There was absolutely no reason for an outfit like Volsung to have set up shop in secret, in the middle of a midwestern prairie, behind a death fence. Not if they were doing what they said they were doing. Which, of course, I damn well knew they weren't.
Tense and nervous with growing anxiety over just how big a beast I had stumbled on, I still managed to put on a happy face for my parents while we had lunch. Exhausted, more from tension than any exertion, I lay down afterward. I'd just fallen asleep when my father came to wake me up. Janet had called and asked that I come over right away.
Flying in Zeke had certainly brought quick results, but they weren't exactly what I'd hoped or looked for.
Jake Bolesh was standing on my sister's porch, gripping Zeke's elbow. Zeke's hands were cuffed behind his back. Two of Bolesh's deputies were going in and out of the house, lugging Tommy's computer components, book collection, and taped cartons, loading everything into a police van. Janet, looking sullen and angry, was standing at the end of the driveway, arms folded defiantly across her chest. John Dernhelm stood at the far end of the porch, looking sheepish and unsure of himself; it told me who had informed Bolesh about my conversation with Coop Lugmor, and how Bolesh had found out about Zeke. It occurred to me that most of the people in Peru County probably acted as informers for the county sheriff.
'Robby, I'm sorry,' Janet said tersely as I got out of the car. 'John got frightened and did a stupid thing.'
'It's all right, Janet,' I said, patting her on the arm as I walked past her. 'I'll take care of it.'
'I couldn't help it, Doc,' Zeke began as I approached the porch, stopped on the first step. 'This cracker barged in here half an hour ago and- '
'Shut up, nigger!' Bolesh snapped.
Like a poisonous chameleon, the old Jake Bolesh I'd known and loved had changed back to his true colors. In an odd way, I found that comforting; as a mean-spirited, cruel, and dangerous son-of-a-bitch, he was easier to see and to defend against. The fencing, the dainty little gavotte that had begun the day before in his office, was ended. Perhaps, I thought, it was just as well.
I found it a bit unsettling to realize how much I enjoyed nursing the near lifelong grudge that was Jake Bolesh; more than anything else, I wanted to nail him for something. Anything. A character defect.
'You're in trouble, Frederickson.'
'Oh? Why is that, Jake?'
'Aiding and abetting a felony, after the fact.'
'Terrific charge. I love it. What's the felony? Hiring someone to index my nephew's effects?'
'How about conspiring to withhold evidence?'
I glanced at Zeke, who gave a slight shake of his head. He hadn't found out anything. I was just about to turn my eyes away when I saw him roll his eyes in an exaggerated manner, then look down at his chest and close his left eye. He had something for me in his left shirt pocket.
'What evidence?' I asked, turning my attention back to Bolesh. 'You said the investigation was over.'
'A murder investigation is never officially closed, Frederickson. You're a hot-shot criminologist; you should know that. If you had reason to believe there was something important in that computer, you should have told me; you broke the law when you
'Jake, my man, I haven't the vaguest notion what's in that computer. I had no reason to tell you anything, and I don't even know what the hell you're talking about. I wasn't investigating any murder-suicide. I was interested in my nephew's frame of mind, looking for some clue to what could have gotten him in the mess he did. It's strictly personal family business. Isn't that what you told him, Zeke?'
'Doc, that is precisely what I told him,' Zeke answered in a carefully measured tone. 'No more, no less.'
'I told you to shut up!' Jake shouted, yanking on Zeke's handcuffs so hard that I winced. 'Don't play word games with me, Frederickson! You believe there's something in that computer or those books that could have a bearing on this case! You should have told me about them!'
'Arguable. Look, Jake, if you want to arrest and charge me, be my guest. I can't wait for the trial; I guarantee you I'll hire the loudest lawyer in the country. You have a warrant to take this stuff out?'
'Damn right. In any case, I have the permission of the dead boy's father.' 'Robby?' John Dernhelm said in a small voice. 'What you're tying to do hasn't been right from the beginning. Tommy should be allowed to rest in peace.'
'Are you arresting this man?' I asked Bolesh, ignoring my brother-in-law. 'He was just doing a job for me.'
'I should arrest him for conspiracy, but I'm going to give him a break.'
'Then why don't you take the cuffs off?'
'When I put him on the bus to the airport.'
'I'll take him to the airport.'
'The hell you will. I figure you'll be too busy, starting right now, making your own travel arrangements.'
'You throwing me out of town, Jake? Don't I get until sundown?'
'You figure out where you'd rather be, Frederickson; home with all the other weirdos in New York City, or in the Peru County jail lacing those charges I mentioned.'
'I'll give it some thought.'
We glared at each other in silence for a few moments before Bolesh clumped down the steps, brushed me aside, and went to inspect the van. Zeke picked that opportune moment to suffer a severe coughing fit. Careful not to appear that I was in a hurry, I climbed up on the porch and patted him on the back as he doubled over. At the same time I slipped my hand into his shirt pocket, felt the plastic card I'd found earlier in Tommy's table drawer.
'It doesn't go with the computer,' Zeke whispered. 'It's a magnetic pass card. You find the right gate, and that'll open it.'
8
Ah, yes, my commando costume: black seaman's cap found in the attic, black shoes, denim shirt and jeans, charcoal-blacked face and hands. I'd have happily traded the whole outfit for my snub nose, but that wasn't possible. It was time to check out what I was now certain was Tommy's 'Mirkwood.'
I didn't want Janet vulnerable to a valid conspiracy charge if I were caught, so I parked her car in some tall weeds off the main highway and hiked down the dirt road leading to the building housing the Volsung Corporation. The moon was bright, but it was occasionally hidden by passing clouds.
The plastic, tape-striped card fit neatly into the notch in the steel gate. There was a soft click, and the gate popped open about two inches. I pushed on the edge of the gate; the massive steel barrier swung open easily and without a sound. The road between the two gates was hard-packed, apparently free of sensing devices. I couldn't tell if there were silent alarms wired into the gate; since there wasn't anything I could do about it if there were, I dismissed the problem from my mind.
After repeating the procedure with the inner gate, I was inside the compound. I ran low and fast down the remaining quarter mile of road to the building itself, pressed back hard against what seemed to be a garage door. I stayed that way for long minutes, breathing hard and listening. I could hear no alarms, no signs of activity inside; there was only the chirping of crickets, the bellowing of a horny bullfrog, the faint rustle of insects and reptiles in the grass.
Nothing happened when I put the magnetic pass card into the notch on the garage door. I wiggled the card, and still nothing happened; there was no soft click, no small jump of the door, and for a moment I feared I'd reached the end of the blue plastic and black tape road. Then I thought to push on the door. It moved in slightly, and then there was the soft whir of an electric motor. The garage door lifted. I stepped inside, leaving the door open.
I was inside Mirkwood.
There was an initial flickering when I pressed a light switch on the wall, and then soft fluorescent light
