Distant Friends and Other Stories

by Timothy Zahn

  What for? the other asked calmly. She'll be back. Any minute now, probably.

  Yeah, but if she didn't see him crash our car-?

  The other man turned to face Billy's returning figure; and once again, Billy shut up. She probably didn't, he agreed quietly. So what?

  Oh. Right. Billy nodded belated understanding. The headaches'll start up again. That'll tell her he didn't get away.

  And I don't think she'll miss the implications, the other agreed. He turned, and I got the feeling he was peering down the street, looking for Colleen's returning car. Though on second thought... come here; watch this guy for a minute.

  Billy's silhouette replaced his in front of Gordy, and he stepped over to a nearby car and leaned in the open door. He emerged with something in his hand, which he did something to and then held to the side of his head. A cellular phone, probably. Harry? Warfield. Listen. I want you to cruise south down Albert Street to the highway-see if our pigeon has gone off the road somewhere... No, I want you to leave her there-of course you bring her back home, damn it; we can go back and get her car later.

  Warfield reached in and hung up... and suddenly I sensed Gordy's mind tensing as he prepared for action. She'll be back, Warfield said, straightening up to face Gordy again. Unconscious, maybe-probably with one hell of a headache-but she'll be back.

  No.

  The word seemed to hang in the air, and for a moment I could sense Warfield and Billy staring at him.

  What do you mean, no? Warfield asked, his voice calm but with menace beneath it.

  I felt my fingernails digging into my palms as I clenched my fists in agonized helplessness. God, he was going to ruin everything-it was far too soon to spill the fact that Colleen had her own telepath shield. I wanted to scream at him to shut up; but it was too late, he'd already said too much, and sooner or later now they'd have the rest of it. Impotent fury bubbled up inside me, turning my stomach inside out. All my worry and planning... and with a single word Gordy had betrayed it all. I said, what did you mean, 'no,'

  Warfield demanded again, taking a step toward Gordy. I braced myself- now they'd have the rest of it. Impotent fury bubbled up inside me, turning my stomach inside out. All my worry and planning... and with a single word Gordy had betrayed it all. I said, what did you mean, 'no,'

  Warfield demanded again, taking a step toward Gordy. I braced myself- It was probably the sheer unexpectedness of it that let him get away with it; with the telepath shield out of quick reach at the bottom of the garbage truck and with Colleen still well within the close-approach death zone, Gordy had literally nowhere to run, and both his captors surely knew that. But unexpected or not, Warfield clearly had good reflexes. Even before Gordy reached the back of the truck I could hear the sudden scraping of feet on pavement that showed the chase was on. Where the hell did Gordy think he was going-?

  An instant later I found out. Gordy skidded to an abrupt stop at the rear of the garbage truck, threw a wild punch to Keep Warfield back-And slammed down the compression lever. The sudden growl of the motor drowned out Warfield's startled exclamation; but Gordy's reply was only too clear. I'm taking Colleen the one place your filthy boss can't reach us, he shouted.

  You stupid bastard, Warfield yelled over the grinding of the hydraulic crusher jaws. He leaped forward, grabbing Gordy by the shoulders and trying to force him away from the lever. But Gordy held his ground, wrapping his arms around the other.

  And then the crusher hit metal, grinding away against the angle iron holding the telepath shield together...

  and, abruptly, as if by mutual consent, both men stopped their struggling. The grinding stopped, and I could see Warfield's silhouette draw back in confusion. What the hell?

  Gordy looked slowly back at the garbage truck, as if not believing what he was seeing. It... can't be, he said, and even through the tunnel effect I could hear the bewilderment in his voice. We agreed-if I didn't get away- He broke off, and I could just hear the electronic warbling of the car phone. Gordy glanced over that way, and I saw Billy reach in for the phone. Get away from there, Warfield ordered Gordy abruptly, shoving him away from the lever. Must not have busted the thing all the way- Hey! Billy called, his voice odd. It's Harry, C'mere-you gotta hear this.

  Warfield took Gordy's arm and marched him toward the car. What is it?

