Operation Chaos Page 18

  The church was in a boil. I cracked the door to the aisle sufficiently for a look. The chant went on. But folk ran about in the nave, shouting. More to the point, a couple of them were closing doors to the vestibule. I couldn't get out.

  Feet slapped floor in the corridor. The Johnnies weren't certain which way I'd skited, and were confused anyhow by this sudden unexplained emergency. Nevertheless, I'd scant time until someone thought to check here.

  A possible tactic occurred to me. I didn't consider the wherefores of it, which a wolf isn't equipped to do. Trusting instinct, I slapped the switch on my flash with a forepaw. The blue entry‑room lights didn't interfere with my reverting to human. Darting back to the vestry, I grabbed a surplice and threw it over my head. It fell nearly to my feet. They stayed bare, but maybe no one would notice.

  Ascending to the choir loft in record time, I stopped in the archway entrance and studied the situation. Men and women stood grouped according to vocal range. They held hymnals. Spare books lay on a table. The view from here, down to the altar and up to the cupola, was breathtaking. But I'd no breath to spend.

  I picked my spot, helped myself to a book, and moved solemnly forward.

  I wouldn't have gotten away with it under normal conditions. Conditions not being normal, the choir was agitated too, its attention continually pulled down to the excitement on the floor. The song kept wandering off key. I found a place on the edge of the baritones and opened my hymnal to the same page as my neighbor.

  "Mephnounos Chemiath Aroura Maridon Elison," he chanted. I'd better make noises likewise. The trouble was, I'd not had the rehearsals they gave to laymen who wanted to participate. I couldn't even pronounce most of those words, let alone carry the tune.

  My neighbor glanced at me. He was a portly, officious‑looking priest. I oughtn't to stand around with my teeth in my mouth, he must be thinking. I gave him a weak smile. "Thatis Etelelccm Teheo abocia Rusar," he intoned in a marked manner.

  I grabbed at the first melody I recalled which had some general resemblance to the one he was using Mushing it up as much as I dared, I studied my book and commenced:

  "A sailor told me before he died?

  I don't know whether the bastard lied?"

  In the general counterpoint, not to mention the uproar below, it passed. The cleric took his eyes obi me. He continued with the canticle and I with "The Big Red Wheel.

  I trust I may be forgiven for some of the other expedients I found necessary in the hour that followed. An hour, I guessed, was an unsuspicious time for a lay singer to stay. Meanwhile, by eye and ear, I'd followed roughly the progress of the hunt for me. The size and complexity of the cathedral worked in my favor for once; I could be anywhere. Unquestionably spells were being used in the search. But the wizard had little to go on except what Marmiadon could tell. And I had everything protective that Ginny, who's one of the best witches in the Guild, was able to give me before I left. Tracing me, identifying me, would be no simple matter, even for those beings that the most potent of the adepts might raise.

  Not that I could hold out long. If I didn't scramble; soon I was dead, or worse. A part of me actually rejoiced at that. You see, the danger, the calling up of every resource I had to meet it, wiped away the despair at the core of hell which I had met in the crypts. I was alive, and it mattered, and I'd do my best to kill whatever stood between me and my loves!

  After a while the main entrance was reopened, though watched by monks. I'd figured out a plan to get around them. After leaving the choir and disrobing, I turned wolf. The north corridor was again deserted, which was lucky for any Johnnies I might have encountered. Having doubtless posted a guard at every door, they were cooling their chase. It went on, but quietly, systematically, no longer disruptive of religious atmosphere. Lupine senses helped me avoid patrols while I looked for a window.

  On the lower levels, these were in rooms that were occupied or whose doors were locked. I had to go to the sixth floor‑where the scent of wrongness was almost more than I could bear?before finding a window in the corridor wall. It took resolution, or desperation, to jump through. The pain as the glass broke and slashed me was as nothing to the pain when I hit the concrete beneath.

  But I was Lyco. My injuries were not fatal or permanently crippling. The red rag of me stirred, grew together, and became whole. Sufficient of my blood was smeared around, unrecoverable, that I felt a bit weak and dizzy; but a meal would fix that.

