“Who’s pretty shadowy himself, isn’t he?” Moriarty stroked his chin. It puffed out a bit under his fingers. “I’ve been thinking more and more that that line may well be worth pursuing.”
“Senator, my advice to you is to drop this whole business. It’s expensive as hell, it takes up staff time you badly need in an election year, and I’m ninety-nine percent convinced it could never produce anything politically useful.”
“Do you wink I am only a politician, Hank?”
“I’ve heard you describe your ideals.”
Moriarty reached decision. “You’re right, we can’t go on chasing ghosts. At the same time, I feel it in my bones, something here won’t bear the light of day. Yes, I have personal motivations too. Exposing it would be a coup; and I’m sick of TannahilPs baiting and want to lash back. We’ll have to leave off the effort to get background information, I suppose, but I won’t give up entirely.” He bridged his fingers and peered over them. “Where is he at the moment?”
Stoddard shrugged. “Someplace this side of the moon ... probably.”
Moriarty bit his lip. The Chart Room had been extra vicious about the decline of the American space program. “Well, he’ll have to come back eventually. I want his house and his office under surveillance. When he does show up, I want a twenty-four-hour tail on him. Understand?”
Stoddard began to form an answer, swallowed it, and nodded. “Can do, if you don’t mind paying what it costs.”
“I have money,” Moriarty said. “My own if necessary.”
8
“What is wrong?”
Natalia Thurlow’s question cut—or probed, like a sword early in an engagement. Hanno realized that she would no longer be denied. Nonetheless he stood for a while yet, staring out of Robert Cauldwetl’s living room window. The late summer dark had fallen. Where his body staved off reflections he saw lights in their thousands, down the hill and through the lower city to the peace that lay mightily upon the waters. Thus had Syracuse basked in wealth and happiness, with the greatest mechanicians of the age to perfect her defenses; and meanwhile the austere Romans prepared themselves.
“You came home yesterday like a man in a dream,” Natalia went on at his back. “Then today you left practically at dawn, and haven’t returned till now, still locked up inside yourself.”
“I told you why,” he said. “Business accumulated while I was gone.”
“What do you mean? Except for your interest in the Rufus Lab, what do you do any longer, locally?”
The challenge made him turn around. She stood rigid, fists at her sides. The pain that he saw hurt him too; the rising anger that he heard was a kind of balm.
“You know I have things going elsewhere,” he reminded her. She had seen the modest downtown office he maintained. He had never described just what it was for.
“Indeed. Whenever I tried to call you, your machine answered.”
“I had to get around. What did you want? I phoned the machine here to say you shouldn’t wait dinner for me.”
In point of fact, throughout the day he had mostly been Joe Levine, briefing a couple of other attorney-accountants on Charles Tomek’s tax audit so that they could take over while he was gone for some unpredictable time on some unspecified matter. They already knew the general situation and many details, of course. No single agent could cope with Uncle Sam. (And what did those hordes of paper shufflers produce that was of any value to any living soul?) However, there were certain tricky points they needed to understand.
At that, it could prove costly, leaving them to their own devices. Not that they might reveal illegalities. None existed. Hanno knew better than to allow such a crack in his defenses against the state. But he couldn’t explain to them why Mr. Tomek must not be found on his travels and brought back to help cope.
Ephemera. Expendable. Svoboda would soon arrive, to be the fifth in the fellowship.
And beyond her— Despite himself, his pulse thuttered.
“I thought we could meet for dinner at a restaurant,” Natalia was saying.
“Sorry. That wouldn’t have worked. I grabbed a sandwich.” Untrue. He could not have stayed calm in her company. He wasn’t quite the poker player he had supposed. Maybe Svoboda had thawed something within him, or shaken it till it began to crack.
“You refuse me the reason you were so rushed, don’t you?” Natalia sighed. “You’re a wily one. Only now does it really dawn on me how little you’ve ever let slip about what you do, about anything meaningful that concerns you.”
