Operation Chaos

XXVIII

My detailed relation I gave to Ginny after sneaking back into our house. I was numb with exhaustion, but she insisted on hearing everything at once, whispered as we lay side by side. Her questions drew each last detail from me, including a lot that had slipped my mind or that I hadn’t especially noticed at the time. The sun was up before she fixed my breakfast and allowed me to rest. With a few pauses for nourishment and drowsy staring, I slept a full twenty-four hours.

Ginny explained this to our FBI man as the result of nervous prostration, which wasn’t too mendacious. She also persuaded him and his immediate boss (Shining Knife had gone to Washington) that if they wanted to keep matters under wraps, they’d better not hold us incommunicado. Our neighbors already knew something was afoot. They could be stalled for but a short while, our close friends and business associates for a shorter while yet. If the latter got worried, they could bring more to bear in the way of sortileges than the average person.

The upshot was that we kept our guest. When Mrs. Delacorte dropped around to borrow a gill of brimstone, we introduced him as my cousin Louis and mentioned that we’d sent Val on an out-of-town visit while our burglary was being investigated. It didn’t rate more than a paragraph on an inside page of the daily paper. However, I was allowed to work again, Ginny to go shopping. We were told what number to call if we received any demands. Nothing was said about the men who shadowed us. They were good; without our special skills, we’d never have known about them.

On the third morning, therefore, I showed at Nornwell. Barney Sturlason was primed. He found a do-not-disturb job for me to do in my office—rather, to fake doing while I paced, chain-smoked my tongue to leather, drank coffee till it gurgled in my ears—until time for an after-lunch conference with some outside businessmen. I knew what that conference was really to be about. When the intercom asked me to go there, I damn near snapped my head off accelerating before I remembered to walk the distance and say hello to those I passed.

The meeting room was upstairs. Its hex against industrial espionage operated equally well against official surveillance. Barney bulked at the end of the table, collar open, cigar fuming. The assembled team comprised eleven, to help assure we’d harbor no Judas. I knew three well besides Barney and myself—Griswold, Hardy, Janice Wenzel—and another slightly, Dr. Nobu, a metaphysicist whom we had sometimes consulted. The rest were strangers to me. One turned out to be a retired admiral, Hugh Charles, who’d specialized in Intelligence operations; another was a mathematician named Falkenberg; a third was Pastor Karlslund from Barney’s church. All of these looked weary. They’d worked like galley slaves, practically up to this minute. The last pair seemed fresh, and total undistinguished except that one had a large sample case which he’d put on the table.

Before he got to their names, Barney made a pass and spoke a phrase. “Okay,” he said, “the security field is back at full strength. Come on out and join the coven.” He grinned at me. “Steve, I’d like you to meet Mr. Smith and Mr. Brown, representing the company whose proposal we’re to discuss today.”

Their outlines blurred, went smoky, and firmed again as the Seeming passed. Ginny’s hair gleamed copper in the sunlight from the windows. Dr. Ashman opened his case. Svartalf poured out, restored to health, big, black, and arrogant as ever. He stretched cramped muscles. “Mee-owr-r-r,” he scolded us. The pastor offered the cat a soothing hand. I didn’t have time to warn him. Luckily, Ashman was in the habit of carrying Band-Aids. Svartalf sat down by Ginny and washed himself.

“How’d you manage it?” the admiral asked with professional interest.

Ginny shrugged. “Simple. Barney’d been in contact with Dr. Ashman, you know, and arranged a time when he’d ’ve cancelled his appointments. He went to the animal hospital and fetched Svartalf, who can lie quiet in a box if he must. We’d already verified there was no tail on the doctor.” Svartalf switched his in a smug fashion. “Meanwhile I’d gone downtown. They’re having a sale at Penman’s. Easiest crowd in the world to disappear into, and who’ll notice a bit of sorcery there? Having changed my looks, I rendezvoused with Dr. Ashman and altered him.” Svartalf threw the man a speculative look. “We proceeded here. Barney knew exactly when we’d arrive, and had the field low enough that it didn’t whiff our disguises.”

She opened her purse, which hadn’t needed much work to resemble a briefcase, got out her vanity, and inspected her appearance. In demure make-up and demure little dress, she hardly suggested a top-flight , witch, till you noticed what else she was packing along. .

