Ecce and Old Earth
Page 27
“Alcide Xantief.”
Wayness sat down and turned on the screen. Xantief said: “I hope I am not disturbing you?”
“Of course not.”
“I spoke to Alvina. You made a good impression on her. I explained that any help she could give you would be work in a good cause - if for no other reason than the happiness of a rather nice person known as Wayness Tamm. She agreed to do what she could for you, if you arrived tomorrow about noon at her shop.”
“That is good news, Mr. Xantief!”
“Before you get your hopes up, she mentioned that she did not know Moncurio’s present whereabouts, but only the address he had supplied to her some years ago.”
“Anything is better than nothing.”
“Exactly. I will bid you goodnight once again. These are my working hours, as you know; in fact, I hear a customer waiting for me now.”
* * *
Chapter VII, Part 3
In the morning Wayness awoke to find the sun shining brightly down upon the Adriatic. She was served breakfast in her room by one of the blue unformed call-boys: an undersized youth named Felix. After a covert appraisal, Wayness decided that Felix might suit her purposes very well. He was deft and agile, with lank black hat and sharp black eyes in a thin knowledgeable face. He readily agreed to perform whatever services Wayness might require, and she gave him a sol to cement the arrangement.
“First and foremost,” she told him, “all our dealings must be kept confidential. No one must know. This is very important!”
“Have no fear!” declared Felix. “This is the way I normally do business! I am known to be discretion personified”
“Good! This is what I want you to do first.” She sent Felix out to the shops along the wharf. He returned presently with an old pea jacket, a gray work shirt, dungarees, rubber-soled sandals and a fisherman’s cap. Wayness donned her new garments and surveyed herself in the mirror. She made a not-too-convincing old salt, but at least she was unrecognizable, especially after she darkened her face with skin tone.
Felix echoed her opinions. “I don’t know exactly what I’d make of you, but for sure you don’t look like what you were before.”
At half an hour before noon, Felix led her down the service stairs into the basement of the hotel, then along a dank passage to a flight of stone steps closed off by a heavy timber door. Felix opened the door and they descended still further, finally to jump down upon the shingle of the beach at the far side of the sea wall, under the wharf, with the waters of the Adriatic only fifteen feet to the side.
The two proceeded a hundred yards along the shingle at the base of the sea wall and at last came to a ladder by which they climbed to the face of the wharf. Felix was now ready to turn back, but Wayness protested. “Not yet! I feel safer with you beside me.”
“That is an illusion,” said Felix. He looked over his shoulder. “No one has followed; if someone did so, and started a row I should probably run away, for I am a coward.”
“Come along anyway,” said Wayness. “I do not expect you to lay down your life for what I intend to pay you. My thinking is this: if we are attacked, and if we both run, my chances for survival are doubled over what they would be if I were alone.”
“Hmf!” said Felix. “You are even more cold-blooded than I. If I come, I will expect an extra sol, for the danger involved.”
“Very well.”
Where Via Malthus opened upon the wharf, a small restaurant served dock workers, fishermen, and whoever else felt the need for fish stew or mussels, or fried fish. Again Felix was ready to turn back but again Wayness would not hear of it. She gave him careful instructions. “You must go up Via Malthus to a shop with some green buckles in the window.”
“I know the shop. It is run by a crazy woman named Alvina.”
“Go into the shop and tell Alvina that Wayness Tamm is waiting here, at this restaurant. Make sure no one overhears. If she cannot leave her shop, bring a message.”
“First, my pay.”
Wayness shook her head. “I was not born yesterday. You will be paid when you return with Alvina.”
Felix set off. Ten minutes passed. Alvina entered the restaurant, followed by Felix. Wayness had seated herself in a corner, and Alvina looked here and there in puzzlement. Felix led her to the corner table. Wayness now paid Felix three sols. “Do not mention this excursion to anyone,” she told him. “Also, leave the door open at the bottom of the steps, so that I can return the way we came.”
Felix departed, not displeased with himself. Alvina gave Wayness a cool inspection. “You are taking careful precautions, although you neglected a black beard.”
“I never thought of that.”
“No matter. I would never have recognized you as you are now.”
“I hope not. Last night, I was attacked on my way home from Xantief’s shop. I barely escaped.”
Alvina raised her eyebrows. “That is disturbing!”
Wayness wondered if Alvina were taking her seriously. Perhaps she thought the disguise over-dramatic. A waiter in a stained white apron appeared. Alvina ordered a bowl of red fish soup and Wayness did the same. Alvina asked: “I wonder if you would tell me the background of your search?”
“Certainly. A thousand years ago the Naturalist Society discovered the world Cadwal, and considered it so beautiful, with so many entrancing aspects that they decided to make it into a perpetual Conservancy, safe from human exploitation. At the moment the Conservancy is in serious danger: all because a former Secretary sold off Society documents to antique dealers, including the Grant-in-Perpetuity to Cadwal and the original Cadwal Charter. These documents disappeared – where, no one knows. But if they are not found, the Society may lose title to Cadwal.”
“And how do you enter the picture?”
