'It doesn't matter,' he said thickly. 'It's not important. There's nothing between us, nothing, I told you.'
'I was a bit surprised, I must say.'
'I've missed you,' he said in a low voice, trying to look like he was engaged in superficial chitchat. 'I have to see you again. Can you come to the hospital?'
'No. Come to the house, the day after tomorrow. Three in the afternoon. Return my book.'
'I love you,' he said. 'I adore you.'
'I know.' She looked at him, that way, then raised her voice. 'I'll bear that in mind, Dr Carriscant. Thank you.'
He looked round. Paton Bobby, beaming, was striding across the lawn towards them.
'Evening, Doctor, you look almost distinguished. Almost. Evening, Mrs Sieverance.'
They shook hands. It was clear, much to Carriscant's surprise, that Bobby knew her fairly well. Bobby made an appointment to see him the next day and they chatted a while about the situation in Mindanao. After a minute Bobby moved on.
'I must go now,' she said, her eyes big with secret messages.
'Yes,' he said lamely. He felt a thick-tongued dullard. A Cruz semi-mute.
She turned away and sauntered back to her friends. The trembling in Carriscant's legs forced him to move quickly to the low wall that marked the edge of the garden, where he sat down. It was five minutes before he felt able to go and find Annaliese and suggest that it was time they returned home.
THE LIBRARY
She locked the door and turned to face him. He could see she was excited also, her chest rising and falling.
'We have ten minutes,' she said.
They kissed. He held her fiercely to him, his face in the angle of her neck and shoulder. His lips touched her moist skin, feeding off her salt. He breathed in her smell.
'Jesus Christ,' he said. 'My God, you don't know how -'
'Don't cry,' she said, smiling at him. 'You'll set me off.'
'Is the nurse-'
'No. But there are servants. I can't risk anything.'
They sat down opposite each other, he held both her hands in his, and made every banal declaration to her that he could think of. He kissed her knuckles, pressed them to his forehead.
'I have to be with you,' he said. 'It's killing me. We have to find some way.'
'But what?'
'I don't know,' he said, real despair in his voice. 'I just can't think.'
'An hotel?'
'In Manila? There are no secrets in this wretched place. Everyone knows me. Everyone watches everyone else. Impossible.' He felt the frustration build in him. 'Damn this place. Damn this stinking city.' He sank to his knees in front of her, putting his arms round her hips, burying his face in her lap, feeling her hands on his head, his shoulders.
'I could come to the hospital again,' she whispered. 'Maybe just once more. I can't go unaccompanied too often. I could have another crisis or something. A relapse, maybe.'
'Wednesday, the same time. No-One will be there.'
'Her day off is Friday.'
'Friday, then.' He kissed her, his tongue in her mouth. Her cool mouth, her slick quick tongue. He squeezed her breasts.
' Salvador, no.' She stood up and unlocked the door. She rang a small handbell and sat down, leaving the door ajar. 'We have to be careful,' she said. 'So very careful. Stay and have tea with me, let all the servants see. Nothing could be more natural. When I write to Jepson I'll tell him about your visit. Everything must be above suspicion.'
TRIAL RUN
Pantaleon's hands gripped the edge of the uppermost blade of the propeller. The Aero-mobile stood outside its shed; in front of it stretched eighty yards of new planked roadway.
Carriscant stood to one side, his hands holding the ropes that were attached to large wooden wedges set against the front wheels of the supporting carriage. Pantaleon jerked down on the propeller and there came a fart of noise from the engine and a puff of bluish smoke from the exhaust. He pulled again and this time it caught. He leapt back and the blade began to spin, blurring into a shimmering disc. Pantaleon walked round the wing, leaned over and pushed a lever to engage the chain drive of the other propeller, which began to turn also, slowly at first and then after a second or two with real speed. The noise of the engine was loud, high and angry, and the Aero- mobile shook and quivered, like a thoroughbred at the start of a race. Pantaleon climbed into the forward saddle and sat there a moment, head bowed, hands on his control levers, as if he was at prayer, and then turned to shout out something at Carriscant-which he could not hear over the engine – but the sweeping gesture with a hand told him he wanted the wedges removed. Carriscant hauled them away and to his astonishment, for he had never really believed the Aero-mobile capable of movement, the machine began to move slowly forward, thrumming and vibrating like a hovering dragonfly, as Pantaleon slowly opened the throttle. Carriscant trotted along beside it as it rolled along the roadway, shouting encouragement to Pantaleon, and then began to run as the machine picked up speed but it soon outstripped him. He stopped, out of breath, and shouted weakly, 'Go, Pantaleon, go!' But then Pantaleon cut the engine and the blades abruptly stopped spinning and he saw him reach down to apply the brakes to the front wheels and the Aero-mobile began to slow, although it started to veer to the right. Carriscant watched as the wheels reached the raised edge of the roadway and the machine, moving at walking pace now, slowly tipped over on to its nose. There was a distinct crunching sound as of a bundle of dry twigs being broken.
Carriscant ran up as Pantaleon stepped out of his saddle. He saw that the front elevator was buckled, its doped silk torn and wrinkled. Pantaleon's face was flushed and startled, and his hands were shivering with excitement. Spontaneously he and Carriscant embraced, thumping each other on the back.
'My God, Salvador, you should have felt it. The power. It was straining to leave the ground. I could feel it. And I was only at half throttle. It was longing to fly, I tell you, longing!'
'Congratulations, Panta. You know, I never really believed… But I was running, and then it began to outstrip me. Magnificent, magnificent!'
They inspected the broken elevator at the front and saw that the damage was not too severe. They heaved the machine back on to the roadway with some effort and then pushed it back towards the nipa barn.
'One thing is clear, we have to make that rear wheel turnable,' Pantaleon said, 'to keep it on its true course on the roadway. A simple steering device, a tiller of some kind.' His face was alive and mobile, joyful. 'Honestly, Salvador, I've never experienced a moment like that. I felt… ' He paused, he could not think of the exact word. 'I don't know. On the verge. Like an explorer, I suppose, discovering a continent, an ocean. Something like that. Everything ahead is blank and I am going to take a step into the void, part a curtain, if you know what I mean.'
Carriscant did: he had experienced those sensations himself with the human body. The first time he had opened the stomach cavity. Imagine what it would be like to expose the living brain, the spinal column, the heart. He felt no envy for Pantaleon: they were colleagues, fellow spirits now, both exploring their terrae incognitae.
They trundled the Aero-mobile back into the barn and Pantaleon fussed over the machine checking its components. One strut had sprung from its mountings and there seemed to be a small leak from the fuel tank. Carriscant stepped back and let Pantaleon tend to his creation.
In one corner of the nipa barn, he noticed, a kind of living area had been set up: a low canvas camp bed, a table with a jug and ewer on it and a lantern. He wandered over. On a tin plate was a heel of bread and some fish
