He easily found a parking place near the main entrance of the building. In the lobby he had to fend off a man wearing dirty but once expensive clothes who wanted to sell him a television set, “real cheap.” Once past this obstacle he found his way down to the basement. The place, though crumbling, was clean, a tribute to Lewis’s sincerity in his work. Jack couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, an intelligent man, being reduced to this.
After wandering around in the corridors for a while, Jack at last found the custodial offices. Two men were sitting among the mops, buckets, and drums of sweeping compound, drinking coffee.
“Is Lewis in the building today?” Jack asked without introducing himself.
“He’s up on the third floor,” the older of the two men, gray and unshaven, told him. “Some of that old two-strand wiring has gone out.”
“How can I find him?”
“Take the back stairs,” the younger man said, a duli-looking type in his early twenties, gesturing with his hand that Jack should turn right when he left them. “First door on your left.”
Jack thanked them, and following the directions found Lewis in a dingy office, just putting his tools away. He’d had to rip out part of the wall to get to the wiring. “Hey, Jack,” Lewis said, “what are you doing here?” “I need some help, Lewis. Do you know anything about Visitors from Northampton coming illegally into Freeport?” “Ah, Jack, that’s really not the kind of thing Fd like to talk about, even if I did know anything.”
“I know, I’m not asking for any names, I just want to know if it happens.”
“Well, sure, I guess, sometimes. Naturals here still have friends and relatives outside the city, you know, and don’t dare go up to Northampton to see them. Sometimes these people might come here, just for a visit.”
“Do they actually take that kind of a chance? Rather than get a pass?”
“Passes aren’t easy to come by, and then you’re under observation the whole time. If a guy in Northampton’s got a girlfriend down here, it kind of cramps their style—he’s not supposed to take his uniform off.”
“Fd think it would be easier to sneak the other way.” “Sometimes, but Northampton’s a lot tighter than Freeport. Down here, you can pass for a Natural.”
“I guess there must be some illegal human traffic, too.” “Sure there is, but there the situation is reversed. Northampton lets people from Freeport in, if they’ve got legitimate business, but if you want to spend more than a couple hours, or go there at night, you have to sneak. Why do you want to know?”
“I have reason to believe,” Jack said, “that a Visitor, whose name Fd rather not mention at the moment, was here in Freeport illegally a short while ago, and that he might have had something to do with Emily’s not showing up the other night. She was kidnapped,” he said, and told Lewis about it briefly. “On the other hand,” Jack finished, “he might be innocent. I was just wondering if maybe you’d heard something about that from your friends.”
“No,” Lewis said, more uncomfortable with the conversation than ever, “nothing at all, but then, why should anybody tell me anything?”
“No special reason. But sometimes people say things when they’re among their own kind that they wouldn’t say otherwise, just gossip perhaps, or rumors. I suspect that it’s Freeport’s mob that is really responsible, but if there is a connection with Visitors from Northampton, it might help me get a line on what has happened to Emily, and where she might be now. Will you keep your eyes open?”
“You’re not talking about casual friends and family come visiting,” Lewis said.
“No, I’m not. Whatever this is, it’s criminal—kidnapping and God knows what else. But maybe somebody will say something that you might otherwise pay no attention to. Just pay attention, will you? And let me know?”
“Look, Jack, I can’t make you any promises. I don’t hang out with activists. Nobody comes to visit me, and I sure as hell never go to Northampton.”
“Just listen, Lewis, that’s all I’m asking. You were a fifth columnist, you know how to listen, to learn more than the people around you want you to, and you know how to conceal your true interest.”
“Jack, I was in the fifth column more by association than by choice. 1 just found myself doing things one day, and it
terrified me. As soon as I discovered I could escape to Freeport, I did it. I’d rather not get involved again.” “Just listen, Lewis. Don’t do anything, just listen. I can’t pass up any options. 1 know the mob has some kind of a connection with Northampton, or at least with some relatively prominent Visitors there.”
“Can’t you tell the police? They’d help”
“They would not. They have not. I’ve got to do this alone, Lewis. Will you help? In just this little way?” “All right, Jack. 1 don’t like it, it makes me nervous. But if 1 hear anything, from anybody, I’ll let you know.”
File Ten: Wednesday Afternoon
Jack got back to his office in time to handle his one o’clock appointment, and then had Mrs. McKinley call David Mallard for him.
“I can’t tell you anything, Jack,” was the first thing Mallard said. “In fact, I can’t even talk about that business.”
“Is somebody putting pressure on you?” Jack asked. “You might say that, in a way.”
“Anybody there with you?”
“Not exactly, but I’m sure you understand.” “Whatever you say will get back to the wrong people,” Jack suggested.
“More than likely,” Mallard admitted.
“Okay, we won’t talk about Emily. But there’s something else you might be able to help me with. You know a lot about Vincent Kline, don’t you?”
“It’s my business to know about him.”
“And Charles Anthony Oswald?”
“Sure, what’s the connection?”
“I’m hoping you can tell me that.”
