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CHAPTER 6
“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” Harry demanded as Natalie slipped in the door. “It’s five to four, for Chrissake. Deutch goes off duty at four. You’re late.”
“Take this,” she said, shoving a heavy box at him.
“What’s this?” He looked from the box to her, and bewilderment began to replace the anger in his face.
“I’ve got another one in the hall, and there’s one more in the basement by the emergency generator.” Her breath came in jerks and her hands were shaky with strain. “I can’t carry them any longer. It’s too hard.”
Harry lifted the box, and was startled by its weight. “What’s in here, anvils?”
“Dried food. Fifty pounds’ worth. It should last us about a month.” She pulled off her jacket and walked into the living room.
Torn between the boxes and Natalie, Harry hesitated, then lugged the food into the kitchen. He went for the other box in the hall, hoping that Deutch had not seen it, or that his replacement had not. When both boxes were safely in the kitchen, he joined Natalie in the living room. “What’s this all about?” he demanded.
“Oh, Harry, I should have thought of this before. We should have realized. It’s food, Harry. We never talked about it, I can’t think why. But when I saw Carol she gave me some coffee, real coffee, and I remembered.”
“But where’d you get that stuff?”
Natalie gave him a tired smile. “At sporting goods stores. I bought it all on credit. I don’t have very much money. Mark’ll be furious when he finds out.” Her attempt at a laugh failed badly. “I said I was taking some kids camping. I went to five different stores, so they wouldn’t get suspicious.”
Harry sat down beside her. “You mean you carried that stuff back here by yourself?”
“No. I got a shopping cart—you know, the old-fashioned kind that they used to attach to the side of bicycles.” She yawned. “What’s wrong with Deutch’s wife, anything bad?”
Harry rubbed his hands together, very somber now. “Yes. I’m afraid so.” He looked blankly across the room, seeing the young woman who had been pretty not too long ago. She had been so trusting, and he hated to admit that he could not help her. His face showed something of this, for Natalie turned to him.
“What is it, Harry? What’s wrong?”
Harry found it hard to answer. “She’s got polio. Very bad, I think. I told Deutch to call through to Justin and tell him there was something wrong. Maybe Justin will do something.” He felt desolate. He knew that all he told Deutch would very likely be useless. The woman was too sick, and it was only a matter of hours until she would need breathing assist. Without that assist she would die.
“God.” Very slowly Natalie got up. “I’m sorry, Harry.” She looked at the floor. “We’ll have to get more food tomorrow, you know. There’s a lot to be done.” When this did not get a reaction, she went on. “We’re going to see a lot more of this before we’re through. Our meeting is set up for Thursday night at Dagstern’s. Eight-thirty.”
“I hear you.”
Natalie’s body ached, her face felt rigid and she knew that she was near senseless tears. She knelt beside Harry and held him close. “You can’t give up now, Harry. Not you. You fought the whole administration at Westbank. You can’t stop now. There’s too much to do, Harry. There’s too little time. It’s important that you do it, because I can’t do it alone.” She felt him relax a little. “We need sleep, Harry. When you’re rested, you’ll be able to think clearly again.” She hoped that she, too, would think clearly.
For a moment he returned her embrace, then he pushed her away from him. “Yeah. I need sleep. So do you, Natalie. I’ll see you in the morning. God, I wish we had some of Carol’s coffee.”
“Maybe she’ll bring some with her,” Natalie suggested. Now that she thought about it, real coffee might help. Harry was right. She’d call Carol in the morning. Not call Carol. The lines were bugged.
Harry shook her shoulder gently. “Go to bed before you fall asleep. You almost fell over.”
She looked muzzily up at him. “Right.”
Alison’s face was set firmly, and her young mouth compressed into a line. “I can’t,” she said stonily. Her eyes dared Natalie to argue.
“But it’s important, Alison,” Natalie explained patiently as they sat in the litter of Alison’s apartment. “I told you, a lot of people are going to be sick, and we need your help.”
