by Timothy Zahn
He shrugged, all affability again. "There's no reason why either of you should have to disappear. Miss Isaac can stay here, certainly until her condition begins to show, after which she can take a vacation for a few months and then return. You, of course, will have to eventually head back to Des Moines."
His eyes hardened. "I don't like being called a murderer, Mr. Ravenhall," he said softly. "I like even less being called a fool. Do you think I've spent over four million dollars in the past ten years just to throw it away by killing you?"
Behind the haze of anger and helplessness, a small corner of my mind recognized that that was exactly the attitude I wanted to foster in him; but at the moment I wasn't interested in listening to reason. "If you expect some kind of future cooperation, you can forget it," I told him instead. "Not from me, not from any of the others."
"Perhaps, perhaps not," he said placidly. "You may be surprised-some of them may be more grateful for my assistance over the years than you are. Your late colleague Nelson Follstadt, for instance, was quite willing to assist me with some small experiments before his untimely death."
"Nelson was ill," Colleen said, her tone laced with contempt. "Only a bastard would take advantage of a man like that."
"I never claimed sainthood," the other said with an unconcerned shrug. "And, of course, there may be things you can do that don't require a surplus of cooperation. Sperm donor, for example-as soon as Miss Isaac delivers we can take that telepath suppressor apart and learn how to build others, and at that point the number of potential telepaths is limited only by our imagination."
"It'll be years before you get a return on your investment," Colleen reminded him. She was working hard at keeping her voice calm and reasonable, but the hand I held was stiff with emotion. "None of us developed our telepathy until adolescence; there's no reason why my baby should be otherwise."
He smiled. "I have nothing against long-term investments, Miss Isaac. You and Mr. Ravenhall are living proof of that."
"You won't get away with it," I told him, dimly aware that I'd already said that once this morning. "What's to stop us from calling the police down on you?"
He gave me an innocent look. "Down on whom? You don't even know who I am."
"You said you were funding all of us," I reminded him. "Those connections can be traced."
"Not in a hundred years of trying," he said. "Face it, Mr. Ravenhall, you can't stop me. Not even if you were so foolish as to try."
There was something in his voice that sent a chill up my back. "And what's that supposed to mean? That you're willing to lose some of your investment after all?"
"I'm always willing to do that if necessary," he said coolly. "But I'm actually not referring to myself at all here. All right; assume that you call the Mounties and relate this conversation to them. What do you suppose they'd do?"
"Throw your butt out of the country," I growled.
"Possibly, though I don't know what exactly they'd charge me with. And then?"
"You know as well as I do," he said. "The first child born to a telepath?-and the first known method to dampen telepathic abilities? You and your machine would be in secret custody somewhere in the northern Yukon within six hours. Or in Langley, if the CIA got to you first." He looked speculatively at Colleen. "Your child would disappear as soon as he was born, Miss Isaac; disappear into a Military Intelligence family, probably, so that he'd be properly prepared for the life they'd eventually put him to.
"Which is no different than the life you have planned for him now," she countered, her voice stiff.
He shrugged. "Working for me he would be in the United States, transmitting private messages or testing employees' loyalty or doing a little industrial espionage. He cocked an eyebrow. "Working for the CIA
he would be in Eastern Europe or Iran or the Soviet Union, spying on people who would most certainly torture him to death if they caught him."
Colleen didn't say anything. Neither did I. There didn't seem to be anything left to say.
Apparently, our visitor could tell that, too. "Think about it," he said, getting up from his chair and buttoning his coat. "You either accept what I'm offering, Miss Isaac, or else you suffer through what the government will do to you and your child when they find out-and they will find out; don't think for a moment you can hide it from them forever." Stepping to the door, he paused and nodded courteously. "I or one of my people will be in touch. Good day to you." He pulled open the door and stepped outside.
Alex locked eyes briefly with each of us, and then he too was gone.
And we were alone.
