By six in the evening Ben Trask was about ready to start pulling his hair out over his main problem with Xanadu. It was the one thing he couldn't request help on from higher authority (indeed, it was the one thing he daren't even mention to higher authority): how to evacuate the 'civilians' from the resort before attacking the place. For lan Goodly had forecast blood and thunder in Xanadu, and whether or not this was an accurate prediction or some scene from the past that the precog had somehow witnessed, Trask wasn't about to risk having his operation compromised, delayed, or possibly even shut down by the objections and vacillations of jittery political powers.
It was nerve-racking; for from Trask's own point of view, and while it had been one thing to personally authorize, coordinate, and take part in a firefight in the badlands of the Gibson Desert, setting fire to Xanadu would be something else entirely! And since he didn't have time to argue the toss with the powers that be, it meant that, should anything go wrong tomorrow night, he would be the one to carry the can.
Trask was desperately in need of a plan of evacuation, and it would have to be one that wouldn't alert Nephran Malinari to E-Branch's or any other enemy's hand in things. But with little more than twenty-four hours to go, no such plan seemed likely.
Then came the televised evening news report — of the first cases of Asiatic Plague showing up in Brisbane and half a dozen other Australian ports — and with it the germ of an idea and a possible reprieve. It was Liz Merrick who heard the report, formulated the idea, and brought it to Trask's attention. At first he was doubtful; the notion seemed too contrived, too Hollywood… but it was the sort of idea that can grow on you. And as it grew on Trask, so he got to work on it.
For after all, it was all that he had to work on…
Later, in the early hours of the night, when it was cooler and Liz went outdoors for a breath of fresh air, Jake took the opportunity to corner her and have a word in private.
'You've been avoiding me all day/ he said. 'Sort of peculiar behaviour for a partner, partner. Or is it wearing off?'
Seated together on a bench, they were close but not touching. Liz gave him a wary look, and said. 'Umm? Wearing off?'
'I thought we had something special going,' Jake said. 'Er, business-wise, that is. I mean, psychically if not physically.'
She smiled (a little ruefully, he thought) and said, 'Perhaps physically, too, under different circumstances. So don't underestimate yourself, Jake Cutter. But you're carrying a lot of baggage around with you, and the extra weight is taking too much of a toll on you. You haven't been the most sociable type, you know? And even if you were, this isn't the best of times.'
'Which disposes of physically,' he said. 'But there's still psychically to consider. I thought you were interested in that side of me, too — or should that be "at least?"' With which he
felt her shy away from him, as her expression became a lot more serious. But then she gave a shrug, and said:
'Out in the desert, that first job of ours was like an initiation, a baptism by fire — for both of us. As we were working together and it was part of our job, it seemed only fitting and sensible that we develop something of a rapport. But—'
'Which we did,' he cut her off. 'So, is that finished now?'
'—But,' Liz went on, 'for this thing tomorrow night we've been split up, and since we're not going to be working together there seemed little point in us, well, working together! I mean, with this twin operation about to go down, Xanadu and the Capricorn Group island thing together, letting anything else get in the way would have been too much of a distraction. So I haven't been trying to avoid you, Jake. It's simply that we've all been very busy.'
'You have all been busy!' said Jake, moodily. And abruptly: 'I'm not… not having a good time of this.'
'Of this conversation?'
'And of everything else,' he answered. Then shook his head and said, 'Christ! Do I come off sounding like a cry-baby?'
And suddenly Liz found herself melting. It was the first time that Jake had shown any open wounds — in his waking hours, anyway — and here she was pouring salt in them with her deliberately detached, overly cool attitude! And so:
'What is the problem, Jake?' she said.
With which he felt that oh-so-tender telepathic aura probing in his direction, and immediately raised his shields.
She knew it, drew back from him, said, 'Is that what it's about? But I can't help what I am, Jake! If someone close to me is hurting, surely it's only natural that I should want to know why? And anyway, isn't it a contradiction? You were the one who brought up our telepathic rapport, this special "thing" that we have going! But you can't expect anyone to be close to you, concerned for you on the one hand, while deliberately pushing them away on the other. You're shielding yourself— and from contact with me, Jake!'
He nodded, and said, 'And if contact -1 suppose we can call it that for now, instead of spying — if contact gets to be a habit, what then? Look, Liz, last night I had a bloody awful nightmare, a piece of the extra luggage you were talking about, that's the result of something I've done. It was an act of vengeance, but a very terrible act. You say it's only natural you should want to know what's hurting, but please believe me, you really don't want to know about something like that!'
At which she scarcely managed to keep from biting her lip. For she already knew about that — all about it. But before she could say anything and perhaps give herself away, Jake went on: 'I think… I thought, that maybe you were there with me, that you had seen, and that was why you were avoiding me.'
'No,' Liz shook her head. 'I wasn't, I didn't, it isn't.'
And she thought: Damn you, Ben Trask! I know it's your job, but this is killing me! And at the same time she knew how fortunate she was that it wasn't Trask himself she was talking to!
But even so (she tried to qualify her deceit), what she had told Jake was only a half-lie, or at worst a white one. For the real reason she had been avoiding him was because she knew that sooner or later she must remind him of that name, Korath.
It would be the right and proper thing to do after all, for with all the emphasis that Jake had placed on it, it might well be important to everyone. But now she had gone and complicated matters, making herself an even bigger liar. For as soon as she mentioned that name to Jake and he remembered it, he would know that she really had been there after all, sneaking in his mind, like a thief!
Right there and then she might have done it, blurted it out and accepted the consequences… except at that precise moment Ben Trask appeared in the door to the house, calling, 'Liz? And is that you, Jake? O-group time. Come and get your orders.'
Heading for the house, suddenly Liz found herself hating it all. But especially hating her weird talent, her telepathy. And more clearly than ever she understood why most E-Branch espers thought of their skills as curses. Again and again her condemnation of herself rang in her mind, but she heard it as an accusation, as if spoken by Jake:
'Sneaking in my mind like a thief! — like a thief! — like a thief!' And she hated it, yes. For the fact of the matter was that
Liz valued him far too much for that. And not only psychically,
either…
Then it was Monday.
By midday an observation post had been set up on the single approach road that angled up the mountain to Xanadu. In a tree-shrouded lay-by, it looked like a party of picknickers was enjoying the view and the mountain air. A table had been set up, and a small barbecue stand sent up smoke from where it stood on the stump of a tree. Cubes of meat sizzled on skewers, and a camera and six-pack of beer sat on the table. Two of the cans had been opened, one of which lay on its side. All very 'casual.'