Where the behaviour of Danty and Magda had relevance to that alien ship sparkling against the stars, he could not guess. Nonetheless, he was willing for the time being to yield to whatever he was told, although he was simultaneously worried about what would happen to his cover as a Canadian if security's attention were drawn to him.
Hunched forward on the rear seat, speaking almost in Sheklov's ear, Danty said, "No, not this turn-go two more blocks, then make a right. Then we'll come down our street on the side farther from the apartment, and we'll get a clearer sight of what's happening."
"What do you think is happening?" countered Sheklov in his best Holtzer manner. "I can't see any point to this-"
"Nonsense?" Magda interrupted. "Don, rve known Danty a long, long time. Like I told you, he was born at the wrong end of time. He can feel things that haven't happened yet."
"So why didn't he dodge the guy with the knife?" Sheklov retorted.
There was a short silence. Magda turned around in her seat and looked at Danty.
Finally Danty said, "Because if I hadn't been where they caught up with me, I wouldn't have found out something very important."
"Danty, what are you talking about?" Lora demanded.
Almost in the same moment, Magda said, "Danty, are you-?"
"Sure I'm surel" he snapped. "It's been getting stronger
for several minutes now. I've never had it so strong in my life. Right here, Don, and right again. Around the corner, take it as slow as you can."
Lora said after a short pause, "I keep some binocs in the glove compartment-do you want them?"
"Yeahl" Danty sat up straight. "Mag', pass them to Mel"
She pulled open the glove compartment and found them, a cheap Mexican pair in a plastic case. He took them and held them ready as Sheklov made the final turn into their home street. At once he let out a hissing breath.
"Lookl" he rapped, and set the glasses to his eyes.
Glancing rapidly from the traffic around to the landing, up close to the hoverhalt, from which access to Magda's home was obtained, Sheklov felt a pang of horror. The door was wide open. The window was lighted. Two men were standing guard, suspiciously eying passengers descending from a recently arrived hovercar, and apparently giving off some sort of repellent aura, because these passengers were keeping their distance.
Also-and this gave him an excuse to drive very slowly-two large cars were illegally parked against the kerb instead of in parking-bays.
"Pigs?" Lora said, her voice quavering.
"Not pigs," Danty said, staring through the glasses. "Security force. Mag', I'm afraid you've lost your home."
"What do you mean?" Sheklov snapped. "I don't know
what those security men-if they are security men -I
don't know what they're doing in your apartment, but
surely you don't mean thatl"
"Don't mean it?" Danty repeated, lowering the binocs now that they had passed the building and it was impossible to see the landing where the men stood guard. "Tell him, Mag' baby."
She was sitting very still, face white, eyes staring straight ahead. But her hands were folded over so that her nails were deep in her palms.
"He's right," she said in a dead voice. "Pigs you can take. Once the series hit you, you're done for."
"Series?" Sheklov echoed, and caught himself, realising that the term stood for "security execs."
"But this is crazyl" Lora burst out. "Helll You can't just cave in! What about-?" With a snap of her fingers. "Heyl My fatherl He has lots of pulll He'll get 'em off
your backs. Just let me get to a phone and tell him what's to be done."
She was so agitated, she was reaching for the doorhandle.
But Danty had completely ignored the interruption. He was looking solely at Magda.
"Well?" he said. "I'm sorry, you know-more sorry that I can say. Not that that does any good."
"No." Magda stirred, as though from a period of deep meditation, and helped herself to another cigarette. "No, it doesn't do any good. All right, the avalanche has begun. I guess I half-expected it. You're in charge."
The door-bell sounded. Turpin, glad of the interruption, rose from his chair with alacrity.
"Sit downl" Mrs. Gleewood rasped. "You don't have to answer the doorl What do you keep Estelle for?"
"It's Estelle's evening off," Turpin said with satisfaction. "Sunday, remember? Also Peter is out, Lora is out, and Sophie is drunk. You said so yourself. So unless you propose to go and answer-?"
She glowered at him and then stared firmly at the TV again.
He went to the panel by the door of the living-room where the intercom was, and pressed the answer button to activate the mike.
