“She might not like that. Can’t you see, I’m trying not to arouse fears.” Tannahill leaned forward, hands on knees. “May I tell you a story? Call it a piece of fiction if you like. Or a parable; you’re obviously well-read.”
She nodded.
“Once upon a time,” he began slowly, “a woman lived in what is now Istanbul. In those days they called it Constantinople, and it was the capital of a great empire. The woman wasn’t born there, but in Syria. She’d had a hard life, knocked around a lot in the world and taken many cruel knocks from it. Yes, she was much older than she appeared. Not as old as her profession, for which she needed that youthful-looking body. She did well in it, though at intervals she had to pull up stakes and relocate under a different name. To her, at last, came a man who was also older than he seemed. He and his partner had wandered far and wide. At present they were traders, on the Russian river route.”
Always he watched her. She couldn’t take it any more. “Stop!” she cried. Drawing breath: “Mr... Tannahill, are you by any chance associated with ... a gentleman named Willock?”
The fingers whitened on his knees. “Yes. That is, I know of him. He may not have heard of me. A longevity research foundation engaged him to find people who carry—the genes for long life. Extremely long life.”
“I see.” Strange how calm she suddenly was, how detached. It was as if somebody else spoke. “Rosa and I saw his advertisement. We found it interesting.”
“But you didn’t respond.”
“No. We have to be careful. The Unity works among, and against, some bad types. We have our enemies, and they have no scruples.”
“So I’ve gathered. I swear to you, uh, Miss Macandal, this group I belong to is decent. In fact, we were alerted to your existence because two among us do human rehabilitation themselves. And we are few. Oh, very few,” he ended.
“Nevertheless, you must give me time to consider this. You’ve learned about us. What do we know about you?”
Tannahill sat silent for the better part of a minute before he nodded. “That’s reasonable. Ask anything you like.”
She lifted her brows. “Do you guarantee to answer every single question, truthfully and in full?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “No. Good for you!” Turning serious: “Not before we fully trust each other. Let me do whatever I can toward that.”
“For the moment, nothing. I want to run an independent check on you. Read a few issues of your magazine. Find out how you live, what your neighbors think of you, that sort of thing. What you did to us. It shouldn’t take long. Then Rosa and I will plan our next move.”
He smiled, visibly easing. “What you’re telling me is, ‘Don’t call us, we’ll call you.’ Okay. On my side we have both time and patience. We know how to wait. Nothing will happen till you want it to.”
He reached in a pocket and offered his card to her. “That’s my New Hampshire address. My friend and I—I’m not in town alone—we’ll return there tomorrow. Phone whenever you wish, or write if you prefer. If we go away, I’ll tell the staff how to get in touch with me, and should be able to come back here oh a day’s notice.”
“Thank you.”
He came near winning her over at once by promptly rising and saying, “No, my thanks to you. I look forward to hearing at your convenience.” He paused. “Please tell my fable to Ms. Donau, and add the happy ending. The man in it stopped long ago being angry at the woman. He hopes she’ll enjoy meeting him again.”
“I’ll tell her,” Macandal agreed. They clasped hands afresh, a touch that clung the least bit, but neither spoke while she saw him to the door.
Her gaze followed him till he had disappeared down the mean street, walking briskly and fearlessly. Well, she thought, he can take care of himself, he’s been in worse places than Harlem by daylight... Damn, what a charmer!
Or am I just reading that into him? Aliyat may well be right, an immortal man is not necessarily a good man.
If he is, though—if they are—She still hasn’t explained to me exactly what she’s got against him—
What am I waiting for? Why am I hanging back? My God, he’s a man. There are probably other men.
Cool it, girl!
The flood of lust receded. It left her atremble, but able to laugh at herself, and that was a cleansing. Celibacy had been the price she must pay; Mama-lo could not take a series of lovers and dared not take a husband. She thought: I was proud of my self-control, and overlooked how self-important I was getting. Dowri underneath, honey, you’re just another raunchy, limited, woundable human being.
