"I've been planning to question him on the rack. Richard, life lost some of its beauty when truth drugs replaced thumb screws and hot irons."
"My beloved, you are a bloodthirsty little wretch. More coffee?"
"You just say that to flatter me. No more, thank you."
We returned to the Raffles, went to Bill's room, were unable to raise him, went back to the desk. The misanthrope who had checked me in was again on duty. I asked, "Have you seen anything of William Johnson, room KK?"
"Yes. About thirty minutes ago he collected his key deposit and left."
"But / bought that key!" Gwen said, rather shrilly.
The desk manager was unruffled. "Gospazha, I know you did. But we return the deposit for the return of the key. It doesn't matter who rented the room." He reached for his rack, took down key card KK. "The deposit just barely pays for changing the magnetic code if someone fails to return his key- it doesn't pay for the nuisance. If you dropped your card in the corridor and somebody picked it up and turned it in, we would pay the deposit... then you would have to pay a second deposit to get into your room."
I took Gwen firmly by the elbow. "Fair enough. If he shows up, let us know, will you? Room L."
He looked at Gwen. "You don't want room KK?"
"No."
He turned his attention to me. "You have Room L at its single rate. For double occupancy we charge more."
Suddenly I had had it. All the kaka, all the shoving around, all the petty nonsense I could take. "You try to clip me one more crown and I'll haul you down to Bottom Alley and unscrew your head! Come along, dear."
I was still fuming when I let us into our room and locked the door. "Gwen, let's not stay in Luna. The place has changed. For the worse."
"Where do you want to go, Richard?" She looked and sounded distressed.
"Uh- I would opt to emigrate, right out of the System-
Botany Bay, or Proxima, or such-if I were younger and had two legs." I sighed. "'Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.'"
"Sweetheart-"
"Yes, dear?"
"I'm here, and I want to mother you. I go where you go. I'll follow you to the ends of the Galaxy. But I don't want to leave Luna City just yet... if you will indulge me. We can go out now and search for somewhere else to stay. If we don't find a place-Rabbi Ezra may be right-can't we put up with that surly clerk until Monday? Then we can certainly find a place."
I concentrated on slowing my heart, managed it. "Yes, Gwen. We might shop for a place to move into after the weekend, after the Shriners leave, if we can't find a suitable place available at once. I wouldn't mind that shmo on the desk if we were sure of proper cubic after the weekend."
"Yes, sir. May I tell you now why I need to stay in Luna City for a while?"
"Eh? Yes, certainly. Matter of fact, I ought to stay rooted to one spot for a while, too. Get some writing done, make some money to offset the rather heavy expenses of this week."
"Richard. I've tried to tell you. There are no money worries."
"Gwen, there are always money worries. I'm not going to spend your savings. Call it macho if you like, but I intend to support you."
"Yes, Richard. Thank you. But you need feel no pressure of time. I can lay hands promptly on whatever amount of money we need."
"So? That's a sweeping statement."
"It was intended to be, sir. Richard, I stopped lying to you. Now is the time for large chunks of truth."
I brushed this aside with both hands. "Gwen, haven't I made it clear to you that I don't care what fibs you've told or how old you are or what you have been? It's a fresh start, you and me."
"Richard, stop treating me as a child!"
"Gwen, I am not treating you as a child. I am saying that I accept you as you are. Today. Now. Your past is your business."
She looked at me sadly. "Beloved, you don't believe that I am Hazel Stone. Do you?"
Time to lie! But a lie is no good if it's not believed (unless it is told to be disbelieved, which could not apply here). Time to fan-dance instead. "Sweetheart, I've been trying to tell you that it does not matter to me whether or not you are Hazel Stone. Or Sadie Lipschitz. Or Pocahontas. You are my beloved wife. Let's not cloud that golden fact with irrelevancies."
"Richard, Richard! Listen to me. Let me talk." She sighed. "Or else."
"'Or else'?"
"You know what 'Or else' means; you used it on me. If you won't listen, then I must go back and report that I have failed."
"Go back where? Report to whom? Failed in what?"
"If you won't listen, it doesn't matter."
"You told me not to let you leave!"
"I won't be leaving you; I'll just be running a quick errand, then back home to you. Or you're welcome to come with me- oh, I wish you would! But I must report my failure and resign my commission... then I'll be free to go with you to the ends of the universe. But I must resign, not simply desert. You are a soldier; you understand that."
"You are a soldier?"
"Not exactly. An agent."
"Uh... agente provocateuse?"
"Uh, close." She smiled wryly. "Agente amoureuse perhaps. Although I wasn't told to fall in love with you. Just to marry you. But I did fall in love with you, Richard, and it may have ruined me as an agent. Will you come with me while I report back? Please?"
I was getting more confused by the minute. "Gwen, I'm getting more confused by the minute."
"Then why not let me explain?"
"Uh- Gwen, it can't be explained. You claim that you're Hazel Stone."
"I am."
"Damn it, I can count. Hazel Stone, if she is still alive, is well over a century old."
"That's right. I'm well over a hundred." She smiled. "I robbed the cradle, dear one."
"Oh, for God's sake! Look, dear, I've spent the last five nights in bed with you. You're an exceptionally lively old bag!"
She grinned at me. "Thank you, dear. I owe it all to Lydia Pinkham's Vegetable Compound."
"You do, eh? A patent nostrum took the calcium out of your joints and put it back into your bones, and ironed out the wrinkles in your face, and restored your youthful hormonal balance, and unclogged your arteries? Order me a barrel of it;
I'm slowing down."
"Mrs. Pinkham had expert help, dearest. Richard, if you would only let me prove to you who I am, by my thumbprint on the Declaration of Independence, your mind would then be open to the truth, strange though it is. I wish I could offer you identification by retinal patterns... but my retinas had not been photographed then. But there is that thumbprint. And there is blood typing, too."
I began to feel panicky-what would Gwen do if her delusion pattern was toppled?
Then I remembered something. "Gwen, Gretchen mentioned Hazel Stone."
"So she did. Gretchen is my great great granddaughter, Richard. I married Slim Lemke, of the Stone Gang, on my fourteenth birthday and had my first child by him at Terra's fall equinox of 2078-a boy; I named him Roger for my father. In 2080 I had my first daughter-"
"Hold it. Your eldest daughter was a student at Percival Lowell when I commanded the rescue operation. So you said."
"Part of that pack of lies, Richard. I did indeed have a descendant there-a granddaughter on the faculty. So I truly am grateful. But I had to edit the details to fit my apparent age. My first daughter was named Ingrid, for Slim's mother ... and Ingrid Henderson was named for her grandmother- my daughter, Ingrid Stone. Richard, you could not guess at the time how difficult it was for me at Dry Bones Pressure to meet for the first time five of my very own and not be able to acknowledge them.
"But I can't be Grandmother Hazel when I am being Gwen Novak. So I didn't admit it... and that was not the first time this has happened to me. I've had lots of children-forty-four years from menarche to menopause and I gave birth to sixteen by four husbands and three passing strangers-and took the Stone name back after my fourth husband died. Because I moved in with my son Roger Stone.