Edward Llewellyn - Prelude to Chaos

“I’ve got to stay with you. For now at any rate. First, because I want to be with you. Second, because if I leave you they’ll catch you, sure as hell. And when they catch you they’ll have you squealing within the hour. Telling them where I was and what I was doing when last seen.”

“I’d never—” She stopped and paled. “If that’s what you think—then stay!”

“It’s what you think, too. It’s why you were glad you were put in the Pen before the police got you. Isn’t that right?”

She nodded, then looked up and smiled. “Anyway, my mother used to be fond of telling me how nice it would be to have a man around.”

“Okay—so I’m staying around. What are you planning to do?”

“First, I’m going to call Doctor Drummond and arrange a meeting.” She reached for the phone.

I jumped over and caught her hand. “Drummond? The guy who sold you down river?”

“Doctor Drummond didn’t betray me. He may be a bit dumb outside the lab, but he’s decent and honest. He never understood what was going on. I’ve got to tell him. He’s still at NIH—the only person I know with access to the memory banks.” She tried to lift the phone.

I held it down. “Your Doctor Drummond may be everything you think. But they’ll have bugged his phones by now. They’ll have bugged the phones of everybody you might call. They’ll have a stake-out on his home and his lab. If you try and contact him through either they’ll grab you.”

“But I must speak to him.”

“Where else could you reach him? Is there any place he goes regularly, but not so often that they’d cover it?”

She thought for a moment. “He often went to the Archers Club. Or so Jim said. I never heard Doctor Drummond mention it.”

“The Archers Club? No, I’ll bet he didn’t! If you want to call him there, you’d better let me do the calling.”

“Why?”

“If they hear a woman, they’ll hang up. It’s that kind of a club.”

“Nonsense! Doctor Drummond isn’t that kind of man!” She keyed the directory, read the number on the screen, and picked up the phone. I picked up the extension and sat back. “Archers here!” said a voice.

“I’d like to speak—”

Click. Judith sat as silent as a girl in a beer commercial.

“Some of the best men I know are that kind,” I said. “Want me to try and arrange a meeting for you?”

She nodded.

I keyed the Archers again. When the receptionist answered I said, “I long to contact Eugene!”

“Lucky you! Eugene’s steaming now. I’ll page him. Who shall I say’s calling.”

“Hermes, the messenger of the gods and the lover of men.” “That’s cute!” A giggle. “I’ll tell Eugene to fly to the phone.”

I covered the mouthpiece and said to Judith, who was holding the extension as if it were a fused grenade, “Listen, but don’t speak! Nod if you recognize his voice.”

“Eugene here!” A somewhat breathless voice. He had hurried to the phone. I glanced at Judith and she nodded.

“This is Hermes, with a message not from a god but from a goddess. A straight chick with glow-hair and green eyes who gave me a fifty to pass the signal that she’s mad to meet you. A chick who had to blow last year and now she’s on the lam. Has a mole on her bottom and she burned her left pinky. Was mixed up with you in some hot trank. Remember the chick?”

“I don’t think—”

“They called her Juicy Fruit! The rats!”

“Juicy what? Rats? Good God! You mean—”

“I mean she wants to talk paper. She said you were sure to remember Juicy. Said that if you were in Sam’s on 24th and K at exactly sixteen hundred she’d call there and ask for Slammer Sims. So take a table with a phone and tell the waiter you’re Slammer. Mister—that’s all I know! I’m just a messenger boy. Hermes, that’s my name. And I’m running too. She paid me to pass this signal. She’s a real nice chick and needs to talk. So be at Sam’s, Slammer. At eight bells and don’t tell nobody. Over and out!” I hung up.

Judith was staring at me. “Why that mixture of jargon?” “The boys at the desk listen in. Maybe tape. I synthesized a slang. The desk boys won’t get it. Even the cops may not, if they ever listen. But Eugene got it.”

“Juicy Fruit!”

“Nearest I dared come to Judy. And I fed him enough clues.”

“I haven’t got a mole on my bottom!”

“I presumed Doctor Drummond had never seen your bottom. So he may think you have. The cops know you don’t—they’ll have your description, including all marks and scars. But they probably didn’t bother to record the one on your left little finger. Maybe Doctor Drummond noticed it.” “He was there when I burned it. There’s no mark left.” She held it up. “Or hardly any mark. But what was all that about Sam’s and Slammer?”

“I stopped him bellowing your name. If he wants the contact he’ll be in Sam’s on time. I know that bar and it’s still going strong. I’ll be there at four p.m. If he doesn’t turn up—take off and don’t try to contact him again.”

“I think you’re being absurdly cautious!”

“I’ve just spent three years in jail because I wasn’t! So for my sake play it my way. Here’s Sam’s number. Don’t call directory. Appropriate a coin phone well before four. Have that Superb parked round a corner, ready for a quick takeoff. And leave fast when you’ve made the contact.”

“But I have to meet Doctor Drummond. There are things—”

“Don’t waste time gabbing on the phone. Once you’re sure it’s him, tell him to drive to Buxton and park in the lot by the cemetery gates. Tell him to arrive at nineteen hundred exactly and be alone. To flash his lights, get out of his car, and walk over when he hears you call his name. Got it?”

“Why—?”

“I’ll give you the why’s after he’s agreed to be there. Goddamn it Judy! You know surgery. I know duplicity. Drummond may be dead straight, but he may have a crooked shadow. I don’t want your meeting converted into a stakeout. So once he agrees to the time and place hang up and head for Buxton. In the rush hour traffic it’ll take most of two hours. No time for him or anybody else to set up something complicated. Park your car in the driveway of that empty house one block over from where we parked last night. And wait for me.”

“What will you be doing?”

“Drinking beer in Sam’s and watching Drummond for tail's. When we leave here we’ll get a pair of CB radios. Listen out on yours. If I tell you to blow—get out of the Washington area fastest. And don’t come back. Because they’ll be combing the city for you.”

“Then how will I meet you again?”

I shrugged. “You’ll be too hot to approach for months. And so will I.”

She seemed to accept the fact that if Eugene Drummond betrayed her, or if he was being followed, then she’d have to escape as best she could. And that I would have kept my promise. “If I do have to run, here’s where I’ll be heading.” She scribbled “Sutton Cove, Maine” on a hotel pad.

I took the pad, tore off her note with the five top sheets, and flushed them down the John. She was an innocent-at-large. “So you’ll double back to Maine? Maybe that’s smart, because they won’t expect it. But what’s at Sutton Cove?” “The Settlement where my mother lived. She died five years ago but I went there often as a girl and after I graduated I used to visit every two weeks. They don’t have a doctor so I ran a clinic. They like to see a doctor who’s a Believer, as I am. They think I’m dead. But I know they’ll take me back, and thank the Light for returning me alive.” “And the cops will thank their stars when you walk into their hands. If you’re a Believer they’ll be watching every Settlement in America.”