by Gene Wolfe
The remote fell to the floor.
After a moment, Margaret picked it up. “Should I mute these, Miss Casey?” Cassie did not seem to have heard her, so Margaret did.
Silent bottles of ketchup invaded the living room. One opened its own top and emitted a crimson fountain.
“Margaret...”
“Yes, Miss Casey?”
“She wanted to know if I knew where he was. Is that right?”
“Yes, Miss Casey.”
“Then he’s still alive. Still moving around.”
“I think so, Miss Casey.”
“So do I.” Suddenly, Cassie smiled. “If the guy who shot him was the guy I think it might be, I may be out of a job.”
“I hope not, Miss Casey.”
“Well, I do. And that doesn’t mean you’d be out of a job, Margaret. I’d get a new gig.”
“I know, Miss Casey.”
The desk was back. So was the woman behind it; but the map had become a map of the city. “A train has struck a school bus near the intersection of Fifty-eighth and Moore. We’re getting conflicting reports regarding the presence of children on the bus at the time it was struck. Regardless of the presence or absence of children, traffic on Moore is backed up for miles. Use alternate routes.
“In an unrelated story, the Supreme Court has extended the period for post-parturition terminations to one year. Civil rights organizations continue to press for five for defectives.
“Mayor Houlihan has declared the city’s streets safer than ever as a result of the previously announced decline in police violence. Most citizens seem to agree.”
Cassie muttered, “Why can’t they get to it?”
The end of her living room that had been occupied by the map and the books had become a park. In it, a large perspiring man in gym shorts told an interviewer, “I would say the danger’s seriously overrated. Late at night there may be a certain risk, but from dawn to midnight no one’s got anything to worry about.” He mopped his dripping face with a towel that seemed sodden already; his hands and arms were noticeably muscular.
Margaret said, “Maybe you could call that lady who called, Miss Casey.”
A young man with acne and a nascent beard shrugged. “I go out whenever. Everything’s chief.” His shirt, open to the waist, revealed an obscene symbol worked in gold and suspended from his neck by a heavy gold chain.
There was a knock at the door. Cassie opened it far enough to see a middle-aged man in coveralls.
“Come to do your wall, miss,” he said. “Want to let me do now or come back later?”
“It goes clear through,” Cassie told him. “Can’t you fix the other side first?”
“Already done, miss. You hear me in there?”
She shook her head. “We’ve had the vid on.”
“See there, miss? Only takes a moment and doesn’t make much noise.”
On the other side of her living room, the ketchup bottles had been replaced by equally silent beer bottles. Cassie told Margaret to get off the couch, and unchained the door.
“Hear ’bout the bloke got shot in Pine Crest Towers?” the man in coveralls asked as he moved the couch.
Cassie shook her head. The rectangular hole behind her couch was surprisingly small, less than a foot square.
“Gore everywhere, poor devil.” The man in coveralls disappeared into the hall outside and returned pulling a small tool cart. “Board’s cut a’ready, miss. You’ll be shocked how quick it goes in.”
BREAKING NEWS flashed on the erstwhile map.
Margaret pressed a button.
The young woman behind the desk said, “We told you earlier that the internationally famous scholar Gideon Chase had called police to report that he had been shot, that he was told to wait at the scene, and that he was not present when the police ambulance arrived. Now I want to welcome Sharon Bench of the Sun-Tribunal. Sharon’s been looking into the story for us.”
Sharon’s apparition strode into Cassie’s living room and took the chair next to the young woman’s.
The young woman said, “What have you got for us, Sharon?”
Sharon smiled. “A lot, Dorothy. First, Dr. Chase hasn’t been located. He’s not in his apartment and his car’s gone.”
“That suggests that he hasn’t been abducted.”
Sharon nodded. “It does, although abductors might have gotten his keys and taken the car. There’s an all-points bulletin out for it. It’s a café-latte Morris convertible. A bumper sticker reads “Honk If You Love Woldercan.” Anyone who spots it should call the police.”