Mallard was silent for a moment. “I don’t know what you’re implying,” he said at last. “As far as I know, there’s nothing going on between them at all.”
“What about this indictment Kline’s under, any possibility of a connection there?”
“1 can’t see how. It’s a joke, Jack. The D.A. is charging him with conspiracy to defraud, can you believe it? They can’t get him on drugs, they can’t touch him with black marketeering, and though everybody knows he’s involved in prostitution and numbers, we’ve never been able to make anything stick. As it is, they’re pinning their hopes on this business with the Karol Construction Company. Hell, he might even be guilty, but with the transportation situation as it is between us and the human-controlled cities up north, who can say? He’s going to get out of it, Jack.”
“And Oswald has nothing to do with that business at all?”
“Absolutely nothing. Why do you ask?”
“I got hold of some photos that Emily took a while back—”
“I can’t talk about that.”
“You don’t have" to, just listen to me for a minute. It’s what’s in the photos that’s important,” he went on, and told Mallard about them. “W'noever’s responsible,” Jack concluded, “it’s obvious that that picture is why Emily was kidnapped. But it’s the connection between Kline, Oswald, and Dwight that I’m curious about now. You can surmise what that might mean better than I can.”
“It sounds real dirty,” Mallard said, “but are you sure it’s Oswald? As I said, he’s one of the few people with, ah, no known or suspected connections with the mob. Maybe it was somebody else.”
“It was Oswald, David. Now he might have been forced, but just because he was clean in the past is no guarantee Kline hasn’t finally found some way to corrupt him, or blackmail him now.”
“That’s true, Jack, and I can certainly see why Kline would like to, ah, put Oswald in his pocket. With Oswald and his lawyers and connections on his side, Kline could walk out of that indictment without a fight. But Oswald’s tough, and I don’t think Kline can do it.”
“If you say so, but
even if Kline forced Oswald into that meeting, the fact that they met at all could make the indictment stick. Attempted blackmail, conspiracy, whatever. And with Dwight also present, even if he was in the city legally, the way he’s dressed it’s an automatic conviction for espionage, and Kline’s liable to be charged with the same thing. Oswald might be able to get out of it, but Kline wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“It sounds like a good enough reason for the mob to have, ah . . .”
“To have kidnapped Emily. I agree, I’m convinced Kline or some of his people have her, if she’s still alive.”
“I think you’re right,” Mallard said cautiously, “but really, Jack, I just can’t talk about that, not here, not now, maybe not ever.”
“Okay, I think I understand your position. I’d rather not involve you until I can get you some hard evidence that you can work with, something that could put you in control of the situation—”
“Yes, Jack, if you could do that, I’m not completely helpless. But it would have to be good, damning on first sight, something that I could make public right away, and get them on my side so that if anybody tried to do anything to me, it would only get them in deeper trouble. If you get me something like that, I’ll do whatever I can, but until then, I’ve just got to stay out of it.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Jack said. “My problem is I don’t have a lot of connections. Maybe you could give me some names. You’re really my only chance here. I’m convinced the police have been reached and told to keep their hands off Emily’s case.”
“Ah, yes, I think you could say that. It would be best not to involve them at all, if possible.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. All right, what about Rudy Salanis, can you tell me anything about him?”
“He’s got a long criminal record. He doesn’t work alone, and we don’t know who all his connections are, but if Kline is involved, it’s probably safe to say that Salanis is one of his men. You might try to look up a guy named Marty Patrushka. He’s a known some-time associate of Kline’s. I don’t know how you’re going to get in touch with him, though.”
“What about that guy with a face like a pig?”
“That’s Ryan Hadly. He’s a real bad type, an enforcer, breaks people’s arms if they don’t come across with the protection money and like that.”
“Where does he hang out, do you know?”
“I’m sorry, Jack, I don’t. The police would, of course, but I couldn’t ask them, at least not right out.”
“Keep yourself covered, David, but see what you can find out, will you? Anything will be of help.”
“It will be tricky, Jack, but I’ll see what 1 can do.” “Thanks, David, I appreciate it.”
Jack put down the phone, far from satisfied. Mallard’s confirmation of police negligence only told him that, whatever it was that Emily had stumbled into, it was not trivial.
“Dr. Page,” Mrs. McKinley said from the doorway, startling Jack out of his thoughts, “Mrs. Davidovich has been waiting for you.”
“Good gravy, I’m sorry. Send her right in.”
After Mrs. Davidovich, there was Mr. Beliasco at three. Then Jack got a call from Lewis,
“Hello, Jack,” he said. His voice sounded worried. “I thought about what you told me, and I decided to ask around a bit, just talked to a few of my friends, you know. ” “What did you come up with?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry, Jack, nobody knows anything about Northampton, about Emily, about illegal entry other than to see family or friends. Some Naturals I know have kind of a grapevine, they hear things from Northampton, know what’s going on here. They couldn’t help me either. Maybe they didn’t trust me.”
“You didn’t get yourself into trouble, did you?”
“I don’t think so, I hope not.”
“All right, I appreciate the effort.”