With an effort I unclenched my jaw. Colleen was still pressed tightly against me; bracing myself, I turned my head to look at her. "I'm sorry, Colleen," I said quietly.
She lifted her eyes to mine... and even as I watched, I could see the fear and hopelessness and near-panic in her face began to fade. Into a simmering anger. "He won't get my child, Dale," she said, her voice a flat monotone that I found more unnerving than a scream of rage would have been. "I'll die before I'll let him have my child."
My mind flashed to that horrible scene at Rathbun Lake, the frozen tableau of Colleen facing down Ted Green with a knife pressed against her stomach. "It won't come to that," I told her through suddenly dry lips. "We'll find another way. I promise."
She blinked away tears. "I know," she whispered.
She didn't say it like she believed it, but that was hardly surprising: I didn't really believe it myself. If even half of what our visitor had said was true, we were up against frightening amounts of money and power, and I couldn't even begin to imagine how we could hide Colleen from such power for the next eight months.
But I'd find a way. I had to. More than anyone else I'd ever known, Colleen had a solid sense of what things in this world were worth dying for; and at Rathbun Lake she'd proved she had the courage and will to carry such convictions out.
One way or another, she wouldn't be giving her child up into slavery.
We can try, I agreed. He didn't seem to think it likely we'd succeed.
Yeah, well, let's not take his word for it, okay? Gordy said bitterly. You seem to be taking all this pretty calmly.
Only because I've had two days to get used to it, I told him shortly. And because Colleen and I have had time to think and plan. You see- I hope you didn't do your planning in the house, Gordy interrupted me. Your lousy child-snatching-Fagin pal probably had the place bugged.
Don't worry, we figured that, too, I assured him. We did all our discussions in writing, most of it at night in bed with a small flashlight. And we burned the papers afterwards and flushed the pieces down the toilet.
All in the best traditions of TV cop shows, Gordy growled.
You want to listen to this or not? The thing is, we've come to the conclusion that our Fagin pal, as you call him, isn't nearly as all-powerful here as he'd like us to believe. Whatever the size and scope of his business or organization or whatever, he's throwing only a tiny fraction of it our way.
Maybe that's what he wants you to believe, Calvin suggested. Maybe he's just trying to lull you into a false sense of security.
Why? Underplaying it makes no sense-he wants us to knuckle under, remember? To give up and let him have his way.
Then you're reading it wrong, Gordy concluded sourly. He'd have to be an idiot not to throw in everything he's got.
Which is exactly my point, I said. He is throwing in everything he can; but that isn't very much.
From Calvin came a sudden flash of understanding. Ah-ha, he said. Of course. He can only use the people he can trust completely, because everything turns on his keeping the baby's existence a secret.
At least until it's born, I agreed. After that he can spirit the child away, and even if the world finds out there's an unknown telepath on the loose they still won't know what he looks like and he'll be difficult or impossible to track down. But until then, everything's got to be kept secret, or the media will descend on Colleen and he'
ll have lost his chance.
Then that solves our problem, Gordy said. We call a news conference- And have Colleen vanish into some secret government stronghold after all the hysteria fades a little?
Gordy's surge of satisfaction faded. Maybe we can bluff him with it anyway, he suggested, more doubtfully. Tell him that he either backs off, or we blow the whistle and the hell with the consequences.
Gordy's surge of satisfaction faded. Maybe we can bluff him with it anyway, he suggested, more doubtfully. Tell him that he either backs off, or we blow the whistle and the hell with the consequences.
That's what we hoped he'd think, I agreed. Which is why we waited this long for me to leave. To make sure Fagin's watchdogs didn't think I was heading out somewhere to whistle up the Marines.
For you to-wait a minute, Dale, where are you?
On Trans-Canada One, heading east.
There was a moment of stunned silence. You're leaving her? Gordy asked, something darkly unpleasant bubbling beneath the surface of the words. Just like that? Leaving her stuck all alone, with maybe one of Fagin's Neanderthals watching the house-?