The erstwhile map flashed a license number.
“Second, my sources in the police department tell me there’s no question now that a shooting occurred. An empty cartridge case has been found at the scene, and a bullet was lodged in the wall.”
“We’d heard that there was a great deal of blood,” the young woman said.
“There was. My sources confirm that. Do you know about the cleaver?”
The young woman shook her head. “Perhaps you should tell our audience exactly what a cleaver is.”
“It’s an instrument heavier than a butcher knife used for chopping meat,” Sharon explained. “They’re also called meat axes. As you can imagine, a cleaver makes a fearsome weapon.”
“You say one was found there?”
Sharon nodded. “Not only was one found there, but it was covered with blood. What appears to have happened — this is what my police sources tell me — is that Dr. Gideon Chase, whose apartment is on that floor, observed that the door of a neighboring apartment had been forced. He seems to have gone inside to investigate and surprised the burglar, who shot him. Apparently Dr. Chase ran into the kitchen, where he found a cleaver and used it to defend himself, cutting the burglar deeply at least once.”
“He must be a brave man.”
“He certainly has that reputation,” Sharon said, “and my guess is that he deserves it. He’s a world traveler who often inserts himself into dangerous situations.”
“You’ve met him? I know Tommy Pergram’s had him on several times.”
Sharon nodded. “I’ve interviewed him, and a friend of mine’s dating him. We showed this clip on my five fifteen spot yesterday.”
Suddenly Sharon and the young woman she called Dorothy were displaced by Cassie herself and Gideon Chase, smiling and holding hands at a table in Walker’s.
“That brings us to my third point,” Sharon’s voice continued. “I’ve been in touch with her — she’s the famous actress Cassie Casey, and the Tommy Pergram Show ought to have her on sometime.”
Dorothy and Sharon returned, and Dorothy said, “The deeper we get into this, the more interesting it gets.”
“That’s my feeling exactly,” Sharon agreed. “Cassie’s terribly distraught. She doesn’t know where Dr. Chase is and wanted to know whether he was in the hospital. The police are watching the emergency rooms, of course. So far he hasn’t been to any of them.”
“Doctors are required to report gunshot wounds, aren’t they?”
“They are. This isn’t one of the points I came to make, but maybe it’s more important than any of them.” Sharon paused to look straight into the camera. “You know me, Gideon, and you know I’m on your side and Cassie’s, no matter what happens. You’re not wanted by the police. You haven’t been charged with anything, and nobody I’ve talked to thinks you will be. You won’t be arrested if you seek medical attention.”
Sharon turned back to the young woman. “I have one more point, Dorothy, and it may be the most interesting of all. May I give it?”
“Of course! We want to hear it.”
“It’s that the FBI is looking into this case. Nobody seems to know why, but an agent’s flown up from Washington. He’s questioning the people who live in that apartment as we speak.”
“We’ll have more on this,” the young woman announced, “as soon as we learn something new. Stay tuned.”
Cassie took the remote from Marg
aret and switched off the vid. A moment later, she became aware of the man in coveralls and said, “Yes?”
“Wanted to tell you I’m finished, miss. Your wall’s patched and caulked. Caulk’s still wet, so I wouldn’t push on the patch. Be dry tomorrow, and I’ll come back to paint soon as I can.”
“Thank you,” Cassie said. “Do I owe you anything?”
“No, miss.”
Margaret said, “The building takes care of it, I’m sure.”
Cassie nodded absently as the man in coveralls let himself out. “Do we have anything else to discuss?”
“Will you need me tomorrow at one, Miss Casey?”
“I don’t see why I should. It’s just a read-through. I’m going to phone Zelda — wait. There is something. Two somethings. Sit down, please.”
Margaret did.
“Here’s the first thing. Mr. Rosenquist took that bracelet from you, so there’s a chance he may give it back to you. If he does, tell me right away.” Cassie paused. “Nobody knows where Dr. Chase is now, but that could change. If he’s around, give it to him. Either one of us, but as fast as you can. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Miss Casey. Absolutely.”
