Why Do Birds

CHAPTER 33

Stone was watching the COSAI weather, toggling from one area of the globe to another, where the same kindly computerized face alternated with satellite photos, charts and fractal landscapes. "This pattern is expected to persist without much change until early next-"

"Ed, Geoffrey called me last night. He wants us to come out to Rye again tomorrow; he says it's very important."

He turned off the sound. "Important to who, me or him?"

"Well, he says to both of you. And me, too."

"How do you come into it?"

"He says if I can get you to come up there, he'll sign over an office building he owns in Scarsdale. It's worth about a million and a half."

"Listen, I've got plenty of money-"

"That's not the same thing, you zink! Are you coming or aren't you?"

"Oh, hell. I'll have to see if I can get out of the governor's dinner."

"Well, will you?"

"Yeah."

On the drive up, Lavalle said, "By the way, I had such a strange phone call from Henry last night."

Stone turned to look at her. "Henry who?"

"You know, Geoffrey's butler. The one you shook hands with."

"Oh."

"He said he's left Geoffrey, and it sounded like he was trying to warn me about something."

"He didn't say what?"

"No, he just said something like, 'It would be better if you didn't come out for a while.' "

Stone was silent for a moment. "But we're going anyway."

"Well, the plans were all made. What do you want to do, tum around and go home?''

"No, I guess not.''

They reached the house a little before one o'clock. The door opened as soon as they pulled up in the driveway, and a man stepped out.

"Good afternoon," he said with a smile. "You must be Ms. Lavalle and Mr. Stone. I'm Simmons, the new butler. Will you go right in, please?"

After lunch, Geoffrey beckoned her to lean closer. "Linda, dear, I want to persuade Ed to do something, and I know he won't want to agree. In order to convince him, I may have to hurt you a little, do you understand?"

"Hurt me how?"

"That would be telling, but it won't hurt much, and it'll be over in a second. I just didn't want to do it without warning you."

"Thanks a lot.''

"Don't mention it."

They all sat down, and the maid passed the coffee cups.

"Ed, let me ask you a question," said Geoffrey, stirring his coffee. "Have you decided whether to go in the Cube or not?"

"Yeah. It seems like I ought to, because it was my idea, but if I do, maybe I'll find out about the other planet and maybe not. If I stay, I will find out about the Earth being destroyed. I mean, either it will or it won't, and I want to find out something. So I think maybe I'll stay."

"I see. Well, then, have you thought about what happens after? If the Earth isn't destroyed, there's going to be some people rich and some poor. Would you be rich?"

"Yeah, I would, but I don't think that's a problem. I've got a lot of friends."

"What if I could show you how to get rich yourself?"

"Like how?"

"Ed, as you know, I'm pretty well off myself, but I have business connections with people a whole lot wealthier than I am, do you understand what I mean? These people would be prepared to help you to acquire assets valued at five hundred million dollars, free and clear."

"They would? What for?"

"They believe the world economy will be ruined if the population drops below one billion. Their projections say the population can be held to at about two billion if you stop having anything to do with the Cube Project early next year. "

"I couldn't do that."

"Not even if it meant your life-or Linda's?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Simmons," said Geoffrey, turning his head.

"Yes, sir." The butler left the room for a moment and returned carrying a chromed metal bar. "Excuse me, Miss Linda." He swung the bar like a baseball bat; she heard her shinbone crack, heard her own yelp of pain.

Stone had fallen into a crouch; Simmons had dropped the bar and was now holding a Webley-Forster automatic. "Ed, don't be silly," Lavalle said.

Her mother, coming forward, cried, "Oh, Linda, my baby!"

"Mother, shut up," she said; then, to Geoffrey, "I need a doctor."

"Yes, dear. Simmons, if you please-" The butler nodded; after a last cautious glance at Stone, he put the pistol in his pocket, picked up the chrome bar again, and went to the terminal in the comer, where they heard his voice murmuring discreetly.

"Is it a clean break, dear?" Geoffrey asked.

"I think so. Give me a couple of aspirin."