“Look, let’s not fight,” he urged. “You know I’m, uh, taciturn by nature.”
“No, you’re not. That’s the trouble. You talk and talk, glib, interesting, but aside from those Neanderthal politics of yours, how much do you seriously say?” Before he could reply, she raised a hand to hush him. “In spite of that, I’ve discovered how to read certain clues. Whoever you met in Denmark, it wasnXthe ‘promising subject’ you spoke of so vaguely. And then when we got home from the airport and you looked through the mail, that one letter in it that rocked you back— You couldn’t completely hide your reaction. But I foresaw you wouldn’t show it to me or speak a single word about it.”
Assuredly not, Hanno thought. Especially since Asagao, the naive little sweetheart, had penned it in her awkwardly precise English. “It’s private, confidential.”
“A person in Idaho, as well as Denmark?”
Damn! She’d noticed the return address. He should have cautioned the Asian pair about communicating with him. But they knew his Cauldwell identity from the Rufus connection, and they were timid about the Tomek complex—an unfamiliar kind of thing, where perhaps strangers would intercept messages—and it had never before occurred to him that they, of all people on earth, might bumble onto a fresh scent.
As it was, Natalia had been honorable and not steamed the envelope open. Well, he’d made sure of her character before taking up with her more than casually.
Did he indeed understand her, though? She was a bright and complicated person. That was what had attracted him. She might have had fewer surprises to spring on him if he’d been more forthcoming with her.
Too late now, he thought. The sadness that crossed him was half weariness. Even for a creature of his vitality, this had been an exhausting day.
He roughened his language: “Get off my back, will you? Neither of us owns the other.”
She stiffened further. “No, you haven’t wanted any commitment, have you? What am I to you, besides a sexual convenience?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, stop this nonsense!” He made a step in her direction. “What we’ve had was, was splendid. Let’s not ruin it.”
She stood unstirring, save that her eyes grew very wide. “Was?” she whispered.
He had wanted to tell her in kindlier wise. Maybe this was better. “I have to take off again. Not sure when I’ll be back.”
Fly east. As Tannahill, engage a private detective to collect the basic information about those Unity people, take a few surreptitious photos, provide him the basis for deciding whether to approach them directly or not. Meanwhile Svoboda would have wound up her affairs in Europe, obtained her visa and ticket, boarded a plane. She’d be landing in New York. The seclusion of the Tannahill property offered a chance to get genuinely acquainted, to catch up on the past millennium.
“And you won’t tell me why,” Natalia said, flat-voiced.
“I am sorry, but I can’t.” He had long since learned to avoid elaborate fictions.
She looked past him, or through him. “Another woman? Maybe. But more to it than that. Else you’d just cast me off.”
“No, listen— Look Nat, you’re welcome to keep on living here, in fact I hope you do, and—”
She shook her head. “I have my pride.” Her gaze sharpened. “What are you up to? Who are you conspiring with, and why?”
“I say again, this is a personal matter.”
“Maybe it is. Considering the attitudes you’ve expressed,
I can’t be sure.” She lifted her hand anew. “Oh, I won’t go bearing tales, especially since you give me nothing to go on. But I’ve got to cover my ass. You understand that, don’t you? If the cops ever question me, Til tell them what little I know. Because I don’t owe you any loyalty any longer.”
“Hey, wait!” He reached to take hold of her. She warded him off. “Let’s sit down and have a drink and talk this out.”
She considered him. “How much more will you actually have to say?”
“I—well, I care about you and—”
“Never mind. You can make up the Hide-a-Bed for yourself. HI pack my things tomorrow.”
She went from him.
I would have had to depart before long in any case, he could not cry after her. It should have been easier than this. At least I’ll occupy no more of the years that are left you.
He wondered if she, once alone tonight, would weep.