  The stars still glittered overhead. Vision was uncertain. And I doubted the outer gatekeepers had been told much, if anything. The hierarchy would be anxious to hush up this trouble as far as might be. I stripped off what remained of my clothes with my teeth, leaving the wereflash fairly well covered by my ruff, and trotted off to the same place where I'd entered. "Why, hullo, pooch," said my young friend. "Where'd you come from?" I submitted to having my ears rumpled before I left.

  In Siloam's darkened downtown I committed a fresh crime, shoving through another window, this time in the rear of a grocery store. I could compensate the proprietor anonymously, later. Besides the several pounds of hamburger I found and ate, I needed transportation; and after humanizing I was more than penniless, I was naked. I phoned Barney. "Come and get me," I said. "I'll be wolf at one of these spots." I gave him half a dozen possibilities, in case the pursuit of me spilled beyond cathedral boundaries.

  "What happened to my broom?" he demanded.

  "I had to leave it parked," I said. "You can claim it tomorrow."

  "I'm eager to hear the story."

  "Well, it was quite a night, I can tell you.'

  XXVII

  MY DETAILED RELATION I gave to Ginny after sneaking back into our house. I was numb with exhaustion, but she insisted on hearing everything at once, whispered as we lay side by side. Her questions drew each last detail from me, including a lot that had slipped my mind or that I hadn't especially noticed at the time. The sun was up before she fixed my breakfast and allowed me to rest. With a few pauses for nourishment and drowsy staring, I slept a full twenty‑four hours.

  Ginny explained this to our FBI man as the result of nervous prostration, which wasn't too mendacious. She also persuaded him and his immediate boss (Shining Knife had gone to Washington) that if they wanted to keep matters under wraps, they'd better not hold us incommunicado. Our neighbors already knew something was afoot. They could be stalled for but a short while, our close friends and business associates for a shorter while yet. If the latter got worried, they could bring more to bear in the way of sortileges than the average person.

  The upshot was that we kept our guest. When Mrs. Delacorte dropped around to borrow a gill of brimstone, we introduced him as my cousin Louis and mentioned that we'd sent Val on an out‑of‑town visit while our burglary was being investigated. It didn't rate more than a paragraph on an inside page of the daily paper. However, I was allowed to work again, Ginny to go shopping. We were told what number to call if we received any demands. Nothing was said about the men who shadowed us. They were good; without our special skills, we'd never have known about them.

  On the third morning, therefore, I showed at Nornwell. Barney Sturlason was primed. He found a do‑not‑disturb job for me to do in my office?rather, to fake doing while I paced, chain‑smoked my tongue to leather, drank coffee till it gurgled in my ears?until time for an after‑lunch conference with some outside businessmen. I knew what that conference was really to be about. When the intercom asked me to go there, I damn near snapped my head off accelerating before I remembered to walk the distance and say hello to those I passed.

  The meeting room was upstairs. Its hex against industrial espionage operated equally well against official surveillance. Barney bulked at the end of the table, collar open, cigar fuming. The assembled team comprised eleven, to help assure we'd harbor no Judas. I knew three well besides Barney and myself?Griswold, Hardy, Janice Wenzel?and another slightly, Dr. Nobu, a metaphysicist whom we had sometimes consulted. The rest were strangers to me.
One turned out to be a retired admiral, Hugh Charles, who'd specialized in Intelligence operations; another was a mathematician named Falkenberg; a third was Pastor Karlslund from Barney's church. All of these looked weary. They'd worked like galley slaves, practically up to this minute. The last pair seemed fresh, and total undistinguished except that one had a large sample case which he'd put on the table.

  Before he got to their names, Barney made a pass and spoke a phrase. "Okay," he said, "the security field is back at full strength. Come on out and join the coven." He grinned at me. "Steve, I'd like you to meet Mr. Smith and Mr. Brown, representing the company whose proposal we're to discuss today."

  Their outlines blurred, went smoky, and firmed again as the Seeming passed. Ginny's hair gleamed copper in the sunlight from the windows. Dr. Ashman opened his case. Svartalf poured out, restored to health, big, black, and arrogant as ever. He stretched cramped muscles. "Mee‑owr‑r‑r," he scolded us. The pastor offered the cat a soothing hand. I didn't have time to warn him. Luckily, Ashman was in the habit of carrying Band‑Aids. Svartalf sat down by Ginny and washed himself.