“No way,” Alison shook her head. “Tristam wouldn’t like it.”
“Tristam? Who’s Tristam?” Natalie thought there had been fright in the girl’s voice when she said the name.
“No one.” She got to her feet. “I gotta go.” Then she faltered. “I know you helped Ces’lie, and all. She’d be a lot worse off if you didn’t help her. But you know how it is.”
Natalie rose, too, thinking that she did wish she knew how it was. “If you change your mind, you can find me at the Van Dreyter house. Next week.”
“You aren’t going back to the hospital?” Alison asked, her eyes narrowing.
“No.” She waited to see what effect this news might have.
Alison nodded once. “Okay. I’ll pass it on.”
Pass it on to whom? Natalie wondered as she left the apartment.
“That’s a nasty cough you have,” Natalie said to the owner of the third sporting goods store she visited.
“I know. It’s this damn flu. Everyone has it, I guess. My clerk’s off with it, or I might have gone home. What else are you looking for?” he asked politely as he stacked up the two boxes of dehydrated food.
“Do you have an outdoor stove and fuel?” There would not always be power available, she knew, and a camp stove would help. “And a couple of battery lanterns. And maybe some spare batteries, if you have them.”
“How many kids you taking on this trip?” the owner asked, breaking off to clear his throat.
“It’s a day-care center trip. There are about fifty kids and we’re going for six weeks. I thought I’d better make sure there’s enough food for them all.” She observed him narrowly, seeing the leaden cast to his skin. “Have you seen a doctor about that cough?”
“Don’t have time with the help off. I promised my wife that if it didn’t get better I’d go over to County General and have them check me out next week.” He pulled a few boxes off his shelf. “Will these lanterns be okay? They aren’t the brightest, but they last the longest, and they don’t go out in water.”
“It sounds fine.” She pretended to consider her problem with the fictitious day-care center. “Do you think I’m forgetting something? ... Oh,” she said, as if just thinking of it, “bandages. You know how kids are. Some of them are bound to get hurt.”
Chuckling indulgently, the owner added three large boxes of bandages to her purchases. “I wish we could afford to take that kind of vacation. Back when I was in day-care centers, we didn’t take trips like this. Oh, no. We were lucky to have half a warehouse to ourselves, and that’s a fact. Still, I don’t suppose it can hurt them to get off from the city once in a while. And the parents probably love it.” He cast a calculating eye over the boxes. “Is that it, then, ma’am?”
It was certainly all she felt safe to buy. “Yes, I think so. Will you put it all in a big box for me, so I can carry it in one load?”
“It’ll be pretty heavy,” he said as he began to pack the items.
“I don’t have far to go,”, she lied, thankful for the wire carrier she had. One more sporting goods store and she should have all she needed for six months. She thought briefly of Harry, who was not only contacting the rest of the doctors that day, but who had volunteered to bring home enough bottled water to keep them going for several months.
“Sure wish I was going with you.” The owner shook his head. “Got your credit card, please?” He held out his hand.
Natalie gave him cash, the last cash she had. “Here. We’re all buying in for supplies,” she said glibly. The las
t time she had tried to use her card the purchase scan had indicated she was over her credit limit.
He took the money, remarking, “On big purchases most people use credit cards. But I suppose cash is better.”
When he offered to carry the box for her, she refused, and said again, “You really should see a doctor about that cough.” But it might be hopeless. She felt his hand hot and dry in hers when she shook it, and knew that his temperature was well above normal. “Why not take the afternoon off? Business is light.”
He shrugged philosophically. “Maybe if I don’t have too many more customers I’ll knock off at three.” He waved to her as she staggered out of the store, the box held tightly against her.
Ernest Dagstern smiled at Harry. “What’s in the truck?” he asked, pointing to the delivery van idling in the driveway.
“Water,” Harry said. “Can I get that thing in? I don’t want the truck noticed.”
“Why?” Dagstern looked puzzled even as he went to unlock the garage.
