The Fanciers & Realizers MEGAPACK

by Phyllis Ann Karr

  Click whistled softly. He’d never heard this story before. “Didn’t they apologize? Do something to make it up to you?”

  “They tried.” She slid back in but left the car door open. “That’s why I grew up to be a polly. So I could catch the real crooks and keep the same thing from happening to other innocents that happened to me. Try phoning Cage’s office aide. Robotnik. Find out if she knows what’s going on.”

  “Glad to oblige,” he said with feeling. He’d found time during their second head-to-head to key her private number into one of his automatic buttons.

  She answered on the second chime. “Hello?”

  “M. Gloriana! Your favorite polly here.”

  “Oh, M. Davey. I’m still pre-empted all this weekend, but I can still hold a week from Saturday.”

  “I have checked my calendar and I exercise that option here and now.” Noticing that his senior was tapping her fingernails on her pipe, he went on, “I’m idling outside the school right now. Mind if I step inside to finalize?”

  Lestrade deliberately tabbed her penphone to his frequency.

  Gloriana was giggling. “Fine, but I’m at the Rolling Hills 2020 ordering my dinner.”

  “Ah-so. Skipped out before your princeps, eh?”

  “Like every other day. I zip at fifteen forty-five with the profs. Half the time M. Cage is still disciplining a student or two.”

  Lestrade cut in. “Sorry, M. Robotnik, but you saw Cunningham Roberts Cunningham go into the sanctum and weren’t around to see when he came out?”

  “Who? Oh, yes, Cunningham ditto. M. Cage was going to be long but gentle, let him go at sixteen hundred. Is this another routine check, Sergeant?” She sounded too surprised for anger.

  Signaling Click to take the conversation back, Lestrade turned up the volume on her phone until the background noise of a 2020 restaurant became audible.

  “What’s going on?” said Gloriana.

  “Uh, routine check for Sergeant Lestrade, unexpected job benefit for me—”

  Over the 2020 echo, they heard the guarded thud of every door in the school plant locking simultaneously on the Magruder Public system. Now the only way in or out without setting off the alarm was by open-sesame voicekey.

  “Right,” Lestrade muttered. “Pinesweep can get out later through his own back door.” She untied from Click’s line, leaving him free to hurry through a cozier au revoir while she tabbed someone else’s number. When he got Gloriana signed off and returned his full attention to his senior, her phonepen was bouncing a privacy chime and she was staring at it in disbelief.

  “Who’re you trying to call, Les?”

  “Cunningham.” She tabbed again and got the same result. “Find me that maintenance engineer’s personal number, right now.” She slid out again and stood looking at the school plant and listening to the kid’s privacy signal.

  So he’s got parents who let him get away with that, huh? Click thought. Blasted privacy signals oughta be banned on kids’ phones. Nothing but a nostalgia gimmick anyway. Next thing, somebody’ll be going clear back to the old recorded message, charging fancy prices for wristphones with “Call me again between eleven and midnight” messages. “Pinesweep’s number,” he said aloud. “Here it is. Nine two oh three nine.”

  “Get him on the carphone.”

  Click tabbed the right buttons to feed Pinesweep’s number from comscreen to phone. The custodian answered at the first chime. “Hello, Esther?”

  Lestrade had her phone tied into the car’s. “M. Pinesweep. Sergeant Lestrade here, Regional Police. Are you still inside the school plant?”

  “I am standing at my door, M. I told you I was leaving at sixteen thirty today, and by my clock it is now sixteen thirty-eight.”

  It was 16:35 and seconds by the polcar clock, but for once Lestrade didn’t even glance at it. “Is anyone else still in the building?”

  “Not unauthorized.”

  “Anyone authorized? Professors? Your maintenance aides? The princeps?”

  “M. Sergeant Lestrade.” Pinesweep’s voice bordered on blatant disrespect. “The princeps can stay until midnight if he chooses. He is the princeps and he has the voicekey to every door in the building.”

  “He was disciplining a student after school today.”

  “A hot item for the printouts. He disciplines someone or other three or four afternoons a week.”

  Lestrade beat her fist on the car roof. “Has he ever kept a kid this late?”