“I wish I had something to tell you.”
“Even negative reports can be informative. Was there any hint of a connection between Dwight and Charles Anthony Oswald?”
“Dwight, up in Northampton? No, nothing, those names never came up.”
“How about Kline, any casual reference that might have linked him with Dwight?”
“No, 1 don’t think so . . . no, Jack, nothing at all, why do you ask?”
“I know for a fact that Oswald, Kline, and Dwight were all together, with some other men, here in Freeport. Dwight was in civilian clothes.”
“I don’t like that, Jack. That’s frightening. But you should have told me about that, I could have asked better questions.”
“I don’t want you getting in trouble.”
“I don’t want it either, but you’re talking about something important here. Let me do a little more checking, and I’ll call you back later, okay?”
“Don’t take any chances, Lewis.”
“I won’t, you can believe me.”
Jack had no sooner hung up than the phone rang again. Jack picked it up. “Page here,” he said.
“My name is Annette,” the unmistakably alien voice said. “I have to talk with you, as soon as possible.” “What do you want to speak with me about?” Jack asked. None of his clients were Naturals.
“Not on the phone, Dr. Page. Can we meet somewhere? It’s very important, a janitorial job.”
“Do you have the right number?” Jack asked, and then realized she was referring to Lewis. “Just a moment,” he said. He put her on hold and rang Mrs. McKinley. “What do I have scheduled for this afternoon?” he asked her. “Nothing for the rest of the day, Dr. Page.” “Thanks.” He switched back to Annette. “I’m free,” he said, “where should we meet?”
“You name a place.”
“How ’bout the Black Jack Tavern, on Kesell just off Easter?”
“That will be fine, I’ll see you there in a minute.”
She hung up, and Jack sat for a moment, staring at the phone. Was it a trap? Had Lewis given the show away?
Whoever Annette was. Jack had to take the chance. He took Emily’s photos out of the desk. Annette might be able to identify some of the other men in the critical picture. And then he thought the better of it, locked them all away in a bottom drawer, and went out to tell Mrs. McKinley that he was going out for the rest of the day.
File Eleven: Wednesday Afternoon
The Black Jack was an old tavern, rather dark, with a long bar across the front and booths at the back. The clientele was mixed, business types with a sprinkling of blue-collar workers, and younger people who hadn’t yet formed their careers along with older people looking toward retirement—such as it could be with half the world dominated by Visitors.
Jack went to the bar and ordered a beer. While the bartender opened the cooler, Jack couldn't help but notice another man behind the bar, by the cash register. He was wearing a suit, and talking with a customer who seemed a bit too congenial. The man behind the bar opened the cash register and started counting out money. The “customer” smiled, scooped it up, and walked out. Just a protection payoff.
Jack took his bottle and glass and went around the end of the bar. It was still early, so there were few customers back here, most of them sitting alone. He saw a booth that was empty and started toward it when a feminine Visitor voice quietly spoke his name. He stopped and turned to look at her. She was a young black woman in her early twenties, slightly plump but very pretty.
“Are you Annette?” he asked.
“1 am. Won’t you join me, Dr. Page?”
He slid into the seat across from her. “Why all this secrecy and urgency?” he asked as he poured his beer.
“There’s more going on in Freeport than you might think,” she said. “I’m a Natural, but I’m still active in the fifth column, and we know there’s some kind of trouble in the works. The few of us in Freeport function as kind of a message center. But there are other people, both human and Visitor, who would like to shut us down.”
“I guess I’d be naive to think that the people in Northampton
don’t have an interest in us down here.” “Northampton particularly, but the entire Occupation bureaucracy to a lesser degree as well. Though Diana and the other mothership commanders haven’t paid too much attention to Freeport yet, the very fact that this city is human controlled is a continuing source of irritation. We want to attract as little attention to ourselves as possible.”
“They wouldn’t dare try to move on us,” Jack said. “The Northern States would retaliate immediately.”
“I know, Doctor, but that’s no reason to become complacent. And I’m afraid that’s what you have become. You’re not being discreet enough in your investigation.” “And what do you know about my investigation?” Jack asked, taking a long pull at his beer and refilling the glass from the half-empty bottle.
“Not that much yet, but if you keep on talking to Lewis, we’ll learn a lot more. He’s been asking people about illegal entrants, about someone named Emily. He’s mentioned your name more than once.”
“That doesn’t sound like Lewis,” Jack said. “When I talked with him, he seemed very reluctant to get involved at all.”
“That’s as may be. He’s trying to be discreet, but he doesn’t know how. He was only passively a member of the fifth column, and never got the in-the-field experience the rest of us did, those of us who are still alive. As good a friend as he might be to you, you never should have confided in him in the first place.”
“Did he talk to you?”
“He did. His heart’s in the right place, but he just doesn’t know what he’s doing. And he still has friends and connections in Northampton. What if he takes it into his head to go up there and start asking around? I don’t know what you’re looking for, but if it involves Visitors, and word gets to the wrong people, you’re going to be in more trouble than you bargained for, even down here.”
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