“To business,” Barney said. “We informed this team at once of what you’d discovered, Steve. From the strictly scientific angle, your hints, added to what’d already been assembled, were a jolt. Working together, certain of our people have developed some insights that should prove revolutionary.” He paused. But, let’s begin with the political mess we’re in.”

“Or the religious,” Janice Wenzel said.

“In this case,” Pastor Karlslund said, “I doubt if there’s any clear distinction.” He was a large, blond, scholarly-looking man.

“If the Johannine Church is indeed of diabolic origin—” Griswold grimaced. “I hate to believe that. I don’t agree with its tenets, but to say they come not from error but from evil does go rather far. Are you sure, Mr. Matuchek, that you really encountered the Adversary?”

“One of his higher-ups, anyway,” I said. “Or lower-downs, if you prefer. Not for the first time, either. Those earlier visions and experiences of mine fall into a pattern now.”

“I mean, well, you were under considerable stress. A hallucination would be very reasonable . . . expectable, I mean.”

“If the Johnnies are legit,” my wife clipped, “why are they keeping quiet? They have Steve’s identity. They’ve had ample time to get in touch with him, or to file an official complaint. But never a peep. Barney’s man, sent to fetch his broomstick, took it from where it was parked with no questions asked. I say, they can’t risk an investigation.”

“They might be trying to get your daughter returned to you through their paranatural contacts,” Hardy suggested without conviction.

Admiral Charles snorted. “Big chance! I don’t doubt the Adversary would like to cancel the whole episode. But how? He can return her with zero time-lapse in hell, you say, Mr. Matuchek—quite astounding, that. Nevertheless, I don’t imagine he can change the past: the days we’ve lived without her, the things we’ve learned as a consequence.”

“Our silence could be her ransom,” Hardy said.

“What man would feel bound by that kind of bargain?” the admiral replied.

Karlslund added: “No contracts can be made with the Low Ones anyhow. Contract implies a meeting of minds, an intent to abide by the terms reached. Being incapable of probity, a devil is unable to believe humans won’t try to cheat him in turn.”

“So,” Charles said, “he’d gain nothing by releasing her, and lose whatever hostage value she has.”

Ashman said painfully: “He’s already succeeded in dividing the forces of good. I get the impression this meeting is in defiance of the government, an actual conspiracy. Is that wise?”

“I suppose you mean we should make a clean breast to Uncle Sam and trust him to set everything right.” The hurt in me powered my sneer.

“What resources have we in comparison?” Ashman asked. “What right have we to withhold the information you’ve gathered? It’s vital to the common weal.”

“Let me handle that question,” Barney said. “I’ve got connections in Washington, and Admiral Charles, who has more, confirms my guess as to what’s going on there. The key datum is this: that the facts of the kidnapping are being officially suppressed. Our local FBI head is a sharp boy. He saw at once that that’s what policy would, and acted in anticipation of a directive he knew he’d get.

“The reasons for such a policy are complicated, but boil down to two items. First, hardly anything is known about the hell universe. This is one of the few cases, maybe unique, that looks like a direct, physical assault from demon territory. Nobody can be sure what it portends. In those circumstances, caution is inevitable. They’ll argue in the State Department that the truth could be altogether different from the semblance. They’ll argue in Defense that we’d better not commit ourselves to anything before we have more data and especially a bigger military appropriation. The President, the Cabinet, the top men in Congress, will agree on sitting tight. That involves sitting on the news, to forestall an inconvenient public furore.

“Second, maybe less critical at the moment but definitely to be considered, the Johannine Church. A, This is a democratic country. A lot of perfectly sincere., voters are either Johnnies or believe Johanninism is just another creed. A fair number of important people fall into the same classes. Remember what a stink went up when the House committee tried to probe around a little. The present affair does suggest the faction is right which says the Johannine Church was instigated by the Lowest as a means of discrediting religion, undermining society, and turning man against man. The last thing the Administration will want—at tlis ticklish juncture—is to go through that ‘subversion’ versus ‘suppression’ shouting match again. Secrecy buys peace, quiet, and time.”

Barney halted to rekindle his cigar. The room had become very still as we listened. Smoke filled the sunbeams with blue strata and our nostrils with staleness. Ginny and I exchanged a forlorn look across the table. Yesterday I’d gone into the basement to replace a blown fuse. She’d come along, because these days we stayed together when we could. Some things of Valeria’s stood on a shelf, lately outgrown and not yet discarded. The everfilled bottle, the Ouroboros teething ring, the winged training spoon, the little pot with a rainbow at the end—We went upstairs and asked our guard to change the fuse.

