Second Wind Part 31

Explaining to the others where it came from, I put the camera contentedly in my pocket and on a different tack set about making calls to find Kris and Bell. Result, Bell had gone home to Newmarket, where she and her father were now presently in unofficial charge of the Loricroft stable.

"It's all dreadful, " Bell said, tears in the offing. "Oliver Quigley and Dad are single minded about this wretched folder, which still hasn't turned up anywhere. They've both gone to Cheltenham again today and left me looking after things. Dad's berserk with worry and he won't tell me why. " "Where's Kris? " I asked with sympathy, and she said he would be at the Weather Center doing radio forecasts until midnight, and he would be sleeping in his own apartment, as far as she knew.

"Are you better? " she remembered to ask, and I thanked her and said I'd been let out of the cage.

"What does pax mean?

"Jett asked, reading Unwin's notes.

"Pa.s.senger, " said my grandmother, who'd been one most of her life. "And Perry, after supper from the take-away, and when you've said good night later to our dear Jett van Els, you can lie down here on the sofa and have a good restful sleep. Don't think of going home. You look far too frail for climbing all those very steep stairs. " I never entirely disobeyed her but I wasn't bad at finding ways to modify the format, so that when I asked to borrow her warm deep-pocketed Edwardian Sherlock Holmes look-alike cloak, all she said was

"Take some gloves" and

"Come back safe. " Nothing, I was encouraged to hear, about heebies or ,.

JeeDleS.

I kissed her on her forehead, our tiredness mutual, and traveled with Jett in her car to Paddington Station, terminus of trains to the west, playground of suicidal manic-depressives (but not of Glenda) and home of a simple coin-in-the-slot photocopying machine.

After a Romeo and Juliet length and intensity of good nights, Jett confessed to receiving a Ravi Chand medical opin 11-. l

I.

on, runaay morning ealtlon.

"What was it? " "Wait a week. " I had already waited too long.

"With such a slow start, " I said, "our disengagement should take fifty years. " Smiling with shiny eyes she helped me make a set of copies of Vera's equine research work, and when she finally left me two short streets later I had a set of Vera-copies in a buff folder in one deep front pocket, and Vera's originals in a paper clip in the other.

By midnight or soon after I was sitting on Kris's doorstep waiting like the Zipalong rider for the weatherman to come home.

He stopped, key in hand, surprised to see me there so late.

"I locked myself out, " I said, shrugging. "Do you mind if I sleep here? " He looked at his watch. He said

"O. K. , " without huge enthusiasm, but he'd landed on my own doorstep often enough at midnight.

"Come on in, " he said. "Take your coat off. You look awfully ill. Coffee or tea? " I said I was too cold to take my coat off. He boiled water and clattered some mugs.

I said, faintly smiling, "Whatever you sent to Newmarket with Zipalong's motorbike, it wasn't what Glenda took from George. " He stared.

"How the h.e.l.l do you know? " "Well... who else but you could make sure that Zipalong's motorcyclist reached Quigley's house at the right time? You kept the poor man eating toast and generally waiting about until you were sure that he would arrive after Quigley had gone to Cheltenham races. " Kris said, laughing, "It was only a joke on fussy old Oliver. " I nodded.

"He's easy to make fun of. " "Glenda, " Kris said, "drove us half crazy all day Thursday saying she'd got a whole lot of George's papers that were proof of his out-and-out treason in Germany. We got fed up with it.

Then Oliver called and he and Glenda had a frightful row. He told her what she'd taken was a list of horses that would be running in Germany, and it was his, Oliver's, and he wanted it back. " "But you didn't send it back, " I said.

"Well, no. " He grinned. "It stirred silly old Oliver up a treat. " "What did you send with the courier to Newmarket? " "A list of horses. I clipped them out of newspapers. What else? " "Did you read the list you were supposed to have sent? " Kris said, "Of course not. It's all in German. " "Show me, " I asked persuasively.

He nodded, and, willingly moving into his spartan bedroom, pulled open a drawer and picked out a completely ordinary buff folder from underneath his socks.

Without any sort of dismay he handed it to me, and one brief glance verified its contents. Different from those on Trox but for the same purpose.

"There you are, " Kris said. "Love letters, Glenda had once

I.

thought. But they're really only lists of horses. See that word?