“Good. Here’s the second one. Have you heard what happened to Jimmy? You seem to have known him better than any of us.”
Margaret shook her head. “I’ll try to find out, Miss Casey.”
“Do that, please. And tell me what you find.”
When Margaret had gone, Cassie dialed a familiar number.
“Youmans Agency, stage, vid, and modeling.”
“Zelda? This is Cassie.”
“Great! I was getting ready to call you. We’ve got a contract. Dating the Volcano God? India Dempster said you knew all about it.”
“I don’t, Zelda. I don’t know how good my part is or what they’re going to want me to do. I don’t know how good the show’s likely to be. Or — ”
“I’ve taken care of that, Cassie. You’ll see when you vet the contract. There’s extra money for you if they cancel before the first performance. There’s more money if it runs more than three months. They gave me everything I asked for. You’ll see.”
“Yes, I will, and I’m not signing till I do. My guess is that I won’t sign at all, but don’t tell India that.”
“She’ll be pressuring you.”
“I know it, but I think I’ve got a way to pressure back if I need to. How much money’s behind this, Zelda? Have you any idea?”
“Uh-huh...”
“That was a smirk, Zelda. I couldn’t see it, but I could hear it. What do you know that I don’t?”
“Oh, lots and lots of things. I couldn’t tell you all of them. It would take all day, and I’d be selling out my sources. But there’s a lot of money.”
Cassie went looking for something to pry with. “It’s not all this guy Wallace Rosenquist, is it? I figure he has backers.”
“You figure wrong.” Zelda’s voice had become deadly serious. “Backers have him. He operates under a dozen names, and one of my sources thinks he may be the richest man in the world. He’s not somebody you want to cross, Cassie.”
“I’d heard he was dangerous.”
“You heard right,” Zelda said. “Can you meet me for lunch tomorrow? One o’clock at the Greek place?”
“I’ll try.”
“We need to talk face-to-face,” Zelda told her, and hung up.
There was a knock at the door, and Cassie hung up, too.
It opened before she got there. Gideon Chase stepped in, shut it behind him, and threw the bolt.
BLOW THE MAN DOWN
“You’re limping,” was the first thing Cassie said.
Gideon nodded. “I took a bullet through my right leg.” There was no grin.
“Sit down! For God’s sake, sit down.”
Gideon dropped into the only armchair, leaving Cassie her well-worn blue couch. “I might argue with that from a philosophical standpoint, but I need to sit too badly.”
“They’re looking for you.”
He nodded. “Whom do you intend by ‘they,’ Miss Casey?”
“Call me ‘Cassie.’ ” It was said as firmly as a trained actress could manage. “You sound like Margaret for Pete’s sake. I’m going to call you ‘Gid.’ You’re going to call me ‘Cassie.’ That’s settled!”
He nodded again. “I’ve got it, Cassie.”
“Now — where the hell have you been? They’re looking for you.”
“I’ll try to tell you, Cassie, but not until you tell me who’s looking for me.” He laid a polished brown walking stick across the arms of his chair.
“The police and the news media. Sharon, just to start with.”
His smile was small and pained, but unmistakably a smile. “That’s good. That’s very good. I’m putting you in danger, Cassie, just by being here. Listen carefully, please. Are you a good liar?”
“I’m an actress, Gid. Use your head. Yes, I’m a terrific liar.”
He nodded. “As a good liar, you will know that there are times to lie and times to tell the truth. I want to give you a little guidance regarding those times. Before I do — don’t volunteer any information to anyone.”
“I’ve got it.”
“Fine. Remember it. If anyone asks, tell them the absolute truth about my coming here today and my leaving here. What time I came, how I looked, and when I left. Tell that to anyone who asks.”
“You’re sure that’s smart, Gid?”
“Yes. Certain of it. Regarding what I say while I’m here, you’ll have to pick and choose. Use your judgment.”
“I will.”
“Elaborate stories get liars found out. If you really are a good one, you know that. What you say should be the truth, though not the whole truth.”