Oh, I'm sure someone's watching the house, I told him grimly. Otherwise, Colleen could just pack up the shield and make a run for it. As it is, with the thing as bulky as it is-and with the garage unattached from the house-anyone watching the house would see her in plenty of time to go take her by the hand and lead her back inside.
Like I said-trapped in the house, Gordy all but snarled. Damn it all, Dale- And that's where they've finally made a mistake, I cut him off. Colleen can leave Regina any time she wants to. Fagin doesn't know about the second shield.
Gordy's growing tirade cut off in mid-accusation. He doesn't know about it? he asked, sounding incredulous. How on God's earth did he miss something like that?
I don't know, exactly, I admitted. Best guess is that he simply never thought to look. Presumably his local people picked up on Colleen's pregnancy while she was undergoing all those tests at the hospital and tailed us home. They would have seen me haul the line-current model into the house, but I never got around to taking the portable one out of Colleen's trunk that night. By morning Fagin was in town and giving us his big pitch, so of course we just left it where it was.
And it's still there? Calvin asked.
If it weren't, I wouldn't be having this conversation, I said, and despite myself felt a shiver run up my back. Before I left this morning I took Amos's magic kernels out of the line-current shield.
You what? Dale- Gordy broke off, the texture of his thoughts more confused than anything else. Too many shocks in too short a time, I decided, and for a few minutes I drove on in silence, listening to the background clutter and giving them time to assimilate all of it. We seem to be running about two steps behind you, Dale, Calvin said at last. Why don't we shut up and let you give us the rest of it.
I sighed. There's not much more to tell. The day after tomorrow-in the late afternoon, around sundown-Colleen will drive off as if going to the little mall around the corner from her house, and will just keep going. By then Rob Peterson will hopefully have had time to put together a new shield with the kernels I scavenged from the old one, and I'll head west to rendezvous with her. We'll hide her someplace where she'll be safe for the next eight months, get Scott and Lisa working on finding an adoption family when the time comes... and that will hopefully be that.
keep going. By then Rob Peterson will hopefully have had time to put together a new shield with the kernels I scavenged from the old one, and I'll head west to rendezvous with her. We'll hide her someplace where she'll be safe for the next eight months, get Scott and Lisa working on finding an adoption family when the time comes... and that will hopefully be that.
If you've got a better idea, let's hear it, I snapped. We've got between six and nine days now until the new batteries we put in the portable shield run out, and it'll take at least half a day for us to reach our rendezvous point. We simply don't have the time to set up anything more elaborate.
So we've got until tomorrow night, Gordy said, his tone oddly dark. Fine. Give me until then to come up with something, okay?
I suppose I should have expected something like that, but the offer took me by surprise anyway. Calvin, who knew Gordy better than I did, was somewhat faster on the uptake. We can't risk it, Gordy, he told the other. Suppose Fagin is having you watched? Or has access to airline reservation computers?
I have a friend who's a private pilot, he said stubbornly. She can fly me up there without anyone knowing where I've gone.
Fagin could check on the flight plan, I pointed out, feelings of resentment stirring within me. This was our war, not his- She can file a false flight plan, Gordy insisted. She'll know how to pull something like that off.
And then she's in the hot seat, too, huh? I growled... but I could see now that it was a losing battle.
Gordy was determined to put his oar in here; with our blessing if possible, without it if necessary.
Calvin saw it, too. I don't suppose there's really any way we can stop you, he conceded. Just remember that if you tip Colleen's hand there won't be any second chances.
Even seven hundred miles away in Spokane I could feel Gordy's shudder. I'll remember, he said softly.
There was little enough time to spare, and I drove straight through the day, arriving in Des Moines just after one in the morning. On the way into town I stopped at a phone booth-I wasn't about to trust my home phone-and gave Rob Peterson a call. He was great; didn't ask any questions, just promised to be at my house at ten with all the equipment he'd need to put together a new telepath shield.
