Part 22 (2/2)
”I tried talking to Osternak about it tonight before we left,” Gorfmann said, gesticulating in Hoetzer's wagon as they drove back from Innsbruck. ”I wanted to say something at the banquet, in fact. But he wouldn't listen. I think he's getting past this kind of work. Perhaps we should start organizing ourselves to do something about it.” He eyed Hoetzer surrept.i.tiously as he spoke, gauging his reaction.
”Well, let's see what happens at the policy meeting next week,” Hoetzer replied tactfully. They came out of the last of the bends on the steep climb from the Weiderwa.s.ser bridge and saw the lights of the Inst.i.tute's main gate ahead. ”Where's your car parked, Rudi?” Hoetzer asked, happy to change the subject.
”In front, outside the Keep,” Gorfmann replied.
The general parking area for staff was inside the main gate, adjoining the maze of alleys and irregular-shaped yards between the various buildings, known collectively as the ”compound.” At the front of the Keep, however, there was an enclosed gravel forecourt with a small parking area reserved for senior personnel, which opened onto the road via a separate gate.
”I wonder, could you do me a small favor?” Hoetzer asked.
”What's that?”
”I need to pick up a generator set that I'm borrowing. It's just behind the gate from the compound into the center parking area. I could use some help lifting it into the wagon.”
Gorfmann pulled a face in the darkness. He wanted to go home, change into more casual wear, and then be on his way up to the Claremont to meet Lisa as quickly as possible. But there was no way out of it.
”Of course,” he said, forcing a genial tone.
”Thank you so much.”
”Not at all.”
They turned into the main gateway, and Hoetzer stopped to let the security guard know what they were doing-the guard seemed aware of the arrangement already. Then they drove across to the other side of the almost empty parking area, and Hoetzer reversed into a slot in front of the compound gate. ”Hardly the best dress for this kind of thing,” Hoetzer said cheerfully as he climbed out.
”No,” Gorfmann agreed. He took off his topcoat, folded it, and put it on the seat before joining Hoetzer on the other side of the gate. The generator was mounted on a steel-frame base with a lifting bar at each end. Gorfmann looked it over and undid his tie before tackling it. They manhandled the generator through the gate and across the few meters to the wagon. ”The guard seemed to know about this already,”
Gorfmann remarked as Hoetzer opened the rear door.
”Oh yes. I cleared it with security this afternoon. I just didn't want to drive all the way down to Innsbruck and back up again with the weight.”
”Very sensible.”
They heaved the generator up onto the tailboard, and the wagon sank on its suspension as it took the load. Hoetzer slammed the door shut and dusted his hands together in a manner indicative of a job well done. ”Thanks so much,” he said again.
”Don't mention it. Look, I'll tell you what.” Gorfmann gestured in the direction of the compound gate.
”Why don't I just go through the Keep? It'll be quicker than driving around, and you won't have to stop.”
”It wouldn't be any trouble. . . .”
”No, the walk would be quicker.”
”Well, if you're sure.”
”Yes. I'll see you tomorrow.”
”Okay, then. Good night, Rudi.”
”Good night. Thank you for the ride.”
Gorfmann walked back through the gate and began crossing the compound through the jumble of shadows cast by the surrounding structures and laboratory buildings. As he forgot about Osternak and Hoetzer and generators, and his mind turned to thoughts of the promise that lay ahead with Lisa, his pace quickened, and he began whistling to himself.
”Hey, Rudi,” Hoetzer's voice called from behind him. Gorfmann stopped and looked back. Hoetzer was standing just inside the gate, holding something up. ”You forgot your coat.”
”Oh, silly of me,” Gorfmann called back. He turned and retraced his steps.
”That won't do. You're turning into an absentminded professor already,” Hoetzer said, handing it over.
”I hope not. We've got one too many of those already.”
”Now, now, Rudi.”
”Thank you. Good night again.”
”Good night.”
Slipping his coat on as he walked, Gorfmann crossed the compound again and entered the rear door of the Keep, which to his mild surprise he found unlocked-but that happened sometimes. He walked along the darkened pa.s.sageway that led to the front lobby and went out through the main entrance to the executive forecourt, feeling in his pocket for his keys. But at the bottom of the shallow steps outside the door, he stopped dead in sudden bewilderment. His car was not there.
Fuming, he paced from one end of the forecourt to the other, thinking that someone might have moved it for some reason, but the reaction was a mechanical one-it was obvious just by looking that there was nowhere else the car could have been. Finally, accepting the inevitable, he stormed back into the lobby, slamming the door behind. ”What in h.e.l.l's going on?” he muttered to himself as he crossed back to the pa.s.sageway leading to the rear door. ”Oh G.o.d, this is too much. Not at a time like this, of all nights!”
He went back through the compound, across the staff parking area, and reported the loss to the security officer on duty at the main gate. Then he signed for one of the Inst.i.tute's pool cars and used that to go home and change into casual wear before carrying on up to the Claremont. By the time he got there, he was beginning to get over his misfortune. It was quite late next morning when he left again, and he went straight to the Inst.i.tute. By then he was feeling still irritable at the inconvenience, but much better.
In the transfer-chamber control room, Gorfmann typed the parameters for the test run into the supervisory console, verified the readback on the display screen, and confirmed the command.
”Envelope profile verified and locked,” he reported to Kurt and Hilda at the other stations. ”How are we doing on the interface?”
Hilda consulted another panel. ”Override is released,” she said.
”Probe vector, Kurt?”
”They're still adjusting the resonators.”
”Estimate another ten minutes to phase three,” Gorfmann said into a microphone on his console.
”Check,” a voice replied from a grille by the screen.
A phone rang at the back of the room. Moments later, Josef called from the desk by the door, ”Reception calling for you, Dr. Gorfmann.”
”Put it through.” Gorfmann picked up the handset from the hook on one side of the console. ”h.e.l.lo, Gorfmann here.”
”Main Gate Reception. There is an Inspector Wenkle from the police department here, asking to see you.”
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