Up there, each carrier in the train swooped down again to the top of the Cube, where it turned sidewise and entered one of the eight hundred and twenty-six spur lines that fed the working face. The carriers never slowed down until they were stopped by the cars in front of them. These collisions occurred in an eerie silence; there was not even a click when one carrier hit another.
When a tier was filled, hydraulic lifts raised the end of the track another foot and a half. Eight hundred and twenty-six carriers were sent up and moved into place at the far side of the Cube, one at the end of each file. Then the train roared up again.
It took twenty-two days to fill a tier. During that time, unless there was a breakdown, the carriers never stopped.
In the Great Hall of the People in Beijing, Lee spotted his man in the middle of a chatting group of foreign diplomats and expatriates. He waited for his chance and then said, "Mr. Stone, my name is Patrick Lee, I'm the local representative of the German Airship Company."
"Is that right? You mean zeppelins? I thought they were out of business."
"Commercial flights were suspended several years ago, but the company still exists. In fact, the Bayern is here now, and Mr. Zwingli would be very pleased if you would take an hour's ride in her this afternoon."
"Hey, that would be great. Could a few of my friends come, too?"
Lee said, "I'm afraid not. The Bayern has been remodeled as the owner's private yacht, and although it's quite large, there really isn't much passenger room in it anymore. Anyhow, if you'd like to go, I have a limousine waiting."
"Okay, let me just call my people and tell them where I'm going."
"Very good, but may I ask you not to mention the aircraft on a public telephone? The Bayern has a secure line which you can use when we get there. Mr. Zwingli does not like to advertise his whereabouts; I'm sure you understand."
"Oh, okay. Who is this Zwingli, anyway? Is he Swiss?"
"No, he is German, although I believe the name is Swiss. It was Mr. Zwingli's company that began building airships again in nineteen ninety-nine." They were walking toward the door, where Chairman Zho was standing to say goodbye to the guests. "Will you forgive me for a moment?" said Lee. "I'll go ahead and make sure the limousine is waiting."
"Sure."
Lee left and hurried down to the main entrance. He was feeling successful but nervous; his instructions had been complicated, and he didn't understand the reasons for some of them.
At any rate, the limousine was where it was supposed to be, and he used its telephone to call the Bayern. "We are just about to leave," he said. "Here he comes now." He handed the phone back to the driver. Stone walked toward them down the steps, and Lee bowed him into the car.
Captain Van Loon and Violet Clitterhouse were standing beside the metal detector at the foot of the mooring tower, in the cool shadow of the airship. Clitterhouse was small and slender; Van Loon was six feet four and too broad for most doorways. He introduced himself and Clitterhouse, who said, "Will you put any metal objects you are carrying in a tray and then walk between the posts, please?"
Stone emptied his pockets into the tray she held out, then walked through. The detector chimed.
"What else is there?" Clitterhouse asked. "Oh, your ring."
"It never made the detector go off before."
"This one is very sensitive. We have to be specially careful. If you wouldn't mind-"
Stone pulled off the ring and walked through again. "That's very good," said Clitterhouse, and dropped the tray on the ground. "Oh, dear, how clumsy of me!"
Stone stooped to help her pick up keys and metal coins. " Hey, " he said.
"Yes, sir?"
"Where's my ring?"
Clitterhouse looked around. "Oh, dear, I am sorry. I'm afraid it may have fallen into the machinery. "
"What?" He looked at the opening where a cover plate had been removed in the base of the metal detector. He put his fingers in and brought them out empty. "Get somebody to take this thing apart," he said.
"I'm sorry, we can't order that," said Van Loon.
"Well, who can?"
"Mr. Zwingli only."
"And where is he?"
"He is in the airship waiting for you, Mr. Stone."
"Okay, let's go see Mr. Zwingli. Judas Priest."
Klaus Zwingli, a large bald old man, wearing a fine summerweight suit of brown linen today in honor of the occasion, was sitting at the shallow end of the pool with the tall canted windows behind him.
A portable bar was at his elbow; his phone lay on the chrome-and-Lucite cocktail table. The phone buzzed; he touched it and said, "Yes?"
''We are coming up now.''
"Good." He touched the phone again and waited. In a few minutes he heard the elevator door open. The visitor walked into the lounge, followed by Van Loon.
Zwingli stood and advanced cordially. "My dear Mr. Stone, how very nice to meet you! I am Klaus Zwingli, the owner of this airship."
They shook hands, but Stone did not smile. "Listen, they said my ring dropped into the machinery downstairs. I have to get that ring back. "
"Certainly, Mr. Stone." He addressed Van Loon. "The ring fell into the machinery? How could that happen?"
"The cover plate was off, Mr. Zwingli. Shall I ask someone at the airport to look into it?"
"Of course, of course, immediately! Well, then, rest assured, Mr. Stone, that you shall have your ring back as soon as we land again. Meanwhile, would you like to sit down and drink something, or would you rather look around the airship first?"
"If you don't mind, I'll go back down and wait until they find my ring."
"I'm afraid that would not be convenient. We have already taken off, and we are now, I should say-"he turned to look out the windows"-about five hundred feet up and rising."
Stone said, "Are you serious? I didn't feel anything. " He stepped over to the window wall and looked down. "Good gosh!'' he said.
"It is unexpected, isn't it? And now, Mr. Stone, you are in for it." He put an arm around the visitor's shoulders. "You must have the guided tour, whether you like it or not!"
"Oh. Okay. " Stone smiled. "Maybe I got a little carried away."
"It's perfectly understandable. Now here, as you see, is our swimming bath. It is empty now, but we shall fill it as soon as we are at cruising altitude. We keep this inflated plastic over it to reduce the humidity, which is not good for our health. The pool is twenty-four feet long, and at the far end it is fifteen feet deep. Do you swim, Mr. Stone?"
"No, I never learned."
"You should take it up while you are with us. Swimming is the best possible exercise; it uses every muscle in the body, and yet it is not strenuous unless you make it so."
Stone looked at him with a puzzled expression. "I haven't got time to learn to swim in the next hour."
"Mr. Stone," said Zwingli, "I must be honest with you. You are going to be our guest for more than an hour. It may be, I regret to say, a year or more. I realize that this comes as a shock, but I hope, that when you become accustomed to the idea-"
Stone's fists were clenched. "What are you talking about?"
"Sit down, please, Mr. Stone, and let me explain. Would you like a drink now?" He opened the bar, took out a bottle and glasses. "It's rye and ginger ale, isn't it?"
Stone sat down and looked at the glass as Zwingli poured. His expression was unreadable. Van Loon took the seat beside him.
Zwingli added ginger ale to the drink. Stone accepted it, then stood up suddenly and raised his arm to throw the glass at the window. Van Loon caught his wrist in time, but the drink slopped over both of them. Van Loon set the visitor down in his chair and held him there without apparent effort.