"Take all you want." Geoffrey handed her the bottle and poured a glass of water from his carafe. "Our story will be that you tripped on the doorsill. Is that all right?"

"Sure."

"The ambulance will be here in a few minutes, Mr. Nero," said Simmons, returning.

"Very good, Simmons. You might wait for them and bring them in when they come."

"Yes, sir. May I say before I go, Miss Linda, how deeply I regretted that?"

"I understand, Simmons. No hard feelings."

"Thank you, miss." He touched his forehead and withdrew.

Stone said, "Are you people all crazy?"

"No, no, Ed," Geoffrey replied. "Linda understands perfectly, don't you, dear?"

"Of course I do. Ed, they broke my leg to show you they mean business. If you don't make a deal with them, they might have to kill me."

"My baby! " ejaculated Mrs. Nero.

"Mother, will you please shut up?"

An ambulance arrived about ten minutes later; the two paramedics put a temporary splint on Lavalle's leg and took her to Pinecrest Hospital, where she was examined, X-rayed, and given a permanent cast. It was epoxy, and hardly visible, but she couldn't get her right shoe on.

On the drive back, Stone said, "Let's see if I've got this straight. They broke your leg to show me they're serious. If I don't back out of the Cube Project, they might kill you."

"More likely they'd just escalate a little. They'd break my jaw next time, or my skull."

"How can you be so damn calm about it?"

"Do you want me to scream and yell?" She drew a deep breath and let out a healthy scream.

Stone got the car back under control. "Jesus, don't do that." He pounded the steering wheel. "What I want to know is, whose side are you on?"

"What do you mean, whose side? I'm on my side. I don't want to get killed."

"But you wouldn't feel bad if I gave in?"

"Sure, but I might feel worse if I was dead."

He chewed his thumbnail. "Got to think about this," he muttered.

"Like which is more important, keeping me alive or getting everybody into the Cube?"

He was looking wild-eyed again. "Don't say that."

"Well, that's what it comes down to. Do what you want."

"I can't give up the Cube. That's number one. Even if they killed you. So we've got to get you out of sight."

"They'll be watching my apartment and the office, and they'll watch you whenever you're in town."

"Okay, and that means this might be our last chance to do something. Look, they know you can't fly. So that's what they won't be expecting."

"But I can't fly."

"Sure you can. You take a couple of drinks, then Doc gives you a pill or something, and we pour you onto the plane. When you wake up, you're in Argentina."

"Why Argentina?"

"I was going to go there tomorrow anyway, for the ceremonies. But you don't have to stay there-" He got his phone out of his pocket, clicked it on. "We can run you over to Paris, or Berlin-Hello, Florence? Ed. Listen, get hold of Frank and tell him to have the plane ready in an hour ....Yes, the whole crew. Right. And is Doc there?

Good, tell him to get out there too, and bring his bag. I want him to meet us in the Federal Lounge, okay? I'm on the way in from Rye, and we'll go straight to the airport. Okay. 'Bye."

"Listen," she said, "we're not going straight to the airport. I need some clothes ..."

"You can buy clothes. They're watching your apartment, remember? Don't be dumb."

"What about my passport? I can't go to Argentina without a passport."

"Hell, that's right. Where is it?"

"I don't know, in one of my bureau drawers, I think. I haven't used it in years. In fact, it's probably expired by now."

"That's great."

"Well, don't snap at me-this wasn't my idea." She opened her purse and started looking for a tissue. "Damn it to hell, now you've made me cry."

"Oh, Jesus." After a moment he picked up the phone again and punched a number. "Hello, is Steve Lonergan there? ...Steve, it's Ed Stone. Listen, I need a big favor. Can you get somebody to meet us in Buenos Aires with a diplomatic passport for Linda Lavalle? ...I can't explain right now, but I've got to get her out of the country ...I don't know, wait a minute." He passed the phone over to her. "He wants to know your date of birth and stuff."

She took the phone. "Hello, Mr. Lonergan?"

"Yes, Ms. Lavalle."

"I was born June tenth, nineteen seventy-four."

