***
He sat at the head of the small conference table just as his father had. Barbara sat to his right, Uncle Paul to his left. Merlin was seated next to Barbara, two solemn-looking attorneys below Uncle Paul; a secretary with a stenotype in front of her completed the group.
Judd smiled. “You’re beginning to look more like Burl Ives every day,” he said. “Why don’t you trim your beard and the curls falling from the back of your head instead of looking like an overaged hippie?”
“I like it,” Paul said. “And while we’re talking about each other, why don’t you remember your manners? Your father always had a bottle of Glenmorangie on the table in front of me.”
Judd smiled silently and picked up a bottle from the floor and placed it, with an old-fashioned glass, in front of Paul. “No wonder we can’t allow you to stay fired. We’d be stuck with the world’s largest supply of Glenmorangie. Better now?” he asked.
“Much,” Uncle Paul said. He opened the bottle, splashed some whisky in the glass and emptied it. “Now, we can talk business.”
“I’m listening,” Judd said.
“The South and Western bank business has got us covered in shit,” Paul began. “I have it from unimpeachable sources that the House Banking Committee will come down on me real hard as soon as the inauguration is over and Congress convenes. They’re already preparing subpoenas for you as well as all the officers, both present and past, to appear at a special hearing.”
“Figures,” Judd said. “But there’s nothing they can do to us. The fact of the matter is that it’s we who’ve brought the government into it.”
“Truth is not important in this case,” Paul said. “This is politics and politics thrives on headlines. Truth gets buried on the bottom of the last page.”
“What do you suggest?”
“We have friends,” Paul said. “We use them. Now is the time for people to stand up and be counted.”
“Okay,” Judd said. “Shoot.”
“It will cost a lot of money,” Paul said.
“That’s what money is for,” Judd replied. He paused a moment. “What other good news do you have for me?”
Paul poured another drink. “It’s neither good news nor bad,” he said. He emptied his glass. “You were correct. Brazil has picked up their nuclear equipment from one of our nuclear friends. We also know that the presidential transition team doesn’t give a shit about it. The military feels very comfortable with Brazilians. They feel that Brazil will stand completely behind us against the Soviets.”
“That clinches it for me,” Judd said. “We’ll make the deal with Brazil.”
“About Mexico?” Paul asked.
“We’ll make that deal also. But another kind. Central America will be set up as a separate market.”
“Makes sense,” Paul said. “Now just one more item and we can close the meeting.”
“Yes?” Judd asked.
“Crane Island for a forty-million-dollar investment is completely crazy,” Paul said. “I advise completely and irrevocably against it. Especially since you tell us this is only a way stop until Xanadu is completed. What difference does it make if we wait an extra year or two? You’ll never see the money.”
“Time is important, not money. Crane Island goes forward.” Judd looked around the table. “Any other business?”
“Nothing of major importance,” Paul said. “Just to let you know that the Russians have agreed to your suggestion about the Yugoslavian doctor and express their gratitude.”
“Then the meeting is ordered closed,” Judd said. He rose from his chair and walked around the table to kiss Uncle Paul on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“This is a crazy way to end a meeting,” Paul said. “Besides I haven’t even finished my bottle of whisky yet.”
“I’ll let you take it home in a doggie bag,” Judd said.
28
Paul took them to lunch at his usual poolside table at The Four Seasons restaurant. Barbara and Judd sat on the inside chairs next to the bubbling water softly rising through the limpid green pool. Jim, Barbara’s husband, sat beside her and Paul was next to Judd.
Without a word, a waiter placed a double Scotch on the rocks before Paul. “Cheers,” he said, taking a sip. Then he asked what they would like to drink.
Paul Kovi and Tom Margittai appeared with a cold bottle of pink champagne, Cristale ’75, before they had an opportunity to order a drink. “Madame’s favorite,” Paul said, as he gently bowed and kissed Barbara’s hand.
“You remembered,” Barbara smiled. “So thoughtful of you. Thank you.”
“We don’t see you enough,” Tom said. He turned to Judd. “And you either, young man.”
“I’m not in town very much,” Judd said. “I have to work for a living.”
“Of course,” Tom said without conviction.
Paul looked at Judd. “I don’t know how you do it, but you look younger now than you did when I saw you three years ago. What’s your secret?”
Judd laughed. “Early to bed, early to rise—you know the old saying.”
The two restaurateurs smiled, and bowing again, walked away as Oreste made a ceremony of opening the champagne. Judd tasted and nodded his approval. Oreste filled the thin tulip glasses. “Bon appétit,” he said, and left the table.
Judd raised his glass. “To all of you.”
“And to you,” Barbara said warmly.
Paul looked at him. “Despite all our problems, the machine keeps on rolling,” he said. “Putting everything together, the Crane Foundation, the trusts, your personal holdings at the end of this current calendar year, will combine to equal more than five hundred billion dollars.”
“Those are just numbers,” Judd said. “There isn’t that much money in the world. If there is, then there is no reason to complain about the investment in Crane Island.”