  Harry found her car, Billy said, and now I could identify the emotion in his voice. Disbelief. It's down by the lake. Next to a spot where it isn't all frozen.

  For a long moment Warfield just stared at him. Then, taking a long stride forward, he snatched the phone from Billy's hand.

  Dale? Calvin? You both listening.

  With a conscious effort, I unclenched my teeth. We're both here, Gordy. What's-where's Colleen?

  On her way out of town in a car I rented and left at the lake, he said. She'll meet you at the rendezvous you set up.

  Get out of there, Calvin put in, his voice urgent. Now. Before they remember you're still there.

  Sorry, but I can't. Gordy's voice was calm... but beneath it I could feel a tightness. A tightness, and the winding up of courage; and over all or it, a strangely wistful sadness.

  And suddenly I realized that Gordy was preparing himself to die.

  Calvin's right, I snarled. Colleen's in the clear-get out of there.

  I can't, he said again, and this time there was an edge to it. I have to make sure they're convinced that she would rather die than give up her child to that kind of slavery, and that once the game was up that she would commit suicide rather than let me kill both of us. And they're not going to want me around to testify after that.

  I bit hard at my lip, searching frantically for a way to convince him... and then my brain seemed to catch, and I cursed my stupidity. Calvin-get on the phone, I ordered. Call the Regina police, tell them there's a kidnapping in progress. Where are you, Gordy?

  A flicker of hope, the realization that maybe he wouldn't have to sacrifice himself after all-The corner of Fourteenth Avenue and Roe Street- And suddenly Warfield spun around, his brain apparently catching, as well. God damn it, he snarled viciously, hand jabbing at Gordy. Billy-take him out. Now, damn it.

  Here it comes, Gordy said, and there was no longer any tension in his tone. Just a quiet acceptance.

  Goodbye. Tell Colleen that I love her- And then a shadow swung at his head, and the image was gone.

  I don't know how long I stood there, staring at nothing and listening to the silence where Gordy had been. Gradually, I became aware that there was a hand on my arm. Blinking my eyes against a painful dryness, I found Rob gazing at me, his thoughts highly worried. "I'm all right," I told him. Even to myself my voice sounded dead.

  He didn't believe it, of course. "Anything I can do to help?"

  I shook my head. Calvin?

  Here, Dale. I've got through to the Regina police, and they're sending a car. He hesitated. I also told them about Colleen's car, and hinted that we suspected suicide.

  Yeah. It felt wrong, somehow, to maintain the lie; but if we didn't, then Gordy's sacrifice would have been for nothing. You think they realized he was lying?

  I'm sure they didn't, Calvin assured me. I think it just suddenly penetrated that with the shield supposedly destroyed he could get through to us again. They couldn't afford that.

  It made sense. The game was lost, as far as they knew, and their first priority now would be to cover their tracks. What the hell's keeping those cops?

  Take it easy, Dale-it's only been a couple of minutes.

  I sighed. I'm sorry. I just....

  Dale? The police have arrived on the scene, but there's no one there. Just the garbage truck.

  Of course there's no one there, I said savagely. They wouldn't just leave him there for the cops to- I don't know why it clicked just then. But it did... and suddenly my grief vanished into a surge of adrenaline. He's not dead, I told Calvin. Of course he's not-what kind of an idiot am I?

  Dale, I know it's hard- No, listen! I cut h
im off. Listen! They wouldn't just kill him like that-Fagin would have their heads on poles. He'd want to question Gordy and make sure he was telling them the truth about Colleen.

  For a long moment Calvin thought about that, and despite his determination not to build up false hope I could sense a growing excitement. You may be right, he agreed. In which case we should send the police to the airport, try and head them off.

  Yes-no. Wait a minute, let me think. Something Fagin had said... He knew Nelson, I told Calvin.

  Probably pretty well-he mentioned once that Nelson had done some experiments for him. Maybe the Las Vegas stuff that Amos caught onto.

  Maybe, Calvin allowed cautiously, wondering with a distinct undercurrent of uneasiness just where I was headed with this. So what does that tell us?

  I grinned humorlessly, my lips tight enough to hurt. It tells us, I told him, that for the first time since Nelson tried to kill me, he's going to do something useful.