"All right, thanks. Now about the photo-"

"Oh, Jesus." She looked at Stone. "Ed, we've got to go back to my place and get the old passport, for the photo."

"No, Ms. Lavalle," said the voice in her ear, "we can't use the old photo. Let me talk to Ed again, please."

She handed him the phone. He said, "Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay, wait a minute." He turned to her. "Is your photo on file where you work?"

"Sure."

He said into the phone, "Yes. It's the International Development Association in New York, okay? She works under McNevin Fairbairn ....Okay, Steve, thanks a million." He

hung up the phone. "He'll call them and get them to fax a copy to Buenos Aires. Then they can fake up a passport and have it ready for us when we get there. You feeling any better?"

"Sure, I'm having a great time."

"Don't be that way."

"What way do you want me to be? My leg is broken, and I'm going to fly in a goddamn airplane. I wish I'd never met you."

They were silent for the rest of the trip. Traffic was heavy on the Taconic Parkway, then thinned out as they neared the airport. Stone pulled in to the visitors' lot and phoned for a chair.

"Ed, I can walk," she said. "If you put me in a wheelchair, I'll be that much more conspicuous."

"It's too far. Anyway, airports are full of people in chairs. Hey, Linda, let me steer for once, will you?"

An attendant showed up a few minutes later with the wheelchair, and Lavalle drove it across the parking lot, up the ramp into the concourse. "Which way?"

"About half a mile straight ahead."

They found themselves in a discreet private lounge, empty except for themselves, Doc Wellafield, and a bartender and waiter. Lavalle sat down and said, "I'll take that drink now."

"A tranquilizer would be better," Wellafield said, sitting beside her. "In fact, the best thing would be one of these neurosignalers like the one I'm wearing, but we haven't got time for that-"

"I'll take the drink," Lavalle said. "Double Beefeater martini," she said to the waiter. "Straight up, very dry, very cold."

The waiter nodded. "Gentlemen?"

"Carstairs and ginger," said Stone.

"Nothing for me. This limits what I can give her afterward," Wellafield muttered, pawing through his bag.

The waiter came with the drinks and a bowl of shrimp crackers. "Take those away," said Lavalle. "They'll soak up the alcohol, and I want to get drunk."

"Yes, ma'am." He watched her as she raised the glass and lowered it half-empty. "Another?" he asked.

"Yes, please. This one's very good."

Stone sipped his highball and put his arm around her. She drank the rest of the martini and leaned against him. "That's a very attractive waiter," she said. "Don't you think so?"

"You're not drunk yet," Stone told her.

"No, but I'm going to be." The second martini came and she drank it a little more slowly. "You're very attractive too, and so are you, Doc."

"Thank you, Linda. Well, we're all attractive, aren't we?" Wellafield said.

"We are, and I think that's very nice." She ordered a third martini, but by the time she took the first sip she was feeling definitely woozy.

"Oh-oh, it's working," she said. "I think we'd better go."

"Take this little pill first," Wellafield said.

"It won't put me out right away, will it?"

"No, it will take about twenty minutes."

"Okay. You're very attractive, Doc."

She got into the chair again, sat down rather heavily, and let Stone propel her out into the corridor. There weren't any controls on the arms.

"This is a different kind of chair," she heard Stone saying.

"Oh."

They were out in the open, crossing the concrete, and then she was being carried chair and all up the ramp toward an airplane that looked as big as a building, but it was lying on its side.

A man in uniform appeared in the open hatchway. "Ms. Lavalle, I'm Frank Chesterton, the pilot."

"You are, aren't you?"

"Uh, yes, that's right."

Now she was inside, surrounded by half a dozen people with heads like balloons. Two of them looked like Ed Stone, and she couldn't tell which was which. "Introductions later, folks," said the pilot. "Let's get this lady into her stateroom where she can rest." They were moving across a vast lounge, through a dining room, then down a long corridor to a bedroom. Wellafield and the others went away; Ed's fingers were helping her get undressed. There was a whisper of sheets. Blackness was flowing up around her, but she had time to say, "This is a mistake of gigannic proportions."