IV
The Shah would trove this memory, would he not? An aerial view of the entire campus, greening with Spring, looking so like one of those clever little silicon chips he was forever reading about. Yes, the clean square buildings represented the little transistors and things, while the roads and footpaths represented the — the other parts. It was even possible to think of the students crawling about down there as information to be progressed, processed rather. He desired strongly that his only son should be processed in a place such as this. But now it was time to put by such thoughts, and concentrate on the tedious task at hand; already his chopper was settling like a golden dragonfly atop the — he checked a map — the Admin building.
Jim hadn’t told her she’d have to scream her speech of welcome over the roar of helicopter blades. But protocol demanded instant recognition:
‘Welcome to the University of Minnetonka! We hope that Your Royal Incomparability will take pleasure from our humble institution.’ Awkward stuff, translated by the Ruritanian consulate.
The Shah was not quite as tall or good-looking as his photographs had previewed. She might not have recognized him but for his splendid uniform: gold lame head to toe, with peacock-feather epaulets. Curtseying, she noticed that even his jackboots had been gilded.
When the mechanical roar died, he said: ‘Please, Dr Boag. Not too much of these ceremony. I hope you will treat me as any ordinary visitation, yes?’
‘Yes of course if your — if you — but this way to the elevator.’
Crowded in with the Shah, his secretary and five enormous bodyguards, she found conversation difficult. It was hard enough even to see him over a padded shoulder, and the smell of pomade (heavy with patchouli) took her breath. When she informed him that the weather was unusually mild and Springlike, not at all like last week’s, he simply beamed and said nothing. When she asked if he’d had a pleasant journey, he nodded. Did he understand? Did he speak English? Was it impolite to talk in elevators in Ruritania? Finally she gave up and consulted her card notes.
He would want to see the library, examine a Ruritanian manuscript, and visit the history department. Then –
He suddenly snatched the card from her hand. After examining it through his lorgnette, he passed it to the secretary, a tiny dark man with bad teeth.
‘It’s simply our itinerary,’ she began, but they were arguing in their exotic language. Or was it arguing? Whatever it was, it continued as they strolled out into the sunshine.
Finally the Shah beamed at her. ‘Forgive our ugly manners, Dr Boag. My secretary wishes me to follow to the letter this thoughtful itinerary you have for us provided. He worries, you see, for the security. I however have other
‘I — see. I — well I had planned—’
‘Moment. I must confess that libraries leave me “cold”. And history was never my “strong” subject. But if you will forgive me, there are two things I should admire seeing. The horses’ barns, first of all. And the computers. I greatly admire the computers.’
‘Your Inc — the campus is of course at your disposal. I have a car waiting if you’ll—’
‘No,’ said a guard. He and the others, their faces expressionless behind sunglasses, herded the little party past the official car to another, a long Mercedes with gold fittings.
‘Well yes of course, if—’
A guard slapped the door with a giant hand. ‘Is better,’ he threatened. ‘Bombproof.’
Not an auspicious start. She began to envy the committee.
Tarr slammed down the phone as Bud Aikin came in. ‘Great, just great. Tried calling Rogers and he’s off sick. Sick!’
‘You mean he won’t — ?’
‘—be there to steer our proposal through the committee. We’ve just wasted our time — what are you looking so pleased about?’
‘Well, the paper says—’
‘That’s not the worst of it. Only reason I called up Rogers was to get him to change the title on our proposal, too late now. They’ve got it, forty-six copies already in the committee room with that title staring them in the face, why didn’t somebody tell me? Why didn’t you point the acronym out to me, I have to think of everything around here — something amusing, Bud?’
‘No, just, did you see the paper? It says—’
Aikin held up the
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘“…and Wesson .38… cassette suicide note in his pocket. Hannah blamed his failing Grade Point Average, .95 last… member of Digamma Upsilon Nu and son of Dr…” Anyway there it is, my prediction.’
Tarr began filling his pipe. ‘And frankly, Bud, I wonder if you know either.’
‘But you, you saw me do it, with the map, remember? And the p-p-p — the vibrating dangly thing, remember? You and Byron were witnesses!’
He lit his pipe and puffed out an ectoplasm of blue smoke. ‘Can’t say I remember that, no, hmm, hmm, hmm…’ After a moment he added, ‘But even if you did, so what? One swallow doesn’t make a flock.’
‘But—’
‘Kindly let me finish? Okay, what I think we have here is a political situation, Bud. No sooner do I tell you the committee will probably veto my proposal, than you want to back another horse. Maybe all you ever really cared about was your pendulum, eh?’
‘No, but—’
‘It’s okay, Bud. Really. I’m not hurt. Some people are capable of loyalty, some aren’t, I realize that. I don’t know, maybe you’re after my
Unanswered phones were ringing all over the place. A patrolman sat on his desk, trying to juggle two receivers and take down a message that would probably be just another flying saucer sighting. The dispatcher peered over her glass partition (a frosted look over frosted glass, he would write) letting the chief know she was peeved about missing her coffee break. The telex was ringing its bell and rattling out a yard of paper. The fat prisoner threw him a sulky look from the cage (‘…as if,’ he would write, ‘as if he thought someone else had crapped his drawers’).
Chief Dobbin went into his office and closed the door against all of them. But even here he had Sergeant Collar balancing an armload of reports and shouting into a phone:
‘Don’t ask me, that’s all. Just don’t ask me!’ The receiver banged down. ‘Been like this all fucking day, chief.
