Watly found the bag under the armchair and fished out the booze. He poured himself a tall one in his juice glass and took a sip. It hit the spot. Funny, Watly thought, with my reward money I could get anything I want. He laughed. One million New York dollars. Wonder if they pay off if you kill yourself….
He took another swallow of the booze and closed his eyes as he felt the warmth work its way down. This is all a crazy nightmare. 1 have half a mind to walk into a police station and tell them off. “You’re all wrong!” I’d say. “Not only didn’t 1 kill Corber Alvedine, but the person I didn’t kill was a woman!” Watly laughed again.
He must have dozed off because when he opened his eyes it was darker. The daylites had gone to evening outside. Watly rose stiffly and shut the CV. He was still tired. His back ached from sleeping in the love seat. He walked over to the window and peered out. The street was slick and wet-looking. A few bums wandered by. A lonely bicyclist. Watly could feel the breeze from the window’s crack as he moved closer to it. It looked like a nice night.
Then, bobbing in the distance down Eighty-fourth Street, Watly saw the birdhat. The colorful birdhat. It was Alysess! She was coming home! Watly pressed his face to the glass. She looked calm and dignified as before. Ever poised, Watly thought. But there was something wrong. She was not alone. Two men walked with her, one on either side. Watly squinted to see better. One of the faces was familiar. Watly tried to place the man. He was a tall man wearing a brown hat and a long brown pocket-coat. Then Watly felt his stomach rise up into his throat. He recognized the man’s face now. He’d just seen it a while ago on the CV. It was the Sergeant. It was Ogiv Fenlocki. His executioner.
CHAPTER 20
Watly backed away from the window into the shadows. What was going on? Had Alysess betrayed him? Had she turned? Was all that a lie? He couldn’t believe it. That couldn’t be true. Something must have gone wrong. She’d been caught or something. Rape on stale weeders!
Watly looked around frantically. He was a dead man—he had to hide somewhere. The bedroll was too small. The wardrobe was too obvious. The only place in the whole apartment to hide was in the bathroom. That was ridiculous. There had to be someplace. Someplace else.
Watly heard the downstairs door open and bang shut. They had entered the building. It would just be a few seconds before they arrived at the apartment. Two short flights of stairs. Watly spun around. Where was the gun? Where the subs was the gun? He heard their footsteps as they climbed the stairs. It sounded like they’d already reached the second floor. One more flight.
The gun was under the love seat, half hidden by the front leg. Watly snatched it up and gripped it tightly. Again he looked around for a place to hide or for a way out. There was the window—but there’d be nothing to stand on out there. It was a long way down to the street.
He could hear voices as they reached the third floor. They got louder as they started down the hall to the apartment door. Watly looked at the window once again. Maybe there was something to hold on to out there. Maybe—
“I still don’t see why this is necessary.” It was Alysess’s voice. She sounded strained and agitated. There was the clink of keys fumbling. They were right outside the door.
Watly stuffed the gun in his pants and pulled the window open. He heard the keys drop.
“Oops. I’m sorry. I seem to be all thumbs today,” came the voice. She sounded overly loud—like she wanted Watly to hear.
He pulled his body up into the window frame and swung out sideways. There was nothing to hold on to. Nothing. He swung the other way. Still nothing. Not even a pipe to stand on. Watly leaned out backwards—almost falling—and looked up. Four feet above the window running lengthwise was the CV cable. It carried the building’s signal. It looked weak and flimsy.
Watly heard the key entering the lock. It was a very specific sound—a final, distinct click as metal met metal in perfect fit. He looked again at the cable. It would have to do. He pulled the window half closed and braced himself against its ledge. Please—let that thin little cable be stronger than it looks, Watly thought as he hung there.
The door to the apartment opened. Watly pushed off hard with his feet and sprang up into empty space. His aim was good and he hit the cable with both hands, grasping it instantly. It bowed downward under the strain. He pulled his legs inward and tried to find a foothold on the top of the window frame. There was a thin lip—just enough for the toes of his shoes to balance precariously. The cable bowed still more. It was secured to the building with a series of flimsy-looking metal clamps every few feet. Two of these snapped in half and Watly sagged still lower. His right foot slipped from the lip. Watly fumbled but brought it back in place. He was clinging with all his strength. He felt like a spider—a spider defying gravity and climbing a sheer wall. That’s it, Caiper. Keep that image. You’re a spider, Caiper. A spider.
Another clamp snapped. Watly looked at the cable itself. It was a bit frayed but it looked like it was holding up. The clamps were the problem. They were the weak point. Watly felt himself sagging lower. His rear end must have been in line with his feet by now. Voices came from the apartment.
“I’m sorry, but I just don’t understand.” Alysess’s voice still sounded tense.
“Look, Tollnismer—”
“Doctor Tollnismer,” she interrupted.
“I’m sorry, Doctor Tollnismer,” the man’s voice said.
“That’s okay, Fenlocki.”
“Sergeant Fenlocki,” he snapped.
“Of course.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Look, Doctor… look, we’re not accusing you of anything. It’s just a precaution. We’re covering all the possibilities. We’re dealing with a very dangerous man. Mind if I look around?”