Her fists clenched before her. Svartalf rubbed his head on her arm, slowly, demanding no attention in return.

“The conclusion,” Barney said, “is that, resources or no, the government isn’t likely to use them for quite a while, if ever. As of today, we, this bunch of us, have the right and duty to take what action we can.

“You see, Doctor, we’ve done nothing technically illegal. Steve was not under arrest. He was free to go in and out of his home, in a Tarnkappe via the window if he chose, accountable to nobody. I was free to lend him my broom. The cathedral is open to the public. If Steve went into other parts of the building, looking for someone who might have information helpful in his hour of need, at most he committed a civil tort. Let the hierarchy sue him for damages if it wants. He can charge felonious assault, remember. One does not have the privilege of using lethal weapons in defense of mere privacy, and he was clubbed and shot at.

“Accordingly, no crime having been committed, none of us are accessories after the fact. No crime being contemplated, none of us are engaging in conspiracy. I grant you, soon the National Defense Act, and anything else the President finds handy, will be invoked. Then we would be in trouble if we behaved as we’re doing. But no legally binding prohibition has been laid on us to date; and the Constitution forbids ex post facto proceedings.”

“Hm.” Ashman reflected.

“As for the withholding of essential information,” Barney continued, “don’t worry, we aren’t about to do that either. We are sifting what we’ve been told, as responsible citizens who don’t want to make accusations that may be unfounded. But we will see that whatever is sound gets into the right hands.”

“Must we act so fast?” Ashman demurred. “If the child can be recovered from the same instant as she arrived . . . yonder . . . isn’t it best for her too that we let the government operate on her behalf at a slow, careful pace, rather than going off ourselves ill-prepared and under-equipped?”

Admiral Charles’ lean features darkened. “Frankly,” he said, “if no further incidents occur, I don’t expect this Administration will act. It’s let unfriendly countries rob, imprison, or kill American nationals-some in uniform without doing more than protest. What do you imagine they’ll say in Foggy Bottom at the thought of taking on hell itself for one small girl? I’m sorry, Mrs. Matuchek, but that’s the way matters are.”

“Be that as it may,” said Falkenberg in haste, for the look on Ginny’s face had become terrifying, “as I understand the situation, the, ah, enemy are off balance at present. Mr. Matuchek took them by surprise Evidently the, ah, Adversary is debarred from giving them direct help, counsel, or information. Or else he considers it inadvisable, as it might provoke intervention by the Highest. The, ah, Johannine Mages can do extraordinary things, no doubt. But they are not omniscient or omnipotent. They can’t be sure what we have learned and what we will attempt. Give them time, however, in this universe, and they will, ah, recover their equilibrium, mend their fences, possibly make some countermove.”

Ginny said out of her Medusa mask: “Whatever the rest of you decide, Steve and I won’t sit waiting.”

“Blazes, no!” exploded from me. Svartalf laid back his ears, fangs gleamed amidst his whiskers and the fur stood up on him.

“You see?” Barney said to the group. “I know these people. You can’t stop them short of throwing them in jail for life; and I’m not convinced any jail would hold them. They might have to be killed. Do we let that happen, or do we help them while we still can?”

Voices rumbled around the table, hands went aloft, Janice Wenzel cried loudest: “I’ve got kids of my own Virginia!” Eyes turned from us to Ashman. He flushed and said:

“I’m not going henhouse on you. Remember, all this has just been sprung on me without warning. I’m bound to raise the arguments that occur to me. I don’t believe that encouraging Valeria’s parents to commit suicide will do her any good.”

“What do you mean?’ Barney asked.

“Do I misunderstand? Isn’t your intention to send Steven and Virginia—my patients—into the hell universe?”

That brought me up cold. I’d been ready and raging for action; but this was as if a leap had fetched me to the rim of Ginnungagap. The heart slammed in me. I stared at Ginny. She nodded.

The whole group registered various degrees of consternation. I scarcely noticed the babble that lifted or Barney’s quelling of it. Finally we all sat in a tautstrung silence.

