Descent from Xanadu (26 page)

“I have a sentimental attachment to this one,” she said.

He handed her a chilled glass of vodka. He picked up his own glass. “
Santé
.”

“
Santé
.” She looked at his hand. “Cherry Coke?”

He laughed. “I have my sentimental attachments, too.” He helped her to her chair and sat across the table from her. “I’m not as unemotional as you think.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “Because I have a dream doesn’t mean I’m not human.”

“That wouldn’t be the thing I’m worried about,” she said. “You’re human all right, maybe too much so.”

“I don’t understand you at all,” he said.

She smiled. “Don’t try. Just blame it on the fact that I’m a woman.”

“Okay,” he said deliberately. “I thought we’d have a light dinner and go to bed early. We had a heavy day today and tomorrow will be a long one for you.”

Dinner consisted of thin slices of breast of chicken with a light consommé gravy, steamed sliced carrots al dente and whole snow peas, and a little salad with a slice of Brie. He drank water and she had a dry Chablis. Neither of them had any coffee.

“Very good,” she said, pushing back her chair. “I’ve had just enough.”

“Do you think you can sleep?”

“I’ll try,” she answered. “If I can’t, I’ll take a pill.”

“Disappointed?” He looked at her.

She shrugged. “Not really. I know enough about you now to know that you’re not interested in all the details of the subject.”

“You’re not angry?” he asked.

“No,” she said, rising from her chair. “What is it you once told me? An Americanism—‘Dif’rent strokes for dif’rent folks.’”

“That’s not my line,” he said. “That’s Fast Eddie!”

She laughed. “It doesn’t matter who said it.” She looked down at him. “I’m still into it. I love to fuck, I still have to.”

“Amarinth—” he began to say.

She interrupted him. “I don’t want her. I want you.”

“Amarinth is very talented,” he said. “She has small soft hands and with one fist she can fill you more and be further inside you than any man.”

“No, thank you,” she said. “I could do as well with my vibrator. I’d rather settle for my pill.”

He sighed and rose from his chair. He kissed her on the cheek and took her hand. “Come,” he said. “I’ll take you to your car.”

***

The telephone chime sounded as he entered his bedroom. He pressed a button on the control panel and the wall speakers with built-in microphones clicked open. “Crane here,” he spoke in a natural voice.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” Merlin said.

“Not at all,” Judd answered. “It’s only just past eleven o’clock here.”

“We closed the bank deal,” Merlin said. “Transatlantic will transfer five hundred million tomorrow. They take over the bank operations the next day.”

“Justice Department approved?”

“Everything,” Merlin answered. “We’re sending four hundred million to the foundation. What do you want us to do with your one hundred million?”

“How much are my tax liabilities on it?”

“You don’t have any,” Merlin replied. “You still have a personal two-hundred-million loss to lay against.”

Judd thought for a moment. “Okay. Transfer twenty-five million to Crane Medical as a personal loan and send the balance, seventy-five million, to be divided evenly to my personal accounts in Switzerland and the Bahamas.”

Merlin said without expression: “Crane Medical could use more than that, but it’s your money.”

“That’s right,” Judd said dryly. “It’s my money.”

Merlin was silent at his end.

“What else?” Judd asked.

“Mitsubishi Heavy Industries made us an offer of one-and-a-half billion dollars for Crane Engineering and Construction,” he said reluctantly.

“What are our current assets?”

“Net: Twice more than their offer. Three billion.”

Judd thought for a moment. “Tell them they can have it for two billion.”

“I don’t want to answer you on that,” Merlin said. “I’m beginning to think you’re getting rid of everything.”

“Maybe I am,” Judd said. “Money isn’t important to me anymore. I have more than I need.”

“But accepting the Mitsubishi offer would result in a billion-dollar loss.” Merlin’s voice was shocked.

Judd was patient. “If we get the three billion dollars, how much in tax liabilities would we incur?” He could almost see Merlin punching numbers into his computer.

A moment later, Merlin spoke. “Between seven hundred and eight hundred million dollars.”

“Then how much net does another billion dollars make? Not enough to go through the pain in the ass that IRS would put us through. And they could keep us tied up for five years for the money. This way, the red ink shows clear, they have no arguments and the net loss to us is only one hundred sixty million to the foundation and forty million to me.”

