"I've got an idea for when we're done," Rogi said. "I have to help the building engineer fix up the big downstairs meeting room for Professor Jamie's show-and-tell at one-thirty. We'll bring in high-voltage power cables from the transformer room and set up an auxiliary board for the demonstration. You want to help?"
"Wow, yo!" said Severin, through a mouthful of eggs.
Rogi said: Keeping busy is another good way to damp the bad vibes. At least I've found that it works.
You mean you got the fantods too?
Doggone right. Off-key goblin bassoons whooping in the pit of my stomach and thousand-leggers skating up the back of my neck.
...Some of those Sons out there really would like to kill us.
I know Sewy.
Would you let 'em? Rather than hurt them in self-defense?
The Ethic you've been taught tells you the answer.
I know the Altruism Ethic I want to know what you would do.
I'm just a primitive sort of head not in the same league as you and your parents and the other giantbrains at this Congress—
Answer me straight don't futz me like a little kid!
Nonviolence is a wonderful ideal but dangerous it's amazing that so many people do opt for it. Me I don't think I'd have the strength.
If those militant doodoodomes aren't fought they get worse!
The dilemma will probably remain academic thank God.
No but the whole thing really bothers me a lot I've tried to understand Phil&Maury say they believe AltruismEthic just like Mama&Papa but I can see into their minds and they're not sure either.
Lord I believe help my unbelief...
Sort of. The Ethic does seem right from the point of view of all-operantstogether because it's noble you know it catches the attention of the normals FatherAndy calls it moral suasion but it's not something you have to do is it I don't see what's wrong with the Russian heads saying they'll defend their country mentally what good would it do them to be noble and a beautiful example of nonviolence if they all died?
Tough question. If you ever find a good answer Sewy tell me.
***
As Lucille and Denis passed through the crowded lobby she said: Let me just stop at the newsstand for a moment before we go on to Vanderlaan's panel ... Good heavens! The entire portico of the hotel is swarming with police!
Denis said: The hotel security chief is calling in virtually every off-duty officer in northern New Hampshire—and a few from Maine. It will cost us a bundle but I authorized the expenditure.
...Even though none of the pEEps detected any unusual activity?
Especially because they didn't.
Lucille said to the clerk in the hotel boutique, "I'll take this little package of aspirin. And do you have a PD of today's Pravda in English?"
"American or Eurasian format?"
"American, please."
"I'll call it up in a jiff," the girl said, turning to her register console.
Denis said: I told you I'd excurse to Moscow and check with Tamara late tonight.
Lucille's tone was irritable: Quick reassurances don't tell me enough. I want the background. The differing viewpoints.
There's nothing we can do to influence events over there. If the operants win they win and it will probably be more of a disaster in the long run than if they are forced into exile.
"Cash or charge?" inquired the clerk brightly.
Lucille handed over her credit card. "Charge."
Denis said: If the Red Army and the Party survivors agree to a coalition with Tamara's operants it will only be one based on force ... coercion to control a panicking population or to intimidate the enemies of the state.
"Eight sixty-three, please, no sales tax in New Hampshire but we have to add excise for the plaque-disk of that particular newspaper. May I have your thumb here? Thanks a bundle—and you have a lovely day." The clerk handed over the purchases and Lucille tucked them into her purse.
A lovely day! she reiterated ironically. The loveliest sight I can imagine at this moment is the National Guard rolling in the gate ready to camp on the golf course ... But instead there are more demonstrators showing up I don't even have to EE outside to know it I can feel their thoughts mindlessly massing: Off the heads off the heads off the heads ...
Denis reached out and enveloped her in redactive comfort. The chanting faded, along with the small headache that had plagued her since rising. Delegates arriving from the other hotels swarmed all around them, heading for the different function rooms, but they were soundless, and even their movements seemed diffident and ghostly.
Denis said: You are not to worry. By evening it should all be over. We'll dine among the thunderclouds with serene minds and the conflagration of ions will wipe out all remnants of the haters' farspeech leaving us in peace.