" He pointed. "That word means racehorses. " The word he pointed to was Iffierderenebahn.

"That word, " I contradicted mildly, "is Horseracetrack. " "Well? So what? " "So... er, " I asked, "who met the motorcyclist at Oliver's house to sign for the package? " "Guess. " "I'd guess... how about Robin Darcy? " "You're too b.l.o.o.d.y smart. " "You and Robin are friends and he was staying at the Bedford Arms Hotel, which is barely a hundred yards down the road from Quigley's stable, I'm told. So who else was more likely? It was obvious, not smart. " "Yeah... well, it was only a joke. How did you get it right? " "You told us Robin left for Miami on Tuesday... what does it matter? I happened to be phoning that hotel and they said he left yesterday. Never mind. How about if we made a copy of these German letters. We can do it easily along at Paddington, and then you can see Oliver's face when you show him you've got his precious list safe after all. It's always prudent to make copies. It would be a disaster if Oliver could sue you because you'd lost the originals. " Kris yawned, sighed and agreed.

"I'll do it for you, " I said, "if you like. " "I suppose I'd better come. Let's go now and get it over. " "Right. " I picked up the folder and, summoning energy I didn't think I had, headed out of Kris's bedroom, down the hall and out of the front door without looking back, happily humming a marching tune as if the whole thing were a prearranged jaunt.

I could hear Kris behind me saying, "Well... " doubtfully, but it wasn't far to the station, and my enthusiasm kept us both going the whole way.

I sent Kris off to get more coins for the machine and made copies quickly with a German list on top for all the world-and Kris--to see. We set off back to his apartment with me grasping a folder inside my grandmother's cloak and Kris clutching Glenda's folder to his chest.

The impetus was draining away in us both and the night suddenly felt very cold indeed when Kris uneasily said, "I hope Robin will think these copies a good idea. Anyway, he'll be coming for the folder at any minute now. Any time after one o'clock, he said, when I'd finished my shift for the day. " "I thought he was in Miami, " I said, uneasy in my turn.

"No, he's going tomorrow. He changed his plans, I think. " He looked at his watch again. "Any time from now on, he'll be here. " "Really? " I didn't like that. I needed a peaceful retreat, and a gentle walk away.

Kris was in front of me, suddenly deeper in doubt, equally suddenly taking quick steps ahead and saying, "I don't know... There he is! " he joyfully shouted, pointing.

"Let's tell him now... " I stopped walking, stopped listening, turned fast on my heel and started back towards the station at a para tuberculosis effort of a shambling run.

It was my day for spending another of those twenty-nine lives.

Kris could always run faster than I could, but not faster than a roving taxi whose driver was convinced he was saving his pa.s.senger from a mugging. As I scrambled untidily into the cab it circled on two wheels into a side road, and I glimpsed the two figures stop running after me and stand with arms akimbo just short of Kris's apartment, looking along the road in my wake, deprived of their quarry.

Under the lights the heavy dark spectacle frames flashed on the round head of the short, unmistakable Robin. Behind him stood the tall, blond, frustrated, G.o.dlike Norseman.

Kris still firmly clutched Glenda's buff older though it now contained, not dangerous requisites in German, but the plain English copies made, with Jeff's help, of Vera's records of the filly's radiation history at the Equine Research Establishment.

In one deep pocket, I carried Vera's originals, as before, and in the other a true Trading gift to mankind, the Loricroft legacy of the where, the how much, the how soon and the strength of available U-235 and Pu-239.

THE CAB DRIVER asked where I wanted to go, which if answered literally would have meant to bed with Jett, warm, loved and healthy. Instead I opted for round the block and back to the station, where warmth in some places kept total misery at bay.

I sat on a bench in a waiting room, sharing limbo with bona-fide travelers and the hungry dispossessed.

My immediate impulsive reaction, to run away from Kris and Robin, was on reflection stupid, and could quite likely never be explained or given an adequate apology. Temporary madness, that flight had been. True, I had in my pocket lists of illegal materials, a d.a.m.ning piece of evidence, but evidence against whom? To whom should I give the folder? To someone one rung up from John Rupert? So where would I find him? And who would he be?

I thought for a long time about the enigmas that had been handed down.

Win quietly.

Look sideways at what you learn.