"Yes, who is it?"
"Is that Mr. Turpin personally?" a cold, strange voice inquired.
"Ah yesl" Butterflies began to perform in Turpin's belly.
"My name is Thorpe, Eric Thorpe. Security force. May I see you for a moment?"
Oh, Christ . . .
But habit made him impervious, on the surface, to even shocks like that one. He said, "Surelyl" In a tone as cheerful as though he really were pleased to be distracted from the company of his mother-in-law. "I'll be with you in just a second."
Crossing the hall, ignoring the call Mrs. Gleewood hurled after him-wanting to be told who the visitor was-he reviewed a hundred possibilities in ten seconds, and found that he liked none of them. Pray that his hints to Clarke, out at the reserved area, had borne fruit . . .
He checked, through the spy remotes, that there was indeed no one but this single man in the elevator, and opened the door on a security stop.
"I'd like to see your redbook, if you don't-" he began, but Thorpe had anticipated the request and was already holding it up so it could be read through the narow gap. Yes, he was who be said he was, and moreover he held the rank of substantive warden.
"Come in," Turpin muttered. "We'll use my den-it's bug-free."
He led the way; offered a drink-refused-and a cigarette, which was accepted. Sat down, and to his dismay found he bad to put his hands together to atop them shaking.
"Well, what can I do for you?" he said. His voice at least sounded under control. "I guess it's about this affair at the reserved area, bin?"
"Indirectly." Thorpe was a pale man, with deep-set eyes surrounded by dark rings, as though he lived on far too little sleep and had done so for years. Like all SF executives, he wore unremarkable and inexpensive clothes: tonight, in dark green. "I believe you talked for some while with one of my brother officers, didn't you?"
"Morton Clarke?"
.,Yes..
"Well, I imagine we must have talked, on and off, over a period of-let's see-three hours. Why?"
"About . . . T"
"Well, the alarming discovery that had been made," Turpin said. "And the implications. Wasn't that obvious?"
Thorpe looked down at his involuntary host's hands, as though scrutinising them for signs of anxiety. He said, in a matter-of-fact tone, "Of course. And I believe you are slightly acquainted with a young black named Danty Ward?"
What the hell is this leading up tot
Turpin said as levelly as he could, "Acquainted would be an exaggeration. I met him last night, because my daughter invited him to our party, and one can hardly refuse his own daughter's guests admission. Why? Has he done something?"
Thorpe ignored that question. He continued, "How long has your daughter known this-uh--person?"
"I've no idea," Turpin snapped.
"Are you also acquainted with a woman going by the name of Mrs. Magda Hansen?"
"Not that I can recall," Turpin said. blinking.
"Do you know a Mrs. Avice Donnelly?"
"You mean Fred Donnelly's wife--our plant security chief? Well. naturally I dol But only slightly. Lookl" He sat forward. "Will you tell me what this is about?"
Thorpe raised his eyes and met Turpin's and locked with them.
"Sabotage. Subversion. Murder. Treason. That's what it's about, Mr. Turpin. It would appear that Morton Clarke has been given what we presume to be a posthypnotic order to kill his wife, and has done so."
"What?"
"Yes, I'm afraid that's apparently the case." Like a good security man, Thorpe always qualified assertions of that order. "Have you any idea where your daughter is?"
"I-uh-nol" Turpin felt sweat breaking out all over his . body.
"Or Danty Ward?"
"Hell, of course notl"
"I see." Thorpe cogitated a moment, and then rose. "Well, I'm afraid rm going to have to ask you to come with me, Mr. Turpin. To avoid the possibility of embarrassing you, of course, I came alone, but I should point out that everything we say can be overheard by colleagues of mine waiting in a car below, and I would counsel you not to decline, or it will become essential to escort you away under guard. Shall we go?"
"Night-riding," Danty said suddenly. "Head north. Don't stop at the first or second gas-station we pass, but call at the one by the superway entrance on Sixtieth. Fill up there."
"Now just a secondl" Sheklov exploded.
