Sometimes things are not as they seem.
It was very quiet. The old house in Palo Alto had had little squeaks and thumps, and sometimes Bob's PC playing stolen music. Here, tonight… yes, there were occasional sounds, the house settling into the cool of the evening. Wait. In the utility view, he saw that one of the water heaters had kicked in. He could hear running water.
Not for the first time, Robert wondered what kind of magic that little gray box was. It had not triggered the house watchdogs. Maybe it wasn't electronic at all, but nineteenth-century gears and cogs driven by a metal spring. Then it had disappeared from Robert's own naked eyesight. That was something new, not a visual trick. Maybe the box had sprouted little legs and scurried off. But whatever it was, what would it finally do ? Maybe the Stranger didn't need a little blood. Maybe a lot of blood would suit him more. Robert sat stock-still for a second and then bolted to his feet — and froze again. I was so desperate . Credibility is not important if the victim wants to believe so hard that truth must be what the liar claims. So the Stranger had mocked the notion that hurting Alice would be worth such hugger-mugger. And I, desperate, smiled and was convinced .
Robert was out of his room, and flying down the stairs. He dashed through the living room and pounded on the bathroom door. "Alice! Al — "
The door opened. Alice was looking at him, a bit wide-eyed. He grabbed her arm and dragged her into the hallway. Alice was not a large woman; she came easily in his grasp. But then she turned, taking him off balance. Somehow his feet got tangled in hers and he slammed into the doorjamb.
"What! Is it?" she said, sounding irritated.
"I — " Robert looked over his shoulder, into the brightly lit bathroom, then back at Alice. She was dressed in a robe now, and her short hair looked as though she had washed it. And everybody is still in one piece. No pools of blood… except maybe where my head hit the doorjamb .
"Are you okay, Robert?" Concern seemed to rise above her irritation.
Robert felt the back of his head. "Yeah, yes. I'm pretty robust these days." He thought about how he'd come down the stairs. Even when he was seventeen years old, he had never skipped four steps at a time.
"But — " Alice began. Clearly she was more concerned about his mental state than anything else.
It's okay, Daughter-in-Law. I thought I was stopping your murder, and now I find it's a false alarm . Somehow he didn't think that would be a satisfactory explanation. So why was he down here in the middle of the night, pounding on the door? He looked into the bathroom again. "I, um, I just needed to use the John."
Her sympathy frosted over. "Don't let me keep you, Robert." She turned and headed for the stairs.
"Are you okay, Alice?" Bob's voice, from the top of the stairs. Robert didn't have the courage to look, but he could imagine Miri's little face staring down, too. As he stepped into the bathroom and shut the door, he heard his daughter-in-law's tired voice. "Not to worry. It was just Robert."
Robert sat on the can for a few minutes and let the shakes die away. Maybe there was still a bomb here, but if it exploded, none but the guilty would be blown apart.
And neither did he have the little box that was the point of the comedy. When he showed up at the library, he would be empty-handed. So ? After a moment, Robert stood, and looked into the real glass mirror. He favored his reflection with a twisted smile. Maybe he should just bring them a fake; would Tommie even notice? As for the Mysterious Stranger, perhaps his spell had been broken… along with all hope.
His eyes strayed to the countertop. There, sitting away from the clutter, was a small gray box. It hadn't been there when Alice left. He reached down. His fingers touched warm plastic. Not an illusion. A greater mystery than all the flash and glitter that he was just becoming accustomed to.
He slipped the box into his pocket and quietly returned to his room.
17
Alfred Volunteers
Günberk Braun and Keiko Mitsuri: They were top officers in their respective services. Vaz had tracked these two since their college days. He knew more about them than they would ever guess. That was one of the benefits of being very old and very well connected. In a sense, he had guided them into their intel careers, though neither they nor their organizations suspected the fact. They weren't traitors to the EU or Japan, but Alfred understood them so well that he could subtly guide them.
So he had thought, and so he still hoped. And yet his two young friends' remorseless efforts to help had become the greatest threat to his plans. As today:
"Yes, yes. There are risks," Vaz was saying. "We knew that from the beginning. But letting a serious YGBM project escape detection would be much more dangerous. We must find out what's going on in the San Diego labs. Plan Rabbit can do that."
Keiko Mitsuri shook her head. "Alfred, I have contacts in U.S. intelligence that go back years. These aren't my agents, but they would not tolerate a rogue weapons project. On that, I would trust them with my life. I say we should contact them — very unofficially — and see what they can learn about the San Diego labs."
Alfred leaned forward. "Would you trust them with your country's life? Because that's what we are talking about here. In the worst case, there is not only a YGBM research effort going on in San Diego, but it is supported at the highest levels of the U.S. government. In that case, your friends' best efforts would simply alert their superiors to our suspicions. The evidence would disappear. When it comes to investigating a threat this serious we simply must do it ourselves ."
In one form or another, this was an argument that dated from their Barcelona meeting. Today's installment could be decisive.
Keiko sat back and gave a frustrated shrug. She was presenting in more or less her real appearance and location, a thirty-year-old woman sitting at her desk somewhere in Tokyo. She had transformed one side of Vaz's office with her minimalist furniture and a picture-window view of Tokyo's skyline.
Günberk Braun was less prepossessing. His image simply occupied one of Alfred's office chairs. No doubt Günberk figured that the EU swung enough weight that he could afford a mild disposition. Günberk might be the real problem today, but so far he was just listening.
Okay. Alfred spread his hands. "I truly think the course we set in Barcelona is the most prudent one. Can you deny the progress we have made?" He waved at the biographical reports scattered around the table. "We have hands and minds on the scene — all deniable, and ignorant of what is manipulating them. In fact, they totally misunderstand the significance of this operation. Do you doubt this? Do you think that the Americans have any whiff of our investigation?"
Both youngsters shook their heads. Keiko even gave him a rueful smile. "No. Your SHE-based compartmentalization is truly a revolution in military affairs."
"Indeed, and our releasing those methods — even to sister services within the Alliance — shows how seriously we at the EIA view the current necessities. So, please. If we delay more than one hundred hours, we might as well start over. What is your problem with giving the final go-ahead?"
Günberk glanced at his Japanese counterpart. She made an impatient gesture for him to go ahead. "I assume your question is rhetorical, Alfred. The problem with Plan Rabbit is Rabbit. Everything depends on him, and still we know almost nothing about him."
"And neither will the Americans. Deniability is the whole point. Rabbit is everything we could want."