Merlin was silent.

“Don’t get down,” Judd said gently. “It’s time we began getting rid of some of our responsibilities. Maybe then we’ll all be able to enjoy life a little more.”

Merlin sighed through the speakers. “I don’t think your father would have agreed with that.”

Judd’s voice was flat. “My father’s dead. And I think I’ve played his game long enough. I’m still alive and I expect to enjoy life more.”

“Okay,” said Merlin dejectedly. “I’ll pass along your proposal to Mitsubishi.”

“Thank you,” Judd said. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Merlin said.

Judd broke the connection and walked across the bedroom to the window. He looked out to the night sea. The moon was climbing into the sky, and its light was beginning to dance on the water. Judd commenced his breathing exercises. He began to feel everything inside his body slowing down.

He felt, rather than heard, little footsteps come into the room. Then they were beside him. Lightly, soft fingers began to undress him. His shirt and slacks seemed to float from his body, tiny hands led him to a round, hard pallet about one-and-a-half feet above the floor. Without seeing the helping hands, he assumed the lotus position, facing the night-painted windows. The room lights were turned down until they matched the night sky. A candle, almost level with his eyes, began to flicker before him.

He stared into the light until its pale glow began to feel heavy on his eyelids. Tiny fingers closed his eyes, but the candlelight remained imprinted within his lids. Soon the footsteps were gone. He was silent, and alone.

His mind wandered through his body. He felt his toes, his feet, then his legs. His testicles and penis were soft and warm, his groin and belly relaxed. His chest moved gently over his lungs, and the easy pumping of his heart echoed in his mind’s hearing.

Soon he was far away; his consciousness had gone from him. He felt at one within the consciousness of all the universe. The power within him was the power without. In his mind and with his mind, he soared. And he slept into the endless night of his soul. Another star, another star, another star…

9

The light on the table read six-thirty. She pressed the button next to it and the drapes rolled open. The morning sun had already risen above the sea. She picked up the telephone.

“Good morning, Doctor,” Max answered.

“Grapefruit, coffee, scrambled eggs with bacon and a big pot of coffee.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Immediately.”

She hung up the telephone and went to the bathroom. Quickly she showered to wash the sleep from her. She was still feeling sluggish when she came out of the hot and cold shower. She wrapped the bath towel around herself and went into the bedroom. The breakfast table had already been set.

She poured a cup of coffee before she sat down. It was black and strong. She emptied it, took another, sat down and picked up the grapefruit spoon.

The telephone rang. She didn’t have to leave her seat to answer it. “Doctor Ivancich,” she answered.

“Sofia,” Sawyer said. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“I’m already having breakfast.”

“I’ve tried something interesting,” he said eagerly. “I’ve matched the EEGs over the last five years to the scans taken at the same times. We’ve turned them into mathematics, then reconstructed them. After that, we built them into computer graphics. And they looked so much like the original scans. I did the same process to the EEGs we did yesterday. They’re damned interesting, Sofia.”

“I wish I could see them,” she said quickly.

“You can,” he said. “Turn on the television set in your room. It’s connected to the central computer. Punch in these numbers—748,61,011,953. Got it?” He waited until she returned to him.

“I have it, but nothing’s on the screen.”

“Type in the word below: Computrac.”

The screen turned to life. The picture was something very much like a PerScan, colors and all. “I’ve got it,” she said. “Now what do I look for?”

“I’m going to superimpose this new stuff over the old scans. Watch the tiny track of blue light on the latest track.”

“I see it.”

“That’s the electric level now. Now look at the same thing on the superimposed tracks. They seem to be moving faster. Also the new scan seems to indicate the total brain is a fraction larger.”

“Do you mean to say that his brain could be growing?” She sounded incredulous.

“I’m not sure, but it might show that his brain weight may be increased by as much as two grams. If that’s true, that explains the slower impulse rate. He’s actually using more of his brain cells, and of necessity more cells have been manufactured to carry the load.”

“I’m still trying to comprehend it,” Sofia said.

