“This warehouse caught fire in the early hours and burned like a house on fire, yes sir! Four companies were called out and it took until dawn to damp down the blaze and keep it from spreading. Paint and chemicals had been stored in the building which kept things mighty hot for our helmeted heroes, yes sir! No one as yet knows how the blaze started, but arson has definitely been ruled out.”
One of the helmeted heroes ran up and unclipped a piece of equipment from the truck near Patti. He never noticed her. The computer simulation was perfect; she could really have been at the fire rather than recording in the studio.
Someone knocked on the door. Jan turned off the TV and smiled at himself for feeling guilty; everyone else would be watching the nude announcers as well. “Come in,” he called out, and the door unlocked.
“Good morning, sir, lovely morning,” the waiter said, carrying in Jan’s breakfast on a tray. He was young, white, and slightly adenoidal; a wispy moustache struggled for existence on his upper lip. He bowed as he put the tray down on the bedside table.
“That was quite a fire last night,” Jan said.
“Jigaboos done it,” the waiter answered, breathing hard through his open mouth. “None of them come to work in the kitchen today, not one. Shows they done it.”
“You think they started the fire? The news said the cause was unknown.”
“They always say that. It had to be the spooks. This time they oughta let Harlem burn to the ground.”
Jan was uncomfortable in the presence of the raw hatred. He poured some coffee; the waiter bowed again and left. He had never before realized how divided America was by racial barriers. It must always have been there, below the surface. War fever was bringing it out now. There was nothing he could do about it, nothing at all. He turned the news on again and watched Patti prance through the scenes while he gave his attention to the scrambled eggs and bacon.
When he got out of bed, Jan noticed the sealed envelope on the sideboard where he had dropped it. He wasn’t ready to open it yet — was not even sure if he should open it. Because when he did so he knew he would have to join Thurgood-Smythe in his mad scheme. He realized suddenly that his head was fuzzy, that he had trouble coming to grips with reality. It was not surprising. The changes had been too abrupt. After the years of dull toil on Halvmork, everything had been turned upside down.
First leaving that planet on the spacer, then being captured, escaping, capture again — and finally his brother-in-law’s revelation that everything was all going to turn out right after all. Jan was very suspicious of sudden happy endings. He went into the marble-and-gold luxury of the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. Red eyes with dark circles around them, and gray in the stubble on his chin. Whatever he needed to do next would be done in a leisurely fashion. He was not going to rush into anything for some time.
There was a circular bathtub here that was big enough to swim in. He set the temperature to warm and pressed the FILL button. It did, instantly, with a quiet rushing sound. There must be a reservoir, preheated, somewhere close by. He stepped into the tub, aware of just how far he was from New Watts and the Harlem that the waiter had talked about. Aware also how close he was to them at the same time. This world where a few lived in luxury, where most existed at the brink of despair, was a precarious place. The waves of revolution from the stars were touching Earth now. Would they carry the rebellion here as well?
“I hope you like the bath,” the girl said, stepping forward to the middle of the room. She was dressed in a short terrycloth robe which she slowly took off; she was gorgeously naked underneath. When she dropped the robe it vanished — and Jan realized he was looking at a holograph projection.
“The management of the Waldorf-Astoria wants you to enjoy the best in comforts during your stay. If you wish I can massage your back while you are relaxing in the tub, soap you and scrub you as well. Dry you and give you a more exciting massage in the bed. Would you like that, sir?”
Jan shook his head, then realized that the frozen hologram image was waiting for a verbal instruction.
“No. Get thee behind me, Satan.” The girl vanished. Jan’s wife was light-years away, yet she was very close still in his emotions. He finished soaping and washing and when he stepped out of the tub the water vanished behind him in a single mighty insufflation.
When he had arrived the day before no eyebrows had been raised nor any attention paid to his sleazy clothes or lack of luggage. Not when he was occupying one of the best suites in the hotel. But he would need clothes; that was the first order of business. He dressed quickly and kicked into the sandals. There was a safe set into the wall of the sitting room and he put Thurgood-Smythe’s envelope in it, keying in a new combination so that only he could open it. With his ID card in his shirt pocket he would have everything he needed. He patted the card and went out.
The lobby of the hotel was filled with elegantly dressed guests, mostly women, who were strolling toward the doors leading to a fashion show. Jan felt decidedly scruffy as he pushed through them and out into the soggy heat of the day; When he had arrived the previous evening he had noticed that there were a number of shops along Lexington Avenue. Clothes, shoes, luggage — there was everything here that he might need.
Though some vehicles passed there seemed to be few pedestrians. None at all he realized, just as a policeman stepped out of a doorway and stopped him by pushing his nightstick hard into Jan’s chest.
“All right, stupid. You want trouble, you got trouble.”
Jan’s temper flared; he had seen enough of the police in the last twenty-four hours.
“I’m afraid that you are the one who is in trouble, officer.” He took out his ID. “You will look at this and then you will apologize for your brutal manner.”
The policeman let the stick drop slowly. Jan’s refined accent and manner did not match his clothing. When he saw the Security symbol next to the three-digit number indicating Jan’s rank he actually began to tremble. He saluted and Jan felt ashamed of himself for bullying the man with his newly-attained rank and position. His actions, in essence, were really the same as those of the police officers who had raided New Watts.
“I didn’t know, I’m sorry, but the things you’re wearing…”
“I understand,” Jan said, putting the card back into his pocket “It was an emergency. I’m going to buy new clothes now.”
“I’ll show you, sir, just follow me. I’ll wait to take you back. You don’t want to be on the streets today.”
“Is there an alert?”
“No. But people know. The word goes around. We shot the two guys what burned down the armory. Both white. What the fuck did they think they was doing? In here. Best place on Lexington. I’ll be outside.” He hammered loudly on the sealed door with his nightstick and it was quickly unlocked. “Take good care of this gentleman,” he told the wide-eyed clerk, spinning the stick swiftly on the end of its thong.
It was a gentlemen’s outfitters, very exclusive, very expensive. Jan took a great deal of pleasure in spending a large amount of his newly-acquired money. Shirts, slacks, undergarments, suits, everything lightweight, easily packed and uncrushable. If it was hot in New York, Israel was sure to be an oven. He did not mind heat, but he liked to be dressed for it. Shoes and a better grade of sandal than he was wearing completed his outfit. His image in the mirror was greatly improved.