“Because I stole it.” He grinned at Dagstern’s consternation. “I did. We need bottled water, and that van is full of it. Nothing but big five-gallon jars of it. It’s exactly what we need. So I took the truck. It was at a service station. When I showed up, the service station owner asked if I was the replacement driver. I said I was. Nothing easier.”
By this time Ernest Dagstern had raised the garage door. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said with a shake of his head.
“We’ll find out tomorrow night. The meeting is set for eight-thirty.”
Natalie sat on the couch, rubbing her feet and watching the evening news. “The National Business Bureau,” intoned the figure on the screen, “has released figures for the first quarter of the year, which indicate that buying has shifted...”
“Anything interesting?” Harry asked as he strolled into the room.
“The usual. Nationally there’s nothing about the ‘flu’ or the experiment the government is running on its citizens. Locally there’s still the usual warnings about the flu, and a few figures on absenteeism, which I very much doubt reflect the truth.”
“Likely not.” He sat opposite her and flicked the screen off. “How was your day?” he asked.
“I’ve got a total of three hundred pounds of dehydrated food. Also three portable fire extinguishers, nine battery-powered lamps, two camp stoves, sixteen boxes of various kinds of bandages, and five basic first-aid kits. Oh, and seventeen envelopes of vegetable seeds.”
“Impressive.” He paused, then told her about stealing the water truck. At the end of it she was almost weak with laughter. “Oh, Harry, that’s wonderful. A whole truck, and no one stopped you.”
“Another thing, Amanda was in, and I got to talk to her. She’s going over to her sister’s business and raid it.”
“What for?” A frown threatened in her face.
“Her sister owns a supply house for hotels. That means all the bedding we can use. And with the kind of inventory Laetitia has ...”
“Is Amanda’s sister named Laetitia?” Natalie’s frown was gone, and there was light in her eyes again.
“Laetitia Clothilda, Amanda tells me.” Harry felt himself smile, too. “Anyway, because of the revolving inventory, what we take won’t be noticed, and we can get them cleaned by the company, if we have to. It’s going to make our job a lot easier.”
Natalie sat up. “You’re kidding,” she said. “We can really get bedding and laundry service?” For a moment tears stood in her eyes, but she pinched them away impatiently. “Harry, we might make it.”
“We might.” He leaned toward the table and picked up the day’s mail. “Is this all?”
“That’s it.” She turned over a couple of envelopes. “None of them are from out of town, did you notice that? I should have heard from Alec Corbaine a couple of days ago. I sent him some information for his latest book, and he always acknowledges within a month.”
“Maybe he’s late.”
“And maybe they aren’t bringing in mail from the outside any more.” She stretched, and felt the muscles knot.
Harry opened his mail and stared at the pages, not really seeing them. “You know, I’ve got a cousin in Canada who usually writes me the first of each month. I haven’t heard from him. Until you mentioned it, I hadn’t noticed. Maybe we are sealed off...”
“It’s one way to handle it,” Natalie said with savage satisfaction. “No information in, no information out. That way, who’s to know what’s really going on here? I mean, if there were too many letters coming out, and to the wrong people, there might be some worry, or an investigation.” She pounded her fist into her palm. “They’re thorough.”
Harry sat back to read his letters, and thought that Natalie could be wrong. But he didn’t believe it. When he put the mail aside, he said, “Did you get to talk to Alison?”
“Yes, for all the good it did.” Natalie put her chin in her hand. “I don’t know, Harry, but I think she’s afraid of someone. She mentioned a Tristam, but she wouldn’t talk about him.”
“Do you have any idea who he might be?”
“None at all. But he might be the one who scares her. I don’t think we should try to force her, Harry. She might change her mind later if we just leave her alone. But I don’t think she’s going to change her position.”
“Okay.” He got up. “Have you eaten?”
“No. Have you?”
“With Ernest. Were you planning to eat?”
“Not really.”