He was there on time, and I left him working while I returned the van to the rental agency. One of the employees drove me home, and on the way I had him do a leisurely drive around the block. If Fagin had anyone watching my house, I didn't pick him up. More evidence that he was running this on a shoestring.... if, of course, I was reading the signs right. Given my recent record, I wouldn't have bet a lot on it.
It took me only a couple of hours to pack the stuff Colleen and I would need for our getaway, and after that I had little to do except worry. A little before noon Gordy arrived in Regina-apparently unnoticed by Fagin's friends-and spent the afternoon poking around town on errands he wouldn't discuss with either Calvin or me. I tried pressing him for information once or twice, but it was obvious he wasn't going to give me any, and by early afternoon I gave up the effort. Leaving Calvin to keep an eye on him, I settled down to wait, dividing my attention between worrying and watching Rob work. The worrying was what I did best.
give me any, and by early afternoon I gave up the effort. Leaving Calvin to keep an eye on him, I settled down to wait, dividing my attention between worrying and watching Rob work. The worrying was what I did best.
The background clutter-as well as Calvin's and Rob's thoughts-vanished. Getting into my car, I headed slowly down the street, and within a few minutes had confirmed that it did indeed have the same half-mile range as the model I'd left with Colleen. I reported to Calvin and drove back home, watching for parked cars with Fagin's watchdogs sitting in them. Again, if they were there, I couldn't spot them.
Rob was waiting just inside the door when I pulled up. "Well?" he asked eagerly. "Does it work?"
"Like a champ," I told him, clapping him on the shoulder and stepping over to where the mass of wires and chips and Amos's enigmatic kernels was sitting on the kitchen table. "You did great, Rob. Especially given that you'd never actually done this before."
He shrugged modestly. "Yeah, but remember I examined the stuffing out of the thing last month. Now if I could just figure out how Amos made those kernels we'd be in real business."
I nodded and flipped the off switch-And an instant later my head filled with a din of shouting. Dale! Are you there? Dale-!
I'm here, Calvin, I said, the skin on my neck crawling. There was a note of near-panic in that tone-What's wrong?
Gordy's gone in, he said, a
nd behind the words I could visualize clenched teeth. The minute you confirmed the range and headed back home, he disappeared.
God in heaven-He can't do that, I said, reflexively looking at my watch. It would be just about sundown in Regina, exactly the time we'd planned for her to make her break... except that Gordy was twenty-four hours early. What in hell's name does he think he's doing? Colleen won't be ready yet.
I don't know, Calvin hesitated. But I think he may be up to something desperate. He's been... really brooding about this.
Which I'd been too absorbed in my own thoughts to notice? But it was too late to worry about that now.
Did he tell you the name of his pilot friend?
Yes-Jean Forster. Why?-you think she's involved in some way?
She's at least involved to the extent that she got him there, I reminded him grimly. It might be a good idea to call the Regina airport and try to warn her about Fagin's goon squad- And with a suddenness I wasn't prepared for, Gordy was back. Calvin, Dale-listen.
I didn't get a chance to ask what it was he wanted us to listen to... but an instant later I got the answer anyway. As from deep in a well, I heard an angry voice. Get out here, you son of a bitch. God damn it-look what you did to my car.
Knock it off, Billy. The second man's voice was hard and calm and authoritative, and Billy shut up.
There's no real harm done. It was pretty stupid, you know, he continued, talking to Gordy now. We had orders to stop anyone we caught trying to take anything big out of the house-and that included garbage men. Take a look in back, Billy-make sure the thing's there.
Billy's silhouette nodded and headed obediently off to the left, and as Gordy turned to watch him I saw that they were indeed standing beside a small garbage truck. Briefly, I wondered how Gordy had gotten hold of it. Yeah, it's here, I heard Billy call. Uh... shouldn't we be getting on the phone and getting Harry on the trail?