“My father is Conservator of Cadwal, and lives at Araminta Station. My uncle, Pirie, is Secretary of the Society here on Earth, but he is an invalid, and there is no one to do what needs to be done but me. Other folk are also looking for the Grant of Ownership; some of them are wicked, some are simply foolish, but they want to break the Conservancy, and so they are my enemies. I think that some of them tracked me to Trieste despite my best efforts. I fear for my life, I fear for Cadwal, which is vulnerable. If I don’t find the documents, the Conservancy cannot survive. I am getting closer and closer. My enemies know this and they will kill me with no compunction whatever, and I am not ready to die just yet.”
“I should think not. Alvina drummed her fingers on the table. “You have not heard the news, then?”
Wayness looked up in apprehension. “What news?”
“Last night Xantief was murdered. This morning he was found in the canal.”
Time stood still. Everything became blurred except for Alvina’s gray-green eyes. Wayness finally managed to Stammer. “This is terrible. I had no idea – it must be my fault! I led them to Xantief.”
Alvina nodded. “It might have happened that way. Or maybe not; who knows? It makes no great difference, one way or the other.”
After a pause Wayness said: “You are right. It makes no difference.” She wiped the tears from her face. The waiter brought bowls of red soup. Wayness looked numbly at the bowl.
“Eat,” said Alvina. “We have to pay for it, regardless.”
Wayness pushed the bowl away. “What happened?”
“I don’t like to tell you. It was not nice. Someone wanted information from Xantief. He could give them none because he had none, except what he told you. No doubt he explained this immediately, but they persisted and killed him, and dropped him into the canal. Alvina busied herself with the soup, then said: “It is clear, however, that he did not mention me.”
“How so?”
“I came to my shop early today, and no one was waiting for me. Eat your soup. It is pointless to suffer on an empty stomach.”
Wayness heaved a deep sigh. She pulled the bowl of soup toward herself and began to eat. Alvina looked on with a grim smile. �
�Whenever tragedy has dealt me its worst blows, then I go forth and rejoice. I drink fine wine, and dine on delicacies I can’t afford, and perhaps indulge myself in some sort of worthless new gewgaw.”
Wayness laughed weakly. “Does the program work?”
“No. Still, eat the soup.”
After a few moments Wayness said: “I must learn to be absolutely callous. I cannot let myself be weak.”
“I don’t think you are weak. Still, are there no others to help you?”
“Yes, but they are far away. Glawen Clattuc will be here sometime soon – but I can’t wait.”
“You carry no weapons?”
“I don’t own any.”
“‘Wait here.” Alvina left the restaurant, returning a few minutes later with a pair of small parcels. “These articles will give you comfort, at the very least.” She explained their use.
“I thank you,” said Wayness. “May I pay for them?”
“No. But if you use either upon whoever murdered Xantief, please let me know.”
“I promise that I will.” Wayness tucked the articles into pockets of the pea jacket.
“Now, to business.” Alvina brought out a slip of paper. “I cannot direct you to Moncurio himself, since he is gone from Earth. Where, I have no idea, but he left me an address in case money came in from some old accounts which had never been settled.”
Wayness asked doubtfully: “Is this address still useful?”
“It was as of last year. I sent money to the address, and finally got back a receipt.”
“From Moncurio?”
Alvina grimaced and shook her head. “I sent the money in care of Irena Portils, who is apparently Moncurio’s spouse – formally or informally, I have no idea. She is a difficult and suspicious woman. Do not expect her to oblige you, gladly or otherwise, with Moncurio’s current address. She would not even give me a proper receipt for the money; she said that there must be no linkage between her name and his. I told her that this was preposterous, since Moncurio had already made the linkage, and that if she did not sign the receipt using Moncurio’s name and her own as an endorsement, I would void the draught and send her no more money. Ha! Her avarice is even stronger than her nervousness, and she sent the proper receipt, with just enough icy sarcasm to irritate me.”
“Perhaps she is nicer when she is not worried, said Wayness without conviction.
“Anything is possible. Still I can’t imagine how you will deal with her, much less extract information.”
“I must give the matter some thought. Perhaps I will try a subtle indirect approach.”
“I wish you luck. Here is the address.” She gave over the paper. Wayness read:
Sra. Irena Portils
Casa Lucasta
Calle Maduro 31
Pombareales, Patagonia
* * *
Chapter VII, Part 4
Wayness returned to the Hotel Sirenuse the way she had come: down the wharf to the ladder, down to the shingle and beside the sea wall to the stone steps, then up and through the timber door into the nether regions of the hotel. Here she lost her way and for a time groped back and forth along damp dark passages smelling of must, old wine, onions and fish. Finally, behind a door she had forgotten, she found the service stairs, and so climbed thankfully to the second floor, where she hurried back to her room. She threw off her disguise, bathed and dressed in her ordinary clothes. Then she sat looking out across the sea, pondering the new realities of her life.
Outrage and anger served no purpose; they were only a frustration. Fear was equally profitless, though fear was hard to control.
Wayness became restless. There was too much to think about, and too many complexities. While she thought, she was static and vulnerable; she could protect herself only by activity.