“We have to be cautious,” he said. “This is still a computer graphic, not the real thing. But there is one thought that came to me. Do you know if Zabiski injected some of his own brain cells in her cellular therapy combination when she worked on him?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “That part of the process she kept to herself. She never allowed anyone to watch her.”

“It was a thought,” Sawyer said, almost to himself. “I would still like to do a scan on him as soon as possible.”

“Let’s show this to him,” she said. “Maybe he’ll agree.”

“Do you expect to see him later?”

“I guess so,” she said. “I’m starting work on the Zabiski tapes this morning. I’ll bring this up to him when I see him.”

The screen went blank. “Good luck,” Sawyer said into her receiver.

“Thank you,” she said. “And luck to you, too.”

***

The sunlight filtered through Judd’s eyelids. Without stirring on his hard bed, he opened his eyes. The room seemed blurred; his sight cleared. He turned his head and looked at the girls sitting on the floor beside him.

They spoke almost in unison. “Good morning, Master.”

“Good morning,” he said slowly.

“Have you traveled far?” they asked.

“Very far,” he murmured.

“Beautiful,” they said. “We are very happy. Thank you, Master.” Their naked bodies, golden from the sun rays, gleamed as they ran silently from the room.

He lay quietly on the bed. A moment later he felt his body shiver. He did not move. Again he shivered. He heard the door open. He did not turn his eyes.

Amarinth, in the strapless white dress, looked down at him, her eyes dark and moist. He shivered once more and looked up at her.

“You have traveled very far and you are cold with the ice of your voyage,” she said. “Let the fires inside me warm you.”

He remained silent. He looked into her eyes, then at her torso inclining to him. He saw her hand clasp his erection, the tips of her fingers circling his testicles. He took a deep breath but he remained silent.

“Your strength is the hard ridge of the palm tree, opening to spill a rivulet of love across my fingers.” Her eyes were fixed to the cobalt blue of his own. “Please, Master,” she begged, “allow me to serve you.”

He didn’t speak.

She lifted her dress above her legs to her waist and knelt on the bed, her legs against his sides. Still holding him with her hand, she leaned back on her haunches and guided him inside her. Her buttocks began to roll in orgiastic frenzy. “Master! Master!” she screamed. “Make me a baby! Please, make me a baby!”

Then she looked into his eyes. They were distant and unseeing, behind a film she could not penetrate. “Master,” she cried, tears rolling down her cheeks. Slowly she moved from him. He was soft, his erection gone. She slipped to kneel on the bed beside him. Her tears were soft on his hand. “I’m sorry, Master, I’m sorry I could not please you.”

He turned to her face and kissed her head. “Do not be sorry, child,” he said gently. “You have pleased me. It is I who cannot please you.”

He sat up on the bed. “Please draw my bath, child,” he said. “And we will play beautifully together like children in the water.”

“But I don’t understand, Master. You never come into me.”

“It doesn’t matter, child,” he said. “Death will come only if I allow it to come to me.”

“In my land, Master,” she said, “we believe that children prolong life.”

“That is another land and another country,” he said slowly.

***

The usual glass of orange juice was on his desk as he entered his private office. It was eleven o’clock and his dark tanned face was covered with perspiration that even stained his white jogging suit. He sipped at the juice and pressed the button that activated his computerized messages from Computer Central. There were a few: Merlin; Security Control director; Doc Sawyer; his mother, Barbara; Dr. Schoenbrun from Brazil.

He punched in two other numbers. The first call he made was to Schoenbrun. That was the most important on the list. The call was placed instantly over his own Crane satellite. He turned on the screen and Dr. Schoenbrun’s face filled the picture. “Dr. Schoenbrun,” he said.

The German doctor smiled, satisfied. “I have good news for you, Mr. Crane.”

“Good,” Judd said. “I can always use good news.”

“The nuclear reactor is in place,” the doctor said. “Two weeks ahead of schedule.”

“My compliments, Doctor,” Judd said. “When can I expect completion now?”

“Two months, ten weeks at the latest,” Schoenbrun said. “The piping must be completed and the center of the dome welded in place. When that is finished, the bulldozer will cover the installation under thirty feet of earth. Trees and bushes will be planted and in less than a week even the most sophisticated satellite camera will not detect it. It will look exactly like the forest around it.”