“What has this man got to do with me? And yes, I do mind.”
“This is the bathroom? Nice bathroom. Doctor, listen… we’re doing this with anyone, anyone who had any contact at all with the murderer. You had contact. It’s as simple as that. You doctored his hosting. What’s in here? Ah, clothes. Nice clothes. This your bedroll?”
“I only met him briefly....”
“That’s all that matters. We’re sorry about the inconvenience. I’m sure it’s only for a short while. What we’d like to do, if you don’t mind—and we’re asking this of all Watly Caiper’s acquaintances—is put up a direct surveillance lens right over there by the ceiling. You won’t even notice it. It’s a fish-eye and can take in the whole apartment. We’d also like to put a plainclothes officer—my partner, here, to start with—down at your front door for twenty-four hours. That way if this Mr. Caiper does try to contact you or any of the others, we’ll know right away. It’s really just a formality. Mind if I open up the window more? You get such a nice breeze here.”
Watly pulled himself upward as far as he could. His arm muscles screamed in protest.
“Sergeant, I don’t think any of this is necessary,” Alysess said abruptly.
“Nice view you have here, Doctor,” the sergeant said.
The voice was very near to Watly—almost directly below him. Another clamp snapped. Watly felt himself sag downward slightly. He pulled in with his arms even harder. Any lower and he’d be mooning an officer of the law.
“Do I have any say in all this, Sergeant?” Alysess asked angrily.
“Frankly, no. You haven’t any choice. But I hate phrasing it that way.” His voice faded some as he left the window. “Truth is you’re stuck with it until we catch the guy.”
“What about my privacy?”
“There’s no lens in the bathroom, Doctor. Nothing to fear. If you want to masturbate or fuck or something without an audience, you’ll have to do it in there. This is just temporary, you understand.”
Watly thought his arms would fall off. He tried not to think about it. I’m a spider. I’m a terradamn spider.
“Why, isn’t that enough?” The sergeant laughed and another male voice—his partner—joined in. “Are you all set with the lens, Akral?”
“All through, Sergeant,” the other officer said.
“This is Akral, Dr. Tollnismer. He’ll be on your front door stoop if you need him.”
“I’d like to be alone now, if you’re done,” Alysess said bitterly.
“Oh, we’re done, Doctor. One question, though, before I leave. You’ve just come back from work now, have you?”
“You know I have, Sergeant. You came with me.”
“And you were there all day?”
“Pretty much. What’s this got to do with—”
“Do you normally leave an open bottle of booze, a half-filled glass, and some bread lying around all day?”
There was a pause. Watly held his breath.
“Sometimes I get lazy, Sergeant Fenlocki. I leave things out,” Alysess said calmly. “I leave things open.”
“Ah, so this was your breakfast?”
There was another pause.
“On occasion I have a nip in the morning.” Her voice droned lazily as if she were bored with the questions. “I happen to like it. Maybe I like it a little too much.”
“Do I detect a little CV mist in the air?”
“The machine happens to leak.”
“What about this hat?”
“I wear hats, Sergeant.”
“And this knapsack?”
“Is it a crime to have a knapsack now?”
“Not at all. Doctor. But understand my concern. I’m on a very important case. The people want results and they want them fast. We have enough concerns nowadays without worrying about a loose murderer. Believe me. If you see anything of possible interest to this investigation, you must contact me immediately. Or if you remember something. Something you may have overlooked.”
“I’m very tired, Sergeant.”
“My apologies, Doctor. You’ve had a long day. I’m sure you’d like to return to your... breakfast.”
“Thank you, yes,” she said strongly.
“Don’t forget, Doctor. Don’t forget the penalty for helping this particular man.” The sergeant’s voice was cold.
“That does not concern me, sir,” Alysess said.
“I thought not, Doctor.” There was the sound of footsteps. “We’ll be in touch—or, I should say, we’ll be watching.” He laughed heartily and the other man joined in the laughter once again. Then there was the click of the door closing, followed by hollow silence.
Watly let his arms relax some and he slumped down even lower. Rape, he was sore. He heard Alysess moving around in the apartment. Was she looking for him? After a few seconds, he heard the window open all the way directly below him. There was a soft gasp. Alysess must have seen him hanging there. She couldn’t say anything or the lens would pick it up. He heard her quickly close the window all the way with a loud thump. Then there was the sound of a shade being pulled. Now Watly assumed he couldn’t be seen by the lens if he lowered himself some. He let his feet slip off the edge of the lip and hang below him. They swung freely for a moment and then touched the bottom windowsill. He stepped on it firmly, taking some of the stress off his arm muscles. I thank you, Alysess. And my arms thank you.
Watly could see she had pulled down a flimsy brown window shade so he was protected from the lens. He tried to stretch and twist his back without losing his grip. His body felt full of kinks and knotted muscles.
Watly heard voices on the street below. The sound traveled.
“All right, Akral. Just stay right here and keep your eyes peeled. You’ll be relieved in four hours by another officer. Good luck.”
“Thank you, sir.”
There were footsteps as the sergeant walked off. Watly closed his eyes. Please don’t turn back. Please don’t glance up at the apartment window, Ogiv.
