“And heal the dreamtime,” said Cordelia. The cat had started to relax, butting his black snout into her hand.
Wyungare nodded. “To attempt this, I need to meet with the boy in person.”
“You can’t just, uh, call him up on the psychic telephone, you know, find him there in the dreamtime?”
“Remember the interference,” said Wyungare. “It’s something like sunspots and radio broadcasts. I need to be close to him physically.”
“That won’t be easy. There’s a wall. CNN’s been carrying it all morning. You can’t get through.”
“It’s fundamentally a psychic barrier,” said Wyungare. “I’ve got a plan I’ve stolen from Homer. It worked for the noble Odysseus; I think it will work for me. But I’m going to need your uncle.”
Cordelia stood up, shocked. “You’re going to manifest him in this world?”
Wyungare shook his head violently. “No! I thought of this while we were inside him, within the dreamtime. For this, I need him in his alligator form. I must get him to the water.”
Cordelia stared, at first as though her lover were utterly demented, and then as a grin started to quirk around the corners of her mouth. She began to giggle, then to laugh outright. “You’re crazy too,” she said. “I saw that movie. Circe’s island. The hero was tied to the mast, and the crew put wax in their ears.” She shook her head and wiped away tears. "Just like the movie,” said Wyungare. “Jack won’t need wax in his ears.”
“Good!” said Cordelia. “I wouldn’t relish trying to put it there. How are we going to get him to the bay?”
Wyungare shrugged. “Walk him. Wake him up and point him in the right direction. Alligators can move rather fast when they wish to.”
Cordelia giggled again, a little hysterically. “How are you going to steer him, dangle a poodle in front of his snout?”
The Aborigine shook his head quite seriously. “Just as I contacted his human self, I can do the same with his reptile brain.” He looked down. The black cat had ambled over in front of the man and sat down on his haunches. He looked up expectantly at Wyungare. “Our friend here will help, I think. He has a bit of a bond with your uncle.”
“Rub-a-dub-dub,” said Cordelia, cracking up again. “Three men in a tub. No, one man, a gator, and a pussycat. But no owl…”
“An owl would be handy,” said Wyungare. “But first we must get the alligator to the shore.”
“I think not,” said a new voice. Both Wyungare and Cordelia turned. The black cat hissed and showed his claws, the fur rising up along his tail.
Dr. Bob stepped all the way into the room. He wasn’t smiling. “Rounds bring me back every once in a while,” he said, “and sometimes my timing seems to work out.” He smiled again, but managed to make the expression look disapproving in the extreme.
“You might knock,” said Cordelia.
“This is a hospital,” said Dr. Bob. “I am a physician. Normal rules are, shall we say, a bit suspended.”
“What happened to Troll?” Cordelia looked puzzled, realizing that the head of security should have kept Dr. Bob out.
“There was a code zero,” said the doctor. “Our lumpen green friend’s services were required in matters of more urgency.”
“Granted,” said Wyungare. “Could you excuse us, please?”
“You mean, would I leave?” The doctor shook his head. “Under the circumstances, assuming I heard correctly, that would seem to be unadvisable.”
The three of them stared at each other.
“We seem to be in a bit of stalemate.” said Wyungare finally. He smiled humorlessly. “Time is wasting. I suspect I could settle this matter quickly by taking up my nulla nulla and cracking your skull smartly, Dr. Mengele.” The physician seemed to take an unconscious step back. “But we should probably pursue a more civilized course.”
“You want me to hit him?” said Cordelia.
Wyungare shook his head. “Channels. To ensure peace and good karma, as you say here, I think we shall consult the good doctor’s superior. Let’s go.”
“Fine,” said Dr. Bob. “Let’s.”
On the physician’s way out the door, the black cat hissed and lightly struck with his forepaw. The claws ripped through Dr. Bob’s expensive slacks and the man recoiled.
He bent and probed his ankle with a forefinger. “I do believe,” he said mildly, “our friend drew blood.”
They traipsed down a floor to Dr. Finn’s disarranged office. There was no one there. Cordelia picked up a phone and had the doctor paged. In about thirty seconds, an answer came back.
“Up,” said Cordelia. She gestured with her index finger. Her look at Dr. Bob suggested a wish to use a very different digit.
In the elevator, the woman punched the button marked ROOF. Wyungare looked questioningly at her.
“I should have thought,” said Dr. Bob, “it’s our administrator’s exercise hour.”
“What about the code zero?” said Cordelia. “Don’t those emergencies draw on everyone?”
“Perhaps,” said Dr. Bob, “I exaggerated a bit.”
“Perhaps,” said Wyungare, “you lied altogether.”
“Perhaps.”
The car chimed, the door drew back, and the three stepped out. They walked through an open doorway and found an exercise track laid out crudely on the clinic roof. Finn loped around the nearest turn and drew up, chuffing loudly, in front of them. The doctor was holding a stopwatch.
“Not bad,” he said. “Not Derby quality, but pretty good for a man of my age.” Finn grinned and snorted. He picked up a white towel from the graveled roof and wiped at the profuse sweat. “Frankly, I just don’t give a damn about the Triple Crown anymore.” He glanced at the three. “Let me guess. Problems?”
Dr. Bob explained the problems.
Then Wyungare and Cordelia told their side of it.
Finn stood silently, taking it all in. At the end, Finn uttered a sigh. He said, “Obviously we cannot lightly discharge a patient in Mr. Robicheaux’s condition.”
Dr. Bob nodded vigorously and smirked.
“He is in no condition to leave the clinic without a thorough set of evaluations,” added Finn.
“Absolutely,” said Dr. Bob.
“Perhaps you can now excuse us,” said Finn to Dr. Bob, “while I explain certain facts of medical life to our guests.”
Dr. Bob frowned, looking quickly at his superior. Then he offered his unctuous smile and nodded. As he turned to leave, he winked at Cordelia. The young woman balled her fists, but said and did nothing.
After the elevator door had sucked shut after Dr. Bob, Finn cleared his throat. “Listen up, you two. I’ve got a clinic to run and I need the confidence of my staff. But I am not blind. I’ll say this just once. Give it a rest for a time, perhaps an hour. Exactly — an hour. I will make sure Dr. Bob Mengele is occupied. It will be up to you two to finesse the smuggling of a fourteen-foot alligator from his room. I don’t know anything about this.”
Wyungare said gravely, “We shall do our best.”
Cordelia said, “We’ll have to wake him up.”
“It can be done,” said Finn. “Remember something: I can’t give you permission. But I can give you one shot at the gold ring.” He smiled.
“Good,” said Cordelia. “I wasn’t looking forward to buying every Mylar helium balloon in the gift shop, tying them on, and floating him out like a zeppelin.”
Even Wyungare cracked a smile.
It all went very smoothly. Modular Man didn’t know whether to be pleased by that or not.
He hadn’t known that Bloat could read the minds of people inside his domain. Bloat had read Travnicek as soon as Modular Man had carried him across the outer wall — read his intentions, and called off the castle’s defenders.