  “M. Sergeant, whoever the princeps is responsible for, they’re not my worry.”

  “So anyone could hide in the princeps’ sanctum to come out after you’re gone and romp through your ecosystems?”

  “I’m not paid to have to worry about them on my own time, Sergeant. I have just finished going through the rest of the plant, and if M. Cage and his responsibility are still in his sanctum, they are inside alone. I am going home now.” His line closed with a single tap.

  “I’ve got it,” Click remarked. “His number’s a mnemonic on his name: P-N-S-W-P, Herigone system with the ‘W’ treated like an ‘M.”

  Lestrade went on staring at the school plant. “Get me Cage’s number.”

  “School or personal?”

  She stared toward the office wing with its large stained-glass window in the farthest room. “Sanctum.”

  He called it up and tabbed it direct to the car’s screencall phone. It chimed six times, seven. “There you are,” said the junior sergeant. “He’s gone home.”

  “Let it chime and get me his personal number.”

  Click got it, and Lestrade tabbed it on her pen, the carphone still chiming. After a moment she said, “Hello, M. Cage? Sergeant Lestrade. Where are you? ... Ah, already? ... Yes, I see, so you live that close. Is that water I hear running? ... Uh-hmm, that’s what it sounded like. ... Oh, I see, another professional meeting. Yes, well, what about Cunningham? ... The kid who found the body—you were going to have him in your sanctum after school today. ... Oh. That early, huh? ... Yes, all right, M. Cage. ... No, no, it’s a safe neighborhood and he knows his way around the public transit. ... Yes, I’ll call later if—no, no, only if he doesn’t turn up. I won’t interrupt you at your meeting just to say all’s well. ... All right, M., thank you. Good-by.”

  She tabbed her phone off.

  “Well?” Click asked.

  “Um, he’s at home taking a shower. Er, he’s got a professional educators’ meeting at twenty hundred hours. Um, lives a ten-minute walk from school. Er, says he disciplined Cunningham and let him go by, er, fifteen fifty-five.”

  “Okay, there you are! Come on, Les,” the junior sergeant said gently, leaning across the car seat. “The kid’s probably home already, waiting for us in comfort at Thirty-Seven Novoposhni Restates.”

  Probably she didn’t even hear the sound of his voice. “My Lady God!” she exclaimed. “We’ve gone about this like nineteenth century Keystone Cops! We’ve been assuming—without even thinking twice—Dave, what time did Cage show up Friday night for that weekend in the Rockies?”

  “I can run a quick comcheck—”

  “Never mind.” Leaving the car door open, she dashed up to the building. He followed at once.

  She had her pen out, key end aimed at the lock, but jerked back before pressing. “Damn it, if we use our emergencies on Magruder Public we set off the alarm. What was Pinesweep’s number again? Nine two—”

  “Nine two oh three nine.”

  She tabbed it.

  His voice came through bright and eager. “Hello, Esther?”

  “M. Pinesweep, we’ve got to get back inside the building. No—damn it, don’t get snitty with the law, this could be life or death. Where are you? ... Okay, go back in by your door and unlock the middle front door, just the middle one, we don’t want any more of a thump than we can help. You can do th
at from your central panel, can’t you? ... No, I don’t know where ... Yes, fine, good, just move quietly and be careful. And keep our phone line open.” She looked at her partner and nodded.

  Without waiting to be told, he tied his wristphone in with her number and Pinesweep’s.

  Chapter 34

  Advanced Junior Geometry Supplemental was trickier than if Cunningham had been all the way through Advanced Basic in regular labwork, but he kind of enjoyed trying to fill in the glitches. He was getting deep in the second proof when the closet door opened behind him. At first he thought it was just a check, but Princeps Cage said, “Well, young man, I am pleased to see you have not been wasting your time,” tabbed off the screen, and unstrapped him.

  Cunningham got up and turned around. “Can I go now, sir?” he asked, not looking up, but thinking, I’ll have plenty of time. I couldn’t have been in the closet that long. I only got one proof done.

  “No, boy. Not yet. You remember there is still discipline owing for your lies. And I have decided that the best discipline is one which will at the same time help you to overcome your present psychobloc.”

