Part 21 (1/2)

”Be smart for a moment. Shut up.” To the MPs he said, ”Tailor shop.”

”Right.” They grabbed me between them, one on each sideone hand under the armpit, the other under the elbow-and we moved. They held me like I was furniture; it didn't matter if I moved my feet or not to keep up-we moved. Curly took the lead, angling right into a dark service corridor, then left into a broom closet, opening up a door where no door should be.

We stepped through and there was silence. We were in darkness.

”Wait a minute.” Curly was punching something into a wall terminal. Dim red ceiling lights came up and I could see we were in another corridor, only this one was featureless. To the MPs he said, ”You can let go of him now. You, come with me.”

I followed him into a small room. There were a desk and two chairs. He slapped his clipboard down onto the desk and sat down behind it. He pointed at the other chair and I sat down too. He opened a drawer and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, shook one out and lit it. He did not offer one to me.

So-this was to be an interrogation.

I remembered something I had seen in a movie. I leaned forward and shook a cigarette out of the pack for myself.

”I didn't say you could smoke.”

”You didn't say I couldn't.” I glared back at him.

He grinned abruptly. ”It won't work. I saw the same movie.” I shrugged and stubbed the cigarette out. ”I don't smoke anyway.”

He didn't laugh. He let the grin fade and studied me for a moment, thoughtfully. At last he said, ”You have something for me?”

”Huh?”

”You were trying to find me this morning, weren't you?” He tapped his chest.

”Huh?” And then I saw it. His name badge. WALLACHSTEIN. ”Oh!” I said, realizing. ”But the directory said you don't exist.”

”You better believe it.” His chair creaked alarmingly when he leaned back. ”I'm not even here now. This is all a hallucination you're having. Now, I believe you have something for me?” He held out his hand.

I was still smarting. I folded my arms. ”I want some answers first.”

His hand was still outstretched. ”Listen, stupid, you're in big trouble, so be a good boy for a while and maybe I can get you out of here quietly. Maybe.” The air had gotten noticeably chillier.

”I didn't ask to be rescued from anything. You dragged me in here against my will-”

”You want to go back? That can be arranged too. Just give me the package that Obie gave you, and Sergeants Kong and G.o.dzilla will put you right back in the center of what you started. Although I think you'd be a lot better off with us. We did you a favor and you might want to say thank you.”

”Yeah-and I might want to say 'f.u.c.k you' too! I'm getting really tired of all the 'oughts' and 'shoulds' and 'musts' that are being dropped on me. And all without explanations. n.o.body ever explains anything. And then you get p.i.s.sed off because I'm not following the rules! So f.u.c.k you! I was told that if I couldn't find you I should destroy the package. Well, I couldn't find you. You don't exist. Now, which way is out-?”

”Sit down, Jim,” he said. ”You made your point. Besides, the door's locked until I'm ready to unlock it.”

It was his use of my name that stopped me.

He'd been expecting me. And something else-he'd purposely sat down next to me in the auditorium! And the MPs too! They'd had me bracketed since ...

”How long?” I asked.

”How long till I unlock the door?”

”No. How long have you-whoever you are-been watching me?”

”Oh, that. Since about three minutes after you checked my name in the directory. You've been under surveillance ever since.

”The woman on my right-the one during Dr. Zymph's presentation?”

”Uh huh, and the two lieutenants on your left as well. I don't know what you're carrying, but Obie says it's important.” He added, ”I don't mind telling you that I'm curious to see what Obie thinks is too dangerous to send over a wire-even a secure and coded one.” He leaned forward to drop his cigarette into an ashtray. ”May I have it, please?”

I took a breath. I exhaled. ”Yeah, I guess so.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. ”No more argument?”

”You called her Obie.”

Wallachstein grinned. ”You know something? You're not so stupid.”

I pulled out the lockbox and pa.s.sed it over to him. He turned it over and laid it face down on the desk. I didn't see exactly what he did with his fingers, but the back of it slid off, revealing a thin false bottom. There was a single memory clip inside. Wallachstein picked it out and dropped it into his jacket pocket as casually as if it were something he did every day; then he looked up and noticed my expression. ”Something the matter?”

”Uh, I've never seen one like that.”

”And you'll probably never see another one either.”

”Can I ask why? The false bottom, I mean.”

”Sure. These things aren't too difficult to break into, not for a skilled laboratory.” He turned it over and slid it across. ”Here. What's your birthday? Punch it in.”

”My birthday?”

He nodded. I tapped it out on the keyboard and the box popped open. Inside was a package of fifty thousand-casey notes. ”Happy birthday,” he said.

”Huh?”

”Courier fee. You got your message through without being killed. The money's unimportant. It's just a decoy, in case you lose the box. The wrong person opens it; he thinks that's what's being transported. Burn the paper wrapper-just in case they're not fooled by the money, there's a microdot on the wrapper. It's nothing but a very long random-number sequence. You could go crazy trying to decode it, because it won't. It's just hash. Another decoy. A practical joke, even-but the idea is to distract the enemy, draw him away from the real trick. We're all so marvelously subtle these days-on both sides-that no one stops to think there might be an easier way.”

”Uh . . . sir . . . the enemy?”

”You've already met them. Out there.” He pointed at the door. He dropped the money out of the box onto the table before me and slid the box into a desk drawer. ”Go ahead, take it. Better spend it before it goes completely worthless.”

”Uh, shouldn't I be discreet? I mean, won't people wonder where it came from?”

”Don't bother. n.o.body else does. We're all stealing from the dead one way or another anyway. n.o.body's going to question you.” He picked up his clipboard and stood up, all in one motion. ”I'm going to ask you to wait here while I go and see what's on this.” He tapped his jacket pocket meaningfully. ”You want coffee?”

”Yeah, thanks.”

”Right.” He was already out the door.

He'd given me a lot to think about. Just what was going on here? What had I stumbled into? And how was I going to get out?