The upshot was that we kept our guest. When Mrs. Delacorte dropped around to borrow a gill of brimstone, we introduced him as my cousin Louis and mentioned that we’d sent Val on an out-of-town visit while our burglary was being investigated. It didn’t rate more than a paragraph on an inside page of the daily paper. However, I was allowed to work again, Ginny to go shopping. We were told what number to call if we received any demands. Nothing was said about the men who shadowed us. They were good; without our special skills, we’d never have known about them.
On the third morning, therefore, I showed at Nornwell. Barney Sturlason was primed. He found a do-not-disturb job for me to do in my office—rather, to fake doing while I paced, chain-smoked my tongue to leather, drank coffee till it gurgled in my ears—until time for an after-lunch conference with some outside businessmen. I knew what that conference was really to be about. When the intercom asked me to go there, I damn near snapped my head off accelerating before I remembered to walk the distance and say hello to those I passed.
The meeting room was upstairs. Its hex against industrial espionage operated equally well against official surveillance. Barney bulked at the end of the table, collar open, cigar fuming. The assembled team comprised eleven, to help assure we’d harbor no Judas. I knew three well besides Barney and myself—Griswold, Hardy, Janice Wenzel—and another slightly, Dr. Nobu, a metaphysicist whom we had sometimes consulted. The rest were strangers to me. One turned out to be a retired admiral, Hugh Charles, who’d specialized in Intelligence operations; another was a mathematician named Falkenberg; a third was Pastor Karlslund from Barney’s church. All of these looked weary. They’d worked like galley slaves, practically up to this minute. The last pair seemed fresh, and total undistinguished except that one had a large sample case which he’d put on the table.
Before he got to their names, Barney made a pass and spoke a phrase. “Okay,” he said, “the security field is back at full strength. Come on out and join the coven.” He grinned at me. “Steve, I’d like you to meet Mr. Smith and Mr. Brown, representing the company whose proposal we’re to discuss today.”
Their outlines blurred, went smoky, and firmed again as the Seeming passed. Ginny’s hair gleamed copper in the sunlight from the windows. Dr. Ashman opened his case. Svartalf poured out, restored to health, big, black, and arrogant as ever. He stretched cramped muscles. “Mee-owr-r-r,” he scolded us. The pastor offered the cat a soothing hand. I didn’t have time to warn him. Luckily, Ashman was in the habit of carrying Band-Aids. Svartalf sat down by Ginny and washed himself.
“How’d you manage it?” the admiral asked with professional interest.
Ginny shrugged. “Simple. Barney’d been in contact with Dr. Ashman, you know, and arranged a time when he’d ’ve cancelled his appointments. He went to the animal hospital and fetched Svartalf, who can lie quiet in a box if he must. We’d already verified there was no tail on the doctor.” Svartalf switched his in a smug fashion. “Meanwhile I’d gone downtown. They’re having a sale at Penman’s. Easiest crowd in the world to disappear into, and who’ll notice a bit of sorcery there? Having changed my looks, I rendezvoused with Dr. Ashman and altered him.” Svartalf threw the man a speculative look. “We proceeded here. Barney knew exactly when we’d arrive, and had the field low enough that it didn’t whiff our disguises.”
She opened her purse, which hadn’t needed much work to resemble a briefcase, got out her vanity, and inspected her appearance. In demure make-up and demure little dress, she hardly suggested a top-flight , witch, till you noticed what else she was packing along. .
“To business,” Barney said. “We informed this team at once of what you’d discovered, Steve. From the strictly scientific angle, your hints, added to what’d already been assembled, were a jolt. Working together, certain of our people have developed some insights that should prove revolutionary.” He paused. But, let’s begin with the political mess we’re in.”
“Or the religious,” Janice Wenzel said.
“In this case,” Pastor Karlslund said, “I doubt if there’s any clear distinction.” He was a large, blond, scholarly-looking man.
“If the Johannine Church is indeed of diabolic origin—” Griswold grimaced. “I hate to believe that. I don’t agree with its tenets, but to say they come not from error but from evil does go rather far. Are you sure, Mr. Matuchek, that you really encountered the Adversary?”
“One of his higher-ups, anyway,” I said. “Or lower-downs, if you prefer. Not for the first time, either. Those earlier visions and experiences of mine fall into a pattern now.”
“I mean, well, you were under considerable stress. A hallucination would be very reasonable . . . expectable, I mean.”
“If the Johnnies are legit,” my wife clipped, “why are they keeping quiet? They have Steve’s identity. They’ve had ample time to get in touch with him, or to file an official complaint. But never a peep. Barney’s man, sent to fetch his broomstick, took it from where it was parked with no questions asked. I say, they can’t risk an investigation.”
“They might be trying to get your daughter returned to you through their paranatural contacts,” Hardy suggested without conviction.
Admiral Charles snorted. “Big chance! I don’t doubt the Adversary would like to cancel the whole episode. But how? He can return her with zero time-lapse in hell, you say, Mr. Matuchek—quite astounding, that. Nevertheless, I don’t imagine he can change the past: the days we’ve lived without her, the things we’ve learned as a consequence.”
“Our silence could be her ransom,” Hardy said.
“What man would feel bound by that kind of bargain?” the admiral replied.
Karlslund added: “No contracts can be made with the Low Ones anyhow. Contract implies a meeting of minds, an intent to abide by the terms reached. Being incapable of probity, a devil is unable to believe humans won’t try to cheat him in turn.”
“So,” Charles said, “he’d gain nothing by releasing her, and lose whatever hostage value she has.”
Ashman said painfully: “He’s already succeeded in dividing the forces of good. I get the impression this meeting is in defiance of the government, an actual conspiracy. Is that wise?”
“I suppose you mean we should make a clean breast to Uncle Sam and trust him to set everything right.” The hurt in me powered my sneer.
“What resources have we in comparison?” Ashman asked. “What right have we to withhold the information you’ve gathered? It’s vital to the common weal.”
“Let me handle that question,” Barney said. “I’ve got connections in Washington, and Admiral Charles, who has more, confirms my guess as to what’s going on there. The key datum is this: that the facts of the kidnapping are being officially suppressed. Our local FBI head is a sharp boy. He saw at once that that’s what policy would, and acted in anticipation of a directive he knew he’d get.
“The reasons for such a policy are complicated, but boil down to two items. First, hardly anything is known about the hell universe. This is one of the few cases, maybe unique, that looks like a direct, physical assault from demon territory. Nobody can be sure what it portends. In those circumstances, caution is inevitable. They’ll argue in the State Department that the truth could be altogether different from the semblance. They’ll argue in Defense that we’d better not commit ourselves to anything before we have more data and especially a bigger military appropriation. The President, the Cabinet, the top men in Congress, will agree on sitting tight. That involves sitting on the news, to forestall an inconvenient public furore.