Part 26 (1/2)
She nodded. ”But if it's Security, and I get busted?”
”Then you stay here. So make sure you don't. If we lose you, meet us up at Faculty Row, Third house from the west end.” He forced a grin. ”It'll be the one with the big stolen car in front of it. Now get up to the road, and keep watch.”
She nodded and started to walk away, then turned back to face him. ”But what if Deighton won't send us back? Or can't?”
Karl crossed his arms over his chest. ”He will. Believe me, he will.”
They huddled in the bushes next to Deighton's back porch. A light shone through the drawn curtains, casting their faces into yellow shadow.
”Last chance,” Karl said quietly. ”We've all got family and friends on this side. Our lives are here. I promise I'll do my best to bring anybody back who wants to come back....” He shrugged.
Walter smiled. Not amiably. ”But there's no guarantee we can slip by The Dragon again.” The big man shrugged, not noticing how that split the shoulders of his s.h.i.+rt. ”I'll take the chance. For James.”
Riccetti rubbed at his face. ”I've got no problem, I've always wanted out, wanted to make some miracles.” He spread his hands. ”And what am I here? A ninth-semester engineering major with maybe enough money for another semester. Haven't spoken to my parents ina”” He shook himself. ”I just want to know how we're going to do it.”
”In a minute. Andy?”
She laid a hand on his arm. ”We'll talk about it later. Right now, I'm more worried about Doria and Ahira. You said that they can help them on the other side?”
I don't have time for explanations. No, that wasn't true. It wasn't a matter of time, but of nerve. If we don't do this quickly, I don't know if I can do it at all. ”Somewhere in the Waste is the home tabernacle of the Healing Hand Society. Doria's sect.”
She nodded. ”And she's one of their own, so they're likely to help her. Probably.” She paused for a moment, fingering the bend in her nose. ”But only probablya”what if their... records don't show her? I mean, on this side there's inst.i.tutionsa”maybe Doria would be best here?”
”No.” Karl forced a smile. ”I'm an ex-psych major, remember? The prognosis for catatonia is bad. Insulin therapy, shock treatmentsa”none of it has decent odds. That's one.
”Two. If she could be brought out of it here, what do you think her chances are of ever getting out of the rubber-room set? Even a good shrink will diagnose her as having heavy delusionsa” and the rest of us won't be around to back her up, not if we're going to try to get James brought back. I can't see a chance that she could persuade anyone that what happened, well, happened. As far as I can see it, we're her only chance.” He turned to Riccetti. ”You crack a window in the car?”
”As per instructions. The... bag is still in the trunk, Doria's safely under a blanket in the back seat, and after I dropped you two off, I parked it well away from a streetlight.”
”Fine,” Karl said. ”Go back to it, start it up, and pull it into the driveway when you see the light on the front porch blink three times. If that doesn't happen within, say, fifteen minutes, get going. Take care of them, and make another try when you think it's right. Got it?”
”Got it.” Riccetti walked away, stooping low as he pa.s.sed under Deighton's kitchen window.
Walter straightened himself. ”What have you got for me?”
”Free safety. If the b.a.s.t.a.r.d gets past Andy and me, stop him. Don't kill him, don't give him a concussiona”but stop him. On the three blinks, you come in, too. And if we blow it, you get back to your dorm and play Football Hero until you hear from Riccettia”Andy and I will keep our mouths shut. You weren't at the Student Union tonight, you didn't know anybody was missing or deada”understood?”
”Understood. We could just ask Deighton, you know.” Walter held up a hand. ”I knowa”but if he tells us to go to h.e.l.l and starts screaming for the cops, we're in trouble.”
Karl turned back to Andy-Andy. ”You still haven't said whether you're in or out.”
She gripped his shoulder. ”In. Idiot.”
He took a deep breath. It wasn't all that bad, not here. If something had gone wrong on the other side, he would have ended up as the main feature at a Coliseum torture session; here, the worst possibility was being arrested for kidnapping, a.s.sault, and first-degree murder.
No, make that second-degree. No way any prosecutor is ever going to prove my motive, show that I premeditated it.
