“So you’re telling me that none of the Republic’s bad reputation is earned? That all of it is made up? Why would anyone just make up bad things to say about the place?” I knew that this place wasn’t the intolerant horror I’d expected, but I doubted the reputation was entirely unearned.
“I didn’t say that. Currier and Ives isn’t for everyone, and we make no bones about it. But some people think everyplace should be for everyone, so they don’t like us much. And then they start inventing nonsense about us, like that our law book is as long as an encyclopedia and silly stuff like that. Shoot, our official law code is shorter than the rule book they hand out to people when they move to Luna City.”
We rounded a corner, topped a ridge, then the view opened out beneath us. I could see the steeple of the little town church, and Main Street, gaily decorated in her Christmas best. A little band was out on the sidewalk playing White Christmas. There were bows on the lampposts and a big creche to welcome you into town, and folks were hustling and bustling about with packages. I thought this was a pretty neat display for the tourists, but then I remembered that there weren’t any tourists around, and for that matter, everyone there knew a nuclear bomb was set to go off in less than twenty-four hours.
What the hell was wrong with these people, carrying on like everything was normal?
“We’re going to have our meeting in the church basement,” Jo said, “because the Town Hall is being made ready for the annual whole-town Christmas concert. Besides, we shouldn’t need all that much room. I only asked people to come who grew up with Manny or knew him pretty good before he was booted out. I don’t know if this is going to help you at all, Jake. But at least you’ll get to see the town while its all decorated up for Christmas.”
“How can you be so casual about this? And those people scurrying about? You’re right, there was no panic when you told them about the bomb, but I’ve just never encountered this kind of behavior from people before.”
“Sure you have,” Jo said. “You just haven’t encountered it from a whole lot of people all at the same time. The typical Currier and Ives citizen is pretty level-headed to begin with.”
“But they’re acting like fatalists. ‘Whatever’s going to happen is going to happen.’ ”
“There’s no sense in ‘doing something’ just to do something if it won’t help. You’ll understand better once you talk to some of them at the meeting.”
It had been a beautiful morning, but now as we came down the slope into town I could see a storm front starting to move in. Still, at that moment we were in sunshine and under other circumstances it would have been a glorious glide down to Main Street.
The town was something right out of the 1800s, with wooden sidewalks lining a cobblestone street, the cobblestones betrayed by a few red patches temporarily free of snow. People waved to us; children were playing tag, slipping and sliding about in an empty field; and the stores were busy with last-minute shoppers. Even in Currier and Ives, some people wait until the last minute (but then, they didn’t have a two-month Christmas shopping season like the rest of the Solar Union).
Seeing the kids playing tweaked a part of me, just a twinge in my heart, not of a bad memory from my youth, but of a good one. I complained earlier about Christmas presents at the orphanage not matching up to those that other kids at school had, but Christmas itself had always been a happy time for us, and I, too, had played tag with the other kids (though in Arizona, not in the snow). My mind continued to wander as I thought about growing up, joining the Patrol, doing my twenty years but somehow knowing that was enough. But I didn’t know what else to do with myself so I kept working as an investigator for the Patrol, but as a civilian. I made more money that way, but I was marking time.
We tied up the horses outside the church and went inside. We hung our coats on wooden hangers and proceeded into the basement. There was one folding table set up, surrounded by folding chairs, of which five of the twelve had people sitting in them.
Jo made the introductions. “Everyone, this is Jake Morgan from the System Patrol. You all know why he’s here. Jake, these are the folks who knew Manny the best. That’s Wilma and Mary there on the left.” Two older women nodded their heads at me. “They were his teachers at school. And that young man is Tim. They were on the hockey team together. And these last two are Reverend McMaster and his wife.”
The Reverend rose at that point and came to shake my hand. “We’re so glad to have you join us, Mr. Morgan. We wish it could be under better circumstances. You’re welcome to join us for Christmas services tomorrow morning, um, assuming we’re able to hold them as planned.” He had a firm grip. I liked that.
“Let’s get this going,” Jo said. “We all know how hopeless Jake’s mission is likely to be—no use pretending our chances of finding that bomb are better than one shot out of a thousand. We don’t have enough time, the bomb is small and could be anywhere, and so far, we don’t have anyone who even claims to have seen old Manny around here the past few days.”
I had a few official words I had to say, so I got those out of the way. “What Governor Wood says is correct. I have to convey the deepest regrets of the System Patrol that your community has been put into this danger by someone who wasn’t mentally competent to have access to such weaponry.”
“That’s OK, Mr. Morgan,” Wilma said. “We didn’t know Manny was going to rape anyone until he did it, either.”
“Oh, Wilma, rape is too strong a word,” Mary interrupted. “Olivia went from twelve to twenty in one summer and she’s the one who asked Manny to help her get those eggs from the chicken coop.”
“Yes, but they ‘cracked a few,’ and he should have known bet—”
“I think Jake has already been informed on the circumstances of what led Manfred to be deported from Currier and Ives,” the Reverend said.
Well, yes I had, but not quite at this level of detail.
“That’s right,” I said. “What I’m hoping to learn from you is something that might, just might, help us figure out where Manfred would most likely have left the bomb. He had reason to dislike Buck Black, for instance, though he says neither he nor, uh, Olivia saw him come down their way.”
“And he wouldn’t have had to come all that close with a twelve kiloton yield,” Tim pointed out.
“There is that,” I acknowledged. “But can any of you tell me what Manfred was like? I mean, before he was sent away?”
“Smart boy,” Wilma said. “Very, very bright. He could read before he started kindergarten, and the first day of school he insisted on trying to show me he could count to a thousand. I wouldn’t let him, and I remember he got pretty angry at me. Even as a five-year-old he didn’t like being told ‘no.’ ”
“I’ll have to second the part about him being smart,” Mary added. “His term papers as a seventh grader were better than most of the things I got from my seniors. Clear, logical, few spelling errors. But he was a charming boy, too. Always had lots of girls hanging around him. I think it was those big, blue eyes—”
“Oh, Mary! You and those eyes of his!” Wilma snorted.
“He was the handsomest boy in school in the last ten years,” Mary said, defending herself. “You can’t deny that.”
“Best athlete, too,” Tim added. “Mr. Morgan, you don’t have to wonder how Manny managed to get into the Patrol, and then into the commandoes. He was put together like an Adonis, he was very intelligent, and no one could run faster or throw farther than he could. He was just that sort of one-in-a-million kind of guy that makes it into the elite ranks. But he had his own mind, like Miss Wilma said, and everyone knew you just didn’t want to cross him.”