Paul gestured for another double Scotch. “You’re probably right,” he said. “Despite my normal pessimistic doubts, you always seem to come up right.”
“Thank you, Uncle Paul,” Judd said. “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”
One of the gray uniformed attendants approached them, a telephone in his hand. “Mr. Crane, I have a telephone call for you.” At Judd’s nod, he plugged the cord into a socket hidden in the tree behind Judd’s chair.
Judd checked his pockets. They were empty. “Uncle Paul, take care of him for me.”
Paul grumbled, handing the young man a five-dollar bill, “Now I know how you made all that money.”
Judd spoke into the telephone. “Crane here.”
“Judd,” Dr. Zabiski’s familiar voice came into his ear. “Merlin told me where I could reach you.”
“Where are you?” he asked.
“At the airport. JFK,” she said. “It’s very important that we meet.”
“What terminal are you at?”
“Pan American.”
“Wait there,” he said. “I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes.” He rose from the table at once. “You’ll have to excuse me from lunch,” he said. “Something special has just come up.”
They knew better than to ask him what. “Will I see you at dinner?” Barbara inquired.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll call you.”
He waved at them and left the table. His chauffeur was already waiting for him in the limousine on Park Avenue. Judd went through the side exit and out the Seagram Building into his car.
“Pan Am at JFK,” he said. “Like right now.”
***
The limousine made it to the arrival ramp in twenty-three minutes. Judd stepped from the car and ran into the building. She was waiting for him just inside the doors. There were two small valises standing beside her. He kissed her on the cheek, picked up the two valises and led her back to the car. The chauffeur opened the car for them and began to place the bags in the trunk.
“Please, no,” she said. “I would prefer them with me.”
“Yes, madame.” The
chauffeur put the valises on the floor before them. He returned to his seat and looked over his shoulder. “Where to, sir?”
“The Fifth Avenue apartment,” Judd said.
“We may not have the time,” the tiny doctor said. “I am supposed to collect Sofia and bring her with me to Moscow on the Aeroflot flight tonight.”
“Then take us to the private plane gate at LaGuardia,” he said. He pressed the window button to close off the driver’s section, then turned to her. “We can talk,” he said. “We’re debugged here, no one can hear us.”
She took out a cigarette and lit it nervously. “There are many things I have to tell you; I don’t know what to say first.”
“Then one at a time,” he said.
Her tawny eyes softened. “I have cancer,” she said. “I have maybe as much as two months. Probably less.”
His dark, cobalt-blue eyes searched hers. “That’s definite?”
“Quite,” she said in a dispassionate, professional tone. “I’ve known it for some time. Now the clock is running out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she said. “I’ve had a good life. I know you thought I was in my late sixties.” Her eyes looked again at him. “But actually, I’m seventy-two.”
He remained silent.
She dragged at the cigarette again. “Next. My work and research. I don’t want it all to fall into the hands of the Russians. I left most of it in my files to make them feel that it’s all there.” She gestured at the two valises. “The complete work is in these valises. Tapes, microfilm and notebooks. There may be some things missing, but although it’s in my own amateurish code, I’m sure that your computers will easily decipher it. All I ask is that you guard it carefully and use it wisely—not solely selfishly but for the benefit of mankind.”
He nodded. “Excuse me for just one moment.” He picked up the telephone and tapped two numbers. A voice answered. “Crane Aviation.”
“This is Judd Crane,” he said. “I’ll be there in approximately twelve minutes. I want the jet, Falcon Twenty. Clear for Langley Field, Washington. Two passengers going out, three coming back.”
“Yes, Mr. Crane,” the voice answered.
Judd put down the phone and turned to her. “I’m not calling Sofia in advance. I don’t want to take any chances that someone might track into her line.”
“I understand,” she said. She put out the cigarette. “I don’t know how you did it, but the Russians have cleared her completely. I have orders to deliver her personally to Brezhnev.”
“What happens to her after he’s gone?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I only hope that they feel she knows enough about my work to allow her to continue it. I would prefer that she could come back to work with you, but we have no control over that.”
“Then afterward, are you returning to Yugoslavia?”
“No,” she said. “I will be at Maxim Gorky Hospital in Moscow.”
“Then I will not be able to see you?”
“This is so.”
He was silent. “Shit.” He looked at her. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, Judd Crane,” she said. “I’ve never known another man like you.” She put her hand into his. It was soft, small and frail. “Old ladies fall in love too,” she said.
He put her hand to his mouth. “Which keeps them beautiful forever,” he said.
***
There was another limousine waiting for him at Langley Field, as well as two of his security men. One of them took over as chauffeur. After they got into the car, the security men in the front seat, he picked up the telephone and called the clinic. The switchboard connected him to Sofia almost immediately.
He didn’t announce his name, nor did he call her by her own. “I am thirty minutes from the clinic,” he said. “Don’t pack or take anything. Just put on a coat and walk out as if you’re going for a stroll. Two streets from the clinic is a shopping center at the corner of Langley and Arlington. There’s a big discount drugstore on that corner. Walk inside it and sit at the ice cream fountain, as near as you can to the window so you can see out. Wait there until I come inside to meet you. Got it?”