  “Sir?”

  “Don’t argue with me, boy! Scanning today’s record, I see you did not appear for your swimming session this morning. Obviously you have developed a psychobloc, and the only effective treatment for such blocs is to snuff them as quickly as possible. You will therefore swim six laps in the ’natorium before going home tonight.”

  “Sir, my mother cleared an excused absence, and I wasn’t even going to use it except—”

  “Seven laps,” said Princeps Cage, grabbing the boy’s arm and pulling him away from the closet. “The number will increase each time you attempt any backtalk.”

  The sanctum was even more shadowy, but the clock had glo numbers that read 16:36. Gol! Cunningham thought, that long? “M. Princeps, sir, I’m not backtalking, but if I could just phone one—”

  “Eight laps!” said the princeps, and headed out of the sanctum, walking fast. He never let go of the boy’s arm, his fingers dug in tight, and Cunningham hurried along beside him, trying to prove he didn’t have to be hauled, but if he could just phone Senior Sergeant Lestrade, let her know why he was so late ... The office was dark, M. Robotnik must have gone home. The hallway was dark, it’d still be daylight outside but it was always kind of dark in the office hallway behind the big panorama mosaic in the welcome entrance, when the lights were off and the dark afternoon panes were down on the west windows—it was dark in the wide halls, too, and the whole school felt empty, emptier even than last Friday, except that Old Piney had to be around somewhere, he didn’t go home till 17:30, was it?—the sound-soak floors weren’t even soaking up their footsteps, not completely, they were going so fast, like when you tried to race down the hall making noise on purpose—it sounded like something Senior Sergeant Lestrade should be able to hear all the way outside but it wasn’t, because when you were outside you couldn’t even hear the whole field team plus cheerleaders if they came stampeding down the inside halls ... And was that one funny thump ...?

  They got to the boys’ dressing room. The princeps opened the door and pushed Cunningham in. For a second he thought the princeps was going to splash right on through the footbath, shoes and all, so he jerked back a little. “Sir, please—the footbath?”

  “Um, yes. Strip your feet. Off with them.” The princeps finally let go his arm.

  Cunningham sat on the wall bench and zipped out of his left shoe and sock. He glanced at the princeps’ feet. There wasn’t any way across without getting your feet wet unless you jumped, but Princeps Cage wasn’t taking his shoes and socks off.

  “I will, er, go around through the gymnasium entrance and see you inside,” said the man. “You will, of course, shower properly. You will not waste your time when you do it.”

  He went out and closed the door. It made a funny clicking sound. Maybe the princeps knucked it or something to warn the boy to hurry. Cunningham yanked off his other shoe and sock, hitched up his trousers, and ran through the footbath, down the passage and round the corner into the dressing room. Off with his clothes—this time he just left them on the bench, why locker ’em when nobody else was around?—into his swim trunks that always had to go through the prelim shower with you…a stop at the nearest comfort stall ...

  He heard the door to the pool area open, and Princeps Cage called in, “Time, boy! Shower!”

  “Yes, sir!” Adjusting his trunks in a hurry, he skipped across to the shower. There was a little chiming sound over by the door. Princeps Cage’s wristphone, wasn’t it? (Sure wish I had my phone!) Why wasn’t he answering it?

  Cunningham jumped into the shower and turned it on full blast—sometimes you could get wet enough right away to fool the coach into thinking you’d spent the full sixty seconds under the nozzle. Leaving it on, he slipped back out. The door to the pool area was shut, and the princeps wasn’t anywhere in sight. Feeling guilty but scared, the boy snuck over to the door and pressed his ear against it. This one wasn’t sound-soak, just waterproof. Coaches liked the hear any funny stuff in the pool area.

  Princeps Cage was saying, “Oh, er, that boy?” He paused. He must be talking through his phone, because Cunningham couldn’t hear anybody else. “Oh, yes, M., I, er, disciplined him and sent him home at, um, fifteen fifty-five hours at the latest.”

