That was all he could think of to say; it spilled out and then he was silent. His heart laboured. How wrong Luke had been. She was as beautiful as he could possibly imagine; it confirmed everything he had seen before in his original brief one-time glimpse from a distance.
Nicole said to him, ‘This is not your business.'
‘Yes, it is,' Al said. ‘Literally. This man is my customer.'
Now Chick Strikerock found his voice. ‘Mrs Thibodeaux, it's an honour, an incredible honour, to -- ‘ His voice wavered; he gulped air, trembled. And he could not continue. He backed away from her, frozen into silence, as if he had been turned off. Al felt disgusted.
‘I'm a sick man,' Kongrosian mumbled.
‘Bring Richard along,' Nicole said to the high NP official who stood beside her. ‘We're returning to the White House.'
To Al she said, ‘Your little lot can remain open; we're not interested in you one way or another. Some other tune, perhaps ... ‘ She eyed him, without malice, and, as she had said, without interest.
‘Stand aside,' the high-ranking grey-uniformed NP official ordered Al. ‘We're going out.' He shoved past Al, leading Kongrosian by the arm, businesslike and tough.
Nicole followed slightly after the two of them, her hands in the pockets of her long leopard-skin coat. She seemed pensive now, and had become silent. Withdrawn into her moody thoughts.
‘I'm a sick man,' Kongrosian mumbled once more.
To Nicole, Al said, ‘Can I have your autograph?' It was an impulse, a whim from the unconscious. Pointless and futile.
‘What?' She glanced at him, startled. And then she showed her even white teeth in a laugh. ‘My god,' she said, and then passed on out of the office after the high-ranking NP official and Richard Kongrosian. Al was left behind with Chic Strikerock, who was still trying to find words by which to express himself.
‘I guess I don't get her autograph,' Al said to Strikerock.
‘W-what do you think of her?' Strikerock stammered.
‘Lovely,' Al said.
‘Yes,' Strikerock said. ‘It's incredible; I never expected ever to actually see her, you know, in real life, actually. It's like a miracle, don't you agree?' He crossed to the window to peer after Nicole as she and Kongrosian and the NP bigwig moved towards the parked offtrans ship.
‘It would be easy as hell,' Al said, ‘to fall in love with that woman.' He, too, watched her depart. So did everyone else, including the squad of NP men. Far too easy, he thought.
And -- he would be seeing her again, presently he -- and Ian, too -- would be playing their jugs before her. Had that changed? No. Nicole had specifically said that no one was under arrest; she had countermanded the NP's order. He was free to keep the lot open. The NP would be leaving after all.
Al lit his pipe.
Coming up beside him, Ian Duncan said, ‘Well, Al, she cost you the sale of a jalopy.' By Nicole's order, the NP had let him go; he, too, was free.
Al said, ‘Mr Strikerock will still take it. Won't you, Mr Strikerock?'
After a pause Chic Strikerock said, ‘No, I've changed my mind.'
‘The power,' Al said, ‘of that woman -- ‘ He cursed, loudly and explicitly. And scatologically.
Chic Strikerock said, ‘Thanks anyhow. Maybe I'll see you some other time. Concerning that.'
‘You're a fool,' Al said, ‘to let that woman scare you out of emigrating.'
‘Maybe so,' Chic agreed, nodding.
Obviously it was hopeless to try to reason with him. Al could see that; so could Ian. Nicole had won another convert and she was not even here to enjoy it; she was not even interested. ‘Back to your job, is it?' Al said.
‘That's right.' Strikerock nodded. Back to the stale routine.'
‘You'll never make it here to this lot again,' Al said. ‘This is undoubtedly absolutely the last chance you'll ever have to break away in your entire life.'
‘Maybe so,' Chic Strikerock said, nodding morosely. But he did not budge.
‘Good luck,' Al said bitingly, and shook hands with him, ‘Thanks,' Chic Strikerock said, with no trace of a smile.
‘Why?'
Al asked him. ‘Can you explain to me why she affected you so?'
‘No, I can't,' Strikerock said. ‘I just feel it. I don't think it. It's not a logical situation.'
Ian Duncan said to Al, ‘And you felt it, too. I watched you. I saw the expression on your face.'
‘Okay!' Al said with irritation. ‘So what?' He walked away from them and stood by himself, smoking his pipe and gazing out the window of the office at the jalopies parked outside.
I wonder, Chic Strikerock wondered, if Maury will take me back. Maybe it's too late; maybe I burned my bridges too well. At a public phonebooth he dialled Maury Frauenzimmer at the factory. Taking a deep shuddering breath he stood with the receiver pressed to his ear, waiting.
‘Chic!' Maury Frauenzimmer yelled, when his image appeared. He beamed, expansive and younger-looking with a radiant, triumphant joy that Chic had never witnessed before. ‘Boy, am I glad you finally called! Come on back here, for chrissakes and -- ‘
‘What's happened?' Chic said. ‘What's up, Maury?'
‘I can't tell you. We got a big order; that's all I can say over the phone. I'm taking on men right and left. I need you back; I need everybody! This is it, Chic, what we've been waiting for all these goddam years!' Maury seemed almost on the verge of tears. ‘How soon can you get back here?'
Muddled, Chic answered, ‘Very soon. I guess.'
‘Also,' Maury said, ‘your brother Vince called. Trying to get hold of you. He wants a job. Karp fired him or he quit or something -- anyhow he's looking everywhere for you. He wants to get on here, situation-wise, alongside of you. And I told him if you recommended him -- ‘
‘Oh sure,' Chic said absently, ‘Vince is a first-rate ersatz technician. Listen, Maury. What is this order you've got?'
A slow, secretive expression appeared on Maury's wide face. ‘I'll tell you when you get here; don't you understand? So hurry!'
Chic said, ‘I was going to emigrate.'
‘Emigrate, shmemigrate. With this you don't have to, now. We're set up for life; take my word for it -- you, me, your brother, everybody! I'll see you.' Maury abruptly cut the connection at his end; the screen died.
It must be a government contract, Chic said to himself.
And whatever it is, Karp's lost it. That's why Vince is out of a job. And that's why Vince wants to work for Maury; heknows.
We're now a Ge outfit, Chic said to himself with exultation. We're at last, long last, on the inside.
Thank god, he thought, that I didn't emigrate. I drew back just on the brink, just in the nick of time.
Finally luck, he realized, is with me.
This was absolutely the best -- and most decisive -- day of his life. A day, in fact, which he would never forget as long as he lived. Like his boss Maury Frauenzimmer, he was all at once thoroughly, completely happy.
Later on, he was to look back to this day ...
But he did not know that now.
After all, he did not have access to von Lessinger equipment.
12
Chic Strikerock leaned back against his seat and said expansively, ‘I just don't know, Vince. Maybe I can get you a job with Maury, maybe not.' He was thoroughly enjoying the situation.
They were on their way together, he and Vince, up the autobahn by car, heading towards Frauenzimmer Associates. Their centrally controlled but private vehicle spun along, expertly guided; they had nothing to worry about in that department and it left them free for more important considerations.
‘But you're hiring all sorts of people,' Vince pointed out.
‘I'm not the boss, though,' Chic said.
‘Do what you can,' Vince said. ‘Okay? I really would appreciate it. After all, Karp is going to be methodically ruined, now. That's obvious.' He had a peculiar, miserable, hangdog expression which Chic had never seen before. ‘Of course, anything you say is all right with me,' he murmured.