He turned quickly back to the subway exit. It was closed and fastened securely.
28
“Tom, Tom, it's me!”
“Ray?”
“Of course! Keep your voice down. There's hunters not far away. Wait now.”
Blaine waited, crouched beside the barred subway exit, peering around. He could see no sign of Melhill. There was no ectoplasmic vapor, nothing except a whispering voice.
“OK,” Melhill said. “Walk west now. Quickly.”
Blaine walked, sensing Melhill's invisible presence hovering near him. He said, “Ray, how come?”
“It's about time I was some help,” Melhill said. “That old Kean contacted your girl friend and she got in touch with me through the Spiritual Switchboard. Wait! Stop right here.”
Blaine ducked back against the corner of a building. A heli cruised slowly by at housetop level.
“Hunters,” Melhill said. “There's a field day on you, kid. Reward posted. Even a reward for information leading to. Tom, I told Marie I'd try to help. Don't know how long I can. Drains me. It's hereafter for me after this.”
“Ray, I don't know how —”
“Cut it out. Look Tom, I can't talk much. Marie has fixed a deal with some friends of hers. They've got a plan, if I can get you to them. Stop!”
Blaine stopped and found shelter behind a mailbox. Long seconds passed. Then three hunters hurried by, sidearms ready. After they turned a corner, Blaine was able to start walking again.
“Some eyes you have,” he said to Melhill.
“The vision's pretty good up here,” Melhill said. “Cross this street fast.”
Blaine sprinted across. For the next fifteen minutes, at Melhill's instructions, he wound in and out of streets, advancing and retreating across the battleground of the city.
“This is it,” Melhill said at last. “That door over there, number 341. You made it! I'll see you, Tom. Watch —”
At that moment, two men rounded a corner, stopped, and stared hard at Blaine. One said, “Hey, that's the guy!”
“What guy?”
“The guy they got the reward out for. Hey you.”
They ran forward. Blaine, his fists swinging, quickly chopped the first man into unconsciousness. He whirled, looking for the second, but Melhill had the situation well in control.
The second man had his hands over his head, trying to guard himself. A garbage can cover, levitating mysteriously, was clanging angrily around his ears. Blaine stepped forward and finished the job.
“Damn good,” Melhill said, his voice very weak. “Always wanted to try ghosting. But it drains… Luck, Tom!”
“Ray!” Blaine waited, but there was no answer, and the sense of Melhill's presence was gone.
Blaine waited no longer. He went to number 341, opened the door and stepped in.
He was in a narrow hallway. At the end of it was a door. Blaine knocked.
“Come in,” he was told.
He opened the door and walked into a small, dingy, heavily curtained room.
Blaine had thought he was proof against any further surprises. But it gave him a start all the same to see, grinning at him, Carl Orc, the body snatcher. And sitting beside him, also grinning, was Joe, the little Transplant peddler.
29
Blaine made an automatic move backwards toward the door, but Orc beckoned him in. The body snatcher was unchanged, still very tall and thin, his tanned face long and mournful, his eyes narrow, direct and honest. His clothes still hung awkwardly on him, as though he were more used to levis than to tailored slacks.
“We were expecting you,” Orc said. “Of course you remember Joe.”
Blaine nodded, remembering very well the furtive-eyed little man who had distracted his attention so that Orc could drug his drink.
“Happy to see you again,” Joe said.
“I'll bet,” Blaine said, not moving from the door.
“Come in and sit down,” Orc said. “We ain't planning to eat you, Tom. Truly not. Let's let bygones be bygones.”
“You tried to kill me.”
“That was business,” Orc said in his straightforward fashion. “We’re on the same side now.”
“How can I be sure of that?”
“No man,” Orc stated, “has ever questioned my honesty. Not when I'm really being honest, which I am now. Miss Thorne hired us to get you safe out of the country, and we intend to do same. Sit down and let's discuss it. Are you hungry?”
Reluctantly Blaine sat down. There were sandwiches on a table, and a bottle of red wine. He realized that he hadn't eaten all day. He started wolfing down sandwiches while Orc lighted a thin brown cigar, and Joe appeared to be dozing.
“You know,” Orc said, exhaling blue smoke, “I very nearly didn't take this job. Not that the money wasn't right; I think Miss Thorne was more than generous. But Tom, this is one of the biggest manhunts our fair city's seen for a while. Ever see anything like it, Joe?”
“Never,” Joe said, shaking his head rapidly. “Town's covered like flypaper.”
“Rex really wants you,” Orc said. “They've set their little hearts on nailing your corpus where they can see it. Makes a man nervous, bucking an organization that size. But it's a challenge, a real man-sized challenge.”
“Carl likes a big challenge,” Joe said.
“I admit that,” Orc said. “Particularly if there's a big profit to be made from it.”
“But where can I go?” Blaine asked. “Where won't Rex find me?”
“Just about nowhere,” Orc said sadly.
“Off the Earth? Mars? Venus?”
“Even worse. The planets have just a few towns and small cities. Everybody knows everybody else. The news would be all over in a week. Also, you wouldn't fit in. Aside from the Chinese on Mars, the planets are still populated mostly with scientific types and their families, and a few youth-training programs. You wouldn't like it.”
“Where, then?”
“That's what I asked Miss Thorne,” Orc said. “We discussed several possibilities. First, there's a zombie-making operation. I could perform it. Rex would never search for you underground.”
“I'd rather die,” Blaine said.
“I would too,” Orc agreed. “So we ruled it out. We thought about finding you a little farm in the Atlantic Abyss. Pretty lonely territory out there. But it takes a special mentality to live undersea and like it, and we didn't figure you had it. You'd probably crack up. So, after due consideration, we decided the best place for you was in the Marquesas.”
“The what?”
“The Marquesas. They’re a scattered group of small islands, originally Polynesian, out towards the middle of the Pacific Ocean. They’re not too far from Tahiti.”
“The South Seas,” Blaine said.
“Right. We figured you should feel more at home there than anywhere else on Earth. It's just like the 20th century, I'm told. And even more important, Rex might leave you alone.”
“Why would they?”
“For obvious reasons, Tom. Why do they want to kill you in the first place? Because they snatched you illegally from the past and they’re worried about what the government's going to do about it. But your going to the Marquesas removes you from the jurisdiction of the U.S. government. Without you, there's no case. And your going so far is a sign to Rex of your good faith. It certainly isn't the act of a man who's going to blab to Uncle Sam. Also, the Marquesas are an independent little nation since the French gave them up, so Rex would have to get special permission to hunt you there. On the whole, it should be just too much trouble for everyone concerned. The U.S. government will undoubtedly drop the matter, and I think Rex will leave you alone.”
“Is that certain?” Blaine asked.
“Of course not. It's conjecture. But it's reasonable.”
“Couldn't we make a deal with Rex beforehand?”