One who’s got responsibilities, though.
She went inside again and upstairs to a room that served as a private office. Its prosaic furnishings and equipment brought her further down from dizziness. She had work to do.
Macandal settled at the desk and reached for the phone. Among the numbers keyed in were three for certain police officers and one for a middle-rank agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The Unity had saved those men when they were children. Restless, they had not stayed, but by then it had equipped them to handle the world and they remembered. Not that any of them would betray his trust; nor would she ever ask him to. However, more than once they had looked into matters for her, taking for granted that her unspecified reasons were legitimate. Through them she could quickly find out a great deal about Kenneth Tan-nahill—perhaps even some things he himself didn’t know.
11
The cab driver had taken on a grim expression when Aliyat gave him the address. He was plainly glad to let her out there and be gone. For a moment she felt forsaken.
Twilight lingered in the sky, but the rotting walls around her closed most of it off and night already possessed the street. What lampglow fell dully on it showed bare pavement, cracked sidewalks, scraps of paper and plastic, shards of glass, empty cans, cigarette butts, refuse less describable. A few windows, not boarded up, glowered at her. She saw nobody looking from them. It was as if she could smell the fear, one more stench among those that loaded an air still hot.
She hastened to the Unity’s tenement. The fagade was as dingy as the rest, refurbishing must wait its turn, but she ought to find freshness well advanced within. The workmen had gone home hours ago. Had the neighborhood shown life while they and their cheerful clatter were on hand?
The door was locked. It hadn’t been on her last visit. She glanced over her shoulder as she leaned on the buzzer, and gripped her purse tightly against her ribs.
A dark outline appeared in the safety-webbed glass. The man was studying her through a peephole. He took what felt like a long time to let her in. She recognized him but not the other standing nearby, though each wore the badge of a security volunteer. Well, she could not know every member any more. Neither man was he whom she had expected.
“Missus-lo!” the first exclaimed. “What’re you doin’ here, this late?”
“I need to see Randy Castle,” she said fast. “I was told he’s staying here now.”
“Yeah, he is.” A tongue clicked. “You shouldn’t of come, Missus-lo. ‘Speci’lly not alone.”
I realized that as soon as I arrived, she kept from admitting. Instead: “Well, he works all day.” —for a hauling company, which kept him on the move, unavailable to her. “I thought he’d be at Hope Flower.” —the Unity complex where he had an apartment in a safer district than this. “When he didn’t answer my calls, after I’d tried for hours, I rang his parents and they told me where he was. We need him for a job and he hasn’t any phone here.”
“We do.” The guard gestured at the instrument on a table amidst the clutter left by the carpenters. “I’d of fetched him.”
“No, I’m sorry, this is a confidential matter.”
“I see.” His trust was instant and absolute. “Well, he’s right down the hall, Number Three.” As he pointed, he forced a smile. “Don’t you worry none, Missus-lo. We’ll get you home okay.”
“One way or t’other,”
muttered his companion.
Beyond the lobby, the corridor had been restored, awaiting only paint and a carpet. She knocked on a new door. The big man flung it open. “What?” he growled, and then, seeing her: “Hey, what’s goin’ on?”
“I have to talk with you,” Aliyat said.
With awkward, touching deference he ushered her in and closed the door again. The apartment was neatly finished but barely furnished, no tenants having been expected yet. Several books rested on a table beside a hotplate, and he had been covering notepaper with scrawled exercises. Like most young folk of the Unity, he was improving his education; his dream was to become an engineer. “Make yourself to home, Missus-lo,” tumbled from his lips. “Glad to see you, but wish you hadn’t come, know what I mean? What can I do for you?”
Because he wanted her to, she took the single chair. He offered to make coffee. She shook her head, and he sat down on the floor at her feet. “What’s wrong?” she inquired. “Why have you moved? Where’s Gus?”—the former night watchman.