Wayness went to the telephone and called Fair Winds. Agnes appeared, then went to summon Pirie Tamm from the garden. “Ah Wayness!” He spoke guardedly. “I was on my way out; I have an errand at the bank in Tierens. Do you wish to call back in half an hour or so?”
“If you can spare me a minute, I’ll talk to you now.” Wayness tried to sound easy and casual, but her voice seemed strained, even to her own ears.
“I can spare a minute or two. What is your news?”
“It is both good and bad. I spoke with a certain Alcide Xantief yesterday. He knew nothing himself but in passing he mentioned a repository in Bangalore. I telephoned there this morning and they have the documents we are seeking, and they would seem to be quite accessible.”
“Amazing!” said Pirie Tamm, blinking in perplexity.”
“It is that and more, when I think of what I have gone through to get this information. I have written to you, to my father and to Glawen, so that the information will not be lost in case something happens to me.”
“Why should anything happen to you?”
“Last night I had a rather frightening experience. It might have been mistaken identity, or romance Adriatic style: I can’t be sure. But in any case I escaped.”
Pirie Tamm gave an exclamation of outrage. “That is damnable! I like this expedition of yours less and less! It’s not right that you should be tackling a man’s job!”
“Right or wrong, the job must be done,” said Wayness. “And there is no one to do it but me.”
“Yes, Yes,” grumbled Pirie Tamm. “We’ve been over these arguments before.”
“Be sure that I am taking all precautions, Uncle Pirie, and now I will let you go on your errand. If you are indeed stopping by the bank, please ask after a remittance I am expecting from home.”
“I’ll do that, certainly. But what now for you?”
“I’m off for Bangalore, by the best connection, or even the worst, so long as I get there fast.”
“And when will I hear from you next?”
“Soon; from Bangalore, most likely.”
“Goodbye then, and take care of yourself.’’
“Goodbye, Uncle Pirie.”
Half an hour later Wayness called the bank in Tierens from the public telephone in the hotel lobby. Pirie Tamm’s face again appeared on the screen. “Now then! Perhaps we can talk more freely.”
“I hope so, since I distrust even the telephone in my room.” I am certain that I have been followed to Trieste.” Wayness decided not to mention the murder of Xantief.
“I gather then, that Bangalore will not be your next destination?”
“You gather correctly, Uncle Pirie. If I can send someone off on a wild goose chase, so much the better.”
“So what have you achieved in Trieste?”
“I have descended another step on the ladder, and you will be surprised to learn whom I found there.”
“Oh? Who might this be?”
“It is your tomb-robbing friend Adrian Moncurio.”
“Ha!” said Pirie Tamm after a moment’s reflection. “I am surprised, to be sure, though maybe not as much as I might be!”
“Do you have any inkling as to his present address?”
“None whatever.”
“What of mutual friends?”
“We have none. Since I have not heard from him, I suspect that he is either off-world or dead.”
“In that case I must continue my inquiries. They may possibly take me off-world.”
“Off-world where?”
“I don’t know yet.”
““Then where are you going from Trieste?”
“I am afraid to tell you, for fear the information will somehow leak out. Even now I am using the hotel’s public telephone, on the chance that the telephone in my room has been tapped.”
“You are quite right! Trust nothing and no one!”
Wayness sighed, thinking of Xantief, his clarity and honor. “Another matter, Uncle Pirie. I did not send you down to the bank for nothing. I am carrying about three hundred sols, but if I must go off-world, it won’t be enough. Can you spare me a thousand or so?”
“Of course! Two thousand, if you like!”
“You need not concern yourself with money; if for nothing else, this is money spent for the Conservancy!”
“That is my opinion too. Ask the officer which bank at Trieste is their correspondent, and send me two thousand sols which I will pick up at once.”
“You can’t imagine how you worry me,” growled Pirie Tamm.
Wayness cried: “Stop, Uncle Pirie! For the moment at least I am safe, since I have sent everyone off to Bangalore! They will be very irritable when they find it is just a prank, but by that time I will be far away.”
“So when will I hear from you again?”
“At the moment I can’t even guess.”
* * *
Chapter VII, Part 5
Wayness settled her account at the front desk, then returned to her room. The events at Trieste had been helpful in more ways than one. Wayness’ concepts of evil had altered from the abstract to the real. She now knew with grisly certainty the quality of her opponents. They were persistent, cruel, smilingly callous. They would kill her if they caught her, and this would be a tragic event indeed from her point of view. It would mean the cessation of that quick and lively intelligence known as Wayness, with its special little graces and quirks and affectionate good nature and wry sense of humor. Tragedy indeed!
Wayness debated changing into her disguise of the morning, and compromised, by shrouding herself in the pea jacket and pulling the cap down over her dark curls. She accoutered herself with the weapons Alvina had given her and felt greatly comforted.
Wayness was now ready to leave. She went to the door, opened it a slit and looked along the hall. It was not at all unlikely for someone to be waiting, to overwhelm her as she opened the door and bear her back into the room, where she could be dealt with at leisure. Wayness grimaced at the idea.