'What happened?'
I glanced over at Alex, who was out of Peifer's field of vision. Reading a book about the missing civilization that Ivan had described. He shook his head no. I don't want to talk to him. 'I got lucky,' I said.
'Yeah. Good. How about some details?'
'Umm- '
'Forget it. Let me talk to Alex.'
'He's not here.'
'Come on, Chase, you just said he was there.' 'I was speaking metaphorically. I meant here as in out . Free. ' 'Who was holding him? Was it Wexler?'
'Rob, I'm not able to talk about it now, okay? You'll have the entire story later tonight.' 'Me and who else?' He looked skeptical. 'You'll have a three-hour head start.'
'Okay. I can live with that. When?'
'When what?'
'When will I get the story? I don't live up here, you know.'
'Midnight.'
'Great. That's good planning, Chase. How about a preview? You can trust me.'
'First I need a favor.'
'You may always ask.'
'I want you to keep Wexler's name out of it.' 'So he is involved.' 'A favor to me, Rob.'
'Oh. And when did I accumulate this debt?'
'Rob, this story is bigger than Wexler. Believe me.'
'I'll think about it.'
'I made a deal to get Alex back.'
'I didn't make the deal.'
'Please, Rob.'
'You're a hard woman, Chase.'
'Only when you get to know me.'
'By the way, I've another question for you.'
'Go ahead.'
'Do you know anything about the crazy woman who took a taxi up to Samuels a few days ago? And then disappeared? The description sounded a bit like you.'
*** Minutes later someone knocked on the door. When we didn't immediately respond, a male voice announced he was CSS. 'Here we go again,' said Alex. 'Please open up.' More knocking. There wasn't really anywhere to go, so I complied. There were three of them, two men and a woman. The woman was not Krestoff. 'Chase Kolpath?' The question came from the older of the men. 'Yes.' 'The Administrator would like to speak with you.' He glanced over at Alex. 'And with Mr. Benedict.' 'Don't you guys ever give up?' I said. He frowned. Looked puzzled, put his official look back on. 'Please come along.' He stepped aside to make room. 'Before you do this, the original transmission, the one implicating Wexler, is scheduled to go out unless I stop it.' 'I don't know anything about that, Ms. Kolpath,' the agent said. 'But I would appreciate it if you and Mr. Benedict would come with us.' I got a jacket out of the closet. A look of utter resignation crossed Alex's face. He got up and grumbled something indiscernible. We walked out into the corridor, they closed in around us, and we went up to the roof, where another white skimmer waited, identical to the one that Krestoff had used to haul us around. Moments later we lifted off. I was relieved to see that we turned in the direction of the Seawalk and not toward the gray building on the edge of the city. Nobody said much. One of the agents asked whether I was comfortable. And the pilot spoke softly to his control. We were approaching Number 17 Parkway, the executive mansion. 'It looks as if it really is the Administrator,' said Alex. 'I guess.' I was not comfortable. 'Do we know whether he's involved?' 'I've no idea how high it went.' The building and the grounds were enclosed by an iron fence. We descended onto a pad off the east wing. The agents opened up, and there was a brief exchange with security people. When they were satisfied, we were escorted across a wide lawn and into the mansion. The building itself was of recent vintage, relatively small and unobtrusive, standing among the architectural giants erected by the Cleevs. 'It sends the right message,' Alex commented. Once inside, we passed through an elaborate security arrangement and were given IDs. Then we were taken to a waiting room. 'He'll want us to cancel,' I said, when we were alone. 'Of course. But I'd be surprised if we see him personally. He'll have somebody else lean on us. They've probably disposed of Wexler.' The room was filled with bookcases, but the volumes were all in sets and showed no sign of use. There were portraits of stern men and women who appeared to be looking off at a horizon, and a picture of a waterfall, and another of a structure with columns and porticoes set against the sea. Alex was looking through the books when an aide came in and asked us to follow her. She led the way down a corridor lined with more pictures of still more severe people. I wondered whether anyone in power ever smiled for a portrait? A large office occupied the space at the end of the
passageway. Inside, a harried-looking male staff member sat at a desk next to a closed door. 'Mr. Benedict and Ms. Kolpath,' our escort said. The staff member flung a smile in our direction and spoke into a link. 'They're here.' He received a reply, nodded, and got up. 'This way, please.' He took us down another corridor. Then upstairs. And finally we confronted a large, paneled door. He opened it cautiously, looked inside, announced our presence, and stepped out of the way. It was like walking onto a stage. The overhead was vaulted, and tinted windows filtered the light. A large carved desk, with flags behind it, anchored the place. There were maybe a dozen chairs scattered around. A long sofa was set against one wall. A fireplace crackled happily. Somehow, they'd arranged things so that it felt like a place where history was routinely made. Behind the desk, rising as we entered, was Tau Kilgore. The Administrator. Himself. He was engaged in an earnest conversation with a heavyset guy who looked angry, and a middle-aged chestnut-haired woman who was carefully maintaining a neutral expression. 'Can't be done,' Kilgore was saying as he got to his feet. The woman spotted us and raised a hand for us to stay back. 'Find a way,' continued Kilgore. 'I don't care how you do it. But find a way.' He turned in our direction and signaled us to take seats. 'When we first heard of this,' he said, 'first heard about Greene, we immediately sent out a mission. Which confirmed the story. The thing, the ray burst, whatever, is a little more than three years away, and we are directly in the crosshairs. And somehow nobody ever thought it would be a good idea to get the word up here.' He looked like a guy carrying the world on his shoulders. 'It was a rogue operation, sir,' said the male. 'They kept it to themselves.' 'How in hell could they possibly do that, Grom?' 'We're looking into it, sir.' 'I would goddam well hope so. I want everybody who was involved. Then we are going to hang their sorry asses.' 'Yes, sir. I'll get back to you as soon as we have the details.' He turned toward us, still apparently seething. I wasn't sure, though. It could have been an act, carried on for our benefit. We did a round of introductions. The woman was Dr. Circe Belhower. Her eyes were intense. Not a warm woman, I suspected, under the best of circumstances. She didn't look any happier than the Administrator. She was tall and prim and humorless. The teacher for whose classes nobody ever signed up. 'Dr. Belhower,' he said, 'is a special consultant. She's going to try to help us deal with this'-he struggled for a word-'catastrophe.' Kilgore addressed himself to Alex. 'I understand you've been held a virtual prisoner, Mr. Benedict.' 'Yes, Mr. Administrator. Although 'virtual' is not the way I'd describe it.' 'How long?' 'Several days.' 'Where?' 'They called it a custody chamber. It was on an island somewhere.' 'How were you treated?' 'Fine, sir. Other than being locked in. And a pistol held to my head.' 'Damn them,' he said. 'Well, I'm glad to hear you're okay, anyhow.' He seemed barely able to contain himself. 'We've just learned what's been going on. They're coming out of the woodwork now,' he said. 'Trying to save their asses by turning in their collaborators. I'll be honest with you, Alex-Is it okay if I call you that?' 'Yes, sir.' 'I'll be honest with you, Alex-' He paused again, had second thoughts and waved away whatever he was going to say. 'When you found out about this, why didn't you come directly to me ?' Tau Kilgore