Starkness replied. “Laid up, Missus-lo. Bunch o’ punks came in, uh, four nights ago an’ beat him pretty bad.”
“Has Mama-lo heard?” she asked, appalled.
“N-not yet. We figured might be best to tell you first, get your ‘pinion.” The disciples trying to protect the saint, Al-iyat thought. And Corinne might, after all, order abandonment of the project rather than grappling with violence. Men who have learned to be proud don’t easily retreat. “Only you was out of town.”
“Yes, this past couple of weeks. I’m sorry, I should have left word where I could be reached, but I never thought there’d be an emergency like this.”
“Sure,” he said, quite sincerely. “You couldn’t of known. You needed a vacation bad, you did. We noticed how tired you was gettin’.”
Not really, she thought. At least, not in the flesh. Still, it’s true, administration and treasury and accounting and counseling and—everything I do for us, mostly by myself because we can’t afford a proper staff—it does wear me down. No matter how much the Unity means to me, I cannot make it my whole life. I don’t have the spirit, the goodness, for that. From time to time I’ve go! to get away, take what I’ve saved out of my little paychecks and go elsewhere under a different name, enjoy a bit of luxury, glamour, fun, have an affair if I meet somebody attractive. (And mostly, these past several years, that’s been a man, not a woman; the Unity has washed away a lot of bitterness and started many sores healing.) Why am I talking to myself like this? To push away guilt, that I was absent? “How is Gus?”
“He’ll be all right. Healer Jules fixed him up neat as any regular doctor could have, and they’re takin’ care of him at his place.”
“You didn’t notify the police, then?”
“What use? Just put ourselves to a lot o’ trouble.”
“Listen,” Aliyat rapped, “how often must Mama-lo and I explain, the police are not our enemies? The criminals are.” I’m only half a hypocrite, she thought. Mostly, I guess, the cops mean well. But they’re saddled with laws that breed crime worse than Prohibition ever did.
“Well, if nothin’ else, they’re stretched too thin,” Castle said defensively. “They can’t post a round-the-clock watch for us, can they? And Gus told us those scumbags promised worse if we don’t clear out. Maybe firebombing, even. We decided we’d strengthen night-time security. That ought to discourage ‘em. It’s why me and some other men are stayin’ here.”
Chill crept along Aliyat’s backbone. The street outside was bare and quiet. So quiet. Had word gone around that something was hi the works?
What could she do? Nothing, unless later. “Do be careful,” she begged. “None of this is worth losing a single life.” You might have fifty or sixty years left you, Randy, dear.
“Um, you too, Missus-lo. Don’t you risk comin’ here again after dark. Not till we got the quarter cleaned up.” He sat straight, quickly eager. “What you want? How can we help you?”
That wakened the thrill that had coursed through when she spoke with Corinne upon her return today. It flamed the sordid surroundings out of her. She couldn’t sit still, she sprang to her feet. “I have to take a long drive, up into New Hampshire. I’ll be needing a driver and-let’s hope not, but maybe a bodyguard. Someone strong and completely reliable, including able to keep his mouth shut. I thought right away of you. Are you willing?”
He likewise had risen, to loom above her and exult: “At your service, Missus-lo, an’ thank you!”
“You probably needn’t lose time from work. Now that I know I can count on you, I’ll write ahead and tell them to expect me.” She didn’t really think mail would be intercepted, but she’d use a private express service to be safe, and to make sure of overnight delivery. Tannahilt could reply in the same fashion. “We’ll leave early Saturday morning. If everything goes well, we can return Sunday evening.
Or I might stay a while and you come back alone.” If I decide I dare trust them there.
“Sure.” He grew troubled. “You mentioned a bodyguard. Could it turn dangerous? I wouldn’t feel right about takin’ you into danger.”
“No, I don’t expect any physical threats.” Is that absolutely true? she wondered. With a grin: “It might help my errand if you’re in the background being huge. My purpose will be to convey a message and then, I think, confer.”