  "How'd you manage it?" the admiral asked with professional interest.

  Ginny shrugged. "Simple. Barney'd been in contact with Dr. Ashman, you know, and arranged a time when he'd 've cancelled his appointments. He went to the animal hospital and fetched Svartalf, who can lie quiet in a box if he must. We'd already verified there was no tail on the doctor." Svartalf switched his in a smug fashion. "Meanwhile I'd gone downtown. They're having a sale at Penman's. Easiest crowd in the world to disappear into, and who'll notice a bit of sorcery there? Having changed my looks, I rendezvoused with Dr. Ashman and altered him." Svartalf threw the man a speculative look. "We proceeded here. Barney knew exactly when we'd arrive, and had the field low enough that it didn't whiff our disguises."

  She opened her purse, which hadn't needed much work to resemble a briefcase, got out her vanity, and inspected her appearance. In demure make‑up and demure little dress, she hardly suggested a top‑flight , witch, till you noticed what else she was packing along. .

  "To business," Barney said. "We informed this team at once of what you'd discovered, Steve. From the strictly scientific angle, your hints, added to what'd already been assembled, were a jolt. Working together, certain of our people have developed some insights that should prove revolutionary." He paused. But, let's begin with the political mess we're in."

  "Or the religious," Janice Wenzel said.

  "In this case," Pastor Karlslund said, "I doubt if there's any clear distinction." He was a large, blond, scholarly‑looking man.

  "If the Johannine Church is indeed of diabolic origin?" Griswold grimaced. "I hate to believe that. I don't agree with its tenets, but to say they come not from error but from evil does go rather far. Are you sure, Mr. Matuchek, that you really encountered the Adversary?"

  "One of his higher‑ups, anyway," I said. "Or lower‑downs, if you prefer. Not for the first time, either. Those earlier visions and experiences of mine fall into a pattern now."

  "I mean, well, you were under considerable stress. A hallucination would be very reasonable . . . expectable, I mean."

  "If the Johnnies are legit," my wife clipped, "why are they keeping quiet? They have Steve's identity. They've had ample time to get in touch with him, or to file an official complaint. But never a peep. Barney's man, sent to fetch his broomstick, took it from where it was parked with no questions asked. I say, they can't risk an investigation."

  "They might be trying to get your daughter returned to you through their paranatural contacts," Hardy suggested without conviction.

  Admiral Charles snorted. "Big chance! I don't doubt the Adversary would like to cancel the whole episode. But how? He can return her with zero time‑lapse in hell, you say, Mr. Matuchek?quite astounding, that. Nevertheless, I don't imagine he can change the past: the days we've lived without her, the things we've learned as a consequence."

  "Our silence could be her ransom," Hardy said.

  "What man would feel bound by that kind of bargain?" the admiral replied.

  Karlslund added: "No contracts can be made with the Low Ones anyhow. Contract implies a meeting of minds, an intent to abide by the terms reached. Being incapable of probity, a devil is unable to believe humans won't try to cheat him in turn."

  "So," Charles said, "he'd gain nothing by releasing her, and lose whatever hostage value she has."

  Ashman said painfully: "He's already succeeded in dividing the forces of good. I get the impression this meeting is in defiance of the government, an actual conspiracy. Is that wise?"

  "I suppose you mean we should make a clean breast to Uncle Sam and trust him to set everything right." The hurt in me powered my sneer.

  "What resources have we in comparison?" Ashman asked. "What right have we to withhold the information you've gathered? It's vital to the common weal."

  "Let me handle that question," Barney said. "I've got connections in Washington, and Admiral Charles, who has more, confirms my guess as to what's going on there. The key datum is this: that the facts of the kidnapping are being officially suppressed. Our local FBI head is a sharp boy. He saw at once that that's what policy would, and acted in anticipation of a directive he knew he'd get.

