“Trust? Nazis don’t deserve trust!”
Lessing watched Morgan’s fingers inch toward his righthand coat pocket. Wounded as he was, he could break this man’s arm in three places before he got his little popper out
“Mulder and his people are loyal to their ideals, loyal to their movement, and loyal to each other and to those who support them. What kind of saints have you got in your gang?”
Morgan chewed his lower lip. “Look, Lessing, I just do my job. Remember how Wrench used to sing that stupid Christmas carol about ‘four FBI, three CIA, two kikibirds, and an Israeli in a pear tree?’ I’m one of the kikibirds. Cleverer than most.”
“Why, Sam? Are you Jewish? You sure don’t look Black.”
“Me? The Great White Hope of the Party of Humankind? Shit, no, I’m no kike! I’m in it for money and power… two of the three reasons for everything that happens on earth, the third being sex, which I get enough of anyway.”
“Kinky sex, judging by your Annandale basement.”
Morgan shrugged. His index finger was caressing the flap of his pocket.
Lessing smiled. “You guys wanted me thumbed. Why didn’t you do it yourself, Sam? You had opportunities. Why send Richmond and Hollister?”
“I’d have blown my cover. You weren’t important enough for that.”
“You had better things to do?”
“Much better. I still have. If Mulder’s really dead, there’ll be a struggle for control of the Party: Grant Simmons, Wrench, if he’s alive, Borchardt, Goddard…” Morgan couldn’t know that Goddard was dead “… Abner Hand, and the rest. It’ll be a free-for-all. Our coalition will see to it that I win. I’m your next Führer, Lessing! Give us a big Sieg Heil, brother, and a high five! ” Morgan remembered where he was and sobered. “Hey, look, none of this was personal, man!”
“We have to go now,” Lessing said. The lady was beckoning.
“Where?” Three of Morgan’s fingers were inside his pocket.
Lessing hefted the briefcase. “Downstairs, to Korinek, of course. I’m sure he’ll want to see me.”
Morgan began to smile. “Aha, bandwagon time! You’ve served different masters before. You’re a mere, and you want to be on the winning side. We should be able to work something out. I know you’re no ideological Nazi.”
“What’ll Korinek give me if I come over?”
“Your life for starters. If you’re good, you can have a job, money, a nice bint-baby or two… not Anneliese Meisinger, of course; she’s too wound up with Mulder and the Party!” Morgan’s hand began to withdraw from the pocket — without the gun. He had always preferred doing things the easy way.
“Liese! Oh, Sam, I almost forgot Liese is in there… in the bathroom.”
“She’s where!”
“In there. She’s hurt, Sam. She can’t move.” Lessing paused to listen to the lady in the ice-blue robe. “Would you help me, Sam? Help me move her downstairs?”
The other man grinned. His hand was out of his pocket now — empty. “Why, sure. Of course. Look, I spoke too fast. We can arrange it so you can have Liese. Without Mulder, she’s just one more….”
“Hundred-lira bint-baby. A good Cairo pog.”
“Christ, you’re raving, Lessing.” Morgan reached for his briefcase again, but Lessing moved away, toward the bedroom door. “Not that I blame you, after all you’ve been through.”
Lessing set the briefcase down. “Here, Sam,” he said kindly, “let me help you through.”
He opened the door and gave Morgan a gentle push.
He didn’t even watch.
Later, he awoke again from a dream of an ice-blue maiden with tawny, golden skin and dark-blonde hair. She looked like Liese sometimes, and like somebody else sometimes.
A man in a black helmet and tunic knelt beside him. There were other black uniforms as well. He saw booted feet and glittering weapons, and he smelled gunpowder and smoke and charred wood.
“Here’s the doctor!” a voice said. “My God…!”
“The briefcase,” Lessing husked. “Don’t lose it.”
“Don’t worry,” the black-garbed man soothed. “Hey, he’s green light!”
The sable uniforms in the background shifted. Lessing tried to recall the man’s name. Tim? Tom?
Lights sprang up on his mental photographic stage. The homely, Midwestern face before him was Tim Helm, wearing black Cadre battle-dress. How had he gotten here?
Helm said, “Colonel Lessing, Korinek and his bunch are in Cadre custody. We came up from Andrews and surrounded them. Got support from General Dreydahl and some sailors from Admiral Canning. General Hartman’s under arrest, and our people are in control of most of the military bases across the country. Miss Caw phoned from L.A. to say her folks are green light there too.” He hesitated. “We lost Mr. Mulder, though. His wife as well. Their house in Virginia is a crater.”
“Excuse us, sir!” A soldier in paramedic uniform motioned Helm aside to make room for an antiseptic-smelling man with grey hair. “Get that arm first, please. That’s the same one he almost lost in Oregon.”
Pain sparkled in his left biceps, then was replaced by numbness. “Liese,” Lessing muttered. “She’s in there… in the bathroom… get her out! Please, get her out!” A wave of fluffy, grey mist was rolling up to wash away the lonely little lighthouse of his mind.
A smaller Figure leaned close. Through distant, booming surf Lessing recognized Wrench. He stretched out his good hand. “Liese… out of there.”
Helm asked, “Out of where? The bathroom!” Lessing heard muttering from others in the room.
Wrench squatted beside him. “Sorry, doctor. Make way.”
There were footsteps, familiar footsteps. He struggled to see, but the leaden wave kept erasing everything.
Someone else was there.
Something warm and wet touched his cheek. Somebody took hold of him and clutched him so tightly it made him wince. He smelled perfume and both felt and heard the rustle of silk.
He knew that fragrance.
It was Liese’s perfume.
It couldn’t be Liese.
A purring, choppy, and utterly beloved voice said, “Mr. Mulder asked me go get Grant Simmons. Nobody else… go. Dulles Airport. Oh, my darling, my darling….”
The voice broke off. Warm tears stung abrasions on his face that he hadn’t known were there. The embrace grew too tight to endure, but he endured it gladly anyway. Now he really couldn’t see: both eyes were blurry. Have to get new ones.
Damage control reported to the bridge, but the skipper refused to abandon the wheel. Salt water blinded him, and the hollow thunder of the storm reverberated in his ears. Nothing and nobody could keep this ship from getting through! Ahead he saw the harbor lights of home. Victory was his!
Wrench growled, “Leave ‘em alone for a bit, doctor.”
“Who is the girl in the bathroom?” Tim Helm asked from the lowering darkness.
“We’ll get to her,” Wrench replied. “She’s probably one of the kids from Communications. She must’ve hid up here when the firing started and got thumbed by the missile concussion. Lessing… me and Goddard too… thought it was Liese. She was wearing grey, silk stockings. A lot of the women copy Liese.”
“I can see why.” Tim’s voice faded away.
“Yeah,” Wrench said. “Liese is a lady.”
PRIMARY OPERATOR; LESSING. ALAN. NO MIDDLE INITIAL. IDENTITY CHECKS COMPLETED: FP.RP.VP. DNA. DATE AND TIME: NOVEMBER 5. 2050; 0903:23 HOURS
PRIME DIRECTIVE SUPPLEMENT: ALL FILES WILL HENCEFORTH BE RETRIEVABLE BY A PERSON HOLDING THE STATUS OF PRIMARY OPERATOR. HIDDEN FILES, OUBLIETTE FILES. TEXT AND DATA FILES. AND CONTROL FILES WILL BE LISTED IN THE CENTRAL DIRECTORY AND WILL BE ACCESSIBLE UPON COMMAND. PASSWORDS, LOCK-CODES. AND OTHER BLOCKING PROCEDURES WILL BE INOPERATIVE.