The doctor shook his head. “At this point, all we can do is give him the best of palliative care. I very much hope he comes out of it. I would like him to tell us what happened.”
After the doctors left the room, Maggie rolled back over next to the bed. She grasped his hand and held it as she murmured encouragement to him. Sometime during the afternoon of that day, Larry drifted to sleep. It wasn’t until nearly three in the morning that he awakened.
“What’s going on?” he said.
Maggie had fallen asleep holding his hand. She stirred.
“Larry?”
“Maggie? What am I doing in the hospital?”
“What do you remember?”
“I went to bed at the hotel and woke up here.”
She reached over and pushed the call button. “You gave us a good scare, Larry. You don’t know how glad I am to have you back with us.”
“Where did I go.”
“That is a very good question,” one of the doctors said as he walked into the room. “You have had the best medical doctors on the planet completely baffled.”
He walked over and studied the medical read-outs. “It looks like the drug, whatever it was, has completely leached out of your system. And, I’m glad to have you back with us.”
“Where was I?” Larry asked.
“The bell captain found you outside the hotel in your underwear last night. Someone apparently took you out through the basement entrance,” Maggie said. “Beyond that, we really do not know.”
“Wow! I feel kind of fuzzy, but you say I was outside in my undies? I don’t remember that.”
“Right,” she said. “You really ought to wear pajamas when you go to bed.”
“Come on, Mags,” he said. “I don’t think now is the time to argue about that.”
“Oh, Larry, I was so frightened. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m just glad you’re making sense again.”
He enjoyed her closeness but was still completely confused about what he was doing in the hospital.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“Thanks for stopping by, today,” Arthur Winkleman said.
The silver-haired patrician leaned back in the leather executive chair and placed his fingertips on the oak desk. He studied his guest, who carefully sipped at the requisite cup of tea.
“How may I help the Paladin?” Jasper Wilton asked.
“You can jettison the false bowing and scraping, Jasper,” Winkleman snapped.
Wilton chuckled softly. “I really do respect you, Arthur. You have accomplished things I could only dream of doing.”
The thirty-five-year-old businessman set the cup and saucer on the small table next to the guest chair. He was dressed in a charcoal-gray pinstripe suit and wore his brown hair slicked back. He looked more like someone ten years older, which was his intent.
Winkleman raised a hand slightly. “I suppose I am sensitive to my friends poking at my pretentiousness.”
Wilton shook his head. “Who’s been making fun of you? Certainly not I.”
“I guess not. You have been very supportive.”
“And for good reason.” Wilton examined a fingernail. “The only way we are going to develop our economy the way it’s needed is to have a political union. You had both the clout and the reputation to make it happen. No, I only have one regret.”
“And what would that be?” Winkleman asked.
“Honestly, Arthur, I wish you were twenty years younger. I worry that we won’t have time to get our institutions settled in properly.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my health, you young pup!” Winkleman growled. “Of course, one never knows, but I think I’m good for another twenty years.”
Wilton folded his hands. “I fervently hope so. A lot of people are depending on you.”
“Yes, well, I do feel the burden, believe me. That is what leads me to ask for your help, Jasper.”
“Of course. Anything for a friend. And, I suppose I need to develop a patriotic mindset. I assume you need help concerning the Palatinate.”
Winkleman sucked in one cheek. “Yes and no. You have heard of my attempts to recruit a physicist for the College of Urbana?”
“He’s here in Indy, now, isn’t he?” Wilton asked.
“Yes, he is, along with his… partner, or whatever she might be called. The back story is interesting, though.”
“And how is that?”
Winkleman tapped his fingers on the top of the desk for a moment. “It is just that he has been subjected to a succession of strange events leading up to his move to the Palatinate. Some, I could attribute to malicious mischief. The others defy explanation.”
Wilton nodded. “And this is related to what caused Philip Guidard’s demise, right?”
“That is correct. And now the problems seem to have followed him to Indianapolis.”
“I do not understand why you have not gotten shet of this physicist of yours. It seems to me like he has been nothing but trouble. I liked Philip.”
“Philip was like a son to me,” Winkleman said. “His death shocked me. But, a couple of things kept me from holding my physicist at arm’s length. First of all, I gave him my word. Secondly, that young man is going to revolutionize the physical sciences here in the Palatinate.”
Wilton stared at his host. “Very well, Arthur, I understand the first. But, the second? What kind of a wizard have you hired?”