The message being that Corinne has learned Kenneth Tannahill is under close surveillance, apparently on behalf of a United States senator. She had just about decided to mail him the warning when I arrived. I told her that if I deliver it in person, that ought to rock him back enough that I can grab the initiative and—and what? Take his measure?
Cadoc, Hanno, it can only be him, whom I robbed and tried to get killed. He told her he’s forgiven me, and nine hundred years would be a long time to carry a grudge, unless it’s festered that whole while. We’ve got to decide whether to join with him and whoever else is in his band; and how to join, on what terms, if we do. I think 1 can recognize a crook or a monster sooner, more certainly, than Mama-lo.
“This will be kind of peculiar, though, Randy,” she said. “I need to enter the place and leave it unbeknownst to— well, whoever might be watching from outside. I’ll figure out some sort of disguise. Maybe cut my hair short, make my face up dark, dress like a man, and we carry tool kits, to seem like workers sent to do some repair job. The car we’ll drive is old and plain, and I’ll get hold of New Hampshire plates.” Though the Unity shunned crime, you were bound to learn who in town could supply what for a price. “We’ll switch along the way.”
An excitement she had well-nigh forgotten overrode forebodings. Shoot the dice and to hell with the authorities. Am I still an outlaw at heart?
But here stands this boy. “I’m sorry,” she finished. “We can’t let you sit in on our talks, and I can’t tell you anything. All I can do is swear this is honest business.”
“I wouldn’t doubt that for one second, Missus-lo,” he answered.
Her fingers closed on the brown hand before her. “You are a darting.”
Through the door went a crash and a scream.
“Hoy! Them?” Castle plunged across the room. Racket resounded. “Stay put, Missus-lo!” he yelled. From a carton on the floor he pulled an object darkly metallic and sped for the door. “I’m comin’, brothers! Hang on!”
“No, wait, drop that thing, don’t, Randy—“ Aliyat had no time to think. She followed the man who grasped the pistol that was forbidden to common folk.
Down the hall. Beyond the lobby Aliyat saw safety glass shattered. Smoke eddied against the night. Half a dozen men, youths, creatures were in. The guards— Two invaders held one watchman hard against the wall. Where was his companion? Others of the Unity boiled forth at Aliyat’s back.
“Halt, you bastards!” Castle roared. His gun barked, a warning shot aloft.
An attacker responded, straight.
Castle lurched, reeled back, somehow fired levelly before
he fell. Aliyat glimpsed the blood that spouted from his throat.
The hammer smote her.
12
Moriarty was at breakfast when Stoddard called. The senator kept a phone in that room too. Even in this his summer home, in his own secure state, he must always be ready; and the number was unlisted, which gave some protection.
The voice immediately yanked his full awareness to it. Once he whistled, once he breathed, “My God.” He finally snapped, “Hop the first plane you can get out of National. Take a cab at this end, never mind what that costs. Bring all the material you have to date. I need the background. Been on the trail, you know, hitting the hustings... Okay. It does sound good, doesn’t it? ... Hurry. ‘Bye.”
He hung up. “What was that about?” asked his wife.
“Sorry, top secret,” he replied. “Uh, will you see to rescheduling my appointments today?”
“Including the Garrisons’ party? Remember who’ll be there.”
“Sorry. This is that important. You go, offer my regrets, and charm the socks off the VIPs.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Which is mighty fine, my love.” What a First Lady she’d make—someday, someday, when his destiny blossomed. She wouldn’t mind the other women much, then. “Excuse me if I eat and run. I’ve a lot to clear away in less time than I was counting on.”
He did, in truth. Congress had adjourned, but constituents never set their problems aside and he couldn’t offend the key interests. And the convention had left him with several cans of worms to get rid of before the election. And meanwhile his speech day after tomorrow needed more work. It was merely at the dedication of a high school, but if he said the right things in striking new phrases, the media might pick one up. He must find an identifying motto, like FDR’s “—the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Or JFK’s “Ask not what your country—”
The Boat of a Million Years Page 42
