7 Lawrence - The Plot Revealed (1/2)
It was a small thing—it was quiet. I looked over toward the bed. Sir James was on his way to this closet!
”James,” her voice was pure sugar as she drawled out his name. Sir James stopped and looked back over his shoulder. She gave a wiggle that was invented in the Garden of Eden or maybe just outside. Sir James stopped and returned to her, almost as if he had no will of his own. Frantic, knowing that he would return—eventually— I tried to think of a way out; suicide was a top contender, knowing the Duke's base desires and his ability to drag out torture—but I wasn't about to return to my maker until he dragged me, kicking and screaming, to the other side of the veil. It wasn't until I sat back against the wall, slumped over in despair that I noticed—a faint breath of air was coming from the back of the closet.
[Imp!] I shouted, sub-vocally. [Scan this wall!]
[Cool your Jets, Larry,] he advised. [I have already checked it.]
[Well check it again; I felt a draft coming from under the wall.]
A few centuries, subjective time, later Imp said, [It was a most stubborn door; I could not talk it into opening. However, I may have talked it into ignoring events—for a time. Try pushing against the wall and see if you can open it now.]
With a lack of conviction, I pushed hard against the back wall and fell on my face as it effortlessly swung away. A short landing led to a set of stairs. Shutting the door behind me, I slowly started down the stairs.
Imp chuckled, [It didn't even know that you had passed through.]
The stairs led to a small but unbelievably complex communications center. The room looked clean, so I walked to the center and turned around once, for Imp's benefit. The senses of my implant, in many respects, are more sensitive than mine, but Imp could still gather a lot from my natural senses. Finding a wide leather chair in front of a large Com display, I sat while I waited for Imp to finish his scan. While waiting, I pulled up a database on the display and entered my name. The gist of the entry amounted to, harmless. There was a reference flagged, so I followed it. Now I had no doubts, there on the monitor:
Norman Young (agent for the Council of Fifty)
Imploded Aug. 17th '72
Discovered Caribbia connection
Softly Imp said, [Lawrence I'm sorry about your dad, but now you know beyond a doubt.]
[I think I have always known, but it's still a shock.]
[You are going to have to continue the quest, yourself. There is no outside connection here; all the communication ports are read-only. I—”
Interrupting Imp, I said in despair, ”Can't you do anything?”
[Please, let me finish. I have placed a virus in the memory bank; if they ever make a two-way connection, I'll get a complete dump.]
[But that could take years,] I wailed.
[Then the next step is yours, isn't it?]
Looking up at the display, I programmed the computer for a rapid display of all data. Even if my vision wasn't capable of seeing that fast, Imp could capture and analyze most of it.
[Someone is coming!]
[Oh Imp, not now! We haven't even started.] I said with a sobbing catch to my voice as I uttered that last word.
[Yes, Right now! I have already programmed the Com for complete restoration; the system will be back to standby, by the time they arrive. ETA, one minute and thirty-four and two-hundredths seconds. Probable party, Sir James and Lady de Winter.]
Sourly I said, ”That much I could guess. Any suggestions?”
[My scanners indicate no known exits, other than the stairs and I fear that will not be helpful at this time.]
[No kidding, Einstein. So what should I do—hide under the desk?]