“He has managed to unlock the secret of unidirectional gravity fields. Jasper, this is going to be big.”
“Are you talking in terms of force fields, or perhaps anti-gravity devices?”
“Yes, to both,” Winkleman said. “He has teased the secret out of a set of Osiris Cells. Oh, there is a lot of engineering to be done, but he has proven the concept.”
“And he was at MIT in Boston?” Wilton asked.
“Yes, he was.”
Wilton whistled. “You are right about that, Arthur. How did MIT ever let him loose?”
“Therein lies the tale,” he continued. “It seemed like they were doing their best to get rid of him. Somehow, his fellowship and stipend got canceled. He was looking for a new benefactor, and I happened along at the right time.”
Winkleman then recounted the events that drove Larry and Maggie to the Midwest, including his experience with the grasshopper in the storm. Wilton listened carefully and with interest, for Arthur Winkleman was a good raconteur. When he finished the silence stretched out between them. Finally, Wilton spoke.
“That is a fascinating and puzzling story, Arthur. What is it you want of me?”
“Advice, maybe; or help. Frankly, my friend, this has me at my wit’s end. Someone clearly does not want Lawrence to succeed. But there are aspects which are inexplicable.”
Wilton rubbed his chin as he considered what Winkleman had told him. “I don’t know, Arthur. I need to think about this. I am delighted to help, of course. I just don’t know how to approach this.”
“I appreciate you listening to an old man. I have wondered if I were going mad, or if it were senility slipping up on me.”
“You are the sanest man I know,” Wilton said. “I, of course, cannot speak to your possible senility.”
“Thank you,” Arthur said dryly.
“Let me give this some thought,” Wilton continued. “I must return to Peoria today, but I will be back here within a couple of days.”
“Are you making in progress on your big project?” Winkleman asked.
“Actually, the initial stages look easier than estimated. But, we won’t see the project completed in my lifetime. I know you think it’s a fool’s errand.”
Winkleman shook his head and smiled. “We have a lot of empty space in the Palatinate. Clearing and decontaminating old Chicago is certainly a worthy task. I just question whether it’s the best use of our resources.”
“And we’ve had this argument before, Arthur.”
“And so, we have.”
The two men stood up and shook hands.
“I will plan to see you next time I am in town,” Wilton said. “And I promise you I will give this serious thought. It has me concerned.”
“Thank you, my friend.”
After Jasper Wilton left the office, Arthur Winkleman returned to his desk and sat down. In addition to his own businesses, there were matters of the Palatinate that required attention. Yet, he leaned back in his chair and pondered recent events. He had always been good at co-opting or side-tracking potential enemies. As yet, though, he had been unable to even identify the players arrayed against young Mr. Berthold. And, the events had shown that somebody was serious about what they were doing.
Winkleman had no desire to turn the Palatinate into an armed camp. But, clearly, he needed to think about raising the level of security around the two young people. And, given the opaque nature of the threat, he might be wise to increase the level of his own security. As he had told his friend, he guessed he had twenty years left, and he had no desire to shorten that.
§ § §
“You really don’t need to push my wheelchair,” Maggie said as they left the hospital. “You’re the one just getting out of the hospital.”
“I’m fine, Mags,” Larry replied. “I just don’t remember what happened the other night.”
“One of our friends could push me.”
“They have other things to do,” Larry replied. “And you need to be polite to them.”
They were now accompanied by two stout-looking men in business suits, sent by Arthur Winkleman to be their guards. The two, Alex Mayfair and Brad Brannigan, were so anonymous looking as to be twins. In fact, Maggie had unkindly nicknamed them Frick and Frack.
“That’s okay, Missy,” Alex said. “I offered to push, but Larry insisted.”
“I’m Maggie, not Missy,” she retorted.
“My apologies.” Alex immediately said, as he carefully scanned the environs outside of the hospital.
“You’re forgiven, of course,” Maggie sniffed.
Brad had trotted ahead and moved the car to the hospital entrance. He opened the back door for them. Maggie adroitly hopped from her wheelchair into the back seat, and pull the door shut with a bang. Alex looked at Larry with raised eyebrows.
“If you want to get in on the other side, Sir, I will take care of the chair.”
Larry nodded and walked to the other side of the car. Brad followed him around and opened the door.