Cassie nodded.
“To whom have you talked recently?”
“Recently being since you dropped me off here? The building super. You’d told me about that hole you cut in my wall. I told you I was going to get it fixed, and you said fine. The super said he’d send a man up right away, and he did.”
“Who else?”
“Margaret. I’d promised her an advance, and she came to collect it. I gave it to her out of my new account at Barclays.”
“What did she have to say, and what did you say to her?”
“All of it? Wow! We talked quite a bit, but I’ll try to make it short. She talked about needing the money, and I gave it to her. She taught me a church song, ‘Walk in the Reign.’ I sang it and got kind of carried away. The man upstairs called about the noise, and I talked to him.
“After that, I think it was, Margaret apologized for handing my bracelet over to you-know-who. He seems to have scared the heck out of her, and I told her I knew just how she felt. I said he might give it back to her, and if he did she should give it to you or me right away.”
“You said she should give it to me?”
“Or to me. Either of us. What’s bugging you, Gid?”
His right hand rubbed his forehead. “I’ve overlooked something, and I hate myself when I do that. I overlooked the possibility that Reis might return the bracelet to Margaret. You thought of it, and I should have. If he were to return it to you, you might think he was demanding you wear it. If he returned it to Margaret — ”
“I might think he was a good guy after all. You’re right.”
“I believe I understand the secret of that bracelet, Cassie. Before I say more, I ought to confess that I don’t really know. That’s why I wanted the bracelet; there are tests, and I know people I can trust to make them. They haven’t been made, so I can’t be sure.”
Cassie leaned forward. “How’s your leg?”
Gideon shrugged. “Not good. I should stay off it, and I haven’t been able to. Or not much.”
“Would a drink help?”
“Yes, but I can’t afford it. I have to keep a clear head, and the pain makes that hard enough. I think I’ve guessed the secret of the bracelet, as I said
, and I had better tell you what I’ve guessed. There were two clues. The first was that there were no stones in it. The second — the thing that makes me feel certain I’m right — is that the box felt heavy. Not just the bracelet, but the empty box. That’s correct?”
Cassie nodded.
“I was born on Woldercan. I’ve been interested in it all my life as a result, although I was still quite young when we returned to Earth. Bill Reis was our ambassador there for eight years. Perhaps I’ve told you.”
“I don’t believe you did.”
“He was. When I talked to the president, his advisor made two statements which, although they were true as he intended them, were more than a little misleading. He said the Wolders were ahead of us in biology but behind us in physics.” Gideon paused, reflecting. “Statements of that kind depend on what we consider important. A girl who was hoping to marry soon might say that Jones was a better man than Smith, while a fashion consultant would say that Smith was better than Jones.”
“One’s a better catch but the other one’s a better dresser. You see that all the time.”
“Exactly. The president’s advisor said the Wolders were ahead of us in biology but behind in physics. The biology thing is interesting and I need to talk about that, but it’s physics that’s central right now.”
“Central how?”
“Remember Smith and Jones. To John, the president’s advisor, the warp drive that lets us probe the universe in hoppers is what’s important. He could make an excellent case for that, and so could I. We have the warp drive, and Woldercan doesn’t.”
Cassie nodded.
“Still, physicists on Woldercan know things we don’t, and as a result can do things we can’t do. One of the things they can do is transform other materials into gold by altering their atomic structure.”
“Wow!”
Gideon shrugged. “Actually we can do that, too; but the cost is very high and the amounts minute. Woldercan has brought the cost way down and the yield up. Endless riches?”
“You don’t sound like it is.”
“Correct. There’s a flaw. The flaw is that while you’re making large quantities of gold, which is what you want, you also make small quantities of other elements, and some are quite radioactive. The result is that the gold you make is radioactive for practical purposes. You can’t purify it enough to weed out everything. I don’t mean that one day’s exposure to that gold will kill you. It won’t even make you sick, unless there’s a lot of it. But months or years — protracted exposure...”