"Don't argue," Magda said. "Do as you're told." And, with a movement as quick as a striking snake, she snatched the dashboard gun from its socket and flipped off the safety-catch, levelling it at Sheklov.
"Oh, shit, Magdal" Danty exclaimed. "No need for thatl Put it down, will you?"
"But "
In the rear-view mirror Sheklov caught a glimpse of Lora, face perfectly white, knuckles pressed to her teeth
as though to suppress a scream. He felt pretty much like screaming himself.
"No buts!" Danty said angrily. "I mean, Don here wouldn't want it to be known that he's Russian, would he? Say! What's your real name, by the way? Ivan? Yuri? Nikita?"
. aXrv
There was a brief, terrible instant during which Sheklov found himself insanely wishing that he believed in a personal god who could be trusted to provide on-the-spot salvation for his worshippers.
How long has he.known? And, worse yet:
Who has he told?
He continued to go through the right motions and drive the car, mechanically, like a robot: red light, slow down; green, step on the gas; miss that idiot pulling out from that parking-bay without looking .... But that had nothing to do with his conscious mind. It was all automatic.
"I think you're out of your skulll" he husked at last. "I'm going to find a parking-bay and get out, and leave you to your-your mad fantasiesl"
"Russian?" Lora said, as though the word had been in her throat for a short eternity, building up pressure until now it came blasting out like the plug of semi-solid magma that chokes the crater of a volcano until it erupts.
"Yes, of coursel" Danty snapped. "Either that, or perhaps Polish, Hungarian, Czech-no, my guess is Russian. Well, Don?"
"You're insanel You're hallucinating or somethingl" But Sheklov's mouth was so dry he could barely speak,
"Maybe you were right after all, Mag'," Danty sighed. "Okay, put the gun back an him, but keep it well out of sight. He's missed death by inches once in the past few days, when he came ashore. And that would have spread him kind of thin and all over everywhere, so-"
"Look out!" Magda exclaimed, and seized the wheel just in time, twisting it to the left and then straightening out. Lora let go a cry of alarm. Sheklov had nearly crashed into the back of 'a truck.
"That got to him," Danty said softly. "Don, baby, didn't you know the site was turned off when you came ashore? Didn't you know that if it hadn't been, the submarine would have been blasted less than a mile away? They
weren't so careful when they left as when they approached."
"You just figured that out?" Magda said, and in the same breath added, "Pull over, Don. You're not in a fit state to drive. You're shaking so much. I'll take'the wheel as soon as you can put us in a parking-bay-ah, there's one now."
Dumb, Sheklov nosed the car into it.
"Well, it's how it had to be," Danty said. "I felt something bad on the way. And I can't think of any other disaster that fits the picture. No, Donl Don't get outl Slide towards Magda and let her climb over youl"
Sheklov, numb, withdrew his hand from the doorhandle and obeyed.
As Magda took the controls: "So that's the way I see it. If the site hadn't been turned off, the sub would have registered on the detectors, and-pow."
"But he's been staying right in our apartmentl" Lora cried. She was having to clamp her jaw to stop her teeth chattering. "A Russianl A spyl"
"You recommended the gas-station on Sixtieth, didn't you?" Magda said, glancing at the dash. "Oh, shit! Loral Loral Stop your snivelling and tell me which of these damned dials is the gas-gaugel"
"Uh . . ." Wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "Doesn't have a dial. It's sonic."
"Just say to fill up the tank," Danty snapped. "Nightriders usually do."
"Yeah." Magda slowed to make the turn on to Sixtieth, a right. "But why the hell did you leave the site turned off?"
"I guess . . ." Danty swallowed hard. "I guess so that this would happen. So that we'd be here, now, in this mess."
"Gas-stationl" Magda said unnecessarily; it was blazing with light and huge mobile advertising figures, spotlighted, filled with helium, and tugged into a weird non-stop parody of a dance by fine wires attached to cams on electric motors, signalled drivers to pull in. "Don, you hold your tongue and behave yourself, hm? And you, Loral"
"No! Let me outl" Lora cried, and as the car swung close to the side of the road, in order to enter the gasstation, she tried to snatch at the door-handle.
