Гарри Гаррисон - To The Stars

“And you, Sara. A little different from the first time.”

“We do seem to meet under unusual circumstances — but these are unusual times. Excuse me for a moment. I must get out of this humiliating outfit. It is the only safe way that a woman of my apparent class can meet someone of yours; the police smile on the practice. But it is still disgraceful for a woman, absolutely infuriating.”

She was back in a moment wearing a warm robe. “Would you like a real cup of tea? Something better than the muck in that palace of assignation?”

“No, a drink if you have it.”

“There is some Italian brandy. Stock. Very sweet but it contains alcohol.”

“If you please.”

She poured for both of them, then sat on the sagging couch beside him.

“It wasn’t an accident, my seeing you at the party?” he asked.

“Far from it — the entire thing was carefully orchestrated. It took a lot of money and time to set up.”

“You aren’t Italian, are you? I have no way of telling.”

“No, I’m not. But we use them a lot when we need to. Their lower echelons are very inefficient and bribable. They are our best channel outside of our country.”

“Why did you go to all this trouble to see me?”

“Because you have been thinking a lot about what you were told that day in the sub. And acting too. You almost got yourself in deep trouble. When you did that it was decided that the time had come to contact you.

“Trouble? What do you mean?”

“The business in the lab. They caught the wrong man, didn’t they? It was you who was tampering with the computer files?”

Jan was afraid now. “What are you doing? Having me watched?”

“As best we can. It’s not easy. Just an informed guess that you were the one involved. That’s one of the reasons it was decided to contact you now. Before you were caught doing something you shouldn’t.”

“Your concern across the countless miles from Israel is very touching.”

Sara leaned over and took his hand in hers. “I can understand why you are angry — and I don’t blame you. This entire situation has come about by accident — and it was your accident that started it.”

She sat back and sipped her drink and, for some reason, the brief human contact calmed him.

“When we saw your yacht sunk and the two of you in the water there was some furious debate as to what we should do. When the original plan failed we jury-rigged a second one to compromise you. Giving you enough information so that if you revealed any of it you would be in as much trouble as we would be.”

“Then it was no accident that you talked to me as you did?”

“No. I’m sorry if you think we took advantage of you, but it was our own survival as well. I’m a security officer so it was my job to do it…”

“Security! Like Thurgood-Smythe?”

“Not quite like your brother-in-law. The opposite if anything. But let me bring you up to date first. We saved you and the girl because you were people in need. That was all. But once saved, we had to keep track of you to see what you would say about the matter. Thank you for doing what you did. It is greatly appreciated.”

“So well appreciated that you have been keeping tabs me ever since?”

“This is a completely different matter. We saved your life, you did not reveal our existence. The two acts cancel out, that matter is over with.”

“It will never be over with. That little seed of doubt you planted has been growing well ever since.”

Sara shrugged with both hands held wide. An ancient gesture that conveyed resignation, the hand of fate — yet contained also an element of what-is-done-is-done.

“Have some more to drink. At least it is warming,” she said, reaching over with the bottle. “While watching you we discovered who you were, what you did. There was enthusiasm in high places. If you had returned to your normal life you would never have heard from LIS again. But you did not. So I am here this evening.”

“Welcome to London. What do you want from me?”

“Your help, technical help that is.”

“What do you offer in return?”

“Why the entire world. Nothing less.” Her smile was wide and happy, her teeth smooth and white. “We will be pleased to tell you the true history of the world, what really happened in the past and is happening in the present. What lies are being told and what unrest developing. It makes a fascinating story. Do you want to hear it?”

“I’m not sure. What will happen to me if I do get involved?”

“You will be an important part of an international conspiracy that is hoping to overthrow the ruling governments of the world and restore democracy to those who have been deprived of it for centuries.”

“Is that all?”

They both laughed at that and some of the tension went out of the air. “You had better think carefully before you answer,” Sara said. “There are very great dangers involved.”

“I think I made the decision the moment I lied to Security. I’m in too deep now and I know so little. I must know it all.”

“And so you shall. Tonight.” She went to the window, opened the curtains, and looked out. Then closed them again and sat down.

“John will be here in a few minutes and will answer all your questions. This meeting was difficult to set up so it was agreed to make the most of it if you went along. I’ve just let them know that. John is not his real name of course. And you will be called Bill for the same reason. And he will be wearing one of these. Just slip it over your head.”

She passed over a soft, masklike object.

“What is it?”

“Face-changer. It has built in thickenings and pressure plates. Your chin will be wider, nose flatter, cheeks hollower, that kind of thing. And dark glasses will hide your eyes. Then, if the worst happens, you can’t identify John — he can’t accuse you.”

“But you know me. What if you are caught?”

Before Sara could answer there was a rapid bleeping from the turned-off radio. Four quick notes and no more. The effect was remarkable.

She was on her feet in an instant, tearing the face-changer from his hand and running swiftly into the other room. “Take your jacket off, open your shirt,” she called back over her shoulder. She returned in a few moments wearing a very transparent black gown trimmed with pink lace. There was a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” she asked, calling through the thin paneling.

“Police,” was the short, shocking answer.

When the door was opened the uniformed officer ignored Sara, just pushing past her and crossing to Jan who was still sitting in the chair, glass in hand. The policeman had a riot helmet on with its transparent faceplate lowered. His uniform was thick, padded with layers of woven armor, while his fingers stayed close to the large automatic that swung arrogantly from his hip. He stopped in front of Jan and looked him up and down slowly.

Jan took a sip from the glass and was determined to show no guilt, no matter how bad the situation was.

“What are you doing here?” Jan snapped.

“Sorry, your honor. Routine.” The policeman’s words were muffled by the faceplate and he swung it open. His expression was blank, professional. “We’ve had some gentlemen molested by the tarts, sir, and their fancy men. Can’t have that in a law-abiding city. Straightened up now, but this one is a new one. Foreigner. Italian, just over here for a while on a temporary. Don’t mind her making a bit of extra crumble on the side, novelty for the gentlemen you might say, but we also don’t want any trouble. Everything all right, sir?”

“Quite all right — until you came barging in.”

“I can understand your feelings, sir. But it is illegal, don’t you forget, your honor.” There was steel beneath the calm words; Jan knew better than to force the issue. “Just looking after your best interests. Have you been in the other rooms yet?”