9
Rain fell slowly through windlessness, almost a mist. Its tarnished silver hid the slabs of apartment buildings and muffled every noise. There were only wet grass, dripping leaves, glimmer of marshwater along the walkway. Nobody else was about on such a midweek afternoon in northwest Copenhagen. Having left his place and gone the short distance to Utterslev Mose park, Peter Astrup and Olga Rasmussen had the world to themselves.
Beneath his cap, droplets glinted on the round young face like tears. “But you cannot leave just like this,” he pleaded. .She looked straight ahead. Both her hands, after he let go, she had jammed into the pockets of her coat. “It is sudden,” she admitted.
“Brutally sudden!”
“That’s why I asked you to take the day off so I could meet you. Time is short, and I have much to do first.”
“After I hadn’t seen or beard from you since—“ He seized her arm. “What were you doing? Who have you been with?”
She edged aside. He felt the unspoken command and released her. He was always gentle, she thought, sympathetic, yes, he may be the sweetest lover I have ever had or ever will. “I don’t want to hurt you more than I must, Peter,” she said low. “This way seems best.”
“But what of our holiday in Finland?” He gulped. “Pardon me, that was an idiotic thing to ask ... now.”
“Not really.” She made herself regard him again. “I was looking forward the same as you. This opportunity, though, is too great.”
“Is it?” he demanded desperately. “To go haring off to America and—and what? You haven’t made that at all clear.”
“It’s confidential. Scientific research. I promised to say nothing about it. But you know how interested I am.”
“Yes. Your mind, your reach of knowledge, I believe that drew me to you more than your beauty.”
“Oh, come,” she tried to laugh. “I realize I’m rather plain.”
He stopped. Perforce she did likewise. They faced each other in the chilly gray. Because he was still youthful, he blurted, “You are mysterious, you hide something, I know you do, and you are, are incomparable as a woman.”
And Hanno, she thought, has also passed many mortal lifetimes hi learning.
“I, I love you, Olga,” Peter stammered. “I’ve told you before. I do again. Will you marry me? With papers and, and everything.”
“Oh, my dear,” she murmured. “I’m old enough to be—“ Abruptly she could not say, “Your mother.” Instead: “I am too old for you. I may not look it, but I have told you. We’ve enjoyed this past couple of years.”
We have, we have. And Hanno—what do I truly know of Hanno? What can I await from him? He and I have both lived too long in secret, it has surely misshaped us in ways we don’t feel, but he prowled the world for thrice the time that I abided in my Russia. He has been fascinating and challenging and, yes, fun; but already I have glimpsed a ruthlessness. Or is it an inward loneliness? How much is he able to care for anyone or for anything beyond naked survival?
Through the confusion she heard herself finish: “We knew from the first that it couldn’t last. Let’s end it cleanly, while it’s still happy.”
He stood slumped. “I don’t care how old you are,” he said. “I love you.”
Exasperation stirred. You’re being babyish, she kept from saying. Well, what could I expect from a person not yet thirty? You have nothing left for me to discover. “I’m sorry.” No doubt I should have declined you at the beginning, but the flesh has its demands and liaisons here are easy come, easy go. With Hanno and those others— Is an immortal marriage possible? I don’t think I’m actually in love with him yet, or he with me. Perhaps we never will be. But that’s no foundation for an enduring partnership anyway. Certainly not by itself. We’ll have to see what happens.
We’ll see. What happens.
“Don’t take it this hard,” she said. “You’ll get over it, and find the right girl.”
And settle down to raise children who will grow up into the same comfortable narrowness and crumble into the same dust. Unless we are on the verge of fire and slaughter and a new dark age, as Hanno thinks we may well be.
Svoboda smiled at Peter. “Meanwhile,” she said quietly, “we might go back to your apartment and give ourselves a grand farewell.”
After all, it would only be until tomorrow.
10
Corinne Macandal received her caller in the Victorian living room. “How do you do,” she said, and offered her hand. His was sinewy, unexpectedly hard, the clasp light but firm. He bowed over hers with an archaic assurance. “Please be seated. Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?”