Harry went and stood over her. “You can’t do this to yourself, Natalie. You’ve got to be in good shape. You can’t lose your strength now.”
Natalie made a complicated gesture, then looked at Harry in annoyance. “You know, Harry,” she said with an edge in her voice, “I wish you weren’t always right.”
He held out his hand and pulled her off the sofa.
The front of Ernest Dagstern’s house was dark, but in the back lights burned brightly. “I thought this might attract less attention, as it is after my office hours,” Ernest explained when Harry and Natalie arrived. “The others will see the sign.”
“It’s a good idea,” Harry said, and followed Ernest to his living quarters at the back of the house.
“Dr. Divanello called earlier to say that she would not be on time. She mentioned that there was an errand she had to run for her sister, and said you would understand.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I gather that message was for the benefit of whoever might be listening.”
“Yes,” Harry admitted, and hoped that the listeners would not be as acute as Ernest Dagstern.
“I’ve taken the liberty of ordering more lab equipment. I thought you might want it.” He opened the door to his small laboratory, revealing several more boxes of supplies. “From what you’ve told me, Dr. Smith, we are in for some very difficult times.”
“What do you think is happening?” Harry asked, wondering how much he had accidentally revealed.
Ernest Dagstern had learned quite a lot. His words were crisp and his summation accurate and rational. “Am I right?” he asked when he was, through.
“You’re right,” Harry said, his respect for the man growing. “But I didn’t say that much, did I?”
“Well, no. I have my regular patients, too, and I do my own lab work on them, you know. I know what they have, Harry.” Both of them knew that Ernest had joined them. “And I am not the only chiropractor who knows. But we didn’t know what to do without your help. That’s not the sort of thing we treat, although I’ve done some work with polio victims after the fact.” He closed the laboratory door and motioned for Harry and Natalie to follow him to the kitchen.
Stan Kooznetz was already there, his long face looking severe. “You’ve seen the setup?” he asked without preamble.
“It’s not bad,” Harry said quickly hoping to forestall any outbreak of temper.
“It’s damn good, considering,” Stan agreed. “But where are we going to work? Yes,”
he went on, with a wave of his hand, “I know we talked about the Van Dreyter house, but how the hell are we going to take it over? By military coup? What?”
Again Ernest interrupted them. “I thought you knew,” he said. “But, of course, you wouldn’t. The Van Dreyter house has been closed for three days because of the ‘flu’ epidemic. It’s empty.”
“Hallelujah,” Natalie whispered as she sat down to wait for the rest to arrive.
It was a big house, built on lines that had gone out of fashion before the First World War. It had turrets and cupolas, attics and basements, a wine cellar, two kitchens, a formal drawing room and two informal salons, a tea nook, a formal dining room, an informal dining room, fifteen bedrooms (not counting servants’ quarters), eight bathrooms, and three small apartments in the grooms’ quarters in the old stable which had long since been turned into a garage. It also had its own water supply, pumped up from deep wells.
Breaking in wasn’t as hard as they had thought it would be. One of the pantry windows was open, and Lisa Skye, being the smallest, was lifted through, and then she merely unlocked the back door.
“Will you look at this place?” Dave Lillijanthal breathed as his flashlight played over the cavernous kitchen. “You could cook for an army down here.”
“They probably did.” Amanda Divanello touched the central table, feeling the grooves left by decades of knives and cleavers.
“Do you think they still work?” Natalie asked, studying the eight-burner stove.
“Probably.”
Harry cleared his throat. “We better get some exploring done,” he said. “This might take some time.”
“There are two wings to the house,” Ernest Dagstern announced. “I took the tour last week. The west wing is the larger, and has the formal drawing and dining rooms. The north wing has more bedrooms and there’s an artist’s studio in the northmost attic bedroom. We can make our exploration in two groups.” He gave Harry an apologetic look.
“I like the idea,” Harry agreed. “I wish one of us had thought to come here.”
Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - Time of the Fourth Horseman Page 12