  "The reasons for such a policy are complicated, but boil down to two items. First, hardly anything is known about the hell universe. This is one of the few cases, maybe unique, that looks like a direct, physical assault from demon territory. Nobody can be sure what it portends. In those circumstances, caution is inevitable. They'll argue in the State Department that the truth could be altogether different from the semblance. They'll argue in Defense that we'd better not commit ourselves to anything before we have more data and especially a bigger military appropriation. The President, the Cabinet, the top men in Congress, will agree on sitting tight. That involves sitting on the news, to forestall an inconvenient public furore.

  "Second, maybe less critical at the moment but definitely to be considered, the Johannine Church. A, This is a democratic country. A lot of perfectly sincere., voters are either Johnnies or believe Johanninism is just another creed. A fair number of important people fall into the same classes. Remember what a stink went up when the House committee tried to probe around a little. The present affair does suggest the faction is right which says the Johannine Church was instigated by the Lowest as a means of discrediting religion, undermining society, and turning man against man. The last thing the Administration will want?at tlis ticklish juncture?is to go through that 'subversion' versus 'suppression' shouting match again. Secrecy buys peace, quiet, and time."

  Barney halted to rekindle his cigar. The room had become very still as we listened. Smoke filled the sunbeams with blue strata and our nostrils with staleness. Ginny and I exchanged a forlorn look across the table. Yesterday I'd gone into the basement to replace a blown fuse. She'd come along, because these days we stayed together when we could. Some things of Valeria's stood on a shelf, lately outgrown and not yet discarded. The everfilled bottle, the Ouroboros teething ring, the winged training spoon, the little pot with a rainbow at the end?We went upstairs and asked our guard to change the fuse.

  Her fists clenched before her. Svartalf rubbed his head on her arm, slowly, demanding no attention in return.

  "The conclusion," Barney said, "is that, resources or no, the government isn't likely to use them for quite a while, if ever. As of today, we, this bunch of us, have the right and duty to take what action we can.

  "You see, Doctor, we've done nothing technically illegal. Steve was not under arrest. He was free to go in and out of his home, in a Tarnkappe via the window if he chose, accountable to nobody. I was free to lend him my broom. The cathedral is open to the public. If Steve went into other parts of the building, looking for someone who might have information helpful in his hour of need, at most he committed a civil tort. Let the hierarchy sue him for damages if it wants. He can charge felonious assault, remember.
One does not have the privilege of using lethal weapons in defense of mere privacy, and he was clubbed and shot at.

  "Accordingly, no crime having been committed, none of us are accessories after the fact. No crime being contemplated, none of us are engaging in conspiracy. I grant you, soon the National Defense Act, and anything else the President finds handy, will be invoked. Then we would be in trouble if we behaved as we're doing. But no legally binding prohibition has been laid on us to date; and the Constitution forbids ex post facto proceedings."

  "Hm." Ashman reflected.

  "As for the withholding of essential information," Barney continued, "don't worry, we aren't about to do that either. We are sifting what we've been told, as responsible citizens who don't want to make accusations that may be unfounded. But we will see that whatever is sound gets into the right hands."

  "Must we act so fast?" Ashman demurred. "If the child can be recovered from the same instant as she arrived . . . yonder . . . isn't it best for her too that we let the government operate on her behalf at a slow, careful pace, rather than going off ourselves ill‑prepared and under-equipped?"

  Admiral Charles' lean features darkened. "Frankly," he said, "if no further incidents occur, I don't expect this Administration will act. It's let unfriendly countries rob, imprison, or kill American nationals‑some in uniform without doing more than protest. What do you imagine they'll say in Foggy Bottom at the thought of taking on hell itself for one small girl? I'm sorry, Mrs. Matuchek, but that's the way matters are."

  "Be that as it may," said Falkenberg in haste, for the look on Ginny's face had become terrifying, "as I understand the situation, the, ah, enemy are off balance at present. Mr. Matuchek took them by surprise Evidently the, ah, Adversary is debarred from giving them direct help, counsel, or information. Or else he considers it inadvisable, as it might provoke intervention by the Highest. The, ah, Johannine Mages can do extraordinary things, no doubt. But they are not omniscient or omnipotent. They can't be sure what we have learned and what we will attempt. Give them time, however, in this universe, and they will, ah, recover their equilibrium, mend their fences, possibly make some countermove."