“Another delicate link,” Ind’dni went on. “The flying snow goose or the stinging bee?”
Shima nodded with conviction. “Regina, the Queen Bee. It has to be.”
“Indeed yes. We have established the prime source of the Hundred-Hander. It is generated by the colony, the hive of bee-ladies, but the colony is held together by its queen. The queen is the source.”
“So the queen is the house that must be destroyed,” Gretchen whispered.
“But what baffles me,” Ind’dni said slowly, “is the letter ‘double-U’ which turned into strong arms and then large buttocks. Why did it inspire the appearance of death?”
“Death appeared to me before that, Subadar.”
“Yes, in response to ‘R.’ Why subsequently in response to ‘double-U’?”
“Obvious,” Shima said. “For ‘double-U’ as in Winifred.”
“A little too obvious for me, doctor.” Ind’dni sighed. “Perhaps it is a flaw in the Bombazine attitude to reject the immediate obvious, yet I don’t like it. There must be a deeper, perhaps double implication in Death hovering over that letter, the robust arms, the buttocks…”
“Aren’t you creating unnecessary complications, Subadar?” Gretchen asked.
“Perhaps.” Ind’dni took a deep breath and smiled. “Or perhaps, to paraphrase Dr. Shima’s dictum, I am trying to meet the unknown with the unknown.” He took another deep breath. “At any rate we know where we stand vis-à-vis Golem100. It is an iddentity—thank you for the coinage, doctor—linked firmly to the psyche of Miz Winifred Ashley through the colony which she controls. If she can be deposed, the colony will be scattered and the Golem will have no home.”
“That’ll be a job for me,” Gretchen said firmly. “I’m in the hive. I’ll have to figure out a way to undermine Her Majesty.”
“Boring from within?” Ind’dni smiled. “A pardonable treachery in this fantastic situation. However, I suggest that the planning wait until tomorrow. This is not the time for sustained discussion. We’re all very tired and require rest.”
“He’s right,” Shima yawned. “I’m wiped. Come on, Miz Lig. Leave us go to bed, and no funny business.”
“It’s Jig, Mr. Jap. Can’t you ever remember?” Gretchen led the way to the door. “We’ll see about the funny business when we get to your place. There’s still earth on the terrace. Good night and Opbless, Subadar.”
Ind’dni made no response and no move to see them out. He sat and watched the Jig and the Jap leave with a horrified expression of enlightenment and incredulity.
18
“This is the original medieval mass from which the song was adapted,” Gretchen said, “or copied or stolen. I had it faxed for you, Regina, because I thought it would fit into your lovely Communist decor. Naturally, I used a modern piano score when I played it for you.”
Regina’s eyes were brimming. “This is the sweetest, most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received, BB. I’m overcome. Truly. Opbless, dear, and a thousand thanks.”
“Well, I knew you didn’t get that pianola roll,” Gretchen smiled from the piano, “so I dug out the music. That was the least I could do for you, Regina.”
“And played so beautifully! Didn’t she, ladies?”
“All heart.” Ildefonsa applauded. “All heart, hammer and sickle.”
“AYE! Mock BB if you will, Nell,” Sarah Heartburn burst out, “but the PROLETARIAT were inspired by that SACRED ANTHEM to give their lives in the battle to wrest
In the stunned silence that followed the outburst, Gretchen said, “I didn’t know you were a party member.”
“Oh, Sarah isn’t,” Ildefonsa said. “She played The Rebel Girl, a Precious Pearl who made the labor exploiters tremble with terror. I caught the show. That was her big Act One curtain speech. Pfui!”
“Now, now, Nellie,” Regina chided. “We mustn’t tease Sarah about that performance. Surely an actor can’t be held responsible for old-fashioned speeches in historical romances. Sarah was truly dedicated to The Rebel Girl and can’t be blamed for the silly words the author put into her mouth.”
“Who wrote it?”
“An Old Wave dramatist named Szechuan Finkel.” Sarah mused. “D’you know, I think they may really have talked like that back in the Red Flag days.”
“When was that?” Mary Mixup asked.
“Ages ago. I’m not sure. I think it was when some saint named Joe Stalin drove the bosses out of the temple—or vice versa.”
“But what was a boss?”
“A sort of Bigfoot with fangs.”
“It doesn’t matter, Mary,” Regina interposed. “All that’s ancient history now. BB dear, please play it again and we’ll sing it with you. We’ve been rehearsing in foreign languages, hoping I’d get the original pianola roll. We were going to play an underground Bolshevik International. Now we can, thanks to you, dear, so let’s organize, organize. Pi-girl! Make sure the vodka is iced.”
“Only frozen bathwater, Miz Winifred.”
“Quite all right, child. You don’t put the ice in the drinks; you ice the bottles. Now, BB… ?”
“Once more, with solidarity, comrade,” Ildefonsa laughed.
“Oh, do be serious, Nellie. Our theme is ‘The Red Front Forever,’ and we must be sincere. We must believe in the coming revolution.”
Regina began to sing to Gretchen’s accompaniment:
Arise, ye pris’ners of starvation!
Arise, ye wretched of the earth.
For justice thunders condemnation,
A better world’s in birth.
No more tradition’s chains shall bind us.
Arise, ye slaves, no more in thrall!
The earth shall rise on new foundations.
We have been naught, we shall be all!
Regina bowed graciously to the applause. “Thank you, comrades, thank you. Solidarity forever, and Pi-girl where is our vodka? Next we have tovarisch Mary Mixup, our French mavin, to sound the tocsin of the despotic ruling class. Mary?”
The Queen made way for Mary Mixup who took her place alongside the piano.
Gretchen pointed to the music as though coaching her. “When you sing, mean it!” she whispered. “Regina never takes you seriously. Nellie Gwyn is always making fun of you. Don’t be in thrall. Assert yourself.”
Mary stared, then turned and began to sing:
Debout, les damnés de la terre,
Debout, les forçats de la faim!
La raison tonne en son cratère:
C’est l’éruption de la fin.
Du passé faisons table rase,
Foules d’ésclaves, debout, debout!
Le monde va changer de base:
Nous ne sommes rien, soyons tout!
Through the applause Gretchen whispered, “Debout! Debout! You should be all!”
“And now,” Regina announced, “Our own Yenta Calienta. The Jews of the world have always been in the forefront of the fight for freedom and the liberation of ethnic minorities.”
“But I couldn’t do it without my rabbi,” Yenta said as she took Mary’s place alongside the piano.
“What are you doing with Regina and her goyish friends?” Gretchen whispered. “They’re all dreck! Mary can never get a bargain straight. Nellie has no respect for money. Regina’s too rich to care. When you sing about liberation, mean it for yourself!”
Yenta cocked an eye at Gretchen, then turned and sang:
Sheit oif ir ale wer nor shklafen
Was hunger leiden mus in noit.
Der geist er kocht un ruft tzu wafen,
In shlacht uns firen is es greit.
Di welt fun gwaldtaten un leiden
Tzushteren welen mir, un dan
Fun freiheit gleichheit a geneiden