'I just think he would.'
'He told you.'
'No.'
'You knew.'
']a...'
'Losing — lost — gone... Now it makes sense.'
There was a knock at the front door. They heard de Vossen-berg shuffle to answer it. They heard voices.
'Koutrouboussis,' said Jerry as the Greek, sour-faced, entered the room and glanced disdainfully at the food. 'A bite?'
'A fish, eh?'
'No, a mistress. Doktor von Krupp and I are together now.'
'I'm getting suspicious of you, Cornelius.'
'No need, Mr Koutrouboussis. I'll be off to the States shortly.'
'You heard about the converted Concorde, then? All we got from Beesley was the bang. We've a responsibility to those poor bloaters, Cornelius. You must get them back. They're neither fish, nor fowl, nor good red herring as they are.'
'We'll leave in an hour or two.'
'Immediately.'
'We've got to book seats, Mr Koutrouboussis. That's a civilized country. You can't just go sailing in there in one of your own planes. It would cause a scene. We'll have to take a scheduled flight.'
Koutrouboussis accepted this. 'There's a Pan Am airbus leaving in the morning or a VC 10 charter taking off at midnight from Gatwick. It's one of those refugee flights, but we could get you on it.'
'Karen will be with me.'
Koutrouboussis darted Jerry a tortured look. 'Okay. I'll arrange the booking for both of you. You'll have to travel as a monk and a nun.'
'Naturally. I've got the necessary gear upstairs.'
Things are becoming crucial, Jerry. I think. You know how crucial? If only you could get back that machine.'
'It means going into the Shift, almost certainly.'
'You haven't any other way of contacting him?'
'He's a hard man to get hold of. For God's sake — he doesn't even exist. It takes time to contact people like that.'
'I know. Keep trying. With that machine, we could achieve everything...'
'Beesley's aware of that. He tried to get it off me in Paris. He's sure I have it.'
'You haven't...?'
'Oh, fuck 'He thinks, then, that we're much more powerful than we actually are?'
'Sure.'
'I thought this bloody raid had a note of desperation! Oi moi! Oi moi!'
'Chin up, Mr Koutrouboussis. Keep fishing.'
'Look at the state of the nets!'
Infection Exposed
'But many other changes are beginning to affect your life and mine! These new trends concern us all! Student revolt in 20 countries -VIOLENCE exploding on college campuses (but not on our Ambassador College campuses). It's shocking, but some universities are beginning to allow unmarried men and women students to sleep together in college dormitories! Then look at this NEW phenomenon — rebellious Hippies lolling aimlessly about taking to drugs and unbridled sex. 'Look at the unhappy marriages, the increasing divorce rate, the tragedy of juvenile delinquents. All about us racial strife, mass demonstrations, riots, VIOLENCE — MURDER! Men in the public eye assassinated! Add to all this the population explosion — the deterioration of our cities — the fear of nuclear WAR that could erase all humanity from the earth!
These things are now striking close to YOUR life, and mine! You read of them in newspapers and magazines — you hear of them on radio, and see them on television. BUT WHERE DO YOU FIND THE ANSWERS? Where the SOLUTIONS!
'Not only news stories and magazine articles — but whole books have pictured and described these NEW problems of humanity. But The PLAIN TRUTH gives you UNDERSTANDING — makes plain the ANSWERS! Many see and describe WHAT is WRONG in the world — The PLAIN TRUTH gives you the CAUSES, explains the REAL MEANING, reveals the ANSWERS, tells HOW these problems will be solved!
'To KNOW what's happening in the world is important. Others report the news. But it's FAR MORE IMPORTANT to understand what these happenings and changing conditions all around you REALLY MEAN! And WHERE they are taking us! And WHAT are the ANSWERS AND SOLUTIONS! That's why The PLAIN TRUTH is so different.
The PLAIN TRUTH is UNIQUE among publications.
To bring you a true perspective, sound understanding, and the right answers, The PLAIN TRUTH draws on sources and worldwide resources unique to it alone.'
I
I died on the operating table
As the VC 10 landed at long last at Kennedy, Jerry yawned and put down his champagne glass. They had been queuing for a landing space for two hours and it was dark again.
The red, blue and orange neon of the airport had all the richness of a late Walt Disney and everything was defined very sharply in the manner of Burne Hogarth. It was just right.
They disembarked with the the Poor Clares and the Benedictines. Karen von Krupp looked lovely as a cool Mother Superior and Jerry was a slick abbot from a fashionable monastery.
Their passports showed Karen's occupation as Dental Surgeon and Jerry's as Heart Specialist, but then all clergy had been recategorized.
The passport control officer flipped through Jerry's papers. 'It says here you're a Caucasian, mister.'
That's right.'
The officer pushed back his cap and held the passport out in front of his eyes in a theatrical manner. 'Well, your picture's okay...'
'I've been out East a long time.'
'Israel?'
'India.'
'All right. I guess you refugees have got special priorities. I hope they know what they're doing.'
Jerry and Karen collected their baggage off the conveyor. They had identical expensive suitcases of black leather with gold clasps.
Customs men in smoothly styled uniforms waved them through. They joined the other nuns and monks who had gathered around a group of shallow-eyed men and women in grey woollen suits and gaberdine coats who shook their hands and welcomed them to America. The leader of the welcomers, a Mr Silver, had a tanned, tight face and all his buttons were done up. He spoke grimly.
'I'm sure you're all mighty tired, friends, and want to get some shuteye. We have reservations for, you at a nearby hotel. Tomorrow we'll meet you and tell you where you're being assigned and how you're going to get there. Might I say how much we admire our British cousins. Follow me, please.'
They trooped after Mr Silver and his committee, crossed a metal bridge over the road that ran beside the air terminal and saw an eight-storey building advertised in gold neon as the Hotel Nixon.
'It hardly seems fair,' murmured Karen. 'Kennedy got an airport and a bloody launching site.'
'They weren't expecting a run,' said Jerry reasonably.
They went through the swing doors and into the featureless lobby. Mr Silver stepped over to the checking-in desk and spoke to the clerk who handed him a sheet of paper and a bunch of keys.
This way, friends.' Mr Silver led them to the elevators. 'We're all on the sixth floor. Keep together, please.'
Mr Silver entered the first elevator with eight of his charges. A middle-aged woman, Mrs Bronson, wearing a belted suit and no make-up save her very red lipstick, herded Jerry, Karen and six monks into the second elevator. Peering at her sheet she started to hand out the keys.
'You're 604, Father Abbot .605, Brother Simon .606, Brother Peter .607, Brother Mathew .608, Brother John .609, Brother Thomas. You're in 610, Holy Mother.'
When it stopped, they rustled out of the elevator and looked at the signs telling them where to find their rooms. 'I'll abandon you here if you don't mind,' said Mrs Bronson, 'and we'll meet again at breakfast. Sleep well. It must have been awful...' She descended.