She nodded again. "Sort of."
Sverenssen raised his eyebrows and motioned his head in the direction of her glass. "I see you are empty. I was on my way to have an unwinder myself in the bar. It seems that, temporarily at least, we are both islands in a world of nine billion people-a most unfortunate situation, and one which I am sure we could do something to correct. Would you consider it an impertinence if I invited you to join me?"
Pacey stepped into the elevator and found Caldwell there, evidently on his way back down to the lobby.
"It took longer than I thought," Caldwell said. "There’s a lot of hassle going on at Houston about budget allocations. I’m going to have to get back there pretty soon. I’ve been away too long as it is." He looked at Pacey curiously. "Where’s Lyn?"
"She’s downstairs. I got called away." Pacey stared at the inside of the doors for a second. "Sobroskin’s been in touch via the Soviet Embassy here. He wants me to meet him in London to talk about something."
Caldwell raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You’re going?"
"I’ll know later. I just called Packard, and I’m going to take a cab over to his place right now to tell him about it. I’ve arranged to meet somebody later tonight to let them know." He shook his head. "And I thought this would be a quiet night."
They came out of the elevator and walked through the arcade to where Pacey had left Lyn. The alcove was empty. They looked around, but she was nowhere in sight.
"Maybe she went to the little girls’ room," Caldwell suggested.
"Probably."
They stood for a while talking and waiting, but there was no sign of Lyn. Eventually Pacey said, "Maybe she wanted another drink, couldn’t get served out here, and went into the bar. She might still be in there."
"I’ll check it out," Caldwell said. He about-faced and stumped away across the lobby.
A minute later he returned, wearing the expression of somebody who had been hit from behind by a tramcar while minding his own business in the middle of the Hilton. "She’s in there," he announced in a dull voice, slumping down into one of the empty seats. "She’s got company. Go see for yourself, but stay back from the door. Then come back and tell me if it’s who I think it is."
A minute later Pacey thudded down into the chair opposite. He looked as if he had been hit by the same tram on its return trip. "It’s him," he said numbly. A long time seemed to pass. Then Pacey murmured, "He’s got a place up in Connecticut somewhere. He must have stopped off in D.C. for a few days on his way back from Bruno. We should have picked some other place."
"How’d she look?" Caldwell asked.
Pacey shrugged. "Fine. She seemed to be doing most of the talking, and looked quite at home. If I hadn’t known any better, I’d have said it was some guy swallowing a line and well on his way to ending up a few hundred poorer. She looks as if she can take care of herself okay."
"But what the hell does she think she’s trying to do?"
"You tell me. You’re her boss. I hardly know her."
"But Christ, we can’t just leave her there."
"What can we do? She walked in there, and she’s old enough to drink. Anyhow, I can’t go in there because he knows me, and there’s no point in making problems. That leaves you. What are you going to do-make like the boss who can’t see when he’s being a wet blanket, or what?" Caldwell scowled irritably at the table but seemed stuck for a reply. After a short silence Pacey stood up and spread his hands apologetically. "Look, Gregg, I know this sounds kind of bad, but I’m going to have to leave you to handle it in whatever way you want. Packard’s waiting for me right now, and it’s important. I have to go."
"Yeah, okay, okay." Caldwell waved a hand vaguely. "Call me when you get back and let me know what’s happening."
Pacey left, using a side entrance to avoid crossing the lobby in front of the bar. Caldwell sat brooding for a while, then shrugged, shook his head perplexedly, and went back up to his room to catch up on some reading while he waited for a call from Pacey.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Danchekker gazed for a long time at the two solid images being displayed side by side in a laboratory in Thurien. They were highly magnified reproductions of a pair of organic cells obtained from a species of bottom-dwelling worm from an ocean on one of the Ganymean worlds, and showed the internal structures color-enhanced for easy identification of the nuclei and other components. Eventually he shook his head and looked up. "I’m afraid I am obliged to concede defeat. They both appear identical to me. And you are saying that one of them does not belong to this species at all?" He sounded incredulous.
Shilohin smiled from a short distance behind him. "The one on the left is a single-cell microorganism that contains enzymes programmed to dismantle the DNA of its own nucleus and reassemble the pieces into a copy of the host organism’s DNA," she said. "When that process is complete, the whole structure is rapidly transformed into a duplicate of whatever type of cell the parasite happens to be residing in. From then on the parasite has literally become a part of the host, indistinguishable from the host’s own naturally produced cells and therefore immune to its antibodies and rejection mechanisms. It evolved on a planet subject to intense ultraviolet radiation from a fairly hot, blue star, probably from a cell-repair mechanism that stabilized the species against extreme mutation. As far as we know it’s a unique adaptation. I thought you’d be interested in seeing it."
"Extraordinary," Danchekker murmured. He walked across to the device of gleaming metal and glass from which the data to generate the image originated, and stooped to peer into the tiny chamber containing the tissue sample. "I would be most interested in conducting some experiments of my own on this organism when I get back. Er. . . . do you think the Thuriens might let me take a sample of it?"
Shulohin laughed. "I’m sure you’d be welcome to, Professor, but how do you propose carrying it back to Houston? You’re forgetting that you’re not really here."
"Tch! Stupid of me." Danchekker shook his head and stepped back to gaze at the apparatus around them, the function of most of which he still failed to comprehend. "So much to learn," he murmured half to himself. "So much to learn. . ." He thought for a while, and his expression changed to a frown. Eventually he turned to face Shilohin again. "There’s something about this whole Thurien civilization that has been puzzling me. I wonder if you can help."
"I’ll try. What’s the problem?"
Danchekker sighed. "Well. . . . I don’t know. . . . after twenty-five million years, it should be even more advanced than it is, I would have thought. It is far ahead of Earth, to be sure, but I can’t see Earth requiring anywhere near that amount of time to reach a level comparable to Thurien’s today. It seems . . . strange."
"The same thought occurred to me," Shilohin said. "I talked to Eesyan about it."
"Did he offer a reason?"
"Yes." Shilohin paused for a long time while Danchekker looked at her curiously. Then she said, "The civilization of Thurien came to a halt for a very long time. Paradoxically it was as a result of its advanced sciences."