  Calvin said something cautionary sounding, but I didn't wait to hear it. All my thoughts and senses were turned inward as I searched out that part of my personality which had come from my close-approach with Nelson. It was all still there, of course: the greed, the arrogance, the deception, the contempt for mankind in general and his fellow telepaths in particular. Everything I'd fought so hard and for so long to bury was right there, just waiting against the barriers I'd painfully erected against it.

  I thought about Gordy and Colleen... and let the barriers fall.

  And nothing happened. Nothing at all. The Nelson part didn't surge out like poison gas under pressure; didn't flow out like an attacking army bent on destruction; didn't gloat, didn't cheer, didn't rage. It was just there, like nothing more or less than a memory. A dark memory, to be sure, full of pain and anger and terror; but a memory nonetheless.

  It was perhaps the greatest surprise of a long day of surprises, that the very thing I'd feared so much for so many months would in fact turn out to be so utterly powerless. Perhaps it was just the healing effects of time; perhaps that deadly confrontation at Rathbun Lake had been the killing blow, only I hadn't realized it.

  I was whole again.

  And there it was. Calvin? I got it. Fagin's name is Lawrence Barringer, and he's based somewhere in the Los Angeles area.

  Got it, Calvin said. His emotions were masked, but it wasn't hard to guess that he was wondering what that information had cost me. You want to call the LA police, or should I?

  No one's calling any police. Not yet, anyway.

  What? Dale, he's got Gordy, remember?

  No, he doesn't-and that's the whole point, I told him. His goons have Gordy; and they're hardly likely to drag him to Barringer's house and dump him on the living room rug. They'll take him to some out-of-the way place and question him there.

  I felt Calvin's shiver. You think they'll... torture him?

  My stomach turned, and for a long moment I dug again into Nelson's memories, searching for more details of Barringer's personality. They were there, all right; but even as I sifted through them it suddenly occurred to me that nothing I found here could be taken at face value. Colored as it all had been by Nelson's own warped mentality, there was no way for me to sort out objective fact from wishful or even malicious fantasy.

  But I had to try. Okay, here it is. From what Nelson knew about Barringer he was an absolute fanatic for secrecy in his activities. He'd rather take extra time and make sure he's not being watched or monitored than rush into something and find out later that the whole thing's been captured on tape. Given that-and given that they'll assume we'll call the cops in-my guess is that they'll sedate Gordy and drive him out of town, contacting Barringer from someplace reasonably distant. He'll send a private plane for them, again rendezvousing somewhere away from Regina, and fly them leisurely down to some quiet spot near Los Angeles where they hopefully won't be disturbed. That make any sense to you?

  Calvin pondered it. I suppose so, he agreed, almost reluctantly. There really isn't any rush, after all-if Colleen's alive he's got eight months to track her down. You think Barringer will want to be in on the questioning?

  Yes. On that score I had no doubt at all. Absolutely. He wouldn't trust it to anyone else, for one thing.

  And that's where we're going to nail him.

  Wonderful-except for one small problem, Calvin pointed out heavily. Namely, we don't know where this quiet spot is that they're going to take him. Unless, he interrupted himself with a sudden surge of excitement, your friend Bob can put Amos's old telepath-detector back together. If he can- Sorry. I'd already had that idea, and found the flaw in it. The kernels he would need for that are already being used.

  In the second shield; right, Calvin said, the excitement evaporating. In that case, I don't see that we have any choices left, Dale. We have to call in the police and ask them to put a tail on Barringer.

  If we don't, he snarled with uncharacteristic harshness, we lose him to Barringer. Or don't you think he'll be able to make Gordy talk?

  Yes, I'm sure he will. I took a deep breath. As a matter of fact... I'm rather counting on it.

  It took Calvin nearly an hour of phoning to track down Jean Forster, Gordy's pilot friend, and ask for her help. Five hours later, just after midnight, she called me to announce that she and her twin-engine Beechcraft were at the Des Moines airport. An hour after that, we were airborne.