  Maybe the princeps was talking about some other kid. Only, who? He didn’t have anybody else in his sanctum this afternoon, not even in the outer office. And he’d been done with Badger and Big D before lunch, so he wouldn’t tell anybody “fifteen fifty-five” if they asked about one of them.

  “If there’s anything you’d, um, like me to do,” the princeps was saying. “Possibly, er, organize a neighborhood search?”

  Cunningham backed away from the door, glanced around at the benches, and decided not to stop for his clothes. The sandtile was good as a racetrack, and he got to the footbath okay. He could still hear the shower running around the corner behind him, and maybe the princeps was still talking, so he wanted like heck to run on through, but he made himself stop and wade it quietly. It felt longer than the whole rest of the passage put together, but at last he was across, only two more meters to go to the door. He covered them in a sprint and pushed.

  The door wouldn’t open. But it had to! You couldn’t lock any school doors to keep people inside, just to keep them out. He pushed again. Nothing. It didn’t budge. His fists doubled up to start hammering—but the princeps would hear that. Yeah, the princeps must have some special key to lock school doors that nobody else could. He’d probably locked the pool doors, too. Anyway, he was blocking the door from the dressing room to the pool area. But if he’s still talking, the boy thought, maybe I can sneak back through the dressing room and get out the gym doors! If he’s still out there talking, and if he hasn’t locked the gym up, too ... Listen! That him calling me? No, Cunningham looked around and didn’t see him, and the shower was still running.

  He gave the door one last try, tightened himself to go back, turned around again, and this time the princeps was standing at the other end of the passage.

  He didn’t look like anything but an outline. It was murky in the passage, all green and blue tile without much light except a little from the skylights and a little from the dressing room around the corner. The boy froze, thinking sort of crazily, Maybe if I keep real still he won’t see me. Maybe he’ll go check the gym ...

  “Ten laps!” said the princeps. “Now come back here at once.”

  The boy started rubbing his arms, all wet and covered with goose bumps. The princeps couldn’t…do anything to him, not with M. Pinesweep still somewhere around. Sure, Old Piney never left the building till 17:30 or 18:00! Did he? “M. Princeps, sir, hadn’t we better check with M. Pinesweep? About—”

  “Twelve laps!” The princeps advanced to the edge of the footbath.

 
Cunningham started banging his fists on the door. Maybe it wouldn’t open—but maybe M. Pinesweep would hear.

  “At once,” Princeps Cage repeated, and stepped into the footbath, shoes and socks and all.

  Cunningham grabbed his own shoes, that he’d left on this side of the footbath when he took them off, and threw them. The princeps dodged one. The other one bounced off his shoulder but it didn’t stop him long. He was wading right through the middle. The boy grabbed a choice and tried to rush past him on the driver’s side.

  The princeps flung out an arm, caught him on the chest and knocked him off balance. He swung out to keep from falling and the princeps had him by one wrist and they were wrestling in the footbath. Once or twice the boy thought he was winning, when he splashed water up in the princeps’ face, but the grownup was too much bigger and stronger, and finally he had the kid all the way off the ground and was carrying him back to the dressing room—even if he was panting like a pufferbelly as he walked—and it wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair!

  Chapter 35

  Rosemary Lestrade shut her eyes for a moment and drummed her fingerpads on the doorframe. If I’m wrong, it’ll be embarrassing. So what? People have survived being embarrassed.

  “Princeps’ sanctum first?” said Click.

  She started to nod, then shook her head. All or nothing. “Pool area first.”

  “You think he’d try the same m.o. again?”

  “It worked the first time. As far as he knows. And he may have panicked.” If they were still in the sanctum, either the boy would probably still be safe or else they were already too late. If the pool…that same nightmare ... Are we too late anyway? Should I have given the order to emergency and gone in with alarms ringing? Maybe it’d push him over the last edge, but maybe it’d stop him. You couldn’t be sure with these types, realizers going temporarily insane. With grownups, Cage looked like a comic Father Abbot and talked like a tongue-tied cherub, but with kids, by Click’s own report and recordings ... At least now when he was princeps. Might have been different when he was in his own level, band director to midschoolers. But kicked upstairs to a sanctum where he didn’t like it and didn’t belong ...