“Was there never any indication at all,” I asked, “what might have happened?”
“No. They never found anything.” She glanced down at a bracelet. “We better get going. He’s on the grounds.” She got up and opened the door for us.
I hesitated. “I’m not sure I want to socialize with this guy,” I said.
Alex was on his feet, straightening his jacket. “You don’t have to be nice to him, love,” he said. “He’s not going to be interested in us.”
Windy stood by the doorway. “I understand how you feel, Chase. I’m sorry. I’d have warned you, but they swore us to secrecy. There are too many people around who’d like to kill him. The Mazha.” Through her windows, I could see a pair of skimmers coming down onto the grounds. “But I’d be grateful if you came. You’ll brighten the place up.” She smiled. “And how often do you get to meet a bona fide dictator?”
“That’s a point.” I glanced at Alex.
“It’s all in the interests of diplomacy and science,” he said, pushing me gently before him.
FOUR
Everyone should have an opportunity to party with a tyrant. Inevitably, he dances well.
- Tasker LaVrie
The artifacts were in the auditorium on the ground floor of Proctor Union, one level down from the director’s suite. Proctor Union is a large, rambling structure, part administrative offices, part museum, part conference center. It was located beyond the western loop of the Long Pool, which was actually an elongated figure eight, the infinity symbol.
Ordinarily we could have descended from Windy’s office and gone directly through a connecting corridor, under the waterway, but everything was closed off as a security measure. So we bundled up and went out through the front door. Windy led the way. The night was damp and blustery, and the moon was a luminous blur in a churning sky. The people loose on the grounds had their heads bent and were hurrying along. No casual strollers that night.
We crossed the Long Pool on one of its several bridges. There was no sign of the quocks, which usually flocked there at this time of year.
Windy pulled her coat tightly around her. “A lot of VIPs will be here,” she said.
She began rattling off names and titles. Senators and judges, CEOs, and lawyers.
“The movers and shakers of this town.” Meaning, of course, since Andiquar was the world capital, movers and shakers on a very large scale. “When they heard the Mazha was coming, they all wanted to join the party.”
These were the same people who’d be attacking him and talking about morality on the talk shows the next day. I didn’t say anything. Just kept walking.
“There won’t be a large crowd, though,” Windy continued. “The invitations went out at the last minute.”
“Security again?” asked Alex.
“Yes. His guards don’t like long-range plans.”
“I guess not.”
Proctor Union was the administrative center of the complex, designed with a swept-back, ready-to-launch appearance. Rooftops rolled away in several directions, but all were angled to give the impression that the structure was aimed at the far side of the Narakobo. The river itself, visible through a line of trees, was dark and brooding. There was something unsettling about that night, some whisper of approaching catastrophe that was getting mixed up with the elements.
Two of the Mazha’s security guards were standing silent and watchful outside the front entrance. You couldn’t have mistaken them for anything else. Their clothes weren’t quite right, although they must have been trying to blend in. But a thug is a thug. Their eyes swept across us, and one whispered into a bracelet. Perfunctory smiles appeared as we approached, and somewhere in the strained silence we identified ourselves and received permission to proceed.
“I don’t guess,” said Alex, keeping his voice low, “they think we’re very dangerous.”
“You were preapproved,” Windy said. We climbed the twelve marble steps onto the portico.
Doors opened, and we went into the lobby. We got rid of our wraps, turned into the main corridor, and saw that the event had already spilled out into the passageway.
A couple of guests saw us, saw Windy, and came over to say hello. Windy did introductions, and we traded small talk before moving on.
“I am surprised,” said Alex, “that he’d be here, of all places. Doesn’t a facility dedicated to science compromise his religious position?”
“I think it’s just a role he plays,” she said, “for the folks back home. He couldn’t be that stupid and hold on to power.”
A couple of people who I assumed belonged to Windy’s office were recording everything. “But they’ll see all this,” I said.
“There’ll be a different story in Korrim Mas. The faithful will hear how he came to stand up to the infidels.” She laughed. “Mustn’t take these things too seriously, Chase.”
Blue-and-gold bunting decorated the walls. “His national colors?” asked Alex.
“Yes.”
We turned through a set of double doors into the reception room. There were maybe thirty people inside, glasses in hand, enjoying the evening. I recognized a couple of senators, and the executive science advisor, and several academics. And, of course, Dr. Louis Ponzio.
He broke away from the group he was with and came over, letting us see how pleased he was that we’d arrived. “Alex,” he said, offering his hand, “good to have you on board for the occasion. Did Windy tell you about our guest?”
“I’m looking forward to meeting him,” said Alex.
He obviously couldn’t remember who I was, although he pretended to. Windy reminded him as surreptitiously as she could. “His Excellency is especially anxious to meet you both,” he said.
I didn’t know about Alex, but I was pretty sure I’d feel just as happy if His Excellency had no clue who I was. Or where I could be reached. “Why is that?” Alex asked.
“He approves of the work you’ve done. You shook the historical establishment to its roots a few years ago. You provided him with ammunition.”
Alex frowned. “Forgive me, Dr. Ponzio, but I’m lost. Ammunition to do what?”
“To demonstrate to his countrymen that acquired knowledge is a slippery thing.
That one can never be too sure of what the facts really are. It fits in with his position that they are best off if they simply rely on the sacred scriptures. And on him.” He must have seen how Alex was taking all this because he laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s all right, Alex. Had it not been you, it would have been someone else. Eventually the truth would have come out. You can’t hide things forever, you know.” A brunette in green and white raised her hand slightly, caught Ponzio’s eye, and nodded. “He’s here,” the director said. Immediately, the noise in the room subsided, and people moved toward the walls and faced the entrance.
We heard doors open and close. Then voices filled the corridor. And laughter.
The Mazha swept into the room like a tidal wave. Three or four aides and a couple of security people accompanied him. The other guests fell back, regrouped, and finally moved tentatively forward. Dr. Ponzio was, as far as I could tell, the only person there who stood his ground. He offered a polite smile and a bow to the dictator. “Your Excellency,” he said, “it’s an honor to meet you. We’re delighted to have you with us this evening.”
I’d seen his picture, of course. But pictures don’t always prepare you for the real thing. I was expecting him to look like Dracula. But it didn’t turn out that way.
He was shorter than I’d expected. Not quite average height. Black hair, cleanshaven. He looked a little heavier in person. He wore a white jacket and dark gray slacks. Medals and ribbons clung to the jacket, and a red sash was folded over his right shoulder.
He returned the director’s bow, said something I couldn’t hear, and offered a hand. Ponzio clasped it with great respect and let go quickly.
Celebrity gets you forgiven for anything. Here was a guy with blood on his hands, whole tubs of it, and he was being welcomed like somebody who’d just made a major medical contribution.