Kenneth Tannahill kept his feet. “Thank you,” he replied, “but could we please talk in confidence, where nobody can overhear?”
Surprised, she looked closer at him. Her immediate thought was: How old is he, anyway? Black hair, smooth skin, supple frame spoke of youth, but more than the leanness of the countenance suggested a man who had seen many years and much of the world. Hie signs were too subtle for her to name, nonetheless real. “Indeed? I thought you wanted an interview for your magazine.”
His anile was somehow feline. “That isn’t exactly what my note asked for, though it did give that impression, didn’t it?”
Wariness laid hold of her. “What do you want, then? I must confess I’m not familiar with your, m-m, Chart Room.”
“It’s not a big publication. Nor sensationalistic, may I add. Mostly it runs articles, or essays, on current events. We often go into history or anthropology, trying to put things in perspective.”
“It sounds interesting.” Macandal drew breath. “However, I’m afraid I must decline an interview or anything like that. I don’t want publicity. It’s distasteful to me personally, and it might harm the Unity.”
“Really? I should think if the work you people are doing—evidently in many ways a unique approach—if it became widely known, you’d get more support, cooperation, everything you need. Others might be inspired to imitate you.”
“I doubt they could, successfully. We are unique. One of the tilings that makes it possible for us to do what we do is precisely our smallness, our intimacy. Being stared at could destroy that.”
Tannahili’s large, half oblique eyes sought hers and held steady. “I suspect it’s less important than you yourself, my lady,” he said in almost an undertone. “And your associate, Ms. Donau.”
Alarm stabbed. Macandal drew herself up and raised her voice a bit. “What are you after? Will you please come to the point?”
“My apologies. No offense intended. On the contrary. But I do believe we should talk in complete privacy.”
She came to decision. “Very well. Wait a minute and I’ll issue instructions about that.”
Stepping into the hall, she found a maid and whispered, “The gentleman and I will be in the sanctum. Tell Boyd and Jerry to stand by, and come in at once if I ring.”
The girl gaped. “You ‘spec’ trouble, ma’am?”
“Not really,” Macandal reassured her. “But just hi case.” You didn’t kee
p going immortally by omitting precautions.
She returned and led Tannahill in among the things that stood for power. He seemed to scan them thoroughly in the moment mat it took her to shut the door. “Now do sit down,” she told him, more curtly than she had intended.
He obeyed. She took a chair across the coffee table. “I’d appreciate your explaining your errand as quickly as possible,” she said.
He couldn’t quite hide the tension that was also in him. “Forgive me if I don’t,” he answered. “What I’m here about is tremendous. I have to be sure of you before I dare let you in on it. Let me start by promising you there will be no threats, demands, attempts to make you do anything wrong. I belong to an unusual class of people. I have reason to think you and Ms. Donau do too. If so, we’ll invite you to join us, for purposes of mutual help and companionship.”
Can he be—? Briefly, the dimness of the chamber hazed before her and a roaring was in her ears. Through it she beard:
“I’ll be honest, and hope you won’t get angry. I’ve had a detective agency prepare a report on you two and your organization for me. They did not pry. They simply went around for about a week, chatted with persons who were willing, took a few snapshots, otherwise looked through newspaper files and relevant public records. It was only for purposes of briefing me, so that I could come today prepare-d to talk intelligently and not waste your time.” Tannahill smiled a bit. “You, the individual, remain as enigmatic as ever. I know practically nothing about you except that according to those files and the recollections of two or three aged Unity members, your mother founded this group which you head, and you resemble her. On the other hand, if I’m not mistaken, I have somewhat more information about Rosa Donau.”
Macandal summoned composure. Her heart wouldn’t stop racing, but her mind ran smoothly and every sense was whetted. If this truly was an immortal, need that be a men-, ace, be aught but joy? Of course, if he wasn’t— Yes, she too must tread with care. “Then why haven’t you ap-proached her first?” she asked.
The Boat of a Million Years Page 41