Karl exhaled, forcing himself to relax. ”Anybody got anything else to bring up? Then let's do it, people.” He stood. ”Now.”
Ten minutes later, Arthur Simpson Deighton sat bound to a kitchen chair, glaring at Karl with his left eye. He couldn't quite glare with the right one; it was swollen shut.
Karl finished the last knot on the ropes that bound the old man's left ankle to the chair, then stepped back to admire his handiwork. Deighton was secure: His wrists were tied tightly with two of his own neckties, and the gag was letting little else besides m.u.f.fled groans through.
He walked over to the sink where Andy-Andy stood, her right hand under the cold running water. ”Nice shot,” he said.
”Thanks.” She winced. ”I wish you could have taken him down a bit faster; I think I broke my thumb.”
”You shouldn't make a fist with the thumb inside. Besides, that looks like a sprain to me. You want to go down to the infirmary, have it X-rayed?”
”And miss all the fun? No thanks. And no thanks for the sympathy, either.”
He shrugged, then turned as the kitchen door swung open. No problem; just Walter.
”Everything okay in here?”
Karl nodded. ”Just fine. You two go out and sit in the living room with the rest. Doc and I have a couple of things to talk over.”
He checked three of the kitchen drawers before he found the one with the knives. Selecting a long, thin skinning knife, he looked around for a whetstone. No luck.
And that was too bad. Sharpening the knife in front of Deighton would have been good theater.
Still, Deighton's unbruised eye widened as Karl, knife in hand, pulled up a chair, spun it around, and seated himself a.s.s-backward, his arms resting on the chair's back, the knife held lightly between thumb and forefinger.
”Deighton,” Karl said, in his best Charles Bronson monotone, ”I'm going to make this short.” And as frightening as possible; I don't want you thinking about anything except that you're terrified of me. ”You used us as a bunch of guinea pigs; everything that happened on the other side was your fault. Agreed?” And what does he know about what happened on the other side? He said in his letter that his visions were erratic, that the time differential makes it hard for him to follow what happensa”does he know that Jason is dead?
Deighton shook his head violently.
Karl smiled. ”Relax. You may just have a way out of it. As I was saying, when you shoot c.r.a.ps with people's lives, you're responsible for the result. It's a sound legal principlea”take my word for it. Say, if you torch a building for the insurance, and someone dies in the fire, you don't just spend a year or two in jail for the arson. It's murder one.” Karl raised a palm. ”I'll give you this: You tried to see that we were well enough equipped. You didn't know that Aria”that Riccetti was going to blast the treasure chest.” He set the point of the knife under Deighton's chin, sliding the blade through the gray goatee until it touched flesh. ”But that doesn't make any difference, professor. Agreed? I said, agreed?” He drew the knife back, just enough for Deighton to move his head.
Slowly, Deighton nodded.
”And how many times a murderer does that make you, Art? Blink once for each.”
Deighton's left eye closed, then opened. He looked toward the door from the kitchen to the living room, then back at Karl.
Good. He's not sure if I want him to count Doria, but he doesn't know about Jason. Karl forced himself not to breathe a sigh of relief. He doesn't know that Jason is dead.
”Now,” Karl went on, ”it's your fault that James Michael is dead, and Doria's... in bad shape. If killing you would bring them back, I'd do it here and now.” He touched the blade to Deighton's neck, just over the jugular. ”A little push, and it would be all over.” He dropped the point of the blade. ”But that wouldn't bring them back, would it? It's too bad that the only way I can see to fix things requires that you stay alive.”
Hope brightened Deighton's lined face. Karl went on: ”So, you're sending us back. Can you do that? I mean, because it worked once with us, can you be sure that it'll work again?”
Deighton nodded.
”Good. Next questiona”and in case you haven't guessed, the answer had better be yesa”can you transfer us from here to that green spot in the Waste of Elrood, the home tabernacle of the Society of the Healing Hand? Better nod. Art. Otherwise”a”Karl touched the knifepoint to the center of Deighton's foreheada””we go to Plan B.”
Deighton drew his head back.