“Perfectly,” she said. The phone clicked off.
Less than a half an hour later he walked into the drugstore. She was sitting at the fountain. He sat down beside her. “Dr. Zabiski is waiting in the car,” he said.
“I think I’m being followed,” she said.
“Where?”
“There, standing in the doorway of the gift shop opposite. A burly man with a heavy dark coat. I think I’ve seen him at the clinic several times.”
Judd nodded. He moved the small button in his hand toward his ear. “Did you get that?” He paused for a moment. “Good,” he said. “Take him out.”
He got out of his seat and threw a five-dollar bill on the counter.
The limousine rolled up as they walked toward the exit. It stopped and the passenger door swung open. Judd pushed her before him quickly. She went half-flying into the car, Judd right after, closing the door behind. He pushed her down onto the seat and rose enough to look out the window as the car took off.
He saw the burly man slumped against the store window on the sidewalk. The security man had already disappeared. Then the limousine came out of the parking lot and started speeding back to the airport.
***
They were standing in the Aeroflot passenger lounge in the Pan Am terminal. The red light flashed the passenger boarding signal.
Judd turned to the little doctor. He was silent for a moment, then he kissed her three times. Once on each cheek, last on her lips. “You’ve got to be the greatest lady,” he said.
“Good luck, Judd Crane,” she said. “May all your dreams come true.”
She turned toward the door and walked through it to the gate. He watched her until she was gone. He turned to Sofia.
She looked up at him, her lips were tremulous; soft tears formed in the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry. I wanted your baby,” she said.
“Better this way,” he said.
She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said.
He didn’t answer.
She took a deep breath. “Will I ever see you again?”
“I hope so,” he said.
“Do you really mean that?”
“Yes,” he said. “You represent something very special to me. I really hope we see each other again someday.”
She threw her arms around him and kissed him. “I love you, Judd Crane,” she said. “In my own peculiar way, I really do love you very much.” She turned and ran to the door.
He watched her until the door had closed behind her, then walked out from the terminal to his car.
His chauffeur was holding the passenger door open for him. “Mr. Crane,” he said, holding out a small folded note to him. “The young lady left this for you.”
Judd took the note and sat back in the car. The limousine moved away from the curb and he looked down and opened the note. He read it quickly.
For Judd—
Remember.
Life is for the living.
Immortality, for history.
Love, Sofia
BOOK TWO
The Discovery
1983–1984
1
The shaft of sunlight reflected by the solar mirrors formed a column beamed into the clear blue sky. “There.” Doc Sawyer pointed through the window of the copter. “Crane Island.”
Sofia squinted, put on her sunglasses. “It’s big,” she said. “Bigger than I thought.”
Sawyer nodded. “The island is twelve miles long and eight miles at its width near the center. Judd’s temporary environment, as he calls it—he does not like to call it a home—is a geodesic dome built entirely of solar mirror energy cells. It is one-third of a mile in diameter, three stories above the ground and two stories below.”
Sofia turned to him. “And he plans to live there?”
/> Sawyer nodded. “Not for long, but it’s already nine months that he’s remained there. To my knowledge, he’s not placed a foot on the mainland.”
She lit a cigarette and let the smoke slip out through her nostrils. “Alcatraz,” she said reflectively.
Sawyer looked at her questioningly.
“Isn’t that the island you Americans placed your prisoners on so that they could not escape? Like Devil’s Island was for the French?”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” he said.
“The idea was Zabiski’s, I suppose?” she asked.
“It started that way,” he said. “But I don’t think even she could have anticipated the extent to which it would be turned into a reality.”
Sofia shook her head. “The old lady was crazy. At the end she was completely crazy. I visited her the day she died. She looked up at me. ‘He will live forever,’ she said. ‘I gave him all the knowledge he needs.’
“‘What knowledge, Doctor?’ I asked her.
“‘All of it,’ she said. ‘But he must assemble it. It’s in bits and pieces. I could not do it. But he has the tools now. Computers. They think a million years in a second. My whole life was not long enough to think that much. Yes, Judd has the tools. He will succeed where I could not. You will see!’
“‘Then why didn’t you share your knowledge with the world? Not just him?’ I asked. She looked up at me and said, ‘Because I loved him. And he’s the only man I would trust with that knowledge. The world would use it for power and gain. He already has all that he wants. All he needs is time itself.’ Then she closed her eyes and slept.”
Sawyer looked at her. “Did you speak to her again?”
“No,” Sofia answered. “I had to return to my own work. The Premier was leaving on a journey and I had to accompany him. That night I heard she had died.”
“Which is why you called Judd that night?” he asked.
A puzzled look crossed her face. “The only person I told that to was the Premier. I haven’t spoken to Judd since we said good-bye at the airport in New York. That was more than three years ago and I haven’t spoken to him yet.”
Descent from Xanadu Page 17