“Thanks, Brad,” he said as he slipped into the car. Alex skillfully folded the chair and laid it in the trunk. Then the two bodyguards climbed into the front seats of the car. They made the six-block trip back to the hotel in silence. Maggie’s mood seemed to infect the others.
The bell captain trotted out to them when they arrived at the hotel entrance. Once everyone got out of the car, he moved it to the parking spot. Maggie said nothing further as they made their way across the lobby and up the elevator. She rolled into her suite and slammed the door. Larry looked at the two guards.
“She’s usually a lot friendlier than this,” he said.
Alex smiled. “We are often introduced to our clients during times of stress. People are not at their best under these circumstances.”
“I guess not. Well, thanks for the lift.”
“If you need anything, Sir,” Brad said, “just let us know.”
“Do you have a phone code?” he asked.
“We will be right outside the door, here,” he laughed.
“I’m sorry; I didn’t realize you were permanent.”
“Mr. Winkleman has us on retainer,” Brad said. “We will be available as long as we are needed.”
“All night, too?”
“Jeff Eichols and Mo Childers will take the night shift,” Alex said.
“You will introduce us to them when they arrive?” Larry asked.
“Oh, absolutely,” Alex said as he pulled a card out of his pocket.
Larry scanned the card. It contained a picture of Alex, along with his name, and the company – Central Plains Security. Below the company name was an address and phone number.
“Uh, thanks, guys,” Larry said.
They nodded as he stepped into his suite. He looked around as he stood in the middle of the room. The staff had cleaned. He could see the neatly made-up bed through the door to the bedroom. The throw pillows he had tossed on the floor were now back on the sofa, and his pieces of clothing were no longer strewn across the floor. The computer was on the table where he had left it.
He walked through the suite and noted the clean bathroom and kitchenette. With nothing else to do, he sat down at the table and opened his computer. Other than a brief note from Seb Sylvester, he had no email. He pulled up his notes and began scanning the plans he had created for further research. A few minutes later, his phone buzzed.
“I need some help,” Maggie said through clenched teeth. He thought she sounded frustrated.
“Be right there,” he said and stuck the phone in his pocket.
He opened the door to his suite, and the two guards turned towards him. He pointed across the hall and walked across to open the door to Maggie’s suite. She had insisted their keycards work in both doors. As often as they were back and forth to each other’s suites, it made sense.
“Where are you, Mags?” he called.
“In here. I got stuck.”
He walked into the bathroom and found her on the floor in the n
arrow space between the commode and the bathtub.
“How did you get down there?” he asked.
“I was trying to get back to my wheelchair and slipped down here. I can’t get leverage to pull myself up.”
He grasped her hands and averted his eyes as he pulled her up. She hopped around on the wheelchair as she yanked her pants up.
“Don’t let it bother you, Larry. You’ll see plenty more when we get married.”
“Gosh, Maggie,” he felt the blush crawling across his face.
“What?”
“I thought you didn’t want to marry me.”
“Whatever gave you that idea?” she snapped.
“How about all the times you told me no?” he said.
She snorted. “You were just over-anxious.”
“So… will you marry me?”
She rolled her eyes as she appeared to think. “Yes, I believe I will.”
He leaned over and kissed her tenderly. She grabbed the back of his head to pull him tight against her lips. He was breathing heavily when she released him.
“So,” she said, “how will we explain to our children that we got engaged in a hotel bathroom?”
He stepped backward and toppled to the floor laughing. She joined in the laughter.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
“Um,” Larry muttered, “we are interested in rings.”
Maggie had rolled over next to the glass front of the jeweler’s counter and gazed at items sparkling in the bright white spotlights. Alex had followed them into the shop, while Brad stood outside next to the door.
“What kind of rings would you have in mind, Sir?” the jeweler asked.
“We just got engaged,” Maggie interrupted. “We need an engagement ring and the wedding bands.”
The jeweler looked at Larry, who nodded.
“Very good, Sir. Perhaps, if you could give me an idea of your budget….” the jeweler raised an eyebrow in question.
Larry cleared his throat. He leaned forward and tapped a coin on the glass countertop. “I have a tenth-ounce gold bunker.”
The jeweler raised his glasses from around his neck, where they hung by a silver chain. With the spectacles perched on his nose, he examined the coin Larry handed him. The bunkers were so named because they carried an image of the Bunker Hill monument on one side, and the image of Paul Revere on the other. The coin also carried the legend, Tenth-Ounce Fine Gold.
