Part 5 (1/2)

Trashcan tugged on his arm again. ”Go get cleaned up.”

”I've got to do something about him.”

”Done enough. Go.”

Embarra.s.sed and scared, John went. He didn't run home, but he wanted to.

Faye, what am I going to do?

Faye?

CHAPTER.

4.

Technically, Mr. Sorli was a dwarf, his legs being far shorter than normal for a man with his breadth of shoulder. Yet he showed neither the unsteadiness of gait so characteristic of those afflicted with dwarfism, nor any of the other deformities common among ordinary dwarves. But then, Sorli was not ordinary. If he had been, he would have had no business taking up any of Pamela Martinez's time.

He walked into the room and headed for the chair-just one special chair today-facing her desk. He walked confidently, paying no attention to the rich furnis.h.i.+ngs. Most people could not stop themselves from gawking at the art on the walls, the fine furniture, or, at the very least, the soft thick carpet under their feet. This office was of a quality beyond the means of most, a chamber suitable to the president of the North American Group of the Mitsutomo Keiretsu. Sorli paid it no more attention than a commuter might pay to a subway platform. The dwarfs indifference to her office irked her more than his brusque manner.

She let him sit long enough for the chair to take a baseline and match it against the file readings. While he waited for her, she watched the tracings fall into line on her desktop monitor. For all he would know, she was reading the Wall Street Journal.

Sorli didn't wait for her to speak.

”I'm busy.”

Was that irritation in his voice? Yes, the monitor confirmed it; she was getting better at reading him. She was pleased; it made him a little less mysterious. But she was also displeased that he would have the temerity to imply that his time was more valuable than hers. He was on her payroll, after all. Besides, she knew he was busy; she'd read her watchdog's report. As she pretended to cut off the monitor, she said, ”You did not report to me when you returned from Maine.”

He shrugged. ”There was nothing conclusive.”

”We expended resources at your request. I expect a report. From you.”

”Very well.” Sorli drew a breath. ”A! Churdy was killed by a creature of the otherworld, probably one of the Red Cap cult.”

The otherworld. She'd been hearing about it for years now, and still the very mention of it sent s.h.i.+vers down her spine.

Though the monitor said he was telling the truth, she asked, ”You can verify this intrusion?”

”Probably not to your satisfaction, Ms. Martinez. But then, the proof you want will only be obtainable after it is too late.”

It was his standard response. When Sorli had first mentioned the otherworld to her, she had thought he was joking. The very idea of a dimension coexisting with the normal world was weird enough, though it had some justification, according to some of the more abstruse philosophers of physics. But to claim that this other dimension was one in which magic worked and chaos ruled! That was an insane concept, the stuff of tabloid journalism and instant video doc.u.mentaries. Sorli's hypothesis of an otherworld went far in explaining many of the strange things that happened in the world. If one accepted his basic a.s.sumptions. But asking acceptance was asking a lot.

”Churdy was a motorcycle racer. What kind of connection could he have had with the otherworld?”

”We have not been able to ascertain any connection at all. This leaves the inescapable conclusion that the connection lay with his pa.s.senger. It is likely that the pa.s.senger was the real target of the attack.”

”Pa.s.senger?”

”A woman. As yet unidentified.”

”There was no mention of a woman in the police report.”

If Sorli was surprised by her mention of the police report he didn't show it, either visually or on the monitor. All he said was, ”Good.”

Confidence, or overconfidence? Or simple insanity?

”I did not get to where I am today by being a fool.” No, indeed. She had taken advantage of every opportunity, equal or otherwise, and gained a high position. She had clawed her way up through the corporate world to her current post with Mitsutomo, and men and women who had thought her a fool had learned otherwise, to their regret. ”You have used Mitsutomo resources, and you bring me no results. I have to answer for these expenditures. What am I to tell my superiors?”

”The truth.”

”That we are being invaded by goblins and fairies?”

”Your words.”

”Give me other words, then. Something to make this alleged threat more credible.”

”Names aren't important.” The monitor jumped a little there. ”Call them what you want, it won't change their nature. But do not deny their existence.”

”Bring me proof.”

”In time.”

It was the same promise he had made when he had first asked for her help in combating the intrusions of the other-world. She hadn't believed him, of course, expecting to find real-world monsters behind his fairy-tale dangers. She had gone along a.s.suming that the information he gathered would eventually turn out to be useful; she had never found information-gathering to be a waste of resources. An organization as diverse as Mitsutomo Keiretsu had many places to apply information.

Sorli's investigations had given her some of what she sought, but they had also turned up situations that were less understandable. That was unless one accepted his otherworld hypothesis. But there was never anything concrete, incontrovertible. Proof, hard proof, continued to be elusive, and each day she found herself locked tighter and tighter into his intricate schemes. He was leading her farther and farther down the path he walked. No longer could she deny that something was happening. Whatever that something was, Sorli had some sort of inside line on it. Each day, she found herself closer to accepting his explanation.

Perhaps it was she who was mad?

No. That was an unacceptable explanation. There was something real going on, and S5rli knew more about it than he was telling.

”Tell me about this woman.”

He shrugged. ”The powers of the otherworld have agents here. Those agents are working to bring about a full convergence of the worlds.”

The monitor suggested that he was withholding information, but the confidence quotient was not high enough for her to call him on it. ”Are you saying that she is some kind of fairy?”

”My information concerning her origins is insufficient at this time. However, I suggest that we must be prepared to act. It is likely that she is an agent of the otherworld. In that case, she must be stopped.”

”Are you proposing what I think?”

He smiled at her. He might have been a cat contemplating a trapped mouse. She considered his sanity again. If he was suggesting a murder, perhaps his delusions had taken too dangerous a turn. In fact, she detected a flaw in his logic.

”You said you thought that this woman was the target of the attack. If she is an agent working for the otherworld's interests, attacking her makes no sense. Why would the powers of the otherworld, wis.h.i.+ng to see a convergence, try to kill their own agent?”

As always, he had an answer. ”There are factions on the other side, and they do not always work in concert. This is fortunate, a factor in our favor.”