“Now, of course, the matter is much more difficult. I know that I will be hunted. It may not happen at once, but it will surely happen. When the time comes, I cannot afford to have left a trail. After you and I separate, I don’t want you to know where I’m going. I don’t want anyone to know where I’m going.”
“That’s fine with me. I don’t work for judicial control, it’s not my job to do theirs for ’em. But we hafta work out the mechanics. Once you make me the telomod kits, you’re a free man. But if you don’t want me to know where you are, I can’t just leave you here.”
“Of course not.”
“So what do we do?”
“The place that you’re going to meet your two friends. Where is it?”
My fishing was no more successful than it had been a few days earlier. Seth smiled and said, “I don’t recognize a need to know there, as my old spook buddies tend to say. Why are you askin’?”
“Is it in a city, or somewhere off in the country? That’s all I want to know. If it’s in the city, I don’t want to go there. If it’s out in the wilderness, that would be fine with me. I’d give you your telomod kits and take off from there.”
“Could be. Let me think about that.”
“I assume that we would require ground transportation. “
It was more fishing on my part, but Seth’s casual, “Don’t worry your head none about that. I’ll find whatever we need,” told me that the information was not particularly useful.
“Let me think about it,” he said. “It might work, you goin’ with me. I’ll be back at dinnertime, and we can talk things over some more.”
How much mutual trust did we have? Let me put it this way: he backed up the stairs.
He had, quite reasonably, gone away to consider the dangers and advantages of my proposal. One danger, of course, was that I might cheat him by providing a telomod therapy kit that either did nothing or led to positive damage. Another possibility was death. I might find a way to kill him and his two fellow patients, thereby eliminating any chance that they would assist the judicial authorities in pursuing me.
The advantage, from his point of view, was that his two friends — I use the term loosely — would have an opportunity to explore the telomod therapy kits, and to ask me questions about its use. He would have two more people to help watch me. Finally, he would be on the territory of his choice, whereas my knowledge of this house presently offered me tactical superiority. If deadly violence were to be committed, he was like me. He would think it better to give than to receive.
I sat down to do my own serious pondering. In the language of chess, we were well into the middle game, and now we were defining our positions as we approached the endgame.
Did I understand Seth well enough to know how many moves ahead he thought, and what kind of traps he was apt to set?
How far inside me did he see? I have always felt myself to be rather inscrutable, but it is just the kind of self-confidence which can so easily prove fatal.
According to Lord Macaulay, Man is so inconsistent a creature that it is impossible to reason from his beliefs to his conduct. I have never been persuaded of that. I certainly do not think that it applies either to me or to Seth Parsigian.
41
The President of the United States was not as Celine had imagined him. Saul Steinmetz was smaller, older, and too pale. He seemed almost unbelievably weary as they came into his office. But his eyes were warm and understanding, and when he smiled at you it lit up his face.
“Not quite the return that you deserved, or that I’d hoped you’d have,” he said. “No big parade down the Mall, no bands and medals and dinners and speeches. Well, we’ll get to that eventually. Welcome home.”
He waved to the sideboard by the wall of his office. “Something to drink?”
The next half minute of conversation left Celine confused. It was all small talk, about things like weather and Washington. The President made no mention of the worldwide devastation caused by the supernova, and he showed little interest in the Mars expedition itself.
So why were they here?
Saul Steinmetz made it clear at last, with a quiet, “Now, tell me about your return to Earth. Tell me in particular what you know about Pearl Lazenby and the Legion of Argos.”
In spite of his easy manner, he didn’t waste much time. Three people had been ushered out of his office as Celine and Wilmer came in. Half a dozen more waited stoically in the antechamber.
The woman general and the beautiful young aide who had brought them to the White House stayed. Celine knew that General Grace Mackay was the Secretary of Defense, but the aide’s name rang no bells. However, she sat down with the others without being invited. Yasmin Silvers was obviously an insider.
Celine gave her description of the failed reentry that had killed Zoe Nash, Ludwig Holter, and Alta Mclntosh-Mohammad. She emphasized that the data from the first orbiter had been key to the second or-biter’s survival. She caught the wag of the finger that Steinmetz gave to Yasmin Silvers, and realized that the aide was taking notes. Something would be done to memorialize the three dead crew members.
The President showed less interest in the story of the Clark’s successful reentry, until the orbiter made its emergency landing and the surviving crew members were met by followers of the Legion of Argos. Then he leaned forward and asked, “The head of the Legion — Pearl Lazenby. Did you meet her?”
“Several times.”
“I don’t know if you realize this, but she was sentenced to many centuries of judicial sleep for multiple terrorist actions. Her followers removed her from the syncope facility less than two weeks ago. What are your impressions of her?”
“Enormously dangerous.” Celine repeated Jenny Kopal’s estimate that the Legion of Argos had more than a hundred thousand followers armed and ready to act. “They’re her absolute slaves. Anything she tells them to do, they do. As soon as she gives the word, they’ll start a ’holy cleansing.’ If you’re not white, then you’ll be doomed.”
“Jews, too, for a bet. We’re on everybody’s hit list. When is this supposed to happen?”
“Any moment. That’s why we felt we had to escape and give a warning.”
“Do you think she believes what she tells her followers?”
“Absolutely. She sees visions. When that happens, she becomes the Eye of God and therefore infallible. When she’s not the Eye of God, you think you’re talking to a nice and persuasive lady. That’s one reason she’s so scary.”
“Anyone can say they see visions. Did you hear any of her prophecies?”
“That’s the other disturbing thing. She prophesied her own ’resurrection’ — her escape from the syncope facility.”
“Wishful thinking.”
“But it happened. And she predicted Supernova Alpha, or at least something you could easily interpret as that. Floods and fires and dust storms, freak weather and the collapse of technology.”
“Typical apocalyptic prophecies. Anything specific?”
“Yes. She claims to have predicted the date when it would happen.”
“Which puts her streets ahead of any of my advisers.” Saul Steinmetz turned to Wilmer, who was sitting eyeing the weather satellite displays on the wall opposite. “Did you meet her, too?”
“Yes.”