"As you and I were," he said. "A little while ago."
She had no comment about that; she merely continued smoking: the cigaret grew longer and longer. "So now what?" Ann asked finally. "You moved him; we find him. There're only a finite number of places he can be. And we have a tail on that aircar that left here; I presume you have him in that."
"There was no Arnold Oxnard Ford," he said. "Was there?"
"In a sense, yes. That was the name of my first husband. He left me last year." She sounded noncommittal, as if nothing of importance were taking place. And perhaps, he thought, she's right. He rose to his feet, walked toward her. Glancing up, she said, "And now?"
"Get out of my store," he said.
"Look," Ann said, "be intelligent. We're a buyer. We want to be in a position to erad everything he says; that's all we want... we're not going to injure him. We don't need to do that; it's your cop-friend who uses a gun, and that technician of yours. Where is that gun now?"
"I have it," he said. "So get out." He held the door to the street open. Waiting.
Ann sighed. "I see no barrier to our relationship. Lotta is shacking up with someone else; you're alone. I'm alone. What's the problem? We've done nothing illegal; your wife is a phobic child, scared by everything--you're making a mistake, taking her neurotic fears seriously; you ought to tell her, swim or drown. I would." She lit another cigaret. "It's that cop-friend of yours, that Joe Tinbane, you ought to be after; doesn't it make you sore, him sleeping with your wife? That's what they're doing right now, and you're mad at me." Her tone was brittle and accusing, but without heat or even color. A neutral stating of facts. Devastating, he thought. I can't stand much more of it; this isn't the same woman I slept with; nobody can change that much. "I think," Ann said, "you and I ought to forget this quarrel--it isn't doing either of us any good, and then--" She shrugged. "Pick up where we left off. We could have a very rewarding relationship, very wholesome and complete. Despite your age."
He gave her a brutal, violent smack across the mouth.
Unruffled, she bent to retrieve her cigaret; she was, however, shaking. "Your marriage," she continued, "is finished, whether you like it or not. Your old life is over and a new one--"
"With you?" he said.
"It could be. I find you attractive--after a fashion. If we can get this matter regarding the Anarch out of the way, then--" She gestured. "I don't see what would obstruct a gainful and quite mutually satisfying relationship between us. Except for this one problem, that of the Anarch, about which you have so much hostility and distrust, I still think we were off to a quite good beginning. Despite your hitting me. I can even overlook that; I don't think you're really like that; that's not you."
The vidphone rang.
"Aren't you going to answer it?" Ann Fisher inquired.
"No," he said.
Going over to the vidphone, Ann lifted the receiver. "Flask of Hermes Vitarium," she said, with professional resonance. "We're closed, now; could you call back in the morning?"
A male voice, unfamiliar to Sebastian, said, "Mrrrrr." He caught the sound but not the words; he sat impassively, weighed down, his mind drifting. Not Lotta, he thought. The thing is, Ann Fisher is right; my marriage is over because she can _make_ it be over. All she has to do is find Lotta and tell her about our going to bed together. And she will paint it as she has just now: as the beginning of something enduring.
In one evening, he thought, this girl has imperiled both my business and my life as I lead it. A day ago I couldn't have believed this.
To him, Ann Fisher said, "It's a Mr. Carl Gantrix."
"I don't know him," he said.
She put her hand over the receiver. "He knows you have the Anarch Peak; it's about that. I think he's a customer." She held the receiver of the vidphone toward him.
There was no choice. He got up, came over, accepted the receiver. "Goodbye," he said. Listlessly.
"Mr. Hermes," Mr. Gantrix said. "Nice to have known you."
"Likewise."
"I am contacting you," Gantrix said, "officially, for His Mightiness, Ray Roberts, who, at this moment, I am happy to say, is aboard a jet on his pilg to the W.U.S.; he will arrive in Los Angeles ten minutes from now."
Sebastian said nothing. He merely heard.
"Mr. Hermes," Gantrix said, "I've called at this unusual hour on the offchance hope that you'd be on your premises. I would in fact speculate that you are busily at work, reviving and caring for the Anarch; am I right in this regard?"
"Who told you," Sebastian said, "that we have the Anarch?"
"Ah... that would be telling." Gantrix's face on the vidscreen was sly.
"Your informant was wrong," Sebastian said.
"No, I don't think so." Again the almost bantering, teasing slyness, as if Gantrix was playing with him. As if Gantrix held all the cards and knew it. "I, myself," Gantrix said, "am already here in the W.U.S., in Los Angeles, where I will shortly again join Mr. Roberts. I do have time, however, to conduct this business matter with you; His Mightiness, Mr. Roberts, has instructed me to negotiate for the purchase of the Anarch, and I am so doing. What is he listed at in your catalog?"
"Forty billion poscreds," Sebastian said.
"That's rather high."
"Forty-five billion," Sebastian said, "with the salesman's commission."
Standing behind him, Ann Fisher leaned down and said, "You made a mistake, naming a price."
"It's a preposterous price," Sebastian said. "Nobody could pay it. Not even the Uditi."
"Not really," Ann said. "Not for them. Not for what they're getting."
"I'll be by your place shortly," Gantrix said, "and we can perhaps shave the price a trifle." He did not seem phased. Ann was right. "Hello, then, Mr. Hermes, for the time being."
"Hello," Sebastian said, and hung up.
"You feel so guilty for hitting me," Ann said, "that you're now punishing yourself. By giving up."
"Maybe so," he said. But that price; he could hardly believe the Uditi could meet it. "I'll raise the price," he said, "when Gantrix gets here."
"No you won't," Ann said. "You'll capitulate. Anyhow, you don't know if you still have possession of the Anarch. I think you better let me handle this, Sebastian; you've had it."
"You want," he said, "to handle everything."
"Why not? I'm intelligent; I'm highly educated; I've had a good deal of training in business procedure. You're worn out. Go in the back of the shop and lie down; I'll wake you when Gantrix gets here, and you can act as an adviser to me. You need someone who can take charge when you get dispirited like this. I don't think Lotta could do that for you. That's why she lost out."
He got up, left the store, walked across the dark street. Searching for the stake-out. For a time he stood, waving his arms, and then from a building to his right a man emerged, the man who had called him to warn him about Ann. "I need help," Sebastian said.
"In what regard?" the dark-haired Italian-looking man said. "To take care of that McGuire girl?"
"You probably saw our aircar take off from our roof, a little while ago."
"Yes," the man said, "and we saw the Library bus go after it." Sebastian said, "I don't know if we still have the Anarch or not."
"We're waiting to hear about that," the man said. "It looked to us, at the stake-out, as if your aircar had a headstart. And it was really moving. Your driver must be an expert."
That would be Bob Lindy, Sebastian thought. He drives like a maniac. "How will you know?" he asked the man. "I have to find out because a buyer, representing Ray Roberts, is on his way here."