Noon was the wrong time to arrive. The Complex is made up of government offices; everything shuts down for a leisurely lunch hour. Lunch seemed a good idea to me, too; breakfast was in the remote past. There were several lunchrooms in the tunnels of the complex... with every chair filled with the broad beams of civil servants or occupied by tourists with red fezzes. Queues waited outside Sloppy Joe and Mom's Diner and An-toine's number two. "Hazel, I see vending machines ahead. Can I interest you in a warm Coke and a cold sandwich?"
"No, sir, you cannot. There's a public terminal just beyond the food dispensers. I'll make some calls while you eat."
"I'm not that hungry. What calls?"
"Xia. And Ingrid. I want to be sure Gretchen got home safely. She could have been waylaid just as we were. I should have called last night."
"Only to soothe your own worry; either Gretchen was home day before yesterday evening... or it's too late and she's dead."
"Richard!"
"That's what worries you, isn't it? Call Ingrid."
Gretchen answered and squealed when she saw Gwen-Ha-zei. "Mama! Come quick! It's Mistress Hardesty!"
Twenty minutes later we switched off. All that had been accomplished was to tell the Hendersons that we were at the Raffles and that our mailing address was care of Rabbi Ezra. But the ladies enjoyed visiting and each assured the other that she would come visit in person sometime soon. They exchanged kisses via terminal-to my mind a waste of technology. And of kisses.
Then we tried to call Xia... and a man came on screen whom I did not recognize; he was not Xia's day-shift desk clerk. "What do you want?" he demanded.
Hazel said, "I'd like to speak to Xia, please."
"Not here. This hotel has been shut down by the Bureau of Sanitation."
"Oh. Can you you me where she is?"
"Try the Chief of Public Safety." The face flickered off.
Hazel turned to me, her eyes filled with worry. "Richard, this can't be right. Xia's hotel is as squeaky clean as she is."
"I see a pattern," I said grimly, "and so do you. Let me ay."
I moved in, queried for code, called the office of the top cop, HKL. An elderly desk sergeant answered. I said, "Gos-pazha, I'm trying to reach a citizen named Dong Xia. I was told-"
"Yeah, I booked her," she answered. "But she made bail an hour ago. Not here."
"Ah so. Thank you, ma'am. Can you tell me where I might reach her?"
"Haven't the slightest. Sorry."
"Thank you." I switched off.
"Oh, dear!"
"Leprosy, sweetheart. We've got it; anyone who touches us
catches it. Damn."
"Richard, I'm stating the simple truth. In my childhood when this was a penal colony, there was more freedom under the Warden than there is now with self-government."
"Maybe you exaggerate but I suspect Xia would agree with you." I chewed my lip and frowned. "You know who else has caught our leprosy. Choy-Mu."
"You think so?"
"Seven to two."
"No bet. Call him."
Query showed him to be a private subscriber, so I called his home. I heard a recording, sans picture: "Marcy Choy-Mu speaking. Can't say when I'll be home but I will call in soon for messages. At me gong, please record." A gong sounded.
I thought furiously, then said, "Captain Midnight speaking. We are booked into the old Raffles. A mutual friend needs help. Please call me at the Raffles. If I am not there, please leave message telling when and where I can reach you." I
switched off again.
"Dear, you didn't give him Rabbi Ezra's code." "On purpose, Sadie giri. To keep the Rabbi's code out of Jefferson Mao's hands; Choy-Mu's line may be monitored. 1 had to give him somewhere to call back... but I can't risk compromising the Rabbi Ezra connection; we must have it for Father Schultz. Table it, beautiful; I've got to query for HKL ground control."
"Hong Kong Luna ground control. This terminal is for official business; make it brief." It was voice only.
"May I speak to Captain Marcy?"
"Not here. I'm his emergency relief. Message? Make it snappy; I've got traffic in four minutes."
(Uh-) "This is Captain Midnight. Tell him I'm at the old
Raffles. Call me."
"Don't switch off! Captain Midnight?"
"He'll know." "And so do I. He went to city hall to "put up bail for you know who. Or do you?" "XiaT
"Too right! I've got to get back to my scopes but I'll tell him. Off!"
"What now, Richard?"
"Gallop in all directions."
"Do be serious!"
"Can you think of anything better? The queue is gone from Mom's Diner; let's eat lunch."
"Eat lunch while our friends are in danger?"
"Sweetheart, even if we went back to Kongville-and thereby shoved our heads in the lion's mouth-we would have no way to find them. There is nothing we can do until Choy-Mu calls us. That might be five minutes from now, or five hours. One thing I learned in combat: Never skip a chance to eat, sleep, or pee; another chance may be a long time coming.'*
I recommend Mom's cherry pie with ice cream. Hazel ordered the same but, by the time I was chasing my last bite with a spoon, she had merely toyed with hers. I said, "Young lady, you sit right there until you have eaten everything on your plate."
"Richard, I can't."
"I don't like to beat you in public-"
"So don't."
"So I won't. Instead I will sit right here until you have eaten that all up, even if it means that I must sleep in this chair tonight."
Hazel expressed obscenely unfavorable opinions of me, of Jefferson Mao, and of cherry pie, then ate the cherry pie. By thirteen-twenty we were at the door of the computer area in the Complex. There a youngster at a wicket sold us two tickets for two crowns forty, told us that the next tour would start in a few minutes, and let us into an enclosure, a waiting lounge with benches and opportunities to gamble against machines. Ten or a dozen tourists were waiting; most of the males wore fezzes.
When at last we started, an hour later, there were nineteen or twenty of us, herded by a uniformed guide-or guard; he wore a cop's shield. We made a long circuit on foot of that enormous complex, a dull and endless trip. At each pause our guide gave a memorized spiel-perhaps not too well memorized, as I could spot errors, even though I am not a communications-control engineer.
But I did not jump on these slips. Instead I made a nuisance of myself in accordance with earlier coaching by my fellow conspirator.
At one stop our guide explained that engineering control was decentralized all over Luna both geographically and by functions-air, sewage, communications, fresh water, transportation, et cetera-but was monitored from here by the technicians you see at those consoles. I interrupted him.
"My good man, I think you must be new on this job. The Encyclopedia Britannica explains clearly how one giant computer handles everything on the Moon. That's what we've come to see. Not backs of necks of junior clerks sitting at monitors. So let's see it. The giant computer. The Holmes IV."
The guide let his professional smile slip and looked at me with the natural contempt of a Loonie for an earthworm. "You've been misinformed. True, it used to be that way, but you're over fifty years out of date. Today we are modernized and decentralized."
"Young man, are you trying to contradict the Britannica?"
"I'm telling you the simple truth. Now let's move on and-"
"What became of that giant computer? Since it's no longer used. Or so you say."
"Huh? Look behind you. See that door? It's behind that door."
"Come, then let's see it! That's what I paid to see." "Not on your bloody drum and fife. It's an historical antique, a symbol of our great history. You want to look at it, you go to the Chancellor of Galileo U. and show your credentials. He'll send you packing! Nan then let's all move along to the next gallery-"