“Nowhere in particular,” deVere answered hurriedly. “It just loops around and joins the other path on the far side of the icehouse.”
“Giving the tourist riff?” Lewis Ginter joined the trio.
“Good evening Nigel, Miss Nikitin,” he added. “Surprised to see you here,” he said coolly, addressing the intern.
“Oh, Professor Ginter,” Natasha blushed. “I get out once in a while. Nigel was kind enough to invite me.”
Ginter smiled blandly at the junior professor. “I’ll bet he was.”
“Well,” deVere interrupted. “Please make yourselves at home. There’s plenty to drink and I’m told the burgers will be ready soon. Not that we need hot food this evening.”
“Thank you, Professor,” Natasha said as Ginter and deVere moved off. She turned to her companion. “Nigel, would you please get me another drink?”
As Nigel moved off toward the picnic table, Natasha turned and let her eyes wander over the grounds. Between the house and the woods, a series of iron posts supported lines from which were strung Japanese lanterns. Their light provided a warm glow over the yard. The impression was fantasy-like and Natasha was reminded of a scene from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It was amazing how much brighter everything seemed in the Northeast District. Back in Yeltsengrad on any given night half of the city could be without electricity. Yeltsengrad’s power grid was structured to take power from poor neighborhoods first, then inessential public consumers such as schools and hospitals, then from low-security police precincts, then prosperous neighborhoods—the ones with higher percentages of high Party officials were carefully noted—and few power outages had gone beyond that.
A few feet away Ginter whispered to deVere, “I don’t like her being here.”
“Who, our Miss Nikitin? Relax, Lewis. Nigel is single and obviously interested in our young intern.”
“And you think she’s here because she loves warm summer evenings and barbecues in New England? Or is Nigel more charming than my eyes can see?”
“Who knows?” deVere asked. “Maybe with enough burgers she’ll get co-opted.”
At the edge of the woods the pair halted and glanced back up at deVere’s yard. The moon had risen. The mosquitoes were not yet out in full force. When they arrived they’d drive the guests inside.
Ginter turned and ducked onto the path with deVere in quick pursuit.
“I did it,” Ginter said as soon as the two had stepped onto the path.
“And?”
“I don’t know.” The pair continued down the path for several minutes without speaking until they came upon a windowless stone building approximately 20 feet by 12 feet. A rusty iron door hung ajar at one end.
“I found a wormhole from this afternoon to a spot in the New Mexico desert in 1846. March 3, 1846 to be precise. Return wormhole was one second later. I used a rat.”
“And?” deVere asked anxiously.
Lewis shook his head. “Like I said, I don’t know. It worked all right. The rat went back to 1846 and returned. But when the rat returned it had collapsed.”
“Dead?”
“No, it revived after a minute or so.”
“Injured?”
Ginter shrugged. “I don’t know. Nothing I can find. But I’m not a goddamn veterinarian. And we can’t exactly ask one.”
“How do you know the rat really went back? The time of departure on these wormholes is the same instant as the time of arrival on the return wormhole, so how do you know the rat ever left?”
“One moment it was standing on its hind legs, the next moment it was lying collapsed. It never fell. Just at one point standing and then instantly collapsed. I can show you the video.”
DeVere nodded. “Could something have attacked it in the dessert? Bitten or stung it? A snake or other animal?”
“I thought of that before I sent it back. That’s why I chose a wormhole with a one second span between arrival and return. To keep anything from getting it. And to prevent it from wandering out of the spatial window. There wouldn’t have been enough time for anything to have gotten it at the other end. And there were no visible injuries.”
“Where’s the rat now?”
“Back at my house. Seems to be O.K. I’ll keep watching it.”
“We need to try this on a person,” deVere suggested after a moment.
Ginter shook his head forcefully. “No, we can’t risk discovery. When we go back, we go back. We’ll take the risk then.”
DeVere started to respond when Lewis Ginter raised his hand and forcefully placed it on deVere’s chest. DeVere stopped in mid-sentence. Lewis slowly turned and calmly called out, “Why Nigel, what brings you to the icehouse?”
“What? Oh sorry,” Nigel stammered from behind a lilac bush. He stepped out. “I was just looking for Natasha. Have you seen her?”
“The last time I saw her,” deVere answered evenly, “was back where she was waiting for you to bring her a drink.”
“What? Oh, right. I’ll go back.” Nigel turned and headed back up the path. DeVere and Ginter watched him disappear back into the trees, his feet crunching the leaves and twigs.
“You think he heard anything?” deVere asked nervously as Nigel moved out of earshot.
“I’m more concerned with why we didn’t hear him approach,” Lewis replied. “Let’s get back to the party.”
At the top of the path Lewis Ginter spotted Christine Worbly speaking with Dr. Fletcher. Dr. Fletcher headed into the house, Lewis following close behind.
The mosquitoes were arriving, harrying guests inside. In the kitchen people hovered around the granite island inhaling chip and dip. In their midst Valerie deVere stood replenishing food trays. Next to the refrigerator, Judith Wolfe was embroiled in an animated discussion with Dr. Arnold.
Arnold was scoffing. “You and your silly boycott. Who is going to be hurt by not going to the library? The grade school students, that’s who.”
The kitchen door slammed and Lewis turned to see Natasha and Nigel standing just inside. Natasha looked grim and stared straight ahead as Nigel tried to whisper to her. Lovers first fight, Lewis thought.
“Finished feeding the mosquitoes?” Ginter asked mischievously.
“We heard there was more food inside,” Natasha answered without looking at her companion. She moved past Ginter and reached for a ridged chip. In front of her, Arnold and Wolfe’s discussion became more heated.
“What loss is there in not going to a library that is filled with lies?” Wolfe sputtered.
“You’re naive!” Arnold boomed loud enough that several guests paused at the island. Nearby, Valerie deVere stood quietly, a look of concern spreading across her pale features.
“Naive?” Judith challenged, her speech more slurred than it had been earlier. “What’s naive about wanting this country to be the way it was, strong and independent?”
“Country? There is no country! If your so-called country was so strong why did it collapse in the face of the superior Soviet system? You are living in the past, Dr. Wolfe, in a nostalgia-laden past that has no foundation in reality. And you and your pathetic bumper stickers can’t change reality. There is no U.S.A. And pining for the past will not restore it.”
“My past is a past where this country, this nation, stood up for itself. Where it wasn’t exploited to perpetrate and support a tottering Soviet system that’s rotting from within. You Soviets survive by taking what isn’t yours, our oil, our coal, our wheat.” She shot a quick look at Valerie deVere. “And you’re apparently no different, Dr. Arnold.”
Arnold stood up and for a moment Natasha thought that he was going to punch Judith Wolfe. Next to him Valerie deVere flushed deeply, turned and strode from the room. Arnold turned to say something to her but she was already through the doorway. He turned back to Judith Wolfe and spluttered as she stood swaying, hands on hips.