The footsteps continued without faltering and faded into the distance.
Now what? Watly thought. I’m hanging from the outside of a window like a monkey. I can’t go in ‘cause the lens will see me. I can’t talk ‘cause the lens will hear me. I can’t climb down ‘cause there’s no way to. I couldn’t climb down if there was a way ‘cause there’s a man standing guard below. This is wonderful. And Alysess can’t help me ‘cause she’s got to act natural for the lens. This is just terrific. Not to mention that my arms are going to give out soon. Rape or toast. There’s got to be an answer. I can’t get trapped here. Not like this. If I get caught anywhere near here they’ll put two and two together and arrest Alysess for complicity. Kill her, too.
Watly heard singing coming from inside the apartment. It started as humming but quickly became full-fledged singing. Alysess had a pleasant voice and she used it in a relaxed, unselfconscious manner. It sounded as if she were just passing the time. She was singing an oldie—one of the popular tunes from a few years back.
“When I’m down I write to my poovus,
I write to my poovus every day.
When I’m low I write to my poovus,
I write to my poovus and I feel okay....”
All right, Watly thought. I get it. You’re going to write something down and give it to me. You have a plan. Good thing someone has a plan.
The singing stopped. Watly heard nothing from inside the apartment. He held on. Still nothing. He kept holding on. It felt like he’d been holding on for ages. Watly tried to redistribute his weight. He let his arms go looser and his feet take more of the burden. Another cable clamp broke and the cable swayed lower. It was actually better that way. Watly could now hold on with one hand at a time, giving the other one a rest. He kept alternating. Come on, Alysess. What are you writing, a novel? Watly assumed she had secretly slipped a pen and some paper into the bathroom and was writing in there. Damn the lens. Damn the stupid sergeant and damn his little helper and damn the whole damn super-efficient police force! Send them all to the Subkeeper!
Come on, Alysess! I don’t have all day. Watly felt the arches of his feet cramping up. He tried to wiggle his toes and alternate bending his ankles slightly. This was torture. If you have a plan, then tell me, Watly thought, because my body ain’t gonna hold out much longer.
He held on with his right, leaned a little, and glanced down the left side of his body. There was Akral, three stories below, sitting on Alysess’s front steps. He was lighting up an illegal cigel and gazing off down the street. Just don’t glance upward, you big sofdick subspawn, Watly thought. Akral looked like a real beanhead, but he was probably smart enough to figure something was afoot if he happened to see a man clinging to the outside of a window frame. Watly had to give him credit for that much. Come on, Alysess!
After what seemed like a full ten or fifteen minutes Watly heard noise coming from the apartment again. Alysess had come out of the bathroom and was moving around once more. It’s about time.
A thin dark hand reached around the brown fabric and pulled the window open, leaving the shade drawn. Watly waited without moving. There were more shuffling sounds from within. He heard Alysess begin to hum again. She was making a good show of acting calm and natural.
Watly could see light streaming out around the edge of the window shade. Alysess must have turned on every single light in the apartment. This was a smart woman. The more light inside, the harder for the lens to see outside should the shade billow for a moment. She had increased the contrast as much as possible. Her gentle humming continued.
Suddenly the shade flipped up and Watly tried to sidestep as a heavy blanket was thrust directly at him. Alysess was pushing her comforter out the window. Watly lost his footing completely and swung from the cable. Alysess held the edge of the blanket and shook it violently out the window. She continued humming. Watly twisted his body and
tried to get his left foot back on the edge of the sill. The first time he slipped but the next try it held. Alysess was still shaking the blanket as if trying to remove any dust or dirt. Watly glanced down at its bottom. Clipped to the lower edge of the comforter with a surgical clip was Watly’s own knapsack. Alysess was trying to pass it to him. She kept humming and Watly noticed she was consciously avoiding looking anywhere near his direction. Watly let go of the cable with his right hand. This made his body swing out some. Another cable clamp snapped and the cable lurched lower. Almost all Watly’s weight was on the toes of his right foot now. He leaned as far as he could. Alysess started pulling the blanket back in slowly. Watly watched the knapsack come nearer. He’d only have one chance. Just as the edge of its strap reached the windowsill, Watly bent his right knee and stretched out his right hand. He did not aim for the bag; he aimed for the surgical clip. His thumb nicked it and fumbled for the handle. Alysess continued pulling the blanket. Another cable clamp snapped and the jolt almost made Watly lose his grip. He swung out lower and released the clip with a twist. The knapsack fell freely and Watly lashed his hand out frantically. It dropped. The bag’s strap just barely caught against Watly’s wrist and he lifted it upward clumsily. Alysess pulled the blanket all the way in and slid the shade down once more.
Watly caught his breath and raised his left foot back up on the sill, centering himself again. Every muscle in his body was killing him. His nose burned with each raw inhale of air. He stretched up his arm and let the knapsack slide down so it was slung over his right shoulder. There was a small sheet of paper stuck to the outside of the sack. Watly leaned forward to try to read it. The lighting was horrible but Alysess had written in large block letters.
Levels: The Host Page 18