You really don't think the demonstrators will try to follow us up the mountain?
No. They'd have to use the Carriage Road and the State Police are prepared to barricade it at the first sign of trouble. We'll have to endure their taunts throughout the day and there may be a few skirmishes if the pickets try to sneak onto the grounds again but there's no danger. You want proof? Jamie's daughter Katie claims to have the Sight you know and when I spoke briefly to Ilya this morning he said his wife sees nothing but great things happening today ... Now all we—"Damn," he said out loud. "My pager."
Full-sensory reality claimed Lucille with painful suddenness. Denis pressed the stud on his watchband that halted the persistent prickling, then studied the message crawling across the Omega's digital strip.
"I'm to call the President," he said.
Lucille stared at him in blank dismay, then burst out: Don'tyouDARE go to Washington you're the Chair of this affair youhaveto SPEAK tonight I won'tdoitforyouthistimedamnityoucan'tgoyouhavenomorecleanshirts!
He kissed her cheek. "Don't worry. Go to our panel. And try not to let anybody catch you reading your newsplaque during the dull bits."
Then he was off for the hotel manager's office and the secure landline that had been set up for a certain contingency.
***
Kieran O'Connor turned up the gain on the painkilling device that had been spliced into his nervous system, hating himself for the cowardice at the same time that he welcomed the wondrous semiorgasmic numbness that suffused his lower body, releasing him. It was ten minutes until noon and time to pull himself into shape for the showdown with Victor. Fortunately, that wouldn't take long.
Forgive me Black Mother soon I will return. Dam dham nam tam tham dam dham nam pam pham.
His farsensory faculties returned and he was once again able to experience the crashing waters of Upper Ammonoosuc Falls as it ramped and plunged over shiny granite ledges and boiled whitely through the monstrous potholes it had drilled in the tough bedrock. A blustery wind had sprung up that ripped the cascade's mists into furious wraiths that would have soaked any tourist brave enough to venture onto the small observation platform. But nobody was there. The parking lot of the modest roadside park was empty except for the silver Mercedes in which Kieran O'Connor sat alone.
He had rented the car at Dorval Airport in Montréal and driven it to this specified meeting place, along Base Station Road not far from the Mount Washington cog railway's lower terminus. He was thankful that all but thirty-five of the 345 kilometers of the drive had been on pilot-stripped auto-routes or freeways, giving him a chance to sleep off some of the jet lag. In order to foil the Justice Department surveillance team he had traveled from Chicago to New Hampshire via Seattle, Krung Thep, Bombay, Johannesburg, Fiumicino, Gatwick, and Montréal—shedding the last pEEp agent in the chaotic concourses of Aeroporto Leonardo da Vinci. He was certain now that none of the government investigators would be able to trace him to this Congress—much less uncover his connection to Victor Remillard or the local branch of the Sons of Earth. The only potentially weak link had been Shannon—and just as Kieran had anticipated, she had been painstakingly discreet since betraying h
er pathetic dupe of a husband. Even more than her father, she wanted no hint of Victor's involvement with the O'Connor empire to come to the attention of the Attorney General.
Kieran's eyes filled, surprising him, and he realized that for the first time he was mourning her loss. It should have been the daughter to inherit the night, not the daughter's daughter. But Kali would have her jest ... O Mother of Power, forgive her as you forgive me.
She would be coming, even though he had forbidden it, eager for the final treachery. So be it. Devouring Mother I would give her to you myself if I could. But I dare not waste the least spark of my dwindling powers. Please understand. Dam dham nam tam—
"Are you asleep?"
Kieran opened his eyes. Victor Remillard was standing beside the closed window of the Mercedes. His dark wool Melton storm coat and close-cut curly hair glittered with mist droplets. A large orange van belonging to the New Hampshire Highway Department blocked the entrance to the waterfall's parking lot.
Kieran pressed the window button. "You're on time. I presume those are your wheels."
"The way the cops have the resort area sewed up, I figured something official might come in handy. Especially later."
"Everything's in order?"