  In many ways it was yet another echo of that desperate race to Regina only a few days earlier, and I found many of the same black thoughts swirling around and through my mind as we flew westward.

  Suspended between land and sky, the occasional concentration of town and city lights below clumping like distorted fun-house mirror images of the stars above, the sense of unreality was even stronger than it had been then.

  As was the sense of desperate danger.

  I died a thousand deaths that night. At least that many. I'd put on a good front when selling this whole scheme to Calvin, but I knew all too well that a hundred things could go wrong. If I'd read Barringer wrong-if he broke his pattern and decided that speed was more important than caution-then Gordy would be in Los Angeles and the interrogation over and done with long before we got anywhere near the scene.

  And even if everything went exactly according to plan, it could still go bad. Horribly bad.

  I was able to doze a couple of those long hours away, but mostly I spent the night wide awake, staring out the window at nothing in particular and wondering if I should just give up and abort this whole crazy plan. Colleen had a good head start; with luck, perhaps we could bury ourselves so deeply that even Barringer couldn't find us. And he surely wouldn't be stupid enough to hurt Gordy, no matter what happened.

  It was a private battle I fought over and over again that night; and it was Jean Forster's presence beside me, more than anything else, that helped me push back the temptation each time it surfaced. From the beginning I'd had reservations about bringing her into this, and had given in mainly because there hadn't been any other choice; but ten minutes of sitting next to her in a cramped cockpit had laid every one of those reservations to rest. She was smart, competent, tough, and fiercely loyal to the small and select group of people she named as her friends. Just getting me this far had required her to litter our flight path with a half dozen broken FAA regulations, and she knew full well that her license was the least of what she was putting at risk tonight.

  In many ways she reminded me of Colleen... and it wasn't hard to guess what both of them would say if I suggested abandoning Gordy now.

  And so we headed west, swinging a bit northward to avoid getting too close to Calvin in Pueblo. We stopped once for refueling at a field Jean knew outside of Grand Junction... and finally, with local sunrise still half an hour away, we came in sight of the sea of lights that was Los Angeles.

  For a few minutes-a few long, long minutes-there was nothing. I sat watching the city lights, sweating as I strained for a contact and fought back the fears and terrors swirli
ng around me. We'd gambled, and we'd lost. Barringer had held the interrogation in Canada, or had flown Gordy here five hours ago, or had simply killed him to cover his tracks. Jean eased the plane a bit to the left, heading southwest toward the southern edge of the city- For a few minutes-a few long, long minutes-there was nothing. I sat watching the city lights, sweating as I strained for a contact and fought back the fears and terrors swirling around me. We'd gambled, and we'd lost. Barringer had held the interrogation in Canada, or had flown Gordy here five hours ago, or had simply killed him to cover his tracks. Jean eased the plane a bit to the left, heading southwest toward the southern edge of the city- Gordy.

  Calvin? Calvin, wake up.

  Here, Dale, Calvin replied with an alertness that showed he hadn't been asleep. What is it?

  I've got him. And he's still unconscious.

  I could feel Calvin's cautious relief. Which means they haven't started on him yet. I hope.

  Yeah. Me, too. Muscles I hadn't even realized were tight were starting to relax. We'd gambled, and we'd won. Barringer had gone with the leisurely, secure approach, after all, and we'd beaten him to the punch.

  Have you heard from Rob yet, by the way?

  Five minutes ago, as a matter of fact, Calvin said. He made it to Colleen's hideout and gave her the second shield, and she's on her way to wherever it is you two planned for her to go. I didn't want to wake you if you were trying to sleep.

  So Colleen, at least, was safe. One down, one to go. I took a deep breath- And in a single instant the muscles tightened again. "Oh, my God," I whispered.

  At least I thought I'd whispered it. Jean heard anyway. "What?" she snapped.

  I forced my teeth to unclench. "He got stronger. Much too strong, much too fast. They're waking him up."

  Take it easy, Calvin said, glacially calm. It's bound to take them a few minutes to bring him up to where he can answer questions for them.

  "You want me to radio the police?" Jean called.

  "Can't yet," I told her, willing some of Calvin's calm to flow into me. "We still don't know where he is."