“I must apologize to this committee,” Barney said. His tone was deep and measured as a vesper bell’s. “The problem that I set most of you was to collect and collate available information on the Low Continuum with a view to rescue operations. You did magnificently. When you were informed of Steve’s findings, you used them to make a conceptual breakthrough that may give us the method we want. But you were too busy to think beyond the assignment, or to imagine that it was more than a long-range, rather hypothetical study: something that might eventually give us capabilities against further troubles of this nature. Likewise, those of you I discussed the political or religious aspects with didn’t know how close we might be facing them in reality.

“I saw no alternative to handling it that way. But Mrs. Matuchek reached me meanwhile, surreptitiously.” I gave her the whole picture, we discussed it at length and evolved a plan of campaign.” He bowed slightly toward Ashman. “Congratulations on your astuteness; Doctor.”

She knew, I thought in the shards of thinking, and yet no one could have told it on her, not even me—not till this instant, and then solely because she chose.

A part of me wondered if other husbands experience corresponding surprises.

She raised her hand. “The case is this,” she said with the same military crispness as when first I’d met her. “A small, skilled group has a chance of success. large, unskilled group has none. It’d doubtless sufl more than the Army or the Faustus teams did, sing they retreated quickly.”

“Death, insanity, or imprisonment in hell with everything that that implies—” Ashman whispered. “You assume Steven will go.”

“I know better than to try stopping him,” she said.

That gave me a measure of self-control again. I not unconscious of admiring glances. But mainly listened to her:

“He and I and Svartalf are as good a squad as you’ find. If anybody has a hope of pulling the stunt off, we do. The rest of you can help with preparations a with recovering us. If we don’t make it back, you’ll have the repositories of what has already been learned. Because this is a public matter. It goes far beyond our girl . . . agreed. That’s your main reason for assisiting us. To try and make sure your children and grandchildren will inherit a world worth having;”

She reached in her purse. “Damn,” she said, “I’m out of cigarets.”

She clung a lot of offers, but accepted mine. Our hands clung for a second. Ashman sat staring at his intertwined fingers. Abruptly he straightened and said, with a kind of smile:

“All right, I apologize. You must admit my reaction was natural. But you’re an able group. If you think you’ve found a way to enter hell and return unharmed, you could be right and you have my support. May I ask what your scheme is?”

Barney relaxed a trifle. “You may,” he said. “Especially since we’ve got to explain it to some of the others.”

He stubbed out his cigar and began on a fresh one. “Let me put the proposition in nickel words first,” he said, “then the experts can correct and amplify according to their specialties. Our universe has a straightforward space-time geometry, except in odd places like the cores of white dwarf stars. Demons can move around in it without trouble—in fact, they can play tricks with distance and chronology that gave them the reputation of being supernatural in olden days—because their home universe is wildly complicated and variable. Modern researchers have discovered how to get there, but not how to travel around or remain whole of body and mind.

“Well, Steve’s information that we could reach any point in hell time, if we knew the method opened a door or broke a logjam or something. Suddenly there was a definite basic fact to go on, a relationship between the Low Continuum and ours that could be mathematically described. Dr. Falkenberg set up the equations and started solving them for different conditions. Dr. Griswold helped by suggesting ways in which the results would affect the laws of physics; Bill Hardy did likewise for chemistry and atomistics; et cetera. Oh, they’ve barely begun, and their conclusions haven’t been subjected to experimental test. But at least they’ve enabled Dr. Nobu, as a metaphysicist, and me, as a practical engineer, to design some spells. We completed them this morning. They should protect the expedition, give it some guardianship when it arrives, and haul it back fast. That’s more than anybody previous had going for them.”

“Insufficient.” Charles was the new objector. “You can’t have a full description of the hell universe—why we don’t have that even for this cosmos—and you absolutely can’t predict what crazy ways the metric there varies from point to point.”

“True,” Barney said.

“So protection which is adequate at one place will be useless elsewhere.”

“Not if the space-time configuration can be described mathematically as one travels. Then the spells can be adjusted accordingly.”

“What? But that’s an impossible job. No mortal man—”

“Right,” Ginny said.

We gaped at her.

“A passing thing Steve heard, down in the crypts, was the clue,” Ginny said. “Same as your remark, actually, Admiral. No mortal man could do it. But the greatest geometers are dead.”

A gasp went around the table.