"I told you it would be and it is. But you're not getting any details, Kieran."
"I don't want them ... It surprises me, though, to perceive that you plan to oversee the operation personally. Aren't you concerned about being recognized?"
Victor laughed. "I can fuzz my identity. You mean you can't?"
"The late Fabulous Finster, a valued associate of mine, once attempted to impart the technique to me. But I just didn't have the knack. I've had to make do with other mental expedients." The old man's shadowed eyes lifted and barely reined coercion flashed in their depths. "I thought I told you to meet me here alone."
"I need Pete Laplace. He knows every back road and abandoned track in these parts and I've got other things to do besides study road maps. I'm running most of this goddam hit word-of-mouth and message-to-Garcia. No farspeech, no electronics. Not until the tail end, when it'll be too late to stop us."
"You've made the arrangements for my participation?"
"Yes. But I think you're crazy as a fuckin' bedbug."
"Never mind," Kieran said amiably. "Humoring me in this final matter will have no effect at all on your part of the operation. But it's an old Irish custom to join the dance if you've paid the piper."
"Which brings us to fork-over time."
Kieran picked up an attaché case made of black lightweight metal and passed it through the window. "It's not locked. You'll wish to program the locking device and the built-in security mechanisms after checking the bona fides of the instrument of transfer with your people at Chase Manhattan. But I assure you that everything has been arranged as we agreed. My assets will become the property of your dummy Canadian corporation upon the completion of certain legal formalities at—at four o'clock this afternoon. Sixteen hundred hours. You see—I trust you to fulfill your part of the bargain."
"What about the Big Cherry?" Victor prompted. "And the last condition?"
Kieran lifted one hand in a reassuring gesture. His smile was pained. "I told you that my final request wouldn't be difficult for you to fulfill—and a fair exchange for the access code to the override system of Zap-Star."
"Well?"
"My daughter Shannon is at the White Mountain Hotel. In spite of my strictest orders to the contrary. She expects you to kill me, as you agreed to do in return for her favors. What I want you to do is show her the documents and the gigadisk data that are in the case I gave you. Get into the hotel computer and let her see the corporate transfer confirmed. And then, use the computer to confirm your access to Zap-Star as well—but without revealing the access code to her. Then you may question Shannon tactfully on what role she plans to play in tonight's operation..."
Victor's gloved hands tightened on the metal case. His mind was an impregnable fortress. "Why?"
Kieran began to laugh, but then his body convulsed and he groaned through clenched teeth and fumbled desperately inside his coat. Victor could see that the old man's shirt was partially unbuttoned and a flattened plastic control mechanism with numerous electrode wires was taped to his upper chest. For a brief interval Kieran writhed helplessly, until his fingers reached the device's key-pad. He summoned maximum analgesia and fell back in abrupt relief.
Presently, Kieran said, "Sorry. Your question—?"
Victor's face was expressionless. "I don't understand why you want me to confirm my—my takeover to your daughter. It's only what she expects."
"Tell Shannon that she never really had any secrets from me. Tell her that I knew all along about her duplicate mind-screen and had access to her secret heart. Tell her she was free only in her fantasies. My pathetic little girl! I was sadly mistaken about her and it nearly cost me my—my life's goal. But I was shown another way..." Thank you Mother thank you dam dham nam tam—
Victor demanded: What do you mean what the hell are you saying and WHO IS SHE who is that?
"My Mother. I pray her mantra." Kieran's eyes closed and he lay limp against the soft leather seat. The rain had finally started and plump silver pearls danced among the lesser misty splatters on the waxed hood of the Mercedes. Kieran said, "Go away. Do the things I've told you. Shannon's reaction will show you what my last request of you is. The Mother has compassion on my weakness and pardons me from having to do the job myself. And she doesn't need me to bring the final Blackness, either. It will all happen as it must happen. Dam dham nam tam tham dam dham nam pam pham..."
"The access code! Is that it? The mantra?"
Kieran's eyes opened and blazed. Will you do as I say with Shannon!
"Yes." Victor's mind opened to confirm the truth.
Kieran nodded slowly. "Another thing ... She also fantasizes that her child Laura is yours. Disabuse her of that at the end, will you? It will bring home the point. You may want to take Laura away from Gerry Tremblay and bring her up yourself ... Or perhaps you won't. You don't want to share, the way I did." The eyes closed again. Kieran's face was yellowish-gray and he breathed slowly through his open mouth. "I loved her, though. I loved them all. But not you and that's why you are my heir to the night."
Victor reached out with his coercion, exerting it with delicate care: Kieran. Don't sleep yet. You must tell me the access code. The satellite access code. Tell me.
Yes yes this is the phrase without any punctuation FOR BEHOLD HENCEFORTH ALL GENERATIONS SHALL CALL ME BLESSED the key to bring about the final death of energy the final dark ... I must sleep now but I'll wake this evening I'll wake in time to see it through it's all right now Mother I've done it now rest...
The mental image. Victor saw it again in the instant before Kieran slipped into unconsciousness. It was a great wheel of black petals with fire at the heart, held within the belly of a barely perceptible female figure. But Victor Remillard had never heard of Kali, and so all he did was swear in French as the vision faded.
Then he opened the door of the Mercedes and brought the window up. He closed the door, locked it, and left Kieran O'Connor to sleep beside the thundering waterfall until the operation began at 1930 hours that evening.
***
Shannon Tremblay attended Jamie MacGregor's lecture as openly as she had the other Congress events that interested her, confident that a severely tailored suit, eyeglasses with tortoiseshell rims, and a short black wig hiding her auburn hair rendered her unrecognizable. The concept of a mental signature, a personal thought-pattern as distinctive as a fingerprint, was quite unknown to her; and so she was badly startled when someone called out as she left the meeting room:
"Oh, there you are, Shan. Would you let me have a word with you before you go on to the next round of papers?"
It was a tall, balding academic, a man she had never seen before, and she regarded him frostily and said, "You've mistaken me for someone else," and would have w
alked on. But coercion took hold of her and forced her to turn and accompany the man into an alcove, and she did not dare protest and call attention to herself.
"I've been looking all over the hotel for you," the man said. For a split second his ascetic face flickered and another underlying set of features took its place.
Victor!
The coercive grip tightened to the point of pain and she whimpered.
"Use regular speech," he ordered in low tones. "Your telepathy has always been incompetent in focusing along the intimate mode."
She winced at the pressure. "Let me go, damn you! What do you mean by accosting me—"
"You're supposed to be in Cambridge."
She reseated her glasses and turned away from him. "I can go where I please."
"So you couldn't resist being in on the kill, eh? Never mind if somebody spotted you and put two and two together! Don't you realize this place is swarming with FBI and Justice Department agents?"
"They're not looking for me," she retorted. "They're looking for Daddy—or his known associates. Daddy disappeared three days ago, you know. I was the one who put two and two together and deduced that he must be on his way here, to this final Metapsychic Congress. It was the perfect occasion for him ... and for you. Of course I wanted to be on the scene for the finale." She lifted her chin with a triumphant smile. "Are these Sons of Earth militants your idea? What will they do—try to burn down the hotel? The old place is a real tinderbox. I'm staying at the Horse & Hound in Franconia, so feel—"
"Shut up," he hissed. "Do you think this is all some entertainment put on for your benefit?"
She laughed softly. "For both our benefits." Then her expression hardened. "Daddy has made the deal with you, hasn't he! You arrange for some convenient Sons-of-Earth-sponsored disaster to befall this hotel full of operants, and he says he'll hand everything over."
"That's right."
"You're a fool if you trust him. He'll never give up his power until he's dead, and he won't die until he's ready to. The doctors can't understand how he's been able to survive this long—but I understand! He wants to offer a holocaust of operant minds to appease some horrible fantasy, and if you help him he'll find some way to finish you off with all the rest. You'll never get the best of Daddy unless you kill him. I told you that at the beginning."
INTERVENTION Page 67
