After he finished the meal he decided that the next step was definitely to return to see Miguel Larner. He decided to work it from a different angle this time. Complete the article, and then find someone willing to print it, either free or for a fee. Let the article speak for itself. Let the public learn exactly what Stephen Chu and Garva had been willing to do. Let them learn about the trade concessions Gondohl Lahl had promised. Let them learn that the enemy coalitions were, behind their brave front, pathetically eager to effect a compromise, achieve a period of stability. And show them all how the conversation with Smith had destroyed this chance.
He was surprised at how quickly time had gone. He stepped out of the cab in front of Larner’s place at nine o’clock, paid the man and walked into the lobby. He walked in and stumbled on the smooth floor for no reason at all, caught himself. There had been an odd little twist, or click, and now side vision had returned, he could hear the full range of sound, colors had their former values.
That odd girl from the bus was leaning on the clerk’s desk. Voss. Karen Voss. He wondered why he hadn’t wasted a single thought on the fat man in the bus since leaving Larner’s place that afternoon. Pretty damn callous to kill a stranger and forget it.
“Hi there, Dake,” Karen said. “Just talking about you. Remember the fat man on the bus?”
“I certainly do.”
“I guess it looked worse than it was. You just knocked him out. Heard that he’s okay. I had Mig check on it.”
“I still can’t understand why he hit you. I’m damn glad to hear he’s okay.”
“Maybe I reminded him of somebody who picked his pocket once. And maybe I did. I’ve got a lousy memory. How do you like the dress?”
She whirled the full skirt. He said, “I guess I like it. Little daring, though. That style is older than you know. The women of Crete started it a long, long time ago.”
“All I know is that Mig had it flown over from Madras.” She took his arm. “Mig is psychic. He told me you’d be back. I’ll go down with you. ’Bye, Johnny.” I’m starting to like this big lug. Did you see him blush? That’s a lost art.
“Come back, Miss Voss.” Don’t get the geef over any earthling, lamb. There’s no future in it.
Poo.
On the way down in the elevator, Dake felt his cheeks grow hot again. He said, “Are you a... uh... special friend of Mr. Larner?”
She squeezed his arm. “I guess I give him a few laughs. That’s all.”
He was embarrassed at his own show of interest. There was something pleasingly childlike about this Karen Voss, but he knew that she was one cheap, tough, hard little article. It was in her stance, her eyes, the shape of her mouth. That opaque quality of sexual arrogance of one of those little girls who have learned too much too fast.
“Does Mr. Larner ever go out?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“I just had the strong feeling that he didn’t. That maybe he wouldn’t be safe on the outside.”
He looked down into speculative luminous gray eyes. She was standing so close to him that he could see the little amber flecks that ringed the pupil. He decided that it was the high quality of the intelligence of those eyes which was so startlingly at odds with the chippy walk, the too-tight clothes, the insolent curve of lip.
“Not as bright as all that,” she said.
He stared at her. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
For a moment she looked genuinely disconcerted. Then she threw her head back and her throat pulsed in a raw vulgar bellow of laughter. “Jesus H. Gawd,” she gasped. “Now I’m getting psychic yet. Or maybe we’re soulmates, sugar. Ever think of that?”
Miguel Larner was in his diorama garden, in the long sweet dusk of a midsummer evening which contrasted with the October night in the city above. Sound tracks gave to scrupulous perfection the muted night-cries of insects, the fluid silver of a distant nightingale, the garrump of a conclave of frogs in a bog on the far side of the meadow.
“Hey, Mig! He came back like you said.” And he caught me off guard in the elevator. I could swear he was sending on the para-voice band, and doing it perfectly.
“Sit down, people. Glad you came back, Lorin. Especially if it means I can help you.” I noticed how clear he was this afternoon. A latent, perhaps.
Dake sat down as soon as Karen was seated. “As a matter of fact, the man who was going to print the article backed out. And returned my money. That didn’t seem in character. I’ve got it here. I thought perhaps you could — That’s damn funny! I put it right here in this pocket.”
Girl, you seem to be making a habit of being careless with this one.
Karen laughed. “A demonstration, Dake. I wanted to show you how an expert picks a pocket. I did it on the elevator.” Decent recovery, Miguel?
Thirty thousand rupees, girl. Lets see the illusion.
Dake took the money Karen handed him. He handed it to Miguel. “Here’s thirty thousand rupees, Mr. Larner. I wonder if you could use it to get me a spot where the article will get a decent readership.”
If he’s a latent, Miguel, wouldn’t that help?
Screens raised, eh. Afraid I’ll see the sudden emotional interest in this one.
Let me give him a strong primary impulse and see if he’s latent receptive too.
All this will wait until we’ve used him as a counter-move against Shard. In another moment I might get impatient with you, girl.
Miguel took the money, shoved it casually into his shirt pocket. “Lorin, you’re not hiring me with this. I’m just keeping it for you. You go ahead and write the article. I’ll find a spot for it. And give you the change. Why don’t you stay right here? One of my secretaries is on vacation. Complete apartment with no one in it.”
“I wouldn’t be in the way?”
“Not a damn bit. Give me your local address and I’ll send somebody over for your stuff.”
“Just a hotel room. I’ve been living in hotel rooms every since going with Branson.”
“I’ll have you checked out then.”
Dake gave Miguel the name of the hotel. Miguel said, “Show him where he hangs his hat, Karen. Next floor above, Dake. End of the hall. Give Johnny a ring, Karen, and tell him Mr. Lorin is in 7 C, for an indefinite stay.”
They left the diorama garden. Dusk had faded into night. Karen took him up in the elevator and down to 7 C. The door was unlocked. Karen went in first, flipping the light switches, activating the diorama. It was a moonlit seascape with a sound track of waves against the beach.
“Very luxurious,” Dake said.
What?
“I said it’s very luxurious.” He glanced at her, wondered why she wore such a smug look, as though she had proved something to herself.
“It’s got a liquor cupboard too, Dake. Build you a drink?”
“If you’d like. I think I need a drink. This has been... one of the craziest days of my life.”
She had her back to him, sitting on her heels, looking into the liquor cabinet. Scotch okay for you?
“Are you a ventriloquist or something, Karen?”
She turned toward him. “Why?”
“Your voice had the funniest quality right then. It seemed to come from all corners of the room at once.”
“Used to sing a little. Maybe that’s it. Why has this been a crazy day, Dake?”
“I ought to talk to somebody. Just let me ramble, even if it doesn’t make sense to you